And Your Little Blog, Too

Ann-Margret is Super Video

2010-10-19T14:16:00.000-07:00

My tribute to Hollywood's enduring (congrats on that recent Emmy), mega-talented hyphenate is up over here at YouTube. I was able to keep the music, so the visual imagery plays out as intended.

Bye, Bye Birdie was the only videocassette I owned that eventually wore out, primarily from my watching the opening and closing of the movie non-stop, which features the overwhelming Ann-Margret commanding that blue-backgrounded screen using an awesome combination of talent, beauty, vigor and eroticism rarely seen on-screen. No sweet, unassuming starlet, Ann-Margret was an attention-getting original, rumbling her way through musicals, dramas and comedies with a mischievous leer and an unsurpassed vitality. In 1966 Pauline Kael, in a review of Stagecoach, wrote "Ann-Margret comes through dirty no matter what she plays. . . (she) gleams with built-in innuendo. She's like Natalie Wood with sex, a lewd mechanical doll." So what? John Forsythe may perform with more professional restraint, but who the hell's watching him when Ann-Margret's flouncing around and teasing him with assertive, charismatic abandon in the trash classic Kitten With a Whip? And who wants to see a demure Ann-Margret opposite Steve McQueen in The Cincinnati Kid? Her vampy Melba, getting hot and bothered at a cock fight or just about anyplace else, is a lot more fun and entertaining. And Ann-Margret definitely was an entertainer from the get-go. A couple of years ago, I was able to finally gain access to her star-making appearance on the 1962 Academy Awards (big thanks to May at the Academy Archives for making this happen) and all the elements of a first-class performer are already there as Ann-Margret alluringly charges her way through "Bachelor in Paradise" with an alarming degree of confidence and skill, rousing even the stodgiest Academy member to applaud the gifted newcomer's eye-catching efforts.

Concurrent to the Oscars, she made a similar impact on-screen performing a truly sizzling "Isn't it Kind of Fun" in the otherwise polite, old-fashioned State Fair update. Major stardom came with 1963's Birdie and was solidified the following year via her iconic teaming with Elvis; Viva Las Vegas should be another standard travelogue-type vehicle for the King, but sparks keep flying between the enamored costars, and the heat is on. After a couple good years, the Sex-Kitten formula began to grow tiresome, and TV and Vegas appearances, along with trips to the boys in 'Nam, sustained Ann-Margret until Mike Nichols offered her a chance for big-screen redemption and her first serious recognition as an actress of merit via her fragile, emotionally beat-up yet eerily sensual Bobbie in Carnal Knowledge.

Ann-Margret has nicely counterbalanced dignified roles (Who Will Love My Children? was a high point) with her formerly-established saucy, high-wattage persona during the last several decades, and sometimes combines the two elements- her alternately flamboyant and defeated Nora Walker in Tommy successfully showcases both her dramatic and musical talents. However, for me the image of Ann-Margret twisting and undulating through the final moments of Birdie with a passion for performing that rivals Streisand's still offers the best example of her unique, valuable gifts as a performer. Not to lessen her achievements, but I could see other performers pulling off some of her later career roles with a comparable impact. However, in the early stages of her career, Ann-Margret's feats on-screen, especially in musicals, are more singular. Sure, she's great in Knowledge, but the many glowing reviews from clearly surprised critics suggested she'd previously shown little if any ability as a performer. Does Ann-Margret's incredibly vivid work in the early-mid 1960's really pale in comparison to her fine, mature performances in straight dramatic roles? Or does this lack of respect stem from the traditional bias that dramatic work outclasses musical and comedy performances? When it comes to pinpointing an example that best illustrates Ann-Margret's impressive talent, I'm posting my tent in the Birdie camp, with its image of a bold Ann-Margret miming a kiss smack into the camera maintaining a place high on my list of perfect movie moments.

I've been out and about during the last few months taking in several special events in the LA area, and filming what I could for posterity using a Flip camera. Here are links to these interviews:

All good wishes go to Kim Novak as she faces a serious heath issue. Last July, Ms. Novak made a compelling, rare public appearance at the Egyptian Theater in conjunction with the release of Sony's "Kim Novak Collection" DVD set. Check out the interview here.

Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner also appeared at the Egyptian in July. I was able to get one of the last available seats in the balcony's front row. The image is pretty much washed out due to strong lighting and distance issues, but the audio is good. Click here for the link.

I've also been to Santa Monica a lot, to catch special events at the wonderful Aero Theater. First up was a Don Murray appearance last July, between showings of The Hoodlum Priest and Bus Stop, featuring a brief appearance in the audience by Murray's onetime costar, Eva Marie Saint.

In September, after a sold-out showing of North By Northwest, Ms. Saint made it to the stage at the Aero for a great interview of her own.

The talented, incredibly likable Paula Prentiss also made it to the Aero in August for an interview. Unfortunately, my Flip camera went dead midway through the Q&A, but I did capture about fifteen minutes of an entertaining interview.

Prentiss' husband Richard Benjamin was on deck a couple nights later at the Aero to discuss his noteworthy career.

Finally, the personable Barbara Rush vividly discussed her life on and off the screen during an appearance at the Aero.

A Fond Farewell: Patricia Neal 1926-2010

2010-08-09T15:24:00.000-07:00

I was fortunate enough to meet Patricia Neal in person last February 18th at the Egyptian Theater's showing of A Face in the Crowd during a Elia Kazan 100th birthday tribute. Ms. Neal was interviewed after a showing of the film, and she signed copies of books and memorabilia before the screening. This enduring star was just as I hoped she'd be: both down-to-earth and larger-than-life. I admit I became a star struck, grinning idiot once I spied the lady of the hour as I waited in line for an autograph; I‘d admired Ms. Neal for both her onscreen performances and for the personal fortitude which had seen her through many tribulations in life (many times over, this women earned the right to proclaim "You think you've got it bad," but her attitude always remained extremely positive), and it was awesome to see her in person. One of my earliest film viewing experiences was watching Neal staring Gort down with a forceful "Klaatu barada nikto." Waiting in line to get an autograph, I observed she was so down-to-earth and well, Patricia Nealish with everyone (when the woman in front of me mentioned to Ms. Neal she‘d met the star a year ago at an event, Ms. Neal replied, “Oh, I thought you looked familiar“ in such a polite, sincere manner it didn‘t really matter if she remember the fan or not), it was easy to relax a little before meeting her. When I made it to the signing table, she seemed pleased I had a copy of her autobiography, As I Am, along with the book featured at the signing, Stephen Michael Shearer's Patricia Neal- An Unquiet Life (she stated "THAT'S the original" before signing As I Am). I managed to mention The Day the Earth Stood Still was one of the first films I saw repeatedly and, in that warm, rich, deep voice she replied, “And how old were you, darling?” That pretty much did it for me but, I stated her work in Hud was one of my favorite performances before stepping to the sidelines to observe her working her way through the many well-wishers. While standing in line, I managed to captured a little video of her as she good-naturally chastised her assistant at the book signing:

Unfortunately I didn't realize my camera captured sound along with video, so I didn't record the post-film interview with Ms. Neal (it must be out there somewhere, though). However, I did jot down some notes, and here are some of Neal's observations:

On The Day the Earth Stood Still: "I love it. I think it's a fantastic film. I really could hardly keep a straight face making it."

On Earth's director, Robert Wise: "He was an editor. He didn't really know how to talk to an actor. He was a lovely man otherwise."

On A Face in the Crowd's director, Elia Kazan: "I loved him. He was a beautiful man- a beautiful man. He was a gorgeous director. He used to be an actor, don't forget that. If you're an actor you know what an actor's made of."

On Face costar Lee Remick: "Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. I really loved her. She was a beautiful woman. I'm so sorry she's no longer with us." When a audience member (correctly) mentioned Remick did not do all her own baton twirling in the film, the loyal Neal insisted Remick carried it off solo, then charmingly stated "Don't take anything away from her."

On her most famous scene in A Face, wherein Marcia reveals Lonesome Rhodes' true nature to a television audience by turning on the sound, then grabbing a hold of the soundboard's control panel while a group of employees fight in vain to pull her away: "Oh, it was fantastic. He (Kazan) didn't want me to ever let go."

On the initial public reaction to A Face: "I don't think people wanted it to be successful. The communist thing was still very much alive. But I think it's beautiful."

On overcoming her personal tragedies: "Almost killed me, baby. Roald (Dahl) shoved me back into it. He wanted me to work. I loved it. I'd like to have a job. If anyone hears of one, let me know."

Possessing an indomitable spirit until the end, Neal stands tall among the bravest, most admirable women to ever be found on, or off, a stage or screen. My love of Neal has lasted well beyond those childhood viewings of Earth; on film, Neal only got better after her early screen appearances, possibly reaching her zenith as Alma in Hud. Martin Ritt's 1963 western drama has been a touchstone film for me, largely due to Neal's impressively understated work. It's a textbook example of great film acting- Neal has no false moments, and she never appears to be straining for truth in the role- she's relaxed, open, funny, and totally in sync with Alma's situation. Neal was surprised at the accolades she received for a film in which she had no "big" scenes, but her work is more memorable than many a more 'dramatic' Best Actress winner. Alma's lazy, humorous method of keeping Hud in his place while fending off his amorous advances, the motherly warmth she displays with Lon, and her weary, despondent goodbye to Lon at the bus stop stay with a viewer due to Neal's quiet-yet-powerful work. Like Alma, the image of Neal as a strong, independent and endearing survivor lingers in the memory.

Surf's Up! with Donna Loren at the Egyptian

2010-02-18T02:53:00.000-08:00

It was cowabunga time for one-night only last Thursday at the Egyptian Theater, with a double feature of two 1960’s American International sun-and-surf outings, Muscle Beach Party and the best of the Beach bunch, the fast-paced, diverting Beach Blanket Bingo. The relatively small turnout or about 60-70 patrons (more classic movie buffs might be up for this sort of thing in June or July) still worked up a substantial amount of enthusiasm for this colorful double bill. As a terrific bonus, powerhouse vocalist and Beach alumni Donna Loren was in attendance to join in the fun, and offer the audience a taste of her great vocal abilities.

The fun-in-the-sun formula that proved so successful in these breezy entertainments hadn’t quite gelled with the second in the Beach series, 1964’s lackluster Muscle Beach Party, which offers viewers scant signs of life. Even if expectations might not be high, when the combined shticks of Don Rickles, Buddy Hackett and Morey Amsterdam can’t muster a smile, the unoriginality is apparent. Although Muscle Beach is a prime location for the series’ detractors to point to, among the film’s assets are a well-oiled lineup of male pulchritude led by Peter Lupus, Annette and Frankie competing for the biggest hair in the movie, swirling, shrugging Candy Johnson doing her best to imitate a blender, Dick Dale pairing up with a bopping Donna Loren for "Muscle Bustle" and Little Stevie Wonder making his film debut and grabbing the biggest kudos with his spirited rendition of “Happy Street.”

At intermission Donna Loren took the stage and, after explaining how her 1963-1968 stint as the “Dr. Pepper Girl” led to her involvement in the Beach Party films, she performed a melody of songs from the movies, and a new number, “Love it Away.” Loren’s phenomenal vocal prowess is virtually undiminished, and she belted out the numbers with great finesse (she can still add an unparalleled rumble to her vocal rhythms). Her huge voice couldn’t be completely ignored during her busiest years as a performer, but one wonders why this primarily unknown mega-talent didn’t hit much bigger, especially as Loren’s attractive, fresh-faced look and upbeat manner were ideally suited for the 1960’s teen scene (perhaps if American Idol had been around during this era, Loren would’ve been a surer bet for major stardom). Afterwards, a Q&A with the audience was conducted. Loren was queried regarding her fondness for Dr. Pepper, and she admitted she doesn’t go in for any soft drinks, stating “I’m a tea drinker.” I asked Loren how she obtained her impressive run on Shindig: she stated she just auditioned and was chosen, and found the experience very rewarding. She started on the show at 17 singing “Wishin’ and Hopin’” and missed out on her senior year of high school due to all her professional activity (besides the Shindig gig, Loren was still was honoring her Dr. Pepper contract, as well as turning up in the Beach Party movies). Check out Loren as the embodiment of a hip teen via her assured, sensual performance of “Shakin’ All Over”:

Someone asked for specifics concerning the shooting of the beach movies; Loren claimed she had a good working relationship with director William Asher but, as one of the few genuine teens in the cast, she observed more than took part of any wild shenanigans taking place on the set among the twenty-somethings in the cast.

Bingo represents this unpretenious series' finest hour, with its lighthearted script consistently blending laughs (this time out, Rickles gets a chance to really cut loose with his special brand of insults, targeting Frankie and Annette at the local hangout) and upbeat, catchy musical numbers (the ingratiating title song sets the fun tone for the film). Paul Lynde manages to make every line sound amusingly snide, and other key Bingo players include Harvey Lembeck reprising his role as Eric Von Zipper from the first Beach Party, Deborah Walley as a sexy parachuting siren who puts the moves on Frankie, Walley's then-husband John Ashley as her jealous partner in the skies, Buster Keaton getting a few opportunities to demonstrate his genius, a luscious starlit-eyed Linda Evans as Lynde's singing protégée, and Michael Nader as a surfing beachboy, nearly twenty years before costarring with Evans on Dynasty. Bingo even features a genuinely sweet subplot concerning the hapless Bonehead’s (Jody McCrea) romance with a comely mermaid, Lorelei (Lost in Space’s Marta Kristen). McCrea may not take to the screen as effortlessly as father Joel, but he did inherit a substantial amount of his dad‘s sincerity, which helps sell this fantastic storyline. Loren briefly appears to sell her signature tune, “It Only Hurts When I Cry” with polish and style then, unfortunately, disappears for most of the rest of the film. Kubrick cult figure Timothy McCarey had fans clapping when his name appeared onscreen, and everyone applauding his audacious work during the end credits. He’s a fearless, unguarded and completely original actor, and he's both hilarious and deeply disturbing as South Dakota Slim, a nefarious associate of Von Zipper’s.

Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello may not possess the strongest personalities or rival the great screen teams, but their appealing, wholesome chemistry is a pleasure to watch. It’s clear this is one cinematic couple fully at ease performing together, and when they casually duet on the endearing “I Think, You Think” or Annette fumes over Frankie’s innocent flirtations with Walley or the bevy of bikini beach babes constantly twisting and twitching around him, their forthcoming pop iconic status is a given. Bingo itself offers a nostalgic time capsule view of carefree youthful exuberance just prior to the more rebellious “Flower Power” era, giving off an infectious summertime vibe that will make you want to catch a wave, or sing along with Donna:

Steven's Dark Sun Turns Noir at the Castro

2010-02-06T17:32:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday I ventured to the fabulous Castro Theater in San Francisco to take in a showing of director George Stevens’ A Place in the Sun, an intriguing reworking and updating of Theodore Dreiser’s “An American Tragedy.” I’ve long harbored conflicting feelings regarding this seminal 1951 work, and therefore viewing this Sun has always been a frustrating, fascinating experience. The film was considered a work of major significance upon its release, with Charlie Chaplin calling Sun the greatest film about America ever. The film may not hold up to that lofty praise nearly sixty years later (or even that year, with A Streetcar Named Desire, Strangers on a Train, Ace in the Hole, The African Queen and others also in the running), but it remains a worthwhile, absorbing drama. Curiously, although I’ve never heard of the movie categorized as a film noir, it was deemed one on this occasion, as Sun closed the Castro’s eight annual Noir City Film Festival. Sun does contain a lot of dark themes and darker cinematography, but in tone and presentation the movie fits the description of a large-scale drama more aptly than that of a bleak noir.

I’ve never attended one of the previous noir festivals, and therefore I innocently Barted over from Oakland expecting to find a relatively small audience for the matinee showing of Sun. When I reached the theater, the line was at the end of the block, and I ended up being lucky enough to find a decent seat in the balcony just before show time (kudos to the Castro’s extremely well-organized concession stand workers, who zipped through the long line of popcorn patrons in record time). Watching Sun on a big screen for the first time increased my fondness for the movie, but also highlighted some of the film’s problems. Overall, it was a rewarding and memorable experience to watch the film unfold amid a packed house of Sun worshippers.

Stevens’ firm hand is clearly guiding every aspect of this production. It’s easy to admire his serious commitment to his films, as it’s clear Stevens cares deeply about the quality of these ambitious productions; however, he frequently over-emphasizes his themes, as if he doesn’t believe an audience will understand his key plot points otherwise. Sun contains some prime examples of the director’s tendency towards overstatement, with those constant overlapping dissolves and continual loon calls growing tiresome with their important overtones, until one wants to call out to the screen, “Alright George, we get it already!” (I’ll take the less contrived, and more entertaining Alice Adams, Gunga Din or The More the Merrier over any of Stevens “big” studio offerings). Still, Stevens total involvement in and control of Sun also draws viewers in quickly, and maintains their rapt attention until the film’s final fadeout/dissolve two hours later, as well as during repeated viewings of the movie.

Montgomery Clift was nearing his peak as an actor and star attraction in Sun, with the emphasis on attraction. He’s so ungodly handsome, the first time he turns towards the camera during the film’s memorable opening, it brought cheers and hubba-hubba whistles from the large audience. More importantly, Clift had swiftly established himself as possibly the finest young actor in films by 1951, and his ultra-sensitive performance as George Eastman puts the audience on the wayward character’s side from the get-go. When George is on the stand pleading for his life, Clift is so mesmerizing, fragile and convincing the character’s guilt or innocence becomes a non-factor: no one wants to see this man punished, even if it might be true George’s opportunism knows no bounds. Although his engrossing work may pale somewhat in comparison to his even more realistic and dynamic portrayals in The Search, The Heiress and From Here to Eternity, as George Clift admirably epitomizes the hero as anti-hero soon to become a staple in Hollywood films.

The role of Alice Tripp, a plain, naïve factory worker George becomes involved with, afforded Shelley Winters the opportunity to shun her glamorous image as a sexy, good-natured blonde and reinvent herself as a character actress of substantial stature. However, although she has some vivid moments as Alice, Winters and Stevens tend to overplay the victimization of the character, in a ploy to guarantee the audience’s utmost sympathy. In her early scenes Winters does a good job of illustrating Alice’s shyness and genuine feelings for George, managing to make the character sweetly appealing, but once their relationship begins to sour, in look and manner Winters’ Alice becomes progressively more pathetic (and Winters is deglamourized to such an extent that Alice’s physical appearance comes across as a doleful gimmick more than a natural aspect of the character). However, Winters incorporates a pallid, indistinct quality into the performance that is intriguing to watch, especially in the tour-de-force scene wherein Alice visits a doctor in an attempt to obtain an abortion (this moment sealed the deal for Winters’ Best Actress nomination). Winters is certainly playing against type as this introverted, insecure working girl, but it’s a relief when Alice finally gets fed up with George’s neglect and starts taking charge of matters, as Winters’ acting becomes much more persuasive when she employs the vivid, direct style found in her most successful work. You can believe Alice has the fortitude to convince George to stick by her, even with the luscious Elizabeth Taylor providing an alluring obstacle, as when Winters is doling out ultimatums, she’s a force to be taken seriously.

The rich, beautiful Angela Vickers serves as a stark contrast to drab, forlorn Alice as an object for George’s affections: as Angela, the teenage Elizabeth Taylor is composed, mature and compassionate in one of her best performances. Even though Alice is obviously the film’s cast-aside victim whose plight we’re intended to strongly identify with, Taylor is so touchingly believable it’s easy for an audience’s sympathy to shift towards this affluent-yet-vulnerable ethereal girl destined for heartbreak. Angela’s final meeting with George is probably the saddest, most heartfelt scene in the movie, and Taylor’s gentle, poignant acting is indelible and very moving. George encounters many trials, both figuratively and literally, in an attempt to establish a life with his true love, and Angela is definitely worth the trouble. Furthermore, Clift and Taylor generate great erotic chemistry, creating one of the screen’s most achingly romantic couples, with those huge Stevens close-ups and Franz Waxman’s lush score generously assisting this once-in-a-lifetime teaming (of course Clift and Taylor costarred later, but not like this).

Raymond Burr has a showy role as Frank Marlowe, the powerhouse district attorney who goes after George, but his intensity is often rendered in an overwrought fashion. Although Burr is obviously well cast, with flamboyant courtroom scenes that serve as a warm up for his forthcoming glory days as Perry Mason, in manner and action Burr attacks and/or is directed to attack the role using an unsubtle, heavy-handed method, resulting in some unintended guffaws from the audience as this bullish D.A. takes down the sincere, humble George in savage manner (Burr appears ready to bite Clift at any given moment during their key courtroom confrontation). An attempt to add some more realistic human dimensions to this unrelenting character would have been welcome.

Small touches I’ve never noticed on a television screen leaped out from the pristine print on view at the Castro (Paramount Studios may not distribute their classics with the verve of Warner Home Video, but they sure manage to keep their older titles looking fine): the bespeckled Laura Elliot/Kasey Rogers showing up as Miss Harper, saying “Yes Sir,” then vanishing from the picture a lot faster but less fatally than she does in Strangers on a Train; Kathleen Freeman working on the factory line wherein George first encounters Alice; Ivan Moffat, Sun’s associate producer, featured on the poster as the producer of the movie playing at the theater where George runs into Alice; and that painting of Ophelia in George’s room, which ominously foreshadows George and Alice’s destiny.

Sun won six Academy Awards (although the Oscars, in a rare lighter moment, chose the colorful An American in Paris over Sun and Streetcar for Best Picture) and was a major box-office success, thereby cementing its status as one of the keystone films of the early 1950’s. Time has been kinder to some of the other signature films of the period but, to varying degrees, Sun features interesting work and early career peaks for its three stars, and stylistically offers viewers possibly the most perfect example of what constitutes a George Stevens production.

The festival's terrific poster:

Elmer Gantry Preaches to the Choir at the Aero

2010-01-23T10:21:00.000-08:00

Saturday night I ventured to the Aero Theater to take in a special 50th Anniversary showing of one of 1960’s big ones, Elmer Gantry. This Oscar-winning success tackles some big, controversial themes (Religion for Profit, Darwinism vs. Christianity, Prostitution, etc.) and writer/director Richard Brooks guides his exceptional cast through this ambitious effort in admirable fashion. Although Gantry may not have gained the staying power or reputation of some of the year’s other top films (Psycho, The Apartment), it remains a fine example of an absorbing drama.

As Gantry, Burt Lancaster delivers one of the most hypnotically watchable performances ever. It’s easy to see this constantly grinning, vibrant fast talker giving a Jerry Falwell or Billy Graham a run for his money, as Lancaster sells himself as Gantry in magnificent, magnetic fashion. You believe this inexperienced but charismatic salesman with a gift for gab (he gets a lot of mileage out of his catchphrase, “Love is the morning and the evening star”) could easily hit the ground running with his first sermon after he’s quickly ingratiated himself into the inner circle of Sister Sharon Falconer (Jean Simmons), a popular traveling evangelist. Lancaster is an incredible presence as he bellows and bandies his way through the movie, and his robust talents are given full range in one of those rare perfect fusions of actor and role (Lancaster once commented, “Elmer wasn’t acting- Elmer was me”).

The ever-dependable Arthur Kennedy lends wry credibility to his role as Jim Lefferts, a reporter following Gantry’s upward trajectory. Edward Andrews is also impressive with his spot-on work as the sweaty, hypocritical George Babbitt, the businessman who becomes a somewhat unwilling participant in Gantry’s shenanigans. As Lulu Bains, the blast-from-the-past hooker who complicates Gantry’s good fortune considerably in possibly the film’s most entertaining, involving storyline, Shirley Jones is a little too obviously acting up a storm to counter her established good girl image; however, her “out there,” all-out performance is something to see, with Jones giving the juicy role all she’s got. She invests some perverse, debauched elements into her racy characterization, none more so than when she delivers the film’s most infamous line, “He rammed the fear of God into me. . .” Her florid, colorful work is impossible to ignore and fun to watch; in addition, stylistically she matches up very well with her formidable leading man’s vibrant presence.

Brooks does an excellent job adapting key storylines from the Lewis novel into his engrossing, Oscar-winning screenplay. Although the film goes on for almost 2 ½ hours, Brooks keeps things moving along in exciting fashion, including rousing scenes of revival meetings with Gantry and Falconer stirring up the crowds and converting the masses, an engrossing sequence wherein Lulu attempts to alternately frame and seduce her former lover and, especially, an impressively staged, fiery climax to the film.

After the film, a resplendent-looking Shirley Jones took the stage for an entertaining discussion. The star detailed her involvement in the film and her career in general, in the down-to-earth, amiable manner familiar to anyone who’s seen Jones interviewed over the years (Jones first comment upon arriving onstage: “That was a LONG movie!”). At the outset, Jones stated at the time she won the role of Lulu Bains, a performer could be pegged into one category- a singer, a dancer, a comedian or an actor. After attaining success as the lovely musical star of Oklahoma, Carousel and April Love, Jones sought opportunities to prove herself as an actress. Television provided the medium for Jones to illustrate her skill as a dramatic performer via her against-type casting in a 1956 Playhouse 90 presentation, The Big Slide. Lancaster saw the telecast and later contacted Jones to ask her if she’d read Gantry, as he felt she was a good bet to play Lulu. After perusing the novel, Jones reaction to the uninhibited character of Lulu Bains was “Oh, my.” Jones then met with Brooks, and she explained the director only allowed his actors to read their roles, not the entire script. After reading Lulu’s scenes, Jones told Brooks, “I’ll do it for nothing.” Jones said if she somehow managed to get the rich, demanding role, she knew that “this would be an incredible thing for me,” as she felt the role would offer her the chance to clearly establish herself as an actress outside of the peaches-and-cream onscreen ingénues she’d previously cornered the market on. She stated she was given “no test, no reading, nothing” before Lancaster called her to inform her she’d won the part.

Jones mentioned, “I don’t show up until the film’s well over an hour over,” but Lancaster “would have me come to the set every day and watch the shooting” in order for Jones to feel integrated into the rest of the cast. However, Jones explained “I filmed my most difficult scene (Lulu’s introductory scene in the whorehouse) first” and Brooks, who wanted Piper Laurie for the role, somberly offered Jones no feedback or encouragement during her initial day of shooting. Jones went home distraught, certain that she would be fired from the film. Jones explained, “I didn’t work the next day, and Brooks had a chance to watch my footage.” Afterwards he called Jones, telling her he didn’t originally want her, but after viewing her first day’s work he felt, “Not only are you going to be wonderful in this part, you’re going to win an Academy Award.”

Regarding her Oscar victory, Jones stated she felt she had no chance to win the award, stating, “I was truly the dark horse.” Jones explained she believed Janet Leigh was the frontrunner for the Academy Award after winning some major precursor awards for Psycho, including the Golden Globe (Jones said she hadn’t won any pre-Oscar awards for Gantry; however, Jones was really about even with Leigh entering the Oscar derby, having obtained the prestigious National Board of Review Supporting Actress award prior to the Academy Awards). On her way to the ceremony, husband Jack Cassidy implored Jones to write something down just in case her named was called. Presenter Hugh Griffith did call Jones to the podium, whereupon she stated to the audience that winning the Oscar was “the greatest moment of my career.” Jones received criticism from both Cassidy and current husband Marty Ingels for her remark: Ingels has asked, “Why did you say ‘career’ instead of the greatest moment of your life?” Jones explained she places her roles as wife, mother and grandmother of ten above anything she achieved in her career, thereby drawing a clear line between her work and her personal life.

Jones discussed her post-Gantry career, then provided the audience with a terrific story concerning her start as a performer. Jones stated she was going to be a vet, and was taking a vacation in New York City prior to heading to college. A pianist friend Jones had worked with growing up was working in the city, and encouraged Jones to attend an open audition to find chorus members for the three Rogers and Hammenstein shows then running on Broadway. After, “I stood in line, just like all the other singers,” Jones said she finally was given an opportunity to sing for a casting director. When asked what her prior experience was, Jones replied, “Nothing.” Then she sang. Upon finishing her audition, the director called Richard Rogers in. Rogers listened to Jones and said, “Wait 20 minutes, I’m going to have Oscar Hammerstein come and hear you.” At this point, the pianist had a plane to catch, and Jones was informed by Rogers, “We’ll work something out.” With Hammerstein now in tow, the City Center Symphony was utilized to provide Jones with some musical accompaniment. When asked if she knew the score of Oklahoma, the inexperienced Jones informed the audience she replied, “I think I know the music, but I don’t know the words. And, of course, I’m talking to the lyrist.” Nevertheless, things obviously worked out well for the youngster after her fortuitous meeting with this dynamic duo.

When the Q&A session was opened to the audience, I queried Jones about her working relationship with Lancaster, asking the star is she sensed a special chemistry or vibe while filming their scenes together. Jones responded, “Yes, I did feel chemistry. Burt was a great teacher who knew his business, he knew his craft- he helped me a lot.” Jones went on to state that in her stage show she features eight minutes of film clips of her kissing her leading men. “Whenever I’m asked who the best kisser was, I always say ‘Burt Lancaster!’” Husband Marty Ingels raised his hand to ask the next question: “Is it fair to say you never slept with Burt Lancaster?” As the audience laughed, Jones looked back at me and said, “Maybe that’s the question you were really asking” (I’d intended my question to refer to their similar performing styles, and I shook my head no- guess I’ll have to be clearer next time).

The final question posed to Jones involved Frank Sinatra’s original casting in Carousel. Jones stated she was excited by the chance to work with the legendary performer: “It was the dream of a lifetime for me.” Sinatra told her he was thrilled with the prospect of playing Billy Bigelow, who Jones viewed as “the greatest male role in a musical.” However, the film was originally to be shot in both regular 35 mm and in the Cinemascope 55 process, and when Sinatra arrived on the set for his first day of shooting and saw two cameras, he asked director Henry King about the setup. When King explained the situation, Sinatra asked, “Does this mean I might have to shoot the same scene more than once?” When King replied in the affirmative, Sinatra stated, “I signed to do one movie, not two,” then got in his car and departed the set for good. With Sinatra literally out of the picture, a distressed King turned to his female star and asked, “Shirley, where’s Gordon MacRae?” Jones contacted her Oklahoma costar in Las Vegas, where MacRae was appearing with his wife, Shelia. When she asked him if he was interested in the role, MacRae replied, “Give me three days, I have to lose 10 pounds.”

The evening also served as a fitting tribute for star Jean Simmons, who passed away at age eighty the night before the Gantry screening, as the film provides the talented Simmons with one of the finest roles of her career. Simmons was a sure bet for stardom after a sensational start in Britain with attention-getting roles in Great Expectations, Black Narcissus and, especially, as an Ophelia for the ages in Laurence Oliver’s Hamlet. She ventured to Hollywood for an intriguing career as one of the more reliable talents found in 1950’s and 1960’s films, after being placed under contact with Howard Hughes. Interestingly, although Simmons was prominently featured in some of the era’s biggest films (The Robe, Guys and Dolls, The Big Country, Gantry and Spartacus among them), she never gained the “top star” status of some of her contemporaries, such as Grace Kelly and Elizabeth Taylor. However, Simmons did receive a substantial degree of critical recognition during her career, gaining two Oscar nominations, as well as several Golden Globe nods, a Globe for Guys and Dolls, and a late-career Emmy for The Thorn Birds.

Simmons’ work endures as well as any female star of this period- although she could play a beautiful, seductive heroine with ease (check out her work opposite Robert Mitchum in her best effort under her Hughes contact, Angel Face, or her sexy swim in Spartacus) Simmons built her solid reputation based on the fact she was one of the most intelligent actresses to ever grace the screen. Gantry plays to her strengths in this area. Simmons adroitly conveys Sister Sharon’s ambitions and growing attraction to Gantry, while also making it clear to the audience Sharon is skeptical of Gantry’s motives as he becomes involved in her life and career. Even in the dated seduction scene, which elicited groans from the audience after Elmer chauvinistically informs Sharon, “Every woman is fighting every other woman for every man,” Simmons thoughtful interpretation makes the viewer identify with Sharon’s apprehensive submission to her suitor. In one of Simmons’ finest moments, a hesitant Sharon appears at a loss when Lefferts asks her why she believes she should hold her privileged position as a prophet over someone else. Simmons’ pensive reaction to the penetrating inquiry allows the viewer to gain insight into Sharon’s conflicted mindset concerning her role as an evangelist. With her focused, complex performance Simmons creates a vivid, memorable portrait equal to Lancaster’s, and her subdued, compelling portrayal serves as a perfect counterpoint to his bombastic playing. Jones remembered Simmons fondly, stating, “she was a total professional, but also someone who had a great sense of humor,” and went on to state, “How she didn’t get a nomination (for Gantry) I’ll never know” (fortunately, Simmons was recognized for her later re-teaming with Brooks and Jones, 1969’s The Happy Ending).

Simmons was never afraid to takes risks as a performer, as she certainly did when tackling the blockbuster musical Guys and Dolls opposite Marlon Brando. Simmons heretofore untried musical comedy abilities proved up to the role, and she surprised audiences by coming through with a thoroughly engaging performance. Simmons had an uncanny ability to give herself over to any role she attempted, in the process making each performance distinct and seemingly effortless. It’s difficult to think of a Simmons performance that isn’t proficient, professional, and thoroughly satisfying (personally, I’ve been anxious to see her work in Home Before Dark for years, but the film is hard to find). Simmons was a class act both onscreen and off, but she maintained a very low profile during the last couple of decades, and I have to admit that even though I’m a big fan of her work and once sent a fan letter/autograph request to her in the 1980’s (which she graciously answered), due to her low public profile I thought Simmons had passed away years ago. Simmons’ created a fine roster of skillful, versatile performances during her career, and her work deserves to be viewed and reviewed by anyone interested in watching superior acting by a true leading lady of the silver screen.

Simmons at ease on the Spartacus set, with costars Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis:

Olivia Williams Provides An Education of Substance

2010-01-03T02:37:00.000-08:00

I turned to the textbooks this year to uncover an entry for Stinkylulu’s 4th Annual Supporting Actress Blogathon. Although Carey Mulligan's spirited performance as Jenny in An Education is a hot contender for an Oscar nomination after racking up major awards this season via her star-making role, one of her costars held at least an equal amount of intrigue for me. Portraying the character of Miss Stubbs, Jenny’s forthright, no-nonsense teacher, Olivia Williams lends originality and flair to a role that could easily have come across as uninteresting and lifeless in less talented hands. Although at first glance, peering behind her spectacles at her students with a tight-lipped countenance, the seemingly colorless Miss Stubbs appears to fall into the category of the lonely spinster schoolteacher seen without much variation in scores of films, via Williams’ adept interpretation, the audience immediately senses there's a lot more to this educator than meets the eyeglasses.

There’s a sharp, terse alertness and a regal bearing that cuts through Miss Stubbs opaque personality and, later, a warmth that proves this teacher cares for Jenny, and for the gifted pupil’s outcome. In one of the movie’s most vivid, moving scenes, Miss Stubbs tells Jenny she shouldn’t waste her future by leaving school to marry, and that she needs to go to Oxford as originally planned, “No matter what.” In this moment, the viewer senses that the conscientious Miss Stubbs is absolutely right- Jenny should not be chucking her college plans to live in the moment with her cagey older finance, David, who really is something of a creep. Later, after Jenny has dropped the ball concerning her scholastic endeavors and seeks Miss Stubbs assistance to get back on track with her schooling, Williams superbly conveys the teacher’s strong supportive nature, and makes it clear that, with this woman’s assistance, Jenny can find the path back to academic success.

Although Jenny can’t get her parents to address her finance’s conniving behavior, I’m sure if he’d met up with Miss Stubbs during the course of the film, the grounded teacher could tell him plenty. Indeed, before Jenny has faced the reality of her situation with her sly suitor, Miss Stubbs has already bluntly suggested to the starry-eyed youngster that she’s ruining her life via her engagement. Jenny coolly counters this criticism by questioning how rewarding a lifestyle similar to Miss Stubbs’ could be in comparison, but Williams makes it obvious the forward-thinking Miss Stubbs’ satisfying career and mature outlook on life is preferable to the troublesome situation Jenny finds herself facing. Williams' thoughtful portrayal keeps a viewer interested in the sage, mysterious Miss Stubbs, to the point that one begins to wonder what her background is (I could eagerly view another “coming of age” story, this one focused on the fascinating character of Miss Stubbs during her formative years).

Williams' quiet, resourceful performance in An Education enables a viewer to admire Miss Stubbs as an intelligent, independent spirit who knows what’s best for herself and for her students. Although there’s not a lot of “flashy” characteristics to the role, Williams invests rich, intriguing layers to her character and enriches the film’s quality considerably in the process. Her smart, skillful contribution to An Education should not be underestimated; Williams’ work as Miss Stubbs is of top-of-the-class caliber, and this fine performer deserves an A+ for her sublime portrait of a somewhat conservative, yet liberated woman.

Remembering Jennifer Jones in Shades of Gray

2010-01-01T23:22:00.000-08:00

A lifetime fondness for Jennifer Jones was cemented very early on in my movie-going years. As a child, I took in The Towering Inferno during Christmastime in 1974, and felt an immediate kinship with the extremely soft-spoken, gentle “Lady in White” who helped save two children from the title character. The colossal success of Inferno served as a brief comeback, as well as a swan song, for the woman who was a decade or two removed from one of the more interesting Hollywood careers, as after Inferno Jones returned to her comfortable life as Mrs. Norton Simon. The film also served to pique my interest in the performer later, when I developed a huge affection for classic films. I often found myself seeking out titles starring the actress, and I always viewed Jones‘ contribution to a film as interesting, and frequently exceptional. At her best onscreen, Jones conveys a unique presence, combining vulnerability, steely resolve and, often, an abundance of neuroses, which makes it difficult to watch anyone or anything else.

With the unwavering support of husband David Selznick, Jones managed to maintain her place among the top of the Hollywood heap for over a decade, racking up five Oscar nominations, including one of the first Supporting Actress nominations for a star player (for Selznick’s big WWII drama, Since You Went Away). Interestingly, Jones won her sole Oscar and major stardom at another studio, after landing the title role in 20th Century Fox’s Song of Bernadette. The Best Actress award was warranted, as the film possibly contains Jones’ most consistently convincing dramatic performance (there’s no nervous ticks or actressy bits of business that marred some of the star’s subsequent performances- she‘s straightforward, charming, and believable playing the innocent peasant who may have seen the Virgin Mary- Jones makes you believe Bernadette did see her). Esteemed critic James Agee wrote of her work: “It remains to be seen whether or not Cinemactress Jones can do in other roles the delicately dynamic things she achieves as this little peasant saint. If she can, Hollywood should watch and guard Miss Jones as sedulously as the Church watched over Bernadette.” Selznick watched alright, but the unguarded Jones quickly let her emotionalism flourish onscreen, switching from wholesome to whorish as the flashy, wanton Pearl Chavez, a 180 degree career turn-around if there ever was one (Jones had safely solidified her leading lady status by following up Bernadette with acclaimed “good girl" turns in Since You Went Away and Love Letters). In Duel in the Sun, Jones seems at home getting hot and bothered by Gregory Peck (who surprisingly takes to his role of a snake in the grass with great zeal), and she is lively, fun and as overblown as the role requires, given director King Vidor’s flashy approach to the torrid material.

Jones’ adept comic turns in Cluny Brown and Beat the Devil may represent her best work in film (it’s unfortunately Selznick wouldn’t allow her to loosen up more frequently onscreen). However, her reunion with a stoic Peck in 1956’s The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit was the film I chose to re-watch upon learning of her passing, as the film showcases some of Jones’ most intriguing and memorable acting. Although Jones appears normal in her first scene with Peck, as she discusses their homey family life, it soon becomes apparent her Betsy Rath is no conventional, content 1950’s housewife. Twisting and fidgeting away, and frequently employing a low vocal quality to highlight Betsy’s deep discontentment with her family’s lack of financial security, Jones’ tight-lipped yet tempestuous playing lends a degree of depth and an element of surprise to her scenes not found elsewhere in the film, while Bernard Herrman’s pulsating score nicely complements Jones’ enthralling acting. Jones is such a unique, unstable presence, one begins to wonder about Betsy’s past much more than the flashback presented in the film (a WWII subplot featuring Peck’s romantic interlude with Marisa Pavan).

Desperate to obtain financial solvency for her family, Betsy is made to be the nagging villainess of the piece, but her practical idea to parcel off acre lots of the family homestead they stand to inherit sounds good to me, and Jones conveys the idea Betsy has the strength and intelligence to bring it off (when Peck proclaims “There are zoning laws” preventing the plan, the restless Betsy brushes off the notion they can’t be changed, and you can see her making her idea happen, no matter what). Jones clearly is pushing herself as an actress in Gray, and she finds a lot more complexity in Betsy than the requirements of the role suggest. Her intense, unbalanced performance is certainly out of the norm for a big 1950’s studio film (although surely Jones' Betsy was not the only desperate housewife to be found in the Eisenhower Era), and director Nunnally Johnson deserves credit for showcasing his star’s fearless, unusual interpretation, instead of attempting to have Jones conform to the era’s standard view of a calm, supportive spouse, ala June Allyson in nearly all of her 1950‘s films. Jones took some critical hits for her riskiest portrayal. For example Elspeth Hart, writing in Films in Review, stated “Jones’ playing is too neurotic for the wholesome Betsy Rath” and goes on to claim “. . . the film dehumanizes Betsy Rath.”

Watching the film today, Jones’ unnerved and unnerving Betsy appears to be the most vividly real and human element in the film. Her disillusionment with her husband reaches its apex when he reveals his past affair with Pavan, and the child that resulted from their union. Jones is amazing in this sequence, first tensely spitting out her resentment over her husband’s faithlessness, before going into a tailspin by jumping in the family car and careening down some suburban roads at an insane speed (I love the wild, slightly possessed look Jones employs while driving, making it unclear just what Betsy is capable of doing behind the wheel). The film could only go so far, however, and therefore Betsy pulls herself together long enough for a final, somewhat happy fadeout with Peck. However, thanks to Jones’ edgy, unhinged performance, it’s abundantly clear Betsy’s behavior will remain anything but predictable, and therefore the future of the couple is truly not ours to see, que sera, sera.

Hot off an Oscar nod for her more conventional playing in Love is a Many-Splendored Thing, Jones’ daring characterization of Betsy endures in a much more substantial manner than most of her more highly-regarded work. She invests all of her considerable skills as a dramatic actress into her characterization of Betsy, resulting in one of her richest, most satisfying and most disturbing performances. It’s a tribute to Jones’ talent that while the rest of Gray may fade from memory, her singular contribution to the film lingers.

P.S. My personal affinity with Jones reaches beyond her films, as a quote she once made regarding how to build a solid career in the movies (something to the effect of “You have to keep your eye on the ball”) aided me immeasurably as I slowly slogged and worked my way through college, while firmly keeping the final objective in mind through each seemingly endless semester. Thanks for the tip, Jennifer Jones.

Eyeing Elizabeth Taylor Video

2009-12-11T09:28:00.000-08:00

I finished my latest tribute to a Hollywood icon. Again, no music was allowed, but the video's meant to mesh with Frankie Valli's original recording of "Can't Take My Eyes Off You." I embedded the video this time:

Putting the video together made me wish Taylor had been given a lot more opportunities to work her comedy chops. Her allure and professionalism assured her leading lady status throughout her career, but she's more than a little at home when selling a funny line or given an amusing bit of business to do. On the few occasions she's allowed to drop the glamour/goddess thing, she's lively and amusing, often in a down-to-earth, "out there" manner one suspects is a lot closer to the real Taylor than all those ethereal maidens she portrayed during her reign as a top star. Going blonde, she's very funny in Little Women as the vain, selfish Amy, she fully embraces Martha's vulgar comedic charms in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and Taylor makes a nice late-career impression playing Fred Flintstone's bombastic, disapproving mother-in-law, Pearl Slaghoople, with great verve (the part's not much more than a cameo, but Taylor is obviously having a good time, and she walks off with her scenes).

I also re-posted a simple "Christmas Alphabet" video I did a couple years ago. YouTube cut the music at one point so I took it off, but now they're allowing the McGuire Sisters to trill in perfect harmony again, so I put it back up. Didn't get the embed info, so here's the link.

Zoning In Video

2009-11-08T23:03:00.000-08:00

Attending the 50th anniversary Twilight Zone "event" at the Egyptian Theater just before Halloween compelled me to finally complete my own video tribute to possibly the most inventive, imaginative television series ever (I started dinking around with putting together the video after finally purchasing the awesome complete series DVD boxset a few months ago). YouTube once again didn't allow me to include the music, but the video's intended to synch with Golden Earring's hit from the early 1980's. Click here for the video.

Smacking Down at Stinkylulu's

2009-10-31T15:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Stinkylu provided an irresistible incentive for me to (at least briefly) return to blogging, as one of the nearest-and-dearest to my heart supporting actress years was finally selected for his enduring and endearing monthly Smackdown (now celebrating its 34th incarnation, I believe). I couldn’t image having the 1956 parade pass me by without opining regarding the nominees, so join us all over here at Stinky’s for a brand-new take on a truly fabulous five lineup of performers and their transcendent work in memorable films.

As a warm-up, here are screen caps of at least one of my favorite moments from each nominated performance (I've already professed my love for winner Dorothy Malone once before):

I've always enjoyed Mildred Dunnock's work in Baby Doll, but watching the film anew made it clear how much humor and pathos she gets into the role. Her scatter-brained antics (often regulated to the background) are very amusing, but she makes Aunt Rose Comfort both brave and tragic in her big "spotlight" moment.

I'd guess Eileen Heckart's astounding turn in The Bad Seed was probably Malone's closest competition for the Oscar- Heckart did manage to snag the Golden Globe for her incredibly vivid take on the despondent Mrs. Dagle. I think her most powerful, profound moment among many may be this final attempt to connect with Christine over the secret behind her son's death. Floors me every time.

As always, Mercedes McCambridge gets her point across with ease, this time playing Rock Hudson's overbearing sister, Luz. However, although she certainly manages to make a solid impression with limited screen time, I've never felt the part offered many challenges for the actress, or was a particularly memorable piece of work, outside of Luz taming this wild stallion. Well, trying to tame it.

Patty McCormick has stated she had a mysterious affinity with the role of Rhoda Penmark from the time she first read the play. She certainly “got” the role in a professional-beyond-her-years manner that’s as eerie as Rhoda’s obsession with that elusive penmanship medal. Sometimes theatrical affects in the performance that probably killed them on Broadway look too mannered on the screen, but McCormick’s devotion to the role is always apparent, specifically in this jaw-dropping sequence wherein Rhoda finally is forced to tell her understandably unhinged mama what’s up. If you haven’t been completely sucked in by the story’s wild premise yet, this scene and McCormick’s convincing emoting therein should do it.

I fear my unshakeable adoration for Dorothy Malone may not be in synch with the opinion of the other Smackdowners, but her racy, uninhibited, and very entertaining work as Marylee Hadley captured my imagination when I first viewed Written on the Wind as a teen, and she and the role still fascinate me. Sure wish more Oscar winners could appear to be having this much fun "selling" a role, while remaining true to the characterization. Her big upstairs rumba/mambo/call it what you will shaking the blues away scene probably isn't her most impressive moment, acting-wise, but it's possibly the one that's hardest to forget.

Tears All Around (Silent video)

2009-07-22T00:36:00.000-07:00

Well, I couldn't use the music for my latest YouTube endeavor, but I decided to post it anyway. The video's imagery is intended to match up with the Bee Gee's "tragic" 1979 #1 hit. If you can listen to the song, start it exactly the same time as the video, and the results should be pretty close to the desired effect. You can view the video over here.

Marilyn Monroe is Sugar Video

2009-05-11T12:24:00.000-07:00

My latest YouTube endeavor features a lady who's held a lifelong fascination for me and zillions of others. Check out the results over here.

Yesterday, I caught Debbie Reynolds' final "An Evening of Music and Comedy" nearly sold-out show in North Hollywood at the El Portal Theatre. It was great fun to watch the living legend still trouping it up at 77 near her hometown with energy, wit and, yes, even grace. From humorously chastising latecomers ("Well, I got here on time!") by leaving the stage to personally greet them as they took their seats, to cutting up Eddie Fisher (my favorite line: after mentioning she grew up in a big family who, due to hard times, all had to share a large bed, Reynolds quipped, "So I never slept alone until I got married"), singing along with clips from her most famous roles, doing impressions of Katharine Hepburn, Mae West, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Bette Davis and Barbra Streisand, and finishing up with a tender rendition of "Tammy," Reynolds demonstrated how to put on quite a show, and she made it all look effortless and fun, while being extremely accessible to her adoring audience- you could actually take pictures of Reynolds throughout the show's proceedings, and she referred to the audience a lot during her nearly two hours onstage (while watching her perform, I kept thinking of the "And Debbie's out in Vegas working up a brand new act" line from the Loretta Lynn hit, "One's on the Way"- Reynolds definitely knows this territory well). A tough pro, the perfectly made-up Reynolds managed to whip through the 75 or so well-wishers after the show in record time, while still making sure every autograph was granted and every picture taken. I was too tongue-tied to say much when I finally came face-to-face with Kathy Selden, Molly Brown, and Beatrice Henderson, but I did mention my mom saw Reynolds perform in the 1980's in Reno, an appropriate comment for Mother's Day, I guess. I had enough wits about me to get an autograph to match the one Mom received over 25 years ago, and a blurry, camera phone snapshot of me and my bad teeth with Reynolds, as Debbie informs me to say "Hi" to the photographer (and yes, I didn't know what the hell to do with my left arm once it got stuck in front, as hugging a big star you don't know, even the earthy, roll-with-it Debbie Reynolds, just didn't seem appropriate):

One of my earliest and fondest movie memories was watching The Unsinkable Molly Brown on T.V. one Sunday afternoon in the early seventies with my sister, both of us sitting in a transfixed state as we followed Molly's various adventures, while from the kitchen my grandmother worried why the youngsters were so quiet. I was wary to watch the film again after I grew up and became more knowledgeable, and therefore more critical, of films, but it holds up well- Reynolds and Harve Presnell keep the whole thing moving along, and Reynolds' high spirits and go-for-broke emoting, singing, and dancing make you believe in and care for Molly. In Reynolds' case, life appears to be imitating art: as the durable entertainer begins her seventh decade performing, she shows no signs of stopping, with plans to tour with her latest act (Vegas beckons yet again, according to her website), while also overseeing work on her yet-to-open Hollywood Motion Picture Museum, located at Belle Island Village in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. If the opportunity comes up, don't miss her (and bring along that Singin in the Rain DVD or Do it Debbie's Way VHS, as Reynolds' graciously signs all memorabilia presented to her).

Dancers a Go-Go Video

2009-04-20T12:25:00.001-07:00

I finally finished piecing together another video. I hope you enjoy viewing the results over here at YouTube.

For the Heck of It 2009 Oscar Contest- Winner Announced!

2009-02-11T01:35:00.000-08:00

Well, I managed to get across the street from the Kodak, where I caught glimpses of Danny Boyle, Amy Adams, Fred Willard, Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman and yes, as the crowd went wild, a nanosecond wherein I spotted a smile and wave towards us belonging to Ms. Jolie (putting us one up on Ryan Seacrest, anyway), while Brad lingered nearby, outside my range of vision.

Congratulations to J.B., who came closest to acing the contest by correctly guessing all ten categories and coming within one of predicting the tiebreaker (he went with seven Oscars for Slumdog Millionaire, which won eight Academy Awards). You're our winner! Runners up were Pamela/Dave, who guessed all ten categories and came within two on the tiebreaker, and Brooke and Geri, who missed one category but guessed the tiebreaker correctly. Thanks to all who entered and made the contest fun.

I love entering Oscar contests every year, and I have enjoyed the rare ocassions when I've come out ahead. I still have some leftover inventory from selling music CDs online several years ago, so why not host a rinky-dink OSCAR CONTEST to get rid of a few items and make someone a winner in the process? If anyone wants to enter, just post your picks for the following ten categories and your answers to the tiebreak questions under comments, along with your contact information (alternately, you can email me at slc2466@yahoo.com with your picks):

Best Picture (Nominees: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Reader and Slumdog Millionaire)
Best Actor (Nominees: Richard Jenkins, Frank Langella, Sean Penn, Brad Pitt and Mickey Rourke)
Best Actress (Nominees: Anne Hathaway, Angelina Jolie, Melissa Leo, Meryl Streep and Kate Winslet)
Best Director (Nominees: Danny Boyle, Stephen Dardry, David Fincher, Ron Howard and Gus Van Sant)
Best Supporting Actor (Nominees: Josh Brolin, Robert Downey Jr., Philip Seymour Hoffman, Heath Ledger and Michael Shannon)
Best Supporting Actress (Nominees: Amy Adams, Penelope Cruz, Viola Davis, Taraji P. Henson and Marisa Tomei)
Best Adapted Screenplay (Nominees: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Doubt, Frost/Nixon, The Reader and Slumdog Millionaire)
Best Original Screenplay (Nominees: Frozen River, Happy-Go-Lucky, In Brudges, Milk and WALL-E)
Best Art Direction (Nominees: Changeling, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Dark Knight, The Duchess and Revolutionary Road)
Best Sound Editing (Nominees: The Dark Knight, Iron Man, Slumdog Millionaire, WALL-E and Wanted)

Tiebreaker: What film will win the most awards, and how many Oscars will it win?

As for prizes, the winner will receive 3 Time-Life (brand new! unopened!) CDs featuring 62 original pop hit recordings from 1967, 1968 and the disco-mad 1970's-early 1980's era. Here's the CD rundown:

Disc 1- "1967- The Beat Goes On"

Tracks:
1) I Was Made to Love Her- Stevie Wonder
2) Gimme Little Sign- Brenton Wood
3) Let's Live For Today- The Grass Roots
4) Soul Man- Sam & Dave
5) Brown Eyed Girl- Van Morrison
6) Your Precious Love- Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell
7) Carrie-Anne- The Hollies
8) Jimmy Mack- Martha and the Vandellas
9) Nashville Cats- The Lovin' Spoonful
10) Mercy, Mercy, Mercy- The Buckinghams
11) (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman- Aretha Franklin
12) Expressway to Your Heart- Soul Survivors
13) You're My Everything- The Temptations
14) Western Union- The Five Americans
15) Get On Up- The Esquires
16) (We Ain't Got) Nothin' Yet- The Blues Magoos
17) Pleasant Valley Sunday- The Monkees
18) Gimme Some Lovin'- The Spencer Davis Group
19) Him or Me, What's it Gonna Be?- Paul Revere and the Raiders
20) Sock It To Me Baby- Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels
21) The Happening- The Supremes
22) A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You- The Monkees

Disc 2- "Super Hits 1968"

Tracks:
1) A Beautiful Morning- The Rascals
2) Spooky- Classics IV
3) Light My Fire- Jose Feliciano
4) The Look of Love- Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66
5) Like to Get to Know You- Spanky and Our Gang
6) Classical Gas- Mason Williams
7) Angel of the Morning- Merrilee Rush and the Turnabouts
8) I Wish it Would Rain- The Temptations
9) Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing- Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell
10) Do You Know the Way to San Jose- Dionne Warwick
11) Honey- Bobby Goldsboro
12) Hooked on a Feeling- B.J. Thomas
13) Stone Soul Picnic- The 5th Dimension
14) Goin' Out of My Head/Can't Take My Eyes off You- The Lettermen
15) Grazing in the Grass- Hugh Masekela
16) Turn Around, Look at Me- The Vogues
17) Wichita Lineman- Glen Campbell
18) (Theme From) Valley of the Dolls- Dionne Warwick
19) Dream a Little Dream of Me- Mama Cass
20) Abraham, Martin and John- Dion
21) I Heard it Through the Grapevine- Marvin Gaye
22) (Sittin' on) The Dock of the Bay- Otis Redding

Disc 3- "Celebration"

Tracks:
1) Maniac- Michael Sembello
2) Celebration- Kool and the Gang
3) I'm So Excited- The Pointer Sisters
4) Call Me (Theme from "American Gigolo")- Blondie
5) Fame- Irene Cara
6) Upside Down- Diana Ross
7) Physical- Olivia Newton-John
8) More, More, More Pt. 1- Andrea True Connection
9) Right Back Where We Started From- Maxine Nightingale
10) Last Dance- Donna Summer
11) In the Navy- The Village People
12) Gloria- Laura Branigan
13) (Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty- K.C. and the Sunshine Band
14) Get Up and Boogie- Silver Convention
15) Funkytown- Lipps, Inc.
16) Shake Your Groove Thing- Peaches and Herb
17) Take Me Home- Cher
18) Shadow Dancing- Andy Gibb

If the winner prefers Country music or Classical music, I can send him or her a couple of CDs from those genres instead. Entries are due before the start of the ceremony on February 22nd. Good luck!

Doris Day Has Personality Video

2009-01-27T22:18:00.000-08:00

My tribute to Hollywood's Golden Girl (literally, as Doris Day was the #1 Box Office star for four years in the early 1960's, and didn't do too much worse a lot of other years) is up over here at YouTube (choose the "Watch in High Quality" option for best results).

Spending the last couple of weeks piecing together my video salute to the talented and lovely Ms. Day allowed me the opportunity to review a lot of this versatile performer's work. Some musings:

Day was a true pro. Watching the woeful 1954 outing Lucky Me, damned if Doris doesn’t seem intent on doing her best, regardless of the sub-standard material. She comes across as cheerful and skillful doing material most performers could be forgiven for looking depressed trying to put over. However, Day keeps strutting her stuff as if she's the lead in South Pacific (as she should have been, but that’s another story), putting her musical numbers over with verve and providing the film with its sole grace note.

Day’s abilities as an actress often come under fire, especially in the lightweight sex comedies that eventually killed off much of the reputation she’d built as a solid screen performer during the first ten years of her movie career. However, I often find her occasional mugging in comic roles appealing and amusing- her wit’s fairly quick most of the time, and she knows how to gets her laughs. In her best (non-sex) comedies (Teacher’s Pet, It Happened to Jane, Please Don’t Eat the Daisies and The Thrill of it All come to mind) the mugging’s at a minimum, and Day’s just about perfect.

Day’s singing brooks no criticism. Listening to her (backed by Harry James) in Young Man With A Horn singing “With a Song in My Heart” would make those angels we have heard on high jealous. In this area of her career Day rarely, if ever, hit a false note.

Day and Rock Hudson had at least as much fun working together as any other great screen team- looking for upbeat clips to use in the video, nearly every scene I watched featuring Day and Hudson found them glowing and laughing at each other to a fare-thee-well. Even when Day and Hudson’s characters are bickering away, the chemistry’s still there, making an audience believe Day could somehow end up happily ever after with the charming, womanizing cads Hudson plays in Pillow Talk and Lover Come Back.

At her best, Day makes George Michael’s claim that anyone could make the sun shine brighter than her seem sacrilegious. She’s still going strong at 84 and has received a Cecil B. DeMille Award from the Golden Globes and, more recently, a richly deserved Lifetime Achievement Grammy Award, but the Academy Awards and the Kennedy Center have neglected to bestow similar honors on Day. Get with it, people.

Supporting Actress Pros and Cons

2009-01-09T01:43:00.000-08:00

Brooke from The Performance Review is asking bloggers both near and far to name their top five favorite and least-favorite Supporting Actress Oscar winners.

My top five favorite wins (in order of preference):

1) Dorothy Malone in Written on the Wind- It may not be the greatest work to win a Supporting Actress Oscar, but I once called Malone’s Marylee Hadley my favorite supporting performance, and I haven’t seen anyone who’s changed my opinion.

2) Rita Moreno in West Side Story- Moreno knocks it out of the park; her work as Anita is not close to perfection, it’s beyond it.

3) Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost- I can forgive any missteps in Whoopi’s career just for the scene wherein Oda Mae makes it clear she really doesn’t want to give away that money. She’s hilarious all-around, too.

4) Goldie Hawn in Cactus Flower- Additional proof that work in a comedy can be as Oscar-worthy as any other kind of acting. The film’s not great, but Hawn is on-the-mark in sensational fashion.

5) Sandy Dennis in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?- I don’t know what the hell Dennis thinks she’s doing, but I can’t keep my eyes off her (very entertaining, and frequently inspired) neurotic ticking. An unmatched performance, whether one views Dennis' work in a good or bad sense.

My least-favorite (from worst to bad. Coming up with this list was tricky, as after the first couple choices, there’s not a lot of Supporting Actress Oscar performances I dislike):

1) Renee Zellweger in Cold Mountain- It’s an awesome performance all right, but not in a good way. If only the concept behind Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was real, so I could erase this one from memory. I’m convinced an evil, untalented twin locked Renee in a closet and took her place just before Mountain commenced filming, as I refuse to believe this is the same girl we all fell in love with in Jerry Maguire.

2) Helen Hayes in Airport- Somewhere in Heaven, Hayes is thanking Renee for achieving the impossible by being even worse in Mountain than she was in Airport. Give Hayes credit, though: in her autobiography she states she kept far, far away from the movie, until she was on a cruise wherein some (supposed) friends tried to force her to finally watch the 1970 blockbuster onboard. Hayes told them she had to go back to her cabin and throw up instead. Smart lady.

3) Jane Darwell in The Grapes of Wrath- She has some touching scenes that helped her nab the Big One, but her Ma Joad largely consists of a lot of cloying, one-dimensional acting.

4) Gale Sondergaard in Anthony Adverse- The Supporting Actress category’s list of winners got off to a fairly undistinguished start, as Sondergaard also does a lot of showy one-note acting as the adverse villainess, Faith Paleologus.

5) Miyoshi Umeki in Sayonara- I can remember her name, but her performance escapes me, as I don’t recall anything about her work in Sayonara, while all four of her co-nominees gave distinctive, impressive performances- love Umeki in Flower Drum Song, though.

Emmanuelle Devos Engages A Christmas Tale

2009-01-04T18:56:00.000-08:00

For Stinkylulu’s 3rd Annual Supporting Actress Blogathon, I'll single out the lovely, wise work of beautiful Emmanuelle Devos in A Christmas Tale (Un conte de Noel). I didn’t find Arnaud Desplechin’s lengthy comedy/drama detailing the joys and sorrows facing the Vuillards as engrossing as many critics, but as Faunia, the girlfriend of Henri, the family’s troubled, outcast son, Devos made me sit up straight wondering “Wow, who is this incredible lady?” as I tried to place that glorious face from other films. I couldn’t, and watching the bemused, statuesque beauty magnetically hold my attention despite all the dramatic fireworks surrounding Faunia reminded me of the first time I viewed Sophia Loren in El Cid, and understood exactly what the term “star quality” meant on the big screen. It doesn’t hurt that, along with her relaxed-yet-stunning presence on film, the enchanting Devos appears to be ageless- while watching the film I placed her as a twenty-something newcomer to film. Reviewing Devos' career accomplishments, I found she’s been acting in movies for over twenty years, establishing herself as a major force in French cinema, winning several international film awards in the process, including a Cesar Award for her work in 2001's Sur mes levres.

I can understand the accolades- in this Tale, Devos gives an exquisitely understated performance, radiating a warmth onscreen that serves as a perfect, calming counterpoint to the irascible Henri’s frequent outbursts during their holiday visit at the Vuillard’s. There’s a great moment when Henri acts up at the family’s dining room table and gets throttled by his brother-in-law for his obnoxious behavior, and Devos does a wonderful, unexpected thing in the mist of this family turmoil- she starts laughing in a quiet, gentle manner. The obvious response would be to express shock and dismay at Henri’s plight, but Devos' reaction really grabs the audience's attention, allowing them to comprehend Faunia as a perceptive, intelligent woman who understands Henri and accepts his unruly behavior as part of their relationship- Faunia knows Henri has his knockout punch coming, but she alone has the sense to see the humor in the situation, while Henri’s family is mortified by his ill temper.

She has two more sequences that stand out as highlights- in the first Faunia shops with Junon, the Vuillard’s matriarch. Junon happens to be played by Catherine Deneuve, and watching these two goddesses casually interact makes one dizzy from the remarkable onscreen presence conveyed by these elegant women. Later, there’s an extremely touching moment wherein Paull (Emile Berling), Junon’s introverted, sensitive grandson, is dismayed to hear Faunia’s leaving to spend time with her own family. Paull watches as Faunia prepares to leave; however, before reaching the front door she turns, then gives the infatuated boy a penetrating look. Asking if Paull has a pen, Faunia returns to the youth and takes his purple felt-tipped marker, then draws a small heart near his palm, before she finally departs with Henri. The Vuillards may have seen the last of Faunia (who can tell where her relationship with the unpredictable Henri is headed?), but the viewer senses Paull will never forget this graceful, captivating woman. Neither will anyone who watches A Christmas Tale.

Hooked on Classic Movies Video

2008-12-31T06:40:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year to everyone. I finally managed to download a decent copy of my latest video over here at You Tube. I hope you enjoy it.

Favorite Actors

2008-12-24T02:10:00.000-08:00

Here’s the obvious counterpart to the “20 Favorite Actresses” meme Nathaniel started over at The Film Experience. Listed below are my favorite male stars, and (IMO) their top performances (in order of preference):

Marlon Brando (A Streetcar Named Desire, The Last Tango in Paris, On the Waterfront)

Paul Newman (The Hustler, Cool Hand Luke, Nobody’s Fool)

Montgomery Clift (From Here to Eternity, The Heiress, The Search)

Joel McCrea (Sullivan’s Travels, The More the Merrier, The Palm Beach Story)

Jeff Bridges (Starman, Fearless, The Last Picture Show)

Cary Grant (North by Northwest, The Awful Truth, Holiday)

Gene Kelly (Singin’ in the Rain, The Pirate, Anchors Aweigh)

W.C. Fields (It’s a Gift, The Man on the Flying Trapeze, My Little Chickadee)

Fred Astaire (The Bandwagon, Holiday Inn, Top Hat)

Jack Lemmon (Some Like it Hot, Days of Wine and Roses, The China Syndrome)

Groucho Marx (Duck Soup, Animal Crackers, Horse Feathers)

Michael Redgrave (Dead of Night, The Browning Version, The Stars Look Down)

Daniel Day Lewis (My Left Foot, There Will Be Blood, Gangs of New York)

William Holden (Our Town, Sunset Boulevard, Bridge on the River Kwai)

Charles Boyer (Gaslight, Cluny Brown, Fanny)

Maurice Chevalier (Love Me Tonight, Gigi, One Hour With You)

James Cagney (White Heat, Angels With Dirty Faces, Love Me or Leave Me)

Robert Mitchum (The Night of the Hunter, The Sundowners, Home From the Hill)

Gene Wilder (Young Frankenstein, The Producers, Bonnie and Clyde)

Bob Hope (Son of Paleface, Road to Morocco, Road to Utopia)

I had some trouble narrowing it down to twenty, especially when considering comedy or musical comedy versus drama (for example, I don't see Hope pulling off The Grapes of Wrath or Anatomy of a Murder, but how would Fonda or Stewart do opposite Crosby? Down to the wire, I went with the actors I enjoy watching the most, regardless of genre).

Playing (20) Favorites

2008-12-17T02:57:00.000-08:00

Well, no one asked, but after seeing these “20 Favorite Actresses” meme posts at most of my favorite blogspots over the last couple of weeks, I started pondering what my own choices might be. Without double-checking to discover whom I might have overlooked, here are the 20 ladies and their performances (in order of preference) I’d most want to be stuck on a desert island with:

Vivien Leigh (A Streetcar Named Desire, Gone With the Wind, Waterloo Bridge)

Barbra Streisand (Funny Girl, The Owl and the Pussycat, Hello Dolly)

Bette Davis (All About Eve, Jezebel, The Old Maid)

Barbara Stanwyck (Double Indemnity, The Lady Eve, Stella Dallas)

Katharine Hepburn (Long Day’s Journey Into Night, The African Queen, Pat and Mike)

Audrey Hepburn (The Nun’s Story, Roman Holiday, Two for the Road)

Tuesday Weld (Soldier in the Rain, Lord Love a Duck, Pretty Poison)

Dorothy Malone (The Tarnished Angels, Written on the Wind, The Big Sleep)

Judy Garland (The Wizard of Oz, Meet Me in St. Louis, The Clock)

Faye Dunaway (Mommie Dearest, Network, Chinatown)

Ann-Margret (Bye, Bye Birdie, Carnal Knowledge, Tommy)

Deborah Kerr (The Innocents, The Sundowners, Black Narcissus)

Lillian Gish (The Wind, The Night of the Hunter, The Whales of August)

Anna Magnani (The Rose Tattoo, Open City, The Golden Coach)

Madeline Kahn (Paper Moon, Young Frankenstein, Blazing Saddles)

Elizabeth Taylor (National Velvet, A Place in the Sun, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?)

Jan Sterling (Ace in the Hole, Caged, The High and the Mighty)

Sophia Loren (Two Women, El Cid, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow)

Shelley Winters (Lolita, Next Stop, Greenwich Village, Executive Suite)

Janet Leigh (Psycho, The Manchurian Candidate, Little Women)

A couple of lower-profile ladies might not be among the likely suspects for this kind of a list, but I’ve been hooked on Malone and Sterling ever since I first saw them in Wind and Caged, and most of the classic movie posters I have feature Malone- Sterling was a supreme tramp in a class of her own, and in Malone’s best roles she memorably combines sensuality with an intense emotionalism.

Mickey Rourke Fights His Way Back as The Wrestler

2008-12-16T02:38:00.000-08:00

I’m a sucker for a big comeback story (I’ll never forget the thrill I experienced as a child in 1980, when I spotted Angie Dickinson on the cover of People magazine to herald her appearance in the hit Dressed to Kill, a few years after her Police Woman heyday had ended), and therefore last Sunday night found me waiting in line three hours in hopes of gaining a seat to the free preview of The Wrestler at the Billy Wilder Theater, followed by a Q&A session with director Darren Aronofsky and his suddenly high-profile, career-rejuvenated star, Mickey Rourke. Obviously this was a hot-ticket event, and I witnessed the line circle the theater’s courtyard as the hours passed, while regular season members also showed up to claim their seats ahead of us cheapskates, and the twenty or so people in front of me in the “freebie” line increased to fifty before the box-office opened (one guy just in front of me “held” a spot in line for NINE of his dearest friends- this kind of evil “I’ll just show up when I feel like it and cut in front of the peasants” attitude must be destroyed). Fortunately patience was a virtue, and I managed to grab a spot in the nearly full theater before the start of the movie, and before I had a heart attack trying to control my temper and restrain myself from strangling the ten people in line directly in front of me, the bastards (sorry, I’m not sophisticated or mature enough to pretend that even the possibility of losing my seat to one of these nonchalant latecomers and their 'contact' didn’t piss me off. I’m sure they’re very nice people, but I hate them all).

I’ve never understood the attraction of Pro-Wrestling, with its blend of machismo, sadism, and overblown theatrics (if Bette Davis, puffing away at her most temperamental, showed up during the middle of one of these jaw-dropping knock-down bouts, you’d hardly notice her, what with all that other ranting going on). I still was shaking my head throughout the movie’s big fight sequences, which featured twenty-years-past-his-prime Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson attempting to battle his way back to the forefront of his odd but immensely popular profession. Fortunately, Mickey Rourke has a gift for playing rough-and-tumble characters with a gentle, graceful sweetness that brings out the humanity in these tough guys (I kept thinking of Rourke’s terrific work as Charles Bukowski in 1987’s Barfly as a close parallel, as Bukowski could be a distant cousin to Randy). It’s both funny and touching to watch the oversized Randy roughhousing in friendly fashion with a bunch of kids at the trailer park he inhabits, or bantering with customers at the deli he works at during his time away from the ring. Rourke’s endearing performance provides a nice buffer to the more brutal aspects of the film, such as an especially grisly match mid-film, and Randy’s volatile encounters with his resentful, neglected daughter, Stephanie (played with raging intensity by Evan Rachel Wood). Marisa Tomei continues to score playing sexy, keenly observant women of somewhat ill repute (following her on-target work in 2007's Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead), lending a terse, knowing demeanor to her portrayal of “Cassidy,” the stripper Randy hopes to settle down with. Aronofsky wisely chooses a simple, straightforward narrative approach to showcase Rourke’s intriguing character study, unlike the director’s brilliant but not-for-the-squeamish offering from 2000, Requiem for a Dream (in the discussion following the film, Aronofsky stated he doesn’t want to do the same kind of movie more than once, in order to kept his creative juices flowing).

After the screening, Aronofsky and Rourke, dressed in shades and a gray and pink-and-white striped shirt get-up that proved he’s still a wild man living by his own rules, came out to take questions from the audience. If we needed any proof Rourke hasn’t been tamed by his recent success, the actor supplied it before he said a word, responding to the audience’s standing ovation by good-naturedly flipping us all off (I can’t wait to see Rourke live at the Oscars). I’m sure Aronofsky had a lot of perceptive things to say about the movie, but I honestly can’t remember many of his comments- for me it was the Mickey show on Sunday, both onscreen and off, with Rourke asking an audience member to “Stand up and drop your pants before you ask that question, please” or looking at Aronofsky and saying “I’ll have to blow him for the rest of my life” after Rourke stated the director deserved most of the credit for his outstanding work in the movie. Rourke did display some self-control, fighting off an ever-increasing urge to light up during the (for him, endless) half-hour of discussion in the smoke-free auditorium, and only started smoking (literally, as opposed to figuratively) after the Q&A was over.

The star started the conversation by freely admitting he’d been out for drinks with his director before the movie was screened, and then pondered his life and career in an alarmingly honest manner throughout the Q&A session. He stated he considered himself very lucky to land a spot at the Actor’s Studio in the 1970’s, and he worked hard to become a success, before he let his reckless lifestyle and decision to return to boxing kill off his acting career. He said he tried to jump-start his film career, but stayed out of work as a performer for much of the last sixteen years. He claimed during the film’s production, “I just wanted to hang out at the beach and get laid, I didn’t want to wrestle” but Aronofsky kept him focused on giving his all to the part. Rourke said he admired Aronofsky as a filmmaker, as he does “his own thing. . . he makes smaller films that have integrity.” Aronofsky mentioned he started doing research for the film in 2002 before work on the movie really started in 2005. The director said he wanted the talented Rourke for the lead instead of a bigger star, even though the film’s backers were wary of Aronofsky’s casting decision, and therefore tightened the budget for the movie. Rourke was more to the point, saying those associated with the movie felt “We can’t raise any money on his ass.” However, Rourke’s involvement paid a dividend beyond his great performance, as Aronofsky claimed his star’s close ties to Bruce Springsteen and Axl Rose led to Springsteen contributing the memorable title song free-of-charge, and Rose allowing Aronofsky to use “Sweet Child of Mine” in the film almost free of charge (for $20,000, as opposed to the 1.5 million another filmmaker paid for the use of "Sweet Child"). Aronofsky and Rourke both stated they worked together closely, allowing an improvisational style to be incorporated into some scenes in order to give Rourke the freedom he needed to create his remarkable characterization of ‘The Ram.’ The actor also mentioned he wrote Randy’s final speech in the film, showed it to Aronofsky, and the director immediately agreed to shoot the compelling sequence using Rourke’s dialogue. Queried about his comeback, Rourke said, “It’s a little bit more than that, it’s a long road. There’s not a lot of jobs where you can have a comeback. You can’t have one in sports.” Rourke then commented on the “lost years” he’d spent trying to re-establish himself as a major talent in films, before Aronofsky came to his rescue with The Wrestler.

I didn’t get the chance to ask a question, but afterwards as I went to my car I found myself within a few feet of Rourke as he flicked out his cigarette before telling his driver, “Let’s roll” and hopping into his vehicle. I wanted to say something to him, but I couldn’t think of anything substantial, and I didn’t want to say anything trivial or stupid, as this is one star who’d have no problem telling you exactly what he thinks (I also had no idea what danger might lurk just beneath those shades, and I didn’t want to be an impromptu sparring partner for the bulky Rourke). The less bulky Aronofsky was also standing nearby talking to people, but I also drew a blank trying to think of something smart to ask him. I’m not in my element dealing with any post-1970 cinema, I guess. However, I’ve always thought Mickey Rourke deserved at least an Academy Award nomination for Barfly, and it looks as though good fortune will finally smile on him with an Oscar nod, and maybe more than that, early next year.

Viewing Two Sides of the Same Hyde

2008-11-04T03:17:00.000-08:00

The Egyptian Theater was in a “Halloweenish” mood last Sunday night, offering an interesting double feature of the 1931 and 1941 screen adaptations of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson’s ingenious, unnerving tale of good and evil, which has held the public’s fascination for over 100 years. The original Paramount Rouben Mamoulian-directed version holds the greater reputation, putting a Best Actor Academy Award on Fredric March’s mantle, while MGM’s Victor Fleming-helmed remake is viewed as inferior, due to a miscast (but only partially, IMO) Spencer Tracy. However, back-to-back viewings of the films illustrate both movies have major assets to behold among any shortcomings.

1941’s take on the story was shown first. Tracy is definitely more at ease as the noble (if overly curious) good doctor, and his nashing teeth and bulging eyes raise a few chuckles when Hyde takes over- unwisely, during the first couple of transformations, little make-up is used to detail the switch, and in some shots the scruffy Hyde actually looks more attractive than Jekyll (Somerset Maugham visited the set and, watching Tracy's work, infamously remarked, "which one is he now, Jekyll or Hyde?"). However, Tracy is subdued enough in his enthralling scenes with the wisely-showcased Ingrid Bergman to be convincingly menacing (as Ivy, the seductive barmaid Hyde takes up with, a sensational Bergman does most of the enthralling). Tracy does a great job conveying the strong physical attraction Jekyll has towards Ivy during their first meeting, wherein he saves the girl from an attacker before taking her back to her room. Later, the perverse eroticism apparent in the twisted Hyde/Ivy relationship is made more shocking due to the rigid production code existing in Hollywood at the time. It’s largely left to the audience’s imagination to determine just how diabolical the carnal Hyde’s sexual nature is, but with Bergman vividly depicting Ivy’s Hyde-induced torment, the mind reels while pondering this unhealthy alliance. However, Fleming does manage to get a couple of astounding “dream-sequence” shots pass the censors: in the first, a troubled Jekyll imagines himself whipping his “mares” (Ivy and Beatrice, Jekyll’s sweet young fiancee) into a frenzy; later, a joyful Ivy is seen being ‘uncorked’ from a champagne bottle, after Hyde meets Ivy over a glass of the bubbly.

The luscious young Lana Turner switched roles with Bergman to play what is generally considered the less colorful character of Beatrice. However, Turner is irresistible in the part, and she holds the screen with a baby-doll magnetism that serves as a terrific counterpoint to Bergman’s more ‘mature’ persona as Ivy. Watching Turner on a big screen for the first time illustrated what remarkable star quality she possessed at this early stage of her career. Her acting’s also spot-on throughout the film (there’s no hint of the polished diva sometimes seen in Turner’s later roles), and Turner handles her big, emotionally demanding final scene with verve. Along with her talented costars and adept director, Turner does a lot to ensure this compelling entertainment lingers in the memory.

Tracy’s work stands comparison to March’s more heralded turn of a decade earlier. Whereas the somber Tracy may be too grounded an actor to completely carry off the flamboyant aspects of Hyde’s nature, his sensibility is a good fit for the practical Dr. Jekyll. In contrast, the handsome March often comes across as overly theatrical as both Hyde and Jekyll. However, aided by hideously over-the-top makeup (Hyde is given a set of choppers only a profit-maximizing dentist could love) March has an eerie magnetism, and flamboyancy is no problem for this actor as March spends a considerable amount of screen time leaping about sets before, during, and after Hyde’s series of devious escapades.

As in the later version, Hyde’s dirty dealings with Ivy comprise the film’s most memorable sequences. Miriam Hopkins, at the time busy shimmering her way through lighter fare for Ernst Lubitsch (including The Smiling Lieutenant and Trouble in Paradise), did a drastic change-of-pace as Ivy and, giving possibly her best dramatic performance, she accomplishes the difficult feat of matching March's overwhelming presence as Hyde. Hopkins makes an impression similar to the impact Bergman has in the remake, and she is especially moving as Ivy pleads for Jekyll’s assistance in escaping Hyde’s ominous clutches. The production code had not yet become stringent in the wake of Mae West’s bawdy romps, and therefore a freer reign is given in the depiction of Ivy’s come-hither overtures to Dr. Jekyll (she does a lot more with her garters than Bergman was permitted to do, and Ivy is clearly nude underneath the sheets as she seductively beckons the doctor to “come back, soon”), as well as in her later downfall at the hands of Hyde.

The talents of Rouben Mamoulian, one year shy of his masterpiece, the sparkling, inventive Love Me Tonight, are evident throughout the film. The early years of sound films had no better friend than this underrated, creative director, and nearly 80 years after its release his film holds up remarkably well. He starts the film in daring fashion, using the camera for the first minute to show point-of-view shots from Jekyll’s perspective, before the audience finally glimpses the title character via his mirror image. Close-ups are effectively incorporated throughout the movie, and Mamoulian moves the story along smoothly by transitioning from scene-to-scene via the frequent use of 'wipe' shots. Most importantly, the director masterfully stages the Jekyll/Hyde transformation scenes- at the current showing of the film, gasps of the “How did they do that?” type were audible during these scenes, high praise from an audience consisting of people used to viewing the current high-tech, multi-million dollar special-effects sagas that regularly invade the cinema multiplexes.

An excellent 'twofer' DVD is available for those interested in comparing and contrasting the divergent temperaments of the screen’s most famously conflicted multi-tasking doctor, as portrayed by two of classic cinema’s foremost actors. And for detailed behind-the-scenes information on both versions, scroll down over here at Greenbriar's for an outstanding post on the films.

Gigi Makes a Charming Lili in L.A.

2008-10-14T01:41:00.000-07:00

Los Angeles was graced by a touch of joie-de-vi’vre this past weekend, as legendary dancer, actor, and star Leslie Caron arrived to make a few major appearances in the area. First up was a 50th anniversary showing of Gigi at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Samuel Goldwyn Theater. Before the film screened, host Stephen Farber took the stage to introduce a couple of clips to the oversold house (approximately 1,000 people attended the event, and it was stated many had to be turned away). The first clip featured a digitally restored segment from the iconic ballet sequence in An American in Paris, wherein Gene Kelly and Ms. Caron, aided by ultra-romantic lighting, sensuously dance around a fountain. The next clip was fantastic. Culled from the Academy’s Film Archives, the silent footage showed Caron and Fred Astaire rehearsing a dance maneuver used at the end of the “Something’s Gotta Give” number in Daddy Long Legs. Ms. Caron jumps on a moveable service cart, then is spun around by Astaire a few times, until her partner stops the tray to sit with Caron at the song’s end. The stars make it all look easy in the final product, but watching them rehearse illustrates how much hard work went into the number, especially by Ms. Caron, who had to stay balanced and dexterous on that cart while being whirled around to a fare-thee-well by her agile costar.

After the footage, the lights went up and Ms. Caron, looking petite and stylish in a silver top and white pants, took the stage to loud applause and a standing ovation. Farber started the interview by asking Ms. Caron about her thoughts on working with Gene Kelly in Paris and Fred Astaire in Legs. Caron mentioned that “Fred had a way of throwing me around, as you can see” before commenting on his skill and professionalism, and saying both Kelly and Astaire were “fabulous.” Although “Give” may have required careful rehearsal, Caron stated she found it easy working with her costar, and another dance with Astaire was essentially done on the spot with no run-through (Caron did not mention what number in Legs she was referring to).

As for Kelly and Paris, Caron said that whenever she reads an article detailing her discovery and venture to MGM to make the film, “I’m always a different age.” She set the record straight by informing the audience that she came to America to make the film at 18 (in June of 1950), and turned 19 in July of that year. In 1948 Kelly discovered Caron dancing in a ballet on her native soil; however, Ms. Caron stated she only agreed to test for the role of Lise to meet Kelly and “to be polite,” as she had her heart set on becoming a prima ballerina, not a film star. Caron said she forgot about the test until she was suddenly beckoned to Hollywood to make the film. As she prepared to start shooting the movie, Caron’s rebellious nature came out. The star said she felt no one understood what look would suit her best for Paris, so she cut her hair the night before the first day of shooting. She remembered standing outside the main soundstage the next morning to be faced by a mortified Kelly, producer Arthur Freed, and director Vincente Minnelli, then stated, “they cancelled shooting for two or three weeks” until her now-short hair was presentable for the cameras. Caron had “great affection” for Freed, and talked of his “infallible taste.” She claimed the mammoth ballet finale took about a month to rehearse, and revealed her costar was “a choreographer who knew the camera. Gene placed the camera for all the musical numbers.”

Discussing Lili, Ms. Caron said she worked closely with her acting teacher and, following the Stanislasky method, was able to completely inhabit the role of the awkward, wide-eyed orphan. Caron then got up and demonstrated the walk she used in the film, then told a story how personnel at MGM became worried when they saw the formerly vivacious newcomer walking around the lot in character as the lonely, sensitive Lili. One day, Freed visited her on the set and expressed concern over Caron’s transformation. Freed told her they needed to work on another film, as “we must restore your glamour.” When he asked Caron if she had any project she thought might fit the bill, she mentioned Colette’s Gigi.

Ms. Caron stated she took time off to get married and have a child before filming begin on Gigi a few years later, and related, “I’m very proud of the fact I was already a mother when I played Gigi.” Caron acknowledged that “the film owes an enormous debt to Cecil Beaton” and his “concern for authenticity.” Farber and Caron discussed the film’s controversial subject matter, saying the story was turned into a musical to “drown the fish.” The star stated she found it amusing that “mothers would bring their little girls (to the film) and say ‘Look at Gigi!’ And I’m playing a hooker.” Farber then asked Caron if it ever “gave her pause” seeing Maurice Chevalier sing “Thank Heaven for Little Girls,” whereupon Caron good-naturedly replied that she thought the song was meant to be innocent, and “Chevalier always liked adult women.”

As for her Paris and Gigi director, Caron said, “Minnelli had my heart. He called me “angel,” and that was the end of it. We worked extremely well together. He had a remarkable sense of rhythm, charm, and elegance.” She then addressed the well-known opinion that Minnelli was a perfectionist by recalling the director making her do many takes for a shot in “I Don’t Understand the Parisians,” as Caron sat by a pond while swans drifted by in the background. After several takes, Caron became concerned, as she was unsure of what Minnelli wanted her to do in the scene. Then, around Take 18, Caron stated Minnelli exclaimed, “Cut! Print! The swans were great!!” (Interestingly, no swans actually appear in the film during this sequence- they show up later, as Louis Jourdan sings the memorable, Oscar-winning title song).

As Farber mentioned the Alan Jay Lerner screenplay and remarkable score by Lerner and Frederick Lowe, Caron simply said, “Perfect, perfect” before making the sage observation that she felt at the time of filming, “This is so perfect, it could go wrong. We could become arrogant. Everything was so good, you could easily get lazy and become arrogant.” With this idea in mind, Caron said she made an extra effort to work hard to ensure the film came off as it does- perfectly.

Farber then brought up the scene wherein Gigi has a lunch consisting of little birds with her Aunt Alicia (Isabel Jeans). Caron recalled, “Isabel Jeans had puff pastries (for birds), but I had real birds. Isabel got nervous because she knew I was eating little bones, and she started forgetting her lines. So I had to keep eating more and more G—damned bones.”

Discussing her post-Gigi career, Caron said she found it hard to escape ingenue roles, and was only given one opportunity during her years at MGM to play against type- in 1952’s Glory Alley. Caron described her character as a naughty, wild girl who spends time “dancing on a chandelier” before stating it was probably a good thing the audience didn’t remember Alley, “but I looked good on that chandelier.” Concerning her Oscar-nominated work in 1963’s The L-Shaped Room, Caron said she “was thrilled to do a dramatic part.” Finally, Farber brought up her teaming with Cary Grant in Father Goose. Caron said doing the film in Jamaica was “terrific fun, terrific fun. Both Cary and I had villas during the shoot.” The star then explained she had a robust butler, George, who was usually dressed to the nines; however, each morning George would roll up his sleeves, then “climb a tree and chop a coconut off at every breakfast. Of course, that’s not in the movie.” As for her charismatic costar, Caron glibly remarked, “Listen, working with Cary Grant, I was very impressed with myself,” then discussed how fortunate she was to land a role opposite her debonair leading man.

Concluding their discussion, Farber brought up that Caron has been working on an autobiography. Caron replied that the evening had brought to mind the fact she “had so many friends. Did I say anything nasty about them (in the book)? I’ll have to revise it.” No need to worry, Ms. Caron. As Louis Jourdan observes in Gigi, you’re always a “sheer delight.”

So was the film. Presented after a new digital restoration, the Cinemascope production was a joy to watch with the packed house. Applause came after nearly all the numbers, and Caron remains the center of attention in seemingly effortless fashion, while interacting exquisitely with Chevalier, Jeans, Jourdan, and Hermione Gingold. Everyone probably has a favorite Gigi moment: for me, enjoying “The Night They Invented Champagne” on a big screen with a mammoth audience was the highlight, with the funny, touching “I Remember it Well” Chevalier/Gingold duet a close second.

Sunday evening was equally delightful, with the captivating Ms. Caron taking the stage with Leonard Maltin at the more intimate Aero Theater in Santa Monica, after a showing of another Caron peak, her Oscar-nominated work in 1953’s Lili (the star also appeared on Saturday night at “A Celebration of Puppetry,” but I missed this event). Mr. Maltin introduced the film by describing how Lili became the sleeper hit of 1953, and was a movie that “captured people’s hearts.” Maltin explained that MGM didn’t expect much of an audience for the offbeat film, but the film surprised everyone with a smash, year-long engagement at the Trans-Lux Theater on 52nd street in New York City, while also playing for a year or more in many other theaters, as it brought back customers for repeat viewings (Mr. Maltin reminded the audience no VHS tapes or DVDs were available during the 1950's- if you missed a movie in the theater, that was it. A side note: several years ago on the Academy Awards a segment was included wherein stars were asked to recall the first film they ever saw, and I vividly remember Michael Douglas responding, “Lili. I saw it nine times.”). Maltin then asked for a show of hands for people who had never seen the film; quite a few in the audience hadn’t, and Maltin aptly ended his introduction by stating they were in for a treat.

Caron glows in a dream of a showcase role- she’s tender, funny, and very moving as the romantic, innocent sixteen-year old looking for her place in the world after the death of her father. The subject matter (introverted girl takes up with a carnival and becomes a sensation working in a puppet show, wherein she believes the puppets are real) could easily become maudlin in the wrong hands, but director Charles Walters skillfully guides his cast through the excellent Helen Deutsch screenplay, and keeps most of the overt sentimentally at bay. Although Caron is definitely the heart and soul of the movie, her fine costars- somber Mel Ferrer, slyly sexy Jean-Pierre Aumont, and a jaw-droppingly gorgeous and glamorous Zsa Zsa Gabor- also make strong impressions.

Following the film, Mr. Maltin was the excellent, well-prepared host you’d expect him to be, asking a series of pertinent questions regarding Leslie Caron’s career during the satisfying forty-five minutes the star graced the Aero stage with her endearing presence. After Ms. Caron’s entrance was met by a standing ovation, Mr. Maltin asked Caron how she felt about seeing Lili again. Caron said she hadn’t viewed the film in a while and stated, “She’s very young” before calling the movie a “lovely souvenir.” Caron said memories of living in very difficult circumstances in France during World War II helped her imbue her role in Lili with a sense of melancholy. She also mentioned that, unbeknownst to her, Pier Angeli was the first choice for the part, but after Deutsch saw dailies of Caron in Paris, the screenwriter insisted Caron be given the role. Caron claimed that “working with the puppets was very easy. I just listened to them, and reacted. It wasn’t really acting, I just responded to them.” Maltin then stated, “but you were acting, really” whereupon a mock-serious Caron replied, “Oh, no, I was really backward.”

Caron stated she adored Charles Walters, and agreed with Maltin the director and former dancer’s career was underrated (she also mentioned she believes Walters appears in disguise as one of the dancing puppets in the film’s final dream sequence). The star then opined how she found Mel Ferrer to be “sensitive and intelligent. He wasn’t a dancer, but he worked hard on the (final) dance. . .I thought he was very good.” In reverent tones, she discussed how important a figure Jean-Pierre Aumont was in the French Cinema, before stating, “It was nice to have another French player on the set.” Then, without prompting, Caron commented on possibly her most famous Lili collaborator: “And Zsa Zsa. Well, Zsa Zsa had priorities. Priority #1 was her hairdresser, and priority #2 was her poodle. I’d try to tell her, ‘Zsa, Zsa, we need to rehearse our scene,’ and she’d say, ‘Oh, yes darling, but first I have to take my poodle to have his bath, and then I must get my hair done.’ She never did show up. She really had no concept of what a rehearsal was. But she was very generous. One day she was wearing a lovely shirt, and I said, ‘Zsa Zsa, where did you get that wonderful shirt.’ The next day, she had had the shirt cleaned, and she gave it to me.” Caron stated director Walters had a little trouble with Gabor during a scene wherein Zsa Zsa’s Rosalie responds to one of Lili’s quieries with “And vy not?” Caron said, “Charles could not get Zsa Zsa to lose her Hungarian accent. He would say the line for her, ‘And why not, and why not.’ And then Zsa Zsa would say, ‘Oh yes- “and vy not.”’ ” (later, an audience member asked Caron if she would comment on working with Eva Gabor in Gigi. Caron retorted in short-and-sweet fashion, “Eva could say, ‘And why not.’”).

Caron remembered going to New York City for the premiere of Lili, where “There was great affection for the film, as you can see” (here Caron motioned out to the large audience). Caron recalled that while walking around New York after the film opened, “a mother asked me to hold her baby so she could take our picture. Another mother was walking by with her little girl, and the mother pointed at me and said ‘you see, she’s (Lili’s) alright’.” Staying at the Plaza Hotel after the premeire, Caron said she started to receive “Good Morning, Lili” wake up calls. “A few years later, I started getting ‘Good Morning, Gigi’ calls. So I had a friend at the hotel.”

Her discovery by Kelly for Paris was also mentioned, and Caron recalled how, in order to save money, she and her mother took up residence at the Culver City Hotel after arriving on the West Coast, without knowing they were staying at an inn of ill-repute. When she called Gene Kelly, he stated, “Where are you? We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” When she mentioned her surroundings, her costar exclaimed, “What?! That’s where the 3rd Assistant takes the chorus girls!” before immediately finding more suitable lodgings for MGM’s newest star. Caron also stated after the filming of Paris ended, she worked for 12 weeks as a ballet instructor, as she had trouble making ends meet with her $75 dollar a week contract.

The 1955 fantasy The Glass Slipper was also brought up, and Ms. Caron revealed she had an unusual inspiration for her role. “I’d just seen On the Waterfront, and I was so impressed with Marlon Brando, I tried to be Brando in Slipper. If you look for it, you can see me doing Brando.” Caron said the brooding Brando presence made her want to approach her role in ultra-serious fashion, and she took the “Cinder” in Cinderella literally, applying soot to her face frequently to lend a realistic quality to the character.

Maltin opened up the discussion for a Q&A session with the audience, and Ms. Caron answered each query in a polite, charming manner. Regarding her beginnings as a dancer, Ms. Caron stated she started dancing at nine with Russian teachers. The star then said the hard work and discipline it took to become a professional dancer has served her well throughout her life. Someone mentioned they wished Caron was working more, whereupon Maltin brought up Caron’s 2007 Guest Actress Emmy Award for Law and Order, which was greeted by applause. She also reflected on Louis Jourdan, saying she wished she’d said more about him at the showing of Gigi. Watching the film again, Caron stated she was “impressed by Jourdan’s charm” and his wonderful work in the film. One audience member mentioned 1953’s The Story of Three Loves, and Caron fondly recalled the film, saying she loved her storyline and working with Minnelli- “most people forget we also made that together.” Another gentleman mistakenly remembered Cyd Charisse as one of Caron’s Paris costars, but this err allowed Caron to briefly comment on one of her top contemporaries in the 1950’s. “We didn’t work together, but I saw Cyd in the rehearsal hall, and I was very impressed with her.” After many other questions were addressed (Maltin did a wonderful job making sure people in every section of the audience were called on) Ms. Caron finally bid adieu, and received another standing O for her wonderful appearance.

Personally, it was a very enjoyable weekend. Special props to the Academy employee in charge of doling out the standby tickets- definitely a “hands on” employee, he really seemed to care about his job, and did everything possible to ensure as many people as the law would allow made it into the showing of Gigi. At the Aero, I had the pleasure of briefly talking to Miles Kreuger, President of the Institute of the American Musical. I informed Mr. Kreuger I’d attended a recent salute to Celeste Holm he hosted at the Egyptian Theater. I told him I couldn’t recall his name as I wrote about the event for my blog, but while I was writing the piece I happened to put in a documentary included in the Carmen Miranda boxset, and there he was. Kreuger said, “Oh, you can’t get away from us.” After telling me he’s done work for the second Alice Faye boxset, he graciously answered my query regarding any other of his upcoming projects by stating he’s involved in a forthcoming two-disc special edition of The Robe. I then obtained an autograph from Mr. Maltin (I have to admit, after watching Maltin for years on Entertainment Tonight and on many DVD special features, I was almost as overwhelmed seeing him in person as I was with Leslie Caron). I also briefly invaded 1930’s child star Jane Withers’ space, and she proved to be just as gregarious and lively in person as when I’ve seen her in interviews (when I mentioned how much I’d enjoyed her comments on the Giant DVD, Ms. Withers exclaimed, “Oh, yes! I just talked and talked!"). Ms. Withers also signed my program, but I did not get the opportunity to ask Ms. Caron for an autograph; however, during the Q&A session I did mention her deserved Oscar nod for Lili, and asked if she’d attended the awards, to which she replied she was on location out of the county at the time, and had watched the show on television in her hotel room. As I left the theater and walked into the night, I was a bit dizzy with all the stardust I’d just been surrounded by.

A Fond Farewell to an Ingratiating Hero and Legend

2008-09-29T23:24:00.000-07:00

I gained my first exposure to the man who would become my favorite male movie star early in my film-going years. Disaster movies were the rage in the early 1970’s, and The Towering Inferno was the biggest hit of them all, and therefore a must-see Christmas attraction for my family. There wasn’t much of a chance for the performers to upstage the blazing skyscraper, although I took note of the handsome, charismatic man who shared a tryst with Faye Dunaway before heroically trying to save Jennifer Jones, Bobby Brady, and the rest of the star-studded cast trapped in that high-rise fire. Over the next thirty-odd years, I had the pleasure of following Paul Newman’s endearing, enduring career, both as a modern movie star and as one of the best actors during a Golden Era for movies, from 1955-1970. When I heard of his death this weekend, I reflected on his remarkably rewarding life and career, and felt a bigger loss than I ever have upon learning of a movie star’s passing.

It was easy to relate to Newman. Although he was one of the best-looking men ever to grace a silver screen or anyplace else, and his movie-star glamour definitely added appeal to all the memorable heros and anti-heroes Newman portrayed, one always sensed the decent, regular guy from Shaker Heights who existed beneath the Greek God exterior. Newman lived a life that was anything but ordinary, but he remained a normal and down-to-earth person throughout the phenomenal string of successes he obtained, both on screen and off. His talent and durable connection with audiences allowed Newman to remain a powerful force in the movie industry for nearly fifty years, and this incredible staying power with the public is unmatched by any other actor I can think of.

Newman served his acting apprenticeship during the early-to-mid 1950’s doing live television, before he gained his big break costarring on Broadway in Picnic. While working on Picnic, he met and fell in love with the young Joanne Woodward, which led to a satisfying professional collaboration (The Long, Hot Summer, Rachel, Rachel, Mr. And Mrs. Bridge) and an amazing fifty-year marriage. His success in the William Inge hit also help garnered him a major role in The Silver Chalice, a film so despised by Newman that he once famously took out an ad before a television showing of the film apologizing for his involvement in the picture. During his first years as a star he was frequently labeled in looks and manner as a second-string Marlon Brando. However, viewing Newman’s work alongside formidable costars Frank Sinatra and Eva Marie Saint in the 1955 Producer’s Showcase televised musical production of Our Town reveals the sensitive nature and thoughtful acting unique to Newman’s persona was there from the beginning. Newman had another big success on television as “The Battler,” then broke through on the big screen with his warm, funny, and moving portrayal of boxer Rocky Graziano in Somebody Up There Likes Me. It was all gravy (and salad dressing) after that for Newman as he built an astounding list of major film credits, in the process becoming the movie’s #1 Box-Office draw by the end of the 1960’s, after scoring in Cool Hand Luke and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Certainly no other classic movie star whose career I obsessively reviewed on video once VCRs came into play in the 1980’s was also enjoying current success in the manner of Newman. At about the same time I wanted to throw a brick through the T.V. when Newman lost the 1982 Best Actor Oscar, I was discovering his Brick for the first time via an iconic, Oscar-nominated teaming with Elizabeth Taylor in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. I could enjoy possibly Newman’s finest work in The Hustler, then be overjoyed a year or two later after a reprise of Fast Eddie Felson finally put a competitive Academy Award on his mantle (the Academy honored Newman with a Lifetime Achievement prize a year prior to his win for Best Actor). On the “classic” front, I completed screenings of Newman’s top-tier performances as Ben Quick, Hud Bannon and Luke Jackson, then moved on to viewing some enjoyable secondary titles in his catalog (Rally ‘Round the Flag, Boys!, The Young Philadelphians, and From the Terrace among them), while Newman was concurrently racking up new hits and awards as Nobody’s Fool, The Road to Perdition, and Cars marked an impressive twilight to a legendary career.

It has been a pleasure over the years to spend so much of my time as an avid movie buff watching the imposing gallery of portraits Paul Newman created onscreen. His fine work in a slew of entertaining films has left such an impression on me that, although I never met Mr. Newman (the closest I came was obtaining an autographed photo after sending a fan letter to him) I, along with millions of others, feel I’ve just lost someone very close to me. However, I’m grateful that due to the timelessness of film, I can still pass many hours transfixed by the work of a true class act and actor, Mr. Paul Newman. Rest in peace, dear, kind sir.

Spending the Weekend With a Hot Tootsie

2008-09-27T01:54:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I took in one of the cinema’s most perfect double bills, as the New Beverly Cinema offered up a showing of 1959’s Some Like it Hot and 1982’s Tootsie. The viewing brought back nostalgic memories from my childhood, as I first saw these two cross-dressing classics at roughly the same time, while Tootsie was enjoying it’s smash first-run in theaters. By coincidence, during Christmastime of that year my generous mother, aware that her movie-obsessed teenage son was going nuts over the fact the family didn’t own a VCR, made the (for us) extravagant $1,000 purchase of a new Zenith video recorder. As I was a huge Marilyn Monroe fan, mom also bought a copy of Hot to go with the VCR (the videocassette was also pricey- imagine paying $60-$100 bucks a pop for a title in 1982 dollars with no chance of finding an online discount, and even Blu Ray DVDs look like a bargain).

While I immediately embraced Tootsie as one of the funniest movies I’d seen, I didn’t initially warm up to Hot in the same manner. Although I was bowled over by the hilarity Jack Lemmon created in his go-for-broke interpretation of Jerry/Daphne, I may have been too focused on Monroe to properly assess the film’s other merits (Billy Wilder’s direction and script with I.A.L. Diamond, Tony’s Curtis’ killer take on Cary Grant, a great jazz score, etc.) even though I went into the showing well aware of the film’s reputation as one of the screen’s biggest laugh riots. A few months later, when my drama teacher learned I had the movie on tape, he asked if he could show it to the class during the last day of the semester. Their uproarious reaction to Hot surprised me, as even the students who came across as ultra-serious during the semester, either due to a dedication to their art or just because they enjoyed being pretentious, were in uncontrollable stitches. This response forced me to re-assess the film, and further screenings of Hot have allowed me to place the classic comedy in the high esteem it obviously warrants.

Although I was in the full throws of my passionate fascination with Monroe when I first laid eyes on her in a starring role via Some Like it Hot (my obsession was caused mainly through seeing her in the wealth of incredible pictures taken of her- what a camera subject!), I wasn’t as blow away by her charms as I thought I’d be. Although later screenings of her work in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, How to Marry a Millionaire, The Seven Year Itch, and The Prince and the Showgirl convinced me all the fuss was about something very special, in Hot I didn’t feel Monroe totally clicked, at least not in the spectacular way I imagined she would (and the way she did in some of her other hits). Possibly the myriad of problems Monroe was facing during this period (trouble with her marriage to Arthur Miller, an increase in dependency on drugs, her failure to have a child) kept the legend from creating career-best work. However, I believe a bigger factor affecting the quality of Monroe’s performance lies in her ties to the Actor’s Studio. From Bus Stop on, you often catch Monroe “acting” in a pretentious, self-conscious manner. Although coach Paula Strasberg may have set on the sidelines and approved, I think the instinctive approach Monroe used prior to her foray into the Strasberg technique served her just fine, and most of her best (and most spontaneous) work came prior to her venturing to New York to become a “real” actress.

However, we’re still dealing with Marilyn Monroe, and Hot offers a good example of why no other 1950’s Blonde Bombshell came close to emulating Monroe’s status as the era’s leading sex goddess. She truly does emit a radiant glow onscreen unlike no other actress; combine Monroe’s presence with the frail vulnerability she uses as Sugar Kane, and then try to picture anyone else in the role: Shirley MacLaine, one year shy of her iconic teaming with Lemmon and Wilder? Kooky and sweetly touching, but not the traffic-stopper Sugar Kane is meant to be. Jayne Mansfield? No problem causing fender-benders here, but too knowing with her overt sexuality. Wilder’s original choice, Mitzi Gaynor? Aren’t you really glad Monroe expressed an interest in working with the director again after The Seven Year Itch? Although her playing of Sugar may not be as energetic or as original as her work in some earlier roles, Monroe’s melancholic performance works very well for the film- although Hot’s an often crazed comedy, Sugar Kane is its sad little-girl-lost, and most of the heart found in the film comes from Monroe. Her warmth and humanity also keep the joke from getting too dirty in her two most famous scenes. Monroe’s wide-eyed innocence and childlike giggling as she cuddles with “Daphne” in an upper berth, unwittingly turning Jerry on in process, allows Sugar’s complete unawareness of Daphne’s true identity to be both funny and believable. Similarly, when Sugar is duped into believing Joe (Curtis), posing as an oil tycoon, is impodent, and successfully seduces him on a yacht borrowed from Daphne’s clueless paramour, Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown, raising idiocy to an art form), Monroe’s baby doll sensuality and charming comic sensibility help keep the scene light and breezy, even though Sugar really is being taken advantage of in a horrible manner. Later, when Sugar is heartbroken after being dumped by her ‘millionaire’, Monroe’s dazed poignancy brings the point home that Joe’s been playing games with a tender, sensitive soul, not a bombshell. Sugar deserves better, and Wilder and Diamond wisely alter her fortunes for the better during the dramatic change-of-events that close the film.

Jack Lemmon’s a wonder in his breakthrough role as Jerry/Daphne. Although Lemmon had risen to prominence in 1954 with costarring roles in two Judy Holiday films (It Should Happen to You and Pffft!), and he subsequently won a Supporting Actor Oscar in 1956 for Mister Roberts, his Hot work pushed him to the forefront of Hollywood’s top leading men, landing him a Golden Globe and his first Best Actor Oscar nomination (he lost to Charlton Heston, and the film wasn’t even up for Best Picture. Uh, okay). Lemmon’s long-term, rewarding association with Wilder would yield several other major hits over the next two decades, but for this viewer their first time was the charm. Of course Lemmon’s on the money in other Wilder hits, but if I have to pick between him singing to himself in The Apartment while he’s straining spaghetti via a tennis racket, or shaking a pair of maracas exuberantly as Daphne, only stopping long enough to tell Joe he’s engaged to Osgood, the choice is easy and logical. Lemmon is at his most ingenious and funniest in Hot, and I think it’s his best work on film, period (Lemmon stated comedy was harder for him to do than drama, but he sure makes it look easy here).

Tony Curtis’ career was on a phenomenal role around the time he filmed Hot. After doing fine work in a costarring role opposite Burt Lancaster and Gina Lollibrigida in Trapeze, one of 1956’s biggest hits, Curtis’ star stayed on the rise for the next several years, with a career-best performance in Sweet Smell of Success (check out the Siren’s terrific take on take on that classic over here) immediately following, an Oscar nomination for The Defiant Ones, the one-two comedy punch of Hot and Operation Petticoat, and appearances in hits such as The Vikings and Spartacus. In Hot, Curtis’ gives a smart, polished, and adept performance. Mid-film Lemmon’s wild antics start stealing the spotlight, but just when Curtis appears to be in danger of playing straight man to his brilliant costar, he comes up with a killer Cary Grant imitation under the guise of “Shell Oil Junior,” that warrants Curtis some front-and-center attention of his own as a first-rate comic actor. Just as importantly, Curtis keeps the often slick and self-serving Joe likable, even though the character could be a father to Sidney Falco, the slimy heel Curtis aced so memorably in Success. When Joe and Sugar finally get their happy ending, you believe Joe will do the right thing and settle down with his new lady love, as Curtis has managed to convey the notion that Joe, for all his mischievous endeavors, is a decent, kind character.

I can admire Dustin Hoffman when he’s trying to pull off the difficult task of taking on a Lenny Bruce or a Rain Man, but I think his star shines brightest in comedy, and I both admire and enjoy watching him when he’s going for the laughs. Hoffman’s eyes light up impishly and he’s raring to go whenever he’s gets his hands on a free-spirited, unconventional character such as the ones he plays in Wag the Dog and Meet the Fockers. In Tootsie, Hoffman’s lively (and sometimes bawdy) sense of humor is on sensational display, and he has no trouble running with the part of the film’s pain-in-the-ass actor, Michael Dorsey, who is obviously modeled after Dustin Hoffman. He has even more fun with Michael’s alter ego, the cleverly christened Dorothy Michaels, whom the talented Dorsey conjures up in order to get work on a popular soap opera. Was Hoffman ever funnier than when using Dorothy’s wispy yet high-pitched and formidable voice to get her way in just about every confrontation? Hoffman supposedly modeled his characterization of Dorothy after his mother. If this is true, Mrs. Hoffman is definitely a woman I would want sitting at the head of the table during my next dinner party.

As Julie Nichols, the leading actress on the soap Michael falls hard for, Jessica Lange pulls off the amazing feat of at least equaling the Monroe mystic. There are parallels between Sugar and Julie (they’re both abused by men, have problems with alcohol, bond easily with men posing as women, etc.) and, in addition to her beauty and vulnerability, Lange adds plenty of rich nuances to the role. Lange filmed Tootsie just after completing her harrowing, star-making work as Frances Farmer, and she creates in Julie a remarkably fragile heroine, yet also an edgy, nervy one. Lange even makes the character’s most unlikable action ring true. When Julie mistakenly thinks Dorothy is a lesbian, she appears to have little trouble cutting her ties with her close friend. I’ve always had a problem with Julie’s squeamishness towards Dorothy after this ‘discovery.’ However, Lange clearly conveys Julie’s apprehensiveness towards Dorothy with sensitivity and warmth, and she makes the line “I really love you, Dorothy, but I can’t love you” serve as a buffer that at least partially alleviates Julie’s character flaw (namely, an almost complete lack of acceptance towards Dorothy’s sexuality). Some feel Lange’s Oscar for Tootsie was a consolation prize for losing the Best Actress award for Frances, but her take on Julie is an integral component in Tootsie’s success (like Monroe in Hot, she brings the human element to the piece) and the movie would have a very different feel without her in the role.

It’s a good thing Lange won, as the film would be Oscarless without her. Similarly, Orry-Kelly’s eye-catching gowns for Monroe garnered Hot it’s only Academy Award in a year dominated by Ben Hur. Why is comedy usually held in less regard by the Academy than those big epics or message films such as Gandhi, which topped Tootsie for Best Picture, Director, Actor, etc.? I still haven’t got around to actually watching Gandhi (I think I get the idea though- it’s important and profound, and I should see it and then think about it for days), but I can’t imagine it could be as good for me or to me as Tootsie has been over the years. I did make it all the way through Hur once, and I think the film would have benefited from Heston doing some scenes in drag (how about performing that chariot race in high heels and lipstick, big Chuck?).

You already have Hoffman gleefully at his peak and Lange offering superb assistance, so all that’s left for Larry Gelbart and Murray Schisgal’s great screenplay (from Don McGuire’s story) and one of the best supporting casts ever to do is send the film’s quality and laugh quota into the stratosphere. Teri Garr, Dabney Coleman, Charles Durning, George Gaynes, and a nearly-naked Geena Davis all score handily. As Sandy, Michael’s actress friend and onetime, and onetime only, girlfriend, Oscar-nominated Garr possibly never did her lovable ditz routine better, and she obviously felt a friendly vibe towards Hoffman. Garr’s in complete synch with her costar’s performing style, and the notion that Sandy and Michael have developed a fairly complex relationship over the course of several years is effortlessly illustrated. Coleman follows up the boss-from-hell in played so believably in 9 to 5 with an even more skillful take on another rat-fink character, Ron Carlisle, the soap’s arrogant director and Julie’s two-timing boyfriend (when Dorothy responds to his male chauvinism by threatening to “kick his balls in” and later refers to him as a “macho sh—head” Coleman’s stunned reactions make these “take that” moments very sweet). Gaynes is so perfect as John Van Horn, the soap’s befuddled-yet-romantic lead actor, that it’s impossible to see the actor in any other role without calling his work in Tootsie to mind. Durning and Davis make distinct impressions as Julie’s father, Les (who develops a yen for Dorothy) and as the soap’s sexpot, April. Flitting around the dressing room she shares with Dorothy in the tiniest of underwear while she chats it up with her dumbstruck, wide-eyed costar, Davis exudes a wonderfully sexy, free spirit. Doris Belack is also excellent as Rita, the sage, down-to-earth producer of the soap. A current viewing of the film allowed me to focus more Belack’s alert, pitch-perfect work- she’s doesn’t get the laughs of her costars, but she’s a great pro, and she deftly sets up possibly the film’s most famous line- the classic “How do you feel about Cleveland” putdown.

As Michael’s blasé roommate, Jeff, and his put-upon, frequently irritated agent, George Fields, Bill Murray and Sydney Pollack come closest to stealing several hilarious scenes from Hoffman. Murray refused screen credit, but he gives a star performance- almost every line of his is a howler, and Murray uses his peerlessly glib, deadpan delivery to bring down the house time and again (I recall “You slut!” and “That is one nutty hospital” getting especially uproarious responses, both in 1982 and today). Early on, director Pollack’s beautifully portrayed exasperation and blunt sarcasm as George serves as a perfect contrast to Michael Dorsey’s overbearing pretentiousness. In their later scenes, Michael gets his revenge by leaving his agent speechless when he appears in his new guise as Dorothy, and Pollack proves himself to be just as funny being surprised and mortified by Michael/Dorothy as he is when he’s cutting his client down to size with George’s classic “You were a tomato! A tomato doesn’t move!” retort.

Currently, Some Like it Hot and Tootsie hold the lofty #1 and #2 positions on the American Film Institute’s list of the 100 Best Comedies. It’s a tall order to live up to such a ranking, but these two endlessly enjoyable movies hold up over many years and viewings. It was even more fun watching them on the same bill, and comparing and contrasting their various merits. Judging by my current screenings of these classics with a sizable and sizably entertained audience, neither film is in danger of losing its impressive status as a (or the) top comedy in the near or distant future.

On Monday, I put the dress away, saddled up, and moseyed back to the New Beverly, wherein I caught my first Randolph Scott/Budd Boetticher collaboration. These low-budget westerns the star/director team made in the 1950’s have gained quite the reputation during the last few decades and, after a fairly routine first half, 1957’s Decision at Sundown proved to be a refreshing change-of-pace from the plethora of oaters Hollywood was churning out during the period. It was nice to see what appeared to be some question regarding the degree of villain Tate Kimbrough’s (John Carroll) dastardly-ness (being a womanizer appears to be his biggest crime), and to see him admit to being nervous before going out to meet the laconic-yet-dangerous Bart Allison (Scott) for their final shootout. The women of Sundown also add a lot of flavor. Although they may fit into the standard good girl/bad girl mode, as portrayed by Karen Steele and Valerie French the two leading women of the piece also appear to have minds of their own, and they have no problem giving the males a piece of it when the action starts to heat up. A surprising but satisfying climax and a swift resolution to the film’s major conflict are other factors helping to place the memorable film above the level of an ordinary B-western.

Before Sundown, I spent an afternoon at the awesome Margaret Herrick Library, which houses a ton of movie-related material (including posters, stills, original screenplays, and much more). After roaming around gazing at some of the huge original posters on display (including a six-sheet of Queen Christina and a couple of King Kongs) and checking out a few Oscars (including Edith Head’s now-tarnished statuette for All About Eve, which was close enough to touch, but I didn’t dare for fear I’d be clobbered by the ever-attentive staff, who keep an understandably close watch over all the library’s abundant resources) I spent most of my time in the periodical section, wherein I checked out the 1956 Oscar race via a batch of Hollywood Reporters. It was interesting to review the ’56 Oscar derby; if anyone wonders how Mike Todd’s now-creaky Around the World in 80 Days managed to snag the top prize over other contenders, including Friendly Persuasion, Giant and The Ten Commandments, one only need take a peek at the Reporter and marvel at the manner in which, for the love of God, Todd, that undeniable master showman, must have set the Reporter owners up for life buying up space in the daily to crow on and on about his crowning achievement. I lost count of the number of pages the Reporter devoted to glorifying Days as the greatest piece of entertainment in history, and I could understand how a reader at the time might forget any other movies were made that, or any, year. Even poor Cecil B. DeMille, no stranger to self-promotion, must’ve finally said “f--- it, too good” after he couldn’t get much of word in for the almighty Commandments amid Todd’s ballyhooing of Days. Have to give credit to Todd for fearlessly one-upping everyone else in the business, but as I turned each page of the Reporter hoping at last to find that trade ad heralding Dorothy Malone in Written on the Wind or James Dean in Giant, only to be met by a fold-out advertisement featuring resounding endorsements of Days from approximately 150 critics around the globe, I signed and thought “There ought to be a law.” I’m afraid to even guess what Todd was up to in Variety. Good thing pandering for Academy Awards doesn’t hold much cache with Oscar voters today. Ha.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun Video

2008-09-03T23:11:00.001-07:00

I love Cyndi Lauper and I love movie queens. I've had the idea of combining the work of these two favorites into a video for a long time. I had to remove the music track, but the imagery is intended to match up with Lauper's hit recording. I hope you enjoy the result over here (note: the video looks a lot better if you choose the "watch in high quality" option, if this viewing choice is available).

Mr. Wonderful Video

2008-08-19T07:51:00.000-07:00

I'm still playing around mixing DVD video with music, and I finished putting together my second You Tuber in this vein, featuring my favorite classic and modern male movie star (Mr. Newman bridges the gap, IMO). Click here to watch my tribute to a mega-talent, entrepreneur, and all-around good guy, via the sultry tones of Sarah Vaughan and clips from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Long Hot Summer, The Hustler, Sweet Bird of Youth, Hud, The Verdict, and several others. The video quality looks better than in my first attempt. Not sure why, but I'll take it.

Hunting Down Laughton's Haunting Night

2008-08-11T16:58:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday night brought an amazing highlight for me as a classic movie buff, as I was able to finally watch a presentation of The Night of the Hunter outtakes sponsored by the UCLA Film & Television Archives at the pretty-in-pink Billy Wilder Theater. Several years ago, I read this entry over at Leonard Maltin’s site, and I’ve been hoping to see a release of this rare footage (maybe on DVD?) detailing Charles Laughton’s extraordinary directorial achievement ever since. Thanks to my friend at Southland Cinephiles (a must if you’re a movie buff living in or near the L.A. area), I was alerted that a presentation of the outtakes was being shown again, and I rushed up the 405 freeway to finally witness one of my cinematic Holy Grails.

Luckily, I obtained a ticket before the sold out event sold out. Going into the theater, I spotted author Preston Neal Jones signing copies of his book, “Heaven & Hell to Play With: The Filming of The Night of the Hunter”, which provides a comprehensive overview of the film’s shooting, as well as its pre and post production (my gratitude to Mr. Jones, as his excellent, awesomely informative book contains many of Laughton’s on-the-set musings, which are quoted below). Inside the theater, UCLA Preservation Officer Robert Gitt, who spent twenty years putting this very special footage together, was on hand to present the material. Gitt stated he first came into contact with the eight hours of existing outtakes from the film in New York after Charles Laughton’s widow, Elsa Lanchester, donated the material to the American Film Institute in 1974. Gitt relocated to Los Angeles, and started working with colleagues in 1981 to edit down the eight hours into the over 2 ½ hours of Hunter's choicest outtakes screened in the presentation. In 2002 Gitt begin showing this incredible footage to audiences, receiving an (understandably) universally enthusiastic response from fascinated movie lovers.

The footage starts with Laughton (possibly in an alternate opening he shot for the film) reading key lines from the bible, leading up to the “Beware of false prophets” line germane to the film’s story. As proved to be the rule during the showing of the remaining footage, Laughton, unhappy with the way he’s said a certain word or phrase, starts and stops often, telling the cameraman to keep rolling as the actor attempts to perfect his line readings. After this insightful look into Laughton’s approach to filming, Gitt wisely unveiled the ultimate behind-the-scenes footage in the same sequence as the film unfolds (rather than in the order the scenes were actually filmed). For the next two-and-a-half hours, the enthralled audience alternately laughed uproariously and sat in stunned, rapt attention at the unbelievable presentation.

Robert Mitchum is fascinating to watch, and not just because he’s so perfect in probably his best role. You occasionally see traces of Mitchum’s “bad boy” persona surface during the filming (more than once, he inserts in an amusing, inappropriate “poon tang” reference into his dialogue), but the outtakes more often show an actor clearly dedicated to his craft. Mitchum works hard with Laughton to make Preacher Harry Powell the intense, terrifying character we know and love/hate. For example, that piercing shriek Mitchum emits as the Preacher when John and Pearl escape in the boat was shot many times, as Laughton encouraged his dripping wet star to wail as passionately as possibly, over and over. Mitchum’s powerful playing receives the ultimate compliment after he nails the famous “L-O-V-E/H-A-T-E” speech: Evelyn Varden’s Icey states, “I never heard it better told,” then in a hushed, respectful tone the difficult-to-please Laughton can be heard repeating Icey’s statement before adding “And, by Christ, I never did.” Clearly mutual respect existed between director and star, and Mitchum is obviously willing in take after take to go the distance with the character in order to help Laughton fulfill his vision.

Laughton’s perfectionist approach appears at times to frustrate two of his key players, the young ten-year-old lead Billy Chapin, and Shelley Winters. Laughton’s demands for take after take, sometimes only to change the tone or emphasis of a single word, must have been trying at times; however, the results he obtained from Chapin and Winters support the director’s firm approach with his actors. In the finished film, Chapin does an exceptional job of delineating John Harper’s every mood, and the outtakes show how closely Laughton worked with the young pro to shape Chapin’s fine portrayal. One of the most compelling outtakes features Laughton directing Chapin during the “Here, take it Dad, it’s too much!!” scene, wherein John hits the captured Preacher over and over with the doll containing the hidden money Powell sought throughout the story. Laughton guides Chapin carefully through the emotional sequence, demonstrating line readings for the child to allow the youngster to grasp the script's complexities. For example, Laughton beautifully explains the reason for the boy’s wild cry of “Dad!!”(“It’s a recognition, somebody come back from the dead, like a ghost- “Daaddd!!”), as John recollects his father’s arrest at the outset of the film when Powell is being apprehended by the authorities.

Laughton may have made Shelley Winters lie in that bed and repeat her brief “The Lord just wouldn’t let it be” speech until the actress was groaning and pounding her pillow in frustration, but Laughton’s acute suggestions to Winters during the twenty or so takes (“You see his (the Lord's) dear face, Shelley”) led to one of Winters finest and most perfectly understated moments in the movie (and was there ever any better direction than Laughton’s suggestion to Winters, “Doesn’t matter about the lines, just smile Shelley, and be seraphic”?). Conversely, during Winters frantic “That’s where the Lord stepped in!!” appeal at the wake, Laughton allows his colorful star to cut loose before toning down her eye-bulging trouping to obtain a decent take. Winters may come off as somewhat overwrought in the final print during this scene, but she’s just fine in comparison with her first attempt at filming Willa Harper’s tumultuous speech, after which the normally verbose Laughton can only be heard to whisper, “Oh, dear.” Winters eventually does the scene to Laughton’s satisfaction, but not before getting maybe the biggest laugh of the evening: attempting to coax the correct reading from Winters, Laughton tells her to warm up for the speech by saying a prayer, “any kind of prayer that you know.” The emotional Winters, caught up in the moment, pauses as if deep in thought, then exclaims, “Shmah Ysroyel ahdenoy el o hay nu ahdenoy emhot!!!!”

The director exerts total control over all the performers, and it’s remarkable to watch the actors maintain focus and hone their performances as Laughton directs them through repeated takes. Fortunately, as Laughton kept the camera rolling between takes, we are granted the benefit of hearing Laughton carefully working with his cast to ensure each gesture, look, and line reading receives the proper emphasis. During these coaching sessions, Laughton’s amusing tendency for haminess is sometimes showcased:

“And Shelley, angelic and all that stuff."

“Lillian, don’t move.” (Gish: “Well, I have to move.”)

“Smile, Shelley, please. There, that’s it. . . all right, Mitch, kill her!!!”

(To novice actress Gloria Castilo, who plays Ruby in the film): “Don’t get nervous, start again! Relax! Nothing’s happening to you. No knives or anything!”

Even off camera, there’s no disputing who’s the star of this (outtakes) show.

Liilian Gish’s acting genius is in evidence during the filming of each of her scenes as Rachel Cooper. There’s a calmness and warmth about everything Gish does, and with her intuitive gifts as a screen performer, she’s the one actor who appears in total control of her character at all times, and the least in need of Laughton’s firm hand. She still follows nearly every direction Laughton gives her perfectly, and it’s awe-inspiring to see how quickly Gish changes Rachel’s inflections and moods, based on her director’s requests. One of the only times Gish appears to falter is when she’s attempting to emulate what she thinks Laughton wants her to do. Gish says “trapped” too broadly during the “I’ve got something trapped in my barn” line, as Rachel calls for the state troopers to pick up Harry Powell. After saying the line several times, Laughton is heard stating “No, Lillian, you’re emphasizing the word 'trapped' too much,” whereupon Gish immediately replies, “Oh, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Sally Jane Bruce, so precocious in the film, was more adorable in the outtakes. I’ve always thought Bruce had an original presence, but her acting was sometimes a bit stilted in the film. She’s an incredible charmer in the outtakes, though. Sitting in the gargantuan Mitchum’s lap, the tiny Bruce gently smiles and calmly chastises him with “You forgot your lines” when Mitchum briefly pauses. Later, when Laughton tenderly tells Bruce to run screaming into the shot which occurs right after the preacher has yelled “Tell me, you little wretch or I’ll tear your arm off!!” she placidly and sweetly replies, “okay,” then follows Laughton’s gentle cue and goes berserk. Gitt explained Bruce was picked for the part of Pearl after winning a singing contest, and in one take the audience gets to heard Bruce’s unusual, deeply resonant voice charmingly sing the “Pretty fly” song (later dubbed by an adult singer, for some reason) as the boat holding John and Pearl floats downstream.

One of the highlights of the evening was watching Evelyn Varden film Icey Spoon’s speech at the picnic, wherein she tells a group of her friends sex in a marriage counts for zilch. Laughton sets the tone at the outset of the scene by stating in deadpan fashion, “Girls, men are disgusting, except for Mitchum.” Varden then launches into her speech in fine form, leading up to Icey’s “I’ve been married to my Walt for forty years, and in all that time I just lie there thinking about my canning” punchline. The line is a guaranteed laugh-getter, but Varden really got the audience howling with the wry, knowing look she throws to the camera immediately after she finishes the line and the take is over. Guess Varden knew the score with men off-screen, too.

Stanley Cortez’s peerless, truly haunting cinematography, Alfred E. Spencer’s set design, and Hilyard Brown’s art direction are, of course, integral factors in the overall eerie mood of the film; it’s equally strange, and a bit surreal, to view the actors getting ready for their scenes amid their ethereal surroundings. Encircled by stylistic settings and misty lighting, the actors often appear to have a ghostly pallor during the night scenes, which helps sustain the unusual, uneasy atmosphere unique to Laughton’s sole directorial work.

Hunter has ranked high on my list of favorite classics ever since I first viewed and was scared witless by the film as a nineteen-year-old. Along with 1945’s Dead of Night, I still find it to be the most frightening movie I’ve ever watched. It was a remarkable, awesome experience to witness the film being created by Laughton and his phenomenal cast, and I’m still pinching myself to ensure it really happened. If Mr. Gitt comes anywhere remotely near your area to present this footage, “shake a leg” (as Icey instructs John and Pearl to do) and zip to Gitt’s location faster than a couple of tots on the run from Preacher Harry Powell.

Rockin' Wind Video

2008-08-11T08:24:00.000-07:00

After some trial and error, I finally managed to edit my first video using film. I've had this idea floating around in my head for a long time, and it was nice to finally bring it to fruition. Therefore, here's a tribute to the best melodrama ever, 1956's florid Written on the Wind, directed by the master of the genre, Douglas Sirk, and starring Rock Hudson, Lauren Bacall, Robert Stack, and my favorite Supporting Actress Oscar winner, Dorothy Malone.

I posted the video on You Tube over here, and I'll be damned if I can figure out how to get better resolution/higher quality in the video. There's an option tab below the video to present the clip in higher quality, and it does look a little sharper.

Oh, and thank you, Ms. Spears (aka Britney, bitch).

A Celestial Evening with Ms. Holm at the Egyptian

2008-07-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

A little over two months after moving to the L.A. area, I finally was able to see a star in the flesh last Monday night, during the Egyptian Theater’s tribute to film and theater great Celeste Holm. Between showings of two of her top films, 1955’s The Tender Trap and the iconic All About Eve, the 91-year-old legend took the stage for a discussion of her stage and screen career with Miles Kreuger, President of the Institute of the American Musical, followed by a Q&A session with the audience. With the assistance of her husband, Frank Basile, Holm reminisced about some of the many highlights of her long career as a performer.

Just before Trap got under way, I was surprised by the sound of applause. Looking around the theater, I saw Ms. Holm entering the theater and talking a seat with the rest of us mere mortals to watch one of her best performances (A gentlemen with a keen eye also spotted veteran 1940’s MGM contact player Marsha Hunt coming in just ahead of Holm). Proving she still has a performer’s instinct, Holm received the first laugh of the evening before the movie even started. The lights dimmed to signal the start of the picture, and they stayed dimmed as the projectionist attempted to get the Cinemascope production rolling. After about thirty seconds of the audience politely sitting in the dark, a feisty “C’mon!!” emitted from Holm’s section of the theater. Guess Celeste knows how good she is in Trap, and wanted others to see her work in the breezy comedy, pronto.

After the movie was enjoyed by one and all Kreuger, who was well versed in anything and everything having to do with Celeste Holm’s career, spent the next half hour or so talking to Holm and her husband. It was mentioned Holm got her professional start with the original touring company of The Women back in the 1930’s, then did some work with George M. Cohan before she become a Broadway star several years later in Oklahoma. Regarding Rogers and Hammerstein’s seminal musical, Holm stated she hadn’t sung onstage before the 1943 production, and she auditioned for and won the part of Ado Annie after performing a “Suee-ee” hog call (Holm then did an impressive “Sueee-ee” demonstration for the audience). A starring role in 1944’s hit Bloomer Girl followed (putting Holm on the cover of Life magazine) before Holm secured a contract with 20th Century-Fox and headed west to start her film career with a standout part (singing “Always a Lady”) in 1946’s Three Little Girls in Blue. The star then stated Moss Hart gave her a copy of Laura Z. Hobson's Gentlemen’s Agreement shortly before Fox started production on the 1947 film version of the successful novel. Impressed by the book, Holm was eager to make the film, playing “any part they wanted to give me.” Holm explained she was ready to prove to audiences she could pull off a dramatic role outside of the light musical comedies that had made her famous. An Agreement Oscar for Holm resulted, and the actress told us she was proud to be a part of a film that dealt with important issues.

Holm related an amusing story regarding her meeting with director Anatole Litvak in an elevator during this time. Holm seized the opportunity to pitch for a role in his upcoming production of The Snake Pit by stopping the elevator between floors. When Litvak exclaimed “We are stuck,” Holm replied, “Yes, because I want to talk to you,” then proceeded to tell the director of her interest in the film, only allowing Litvak to escape the current pit he found himself in after she had secured a meaty role in the tense, successful 1948 drama. So much for agents.

Concerning her burgeoning post-Oscar career, Holm simply and charmingly replied, “Well, you’re busy.” As for Eve, Holm claimed she got on fine with later on-the-set nemesis Bette Davis upon their initial meeting a couple weeks before shooting begin. Pleasantries were exchanged, and the two talented women looked forward to working together on a great script (and, quite possibly, the greatest script). Holm then related how things went south during their first encounter on the set, after Holm offered a cheery “Good morning!” to the cast and Davis shot back with, “Oh shit, good manners.” (on the Eve DVD, Holm stated she never talked to Davis off camera again). Kreuger wondered why Holm abruptly headed back east after scoring three Oscar nods and an Academy Award in three years time. Holm’s response was simple: she wasn’t being offered the type of roles she wanted in Hollywood, so back to Broadway she went (fortunately, Frank Sinatra would beckon Holm and her charming persona back to the silver screen to costar with him in Trap and 1956’s High Society, in two of her very best roles).

After the discussion, Holm took some questions from the audience. Asked about how she felt working with Sinatra, she stated, “He was what you would expect. Funny, fun, and not interested in rehearsing.” Holm explained Sinatra liked sticking to his ‘one-take, and that’s it’ approach, but she had other ideas: “Frank wanted to do a take once, then go home for lunch, but I liked to prepare for our scenes- I won.” The star bristled when asked to name her favorite work on film or in the theater, clearly not interested in dwelling too much on past glories (however, it was mentioned Holm loved playing the Fairy Godmother in the enduring 1965 television version of Cinderella). As the conversation was winding down, I finally thought of something valid to ask Holm (thank you, dear Stinkylu). Outside of mentioning she’d gained an Oscar nomination for her work in the film, no one had said anything about Come to the Stable, so I asked Holm if she had any recollections of working with Loretta Young on the 1949 film (although I was composed during my query, I admit I’m a big enough movie geek that later in the evening I thought, “OMG, tonight I asked an Academy Award winner a question!”). Holm and Basile then related a juicy tidbit concerning a “cuss box” Young had set up on the set. Whenever anyone working on Stable said a bad word, he or she had to contribute twenty-five cents to charity via the cuss box. One day Ethel Merman was visiting the studio, and heard about Young’s fund. Marching onto the Stable set with a twenty dollar bill, Merman shoved the cash into the box and bellowed, “Okay Loretta, why don’t you go f--- yourself!” (well, I guess the set WAS stable until “the Merm” showed up). Holm brought down the house with this bawdy punchline, and I was very glad I’d asked her about the movie.

Discussing more recent work, Holm received another big laugh when Kreuger mentioned Holm had played a cameo role in a yet-to-be released film with Mickey Rooney, Drive Me Crazy. Holm quickly retorted with, “He did, too. That was a long two days, working with Rooney.” The conversation ended with the host mentioning how so many people are able to view the work of Holm today through DVDs and television, whereupon Holm stated the fact audiences would still be loving her films had “never occurred to me- it’s wonderful.” Holm then returned to her seat to watch Eve with us, and it boggled at least one audience member’s mind that he was actually watching this all-time classic with one of its stars. Thank you for a special and delightful evening, Ms. Holm.

A Ratty Davis Dishes it out to Crawford with Relish in the Wild, Wonderful Jane

2008-07-07T14:45:00.000-07:00

Watching Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? for the first time with an audience during the final night of LACMA’s tribute to Bette Davis turned out to be the fascinating experience I anticipated. Most compellingly, the film appeared to divide the large audience, providing some viewers with great comedy, while others clearly were more unsettled by the macabre nature of the movie. For example, although there were plenty of chuckles after the final frame, I also heard expressions of “Oh, My God,” and “Wow, that was scary" (one gentlemen who was extremely involved in the film's 'scare tactics' became irate the man behind him was laughing so hard, and wouldn't "shut the f--- up," while I sat nearby and mused over the fact that both of them were right). No matter how in the know a viewer is regarding the Davis/Crawford feud, and how the star's mutual antagonism is mirrored on screen by Baby Jane’s behavior towards her helpless sister, it’s hard not to get caught up in the story’s dramatic arch (especially during the unnerving final hour) and start to bite a few fingernails as the film unfolds.

However, there’s still a first hour or so wherein Jane sets up “camp.” During this portion of the movie, the viewers were kept in a state of stitches watching some indelible scenes unfold: Jane (as a child) opening the film by lip-synching through her and the movie’s invaluable, peerlessly cheesy theme song, “I’ve Written Letter to Daddy,” while belittled sister Blanche seeths in the wings; Jane getting 'buzzed' by Blanche as she utters "You miserable b----"; Jane’s classic “But you are in that chair” retort; and, in probably the film’s most incredible moment in a movie filled with jaw droppers, Davis’ wailing reprise of “Daddy,” accompanied by the pricelessly deadpan Victor Buono on piano, while a nervous, befuddled Crawford sits upstairs listening in awe ((I love how Davis enunciates every word during “Daddy” in her trademark brash manner, just as you hoped she would). I’ve always felt I was fairly hip regarding the movie’s camp value, but I never howled with quite the voracious glee that reverberated throughout the theater during this sequence, especially when Davis' dress momentarily flies up and we catch a glimpse of Jane's knobby knees. The overall high spiritedness of the crowd definitely made one feel included in the mix, and I found myself telling the gentleman sitting next to me after the film was over, “This is the first time I’ve seen the movie with everybody” instead of “with an audience.”

Is there any performer braver than Bette Davis as she rasps her way through “Daddy” in curls, patsy white makeup, beauty mark, and bee-stung lips? Hard to image even gutsy, awesomely talented Davis contemporary Katherine Hepburn not taking pause to ask herself, “Will this work, or ruin my distinguished career?” before launching into such a part. Davis, on the other hand, made damn sure she was playing Jane before signing on to do the film, and she blasts through the role, firing on all cylinders with her characteristic fearlessness. The star obviously understood she possessed the acting finesse to form a multi-dimensional character out of her somewhat shlocky comeback material, as Davis manages to create in Jane a flesh-and-blood person amid all the character's outrageous conduct, making the audience pity this woman while laughing at her over-the-top behavior. For example, it’s impossible not to emphasize with the delusional Jane’s need for recognition as she explains to a bank teller that “I’m Baby Jane Hudson,” then looks hopefully at the young man, waiting for the clueless teller to recall her vaudeville heyday of fifty years before. Similarly, in the grown-up, drunken Jane’s first reprise of “Daddy,” Davis is both scary and heartbreaking as she recites Jane’s mid-song monologue, covering her face and breaking down in sobs after incurring a mirrored image of herself in harsh light as she states “. . .I’m much too young to know!” while looking not a day over, or under, sixty-five. Davis’ Jane Hudson may remain too grotesque and “super-sized” to rank with the actress best performances, but it’s hard to think of a more memorable Davis characterization.

At this point, it appears Joan Crawford’s reputation will never live down the havoc wreaked by Mommie Dearest. Although it was difficult to determine how much of the audience’s often cheerful reaction to her character’s grisly fate was brought about by Crawford and her tough persona finally getting slapped down and around (as opposed to any derisiveness being directed at the character herself, as the many repeat viewers of Jane in the audience knew the real score as far as Blanche is concerned) it’s clear that when a terrified Blanche, who has just been served the cinema’s most unappealing dinner plate by her demented sister, is shown wheeling around her room in a state of hysterics, and the camera cuts to an overhead shot of her caught like a rat in a maze, the uproarious laughter that emitted from every section of the theater was not due to the mood of the film (the house was almost brought down again when Jane kicks the hell out of Blanche before victoriously dragging her invalid sibling back upstairs). To be fair to Crawford, although she’s certainly cast against type playing anyone’s victim and, with her controlled voice and Great Lady airs, she is sometimes too superficial during the early portions of the film, once Blanche starts facing Jane’s horrible wrath, Crawford dives into the heavy dramatics with her typical elan, and even adds notes of subtlety to some of her scenes. Also, although Davis poo-poohed Crawford for the star’s unwillingness to forgo glamour for the sake of art, check out the “Crawford look” once Jane really starts going to town on Blanche- Joan gives Bette a run for her money in the de-glam department, and her modulated acting herein is in nice contrast to Davis’ unrestrained fireworks- Crawford nails the final “payoff” scene by whispering the film’s big revelation in an admirably understated manner not normally demonstrated by the frequently melodramatic screen queen.

Victor Buono gained a warranted Oscar nod for his work as Edwin, and he probably deserved more just for the way he curls his lip up towards the end of “Daddy.” The imposing, hefty (in both size and talent) twenty-four-year-old newcomer skillfully manages to hold his own with Davis in their creepy, fascinating pairing. With his sonorous, classically British voice (impressive, given that Buono hailed from San Diego) and his mixture of slyly comic reactions to the off-kilter Jane’s outlandish behavior with some darker character undertones, Buono makes Edwin as memorably offbeat as Davis does Jane. When a mutual attraction springs up between the two oddballs, resulting in scenes such as Jane reacting in a coy, girlish manner anytime she’s around Edwin, just like a girl on the night of her senior prom as she greets her beau, or the one wherein Edwin whistles “Daddy” as he prepares for a hot date with Jane, while his possessive mother jealously nags her disapproval, the movies enter uncharted, WTF territory. There are plenty of doomed lovers in film, but this is the Apocalypse Now of screen romances, folks (but just try looking away).

Although the Davis/Crawford teaming and Buono’s original contribution are chiefly responsible (both then and now) for Jane’s success, producer/director Robert Aldrich deserves credit for bringing off the risky undertaking with aplomb. Cinematographer Ernest Haller’s Oscar-nominated stark lighting and DeVol’s pensive musical scoring add plenty to the film’s tense, tawdry atmosphere, while Norma Koch picked up the film’s sole Academy Award for her costume designs. Unbelievable and astonishing, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? remains an unmatched peak in the annals of Grand Guignol Cinema.

Cyd Charisse Tripped the Light Fantastic Fantastically

2008-06-18T21:12:00.000-07:00

Her grace and elegance both on screen and off were unparalleled, and appeared indomitable, until death claimed one of dancing’s greatest talents at age 86 yesterday. Fortunately film is forever, and Cyd Charisse will remain a glamorous, iconic presence via the string of memorable MGM musicals she starred in during the genre’s golden age. Charisse served nearly a ten-year apprenticeship at the studio (she was most prominently featured during this period in the 1946 Judy Garland hit The Harvey Girls) before breaking through at the perfect time in the cinema’s most perfect musical. Given her remarkable terpsichorean gifts and all-around comeliness, it’s surprising it took Charisse so long to make a major impact at MGM during the reign of the incredible Arthur Freed unit. She finally was allowed to stick out that endless ‘hat stand’ gam toward an appropriately awestruck Gene Kelly in 1952’s Singin’ in the Rain, and he wasn’t the only one floored by Charisse’s lush sensuality, beauty, and towering presence (hard to believe she stood 5 feet, 6 inches tall) as the screen’s top female dancer of that, or maybe any, era. During the next five years, she was appropriately showcased in some of the studio’s top musical efforts, to the gratitude of generations of moviegoers who would fall in love with Charisse and her awesome abilities as a dancer.

Although she admitted to being no great shakes as a dramatic actress, Charisse was a magnificent, shimmying chameleon in dance, as attested to by her work as Gaby in 1953's The Band Wagon, wherein she teams with ideal partner Fred Astaire, first to sell possibly the greatest romantic sequence in musical film (their classy “Dancing in the Dark” through Central Park can simultaneously give viewers shivers and becalm them) before appearing as the embodiment of both a sweet young thing and a femme fatale in the movie’s sensational “Girl Hunt” ballet. In this terrific, stylish (with direction by Vincent Minnelli, what else would it be?) send-up of the popular Mickey Spillane pulp novels of the time, detective Astaire declares “She was bad, she was dangerous” after encountering Charisse as the slinky, erotic, black-sequined gowned Girl Friday of the piece. Charisse later shows up at “Dem Bones Café”, wherein she removes a black overcoat to reveal one of the cinema’s sexiest figures, resplendent in that sinuously unforgettable red dress and shoes combo and long, long black gloves. When I think of the Freed Unit’s apex, the sight of Astaire supporting Charisse in that café, as she stretches those tempestuous legs out to cover about half the set, is the first image that comes to mind, as well it should be.

Her best all-around performance may have come in her last big musical, 1957’s Silk Stockings, as the stoic Russian Ninotchka, who eventually melts after taking a twirl or two with Astaire. Following in Garbo's footsteps is a very tall order, but in looks and manner the statuesque Charisse fills the legend’s shoes admirably, and she does some of her most impressive hoofing as well (her athletic leaping in “The Red Blues” number is especially memorable). Astaire never really would state who his favorite dancing partner was (in 1976’s That’s Entertainment, Part 2, with tongue firmly in cheek, he revealed Gene Kelly as his #1 pick), yet some have stated Rita Hayworth was at the top of Astaire’s list. Surely Astaire must have singled the screen goddess out before his later work with Charisse, as it’s hard to imagine anyone could supercede the incomparable legend in Astaire’s affections once he had graced that Band Wagon soundstage with the woman he aptly termed “beautiful dynamite.”

Madeline Kahn Brightens a Paper Moon

2008-05-28T22:44:00.000-07:00

Coming up with a Madeline Kahn tribute post for Stinkylulu’s Day of Appreciation blogathon proved difficult for me, as I had trouble thinking of the words to express how important the lovely Ms. Kahn’s work has been to my life as an avid movie fan. Madeline Kahn was one of the earliest and most beloved performers I can remember seeing in films on a frequent basis (she made her film debut in What’s Up Doc? at about the same time I can first remember going to the movies regularly), and her impact on me was profound. Long before I understood enough to make any type of critical assessment of a performer or film, I simply liked or didn’t like a movie or actor and, during the amazing two-to-three year stretch wherein she appeared in Doc, Paper Moon, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler, and Young Frankenstein (I wasn’t able to witness her indelible work as Lily van Stupp in Blazing Saddles until later, as the film was considered too raunchy for my young, impressionable eyes to view), Madeline Kahn became a welcome, recognizable figure to me, and the performer I most identified with onscreen. I felt a strong connection with this warm woman who seemed so funny, alive, and kind. I think her warmth gets overlooked a lot due to her astounding gifts as a comedienne (a measure of Kahn’s abilities in this area: the gifted newcomer was reportedly turning in such a great performance as Agnes Gooch in Mame that Lucille Ball did herself no favors- and Kahn plenty, as it turned out- by having her talented rival axed from the picture she was stealing). Her characters often aren’t very sympathetic, but Kahn makes a viewer care for each of their plights and, no matter how outrageous the comedy, she always manages to find the humane aspects of the character.

I believe Kahn’s single greatest achievement on film came in the cliché role of “Trixie Delight,” the lazy, self-involved tramp of Paper Moon. From the moment Kahn first appears in Peter Bogdanovich’s 1973 depression-era comedy, flouncing around as Trixie jiggles her way towards the forefront of the screen, Kahn's presence and good nature picks the movie up and turns it into a fantastic entertainment; once Kahn arrives, a viewer instantly gets the sense that something very special is going on, and "This is as good as movies get." Kahn takes the stock role of a bubbly, saucy tart and shades the character with traces of sadness and complexity, resulting in a rich portrayal one can never forget. Trixie may come across as a shallow, materialistic creature but, beneath Trixie’s surface vamping, Kahn invests the role with layers of feeling. Most significantly, in the film’s best scene Kahn does a 180 on Trixie’s heretofore vapidity and proves this earthy woman’s suffered through plenty of hard knocks. Carnival “dancer” Trixie has hooked up with con artist “Moses Pray” (Ryan O’Neal), much to the chagrin of Moses’ tiny partner-in-crime, Addie. After a picnic lunch on a hillside, Addie decides to go to battle with her nemesis, and refuses to get back into the car with Moses, Trixie, and Trixie’s world-weary fifteen-year-old maid, Imogene (P.J. Johnson, who gets some hilarious lines, and nails every one of them). This action prompts Trixie to climb the hill and attempt to cajole the youngster back into the car by the use of comic books, flattery (who can forget the ingenious inflection Kahn gives to her pronounciation of "bone structure"? My sister and I aped Kahn saying this for weeks), and demands for her to “. . . cut out the crap, you understand?” before Trixie turns around to head back downhill. Addie is immobile through it all and, sensing the child is on to her game, Trixie turns back around and, in stunning fashion, completely drops her guard. With her voice quavering and her eyes suddenly tearing up, Kahn is magnificent in this scene. Trixie wins Addie (and the audience) to her side by gently informing the girl Moses’ infatuation with her will wear off, as Trixie always messes up her relationships with men. Kahn’s acting is so direct and honest during Trixie’s sweet, melancholic monologue that a viewer buys into everything she’s telling Addie. Even though Trixie subsequently acts in her own best interests and gets meaner, until her ruthless, unfaithful behavior is finally (and probably justifiably) revealed to Moses by Addie, I find myself rooting for Trixie to take her duped con man suitor for everything’s he’s got whenever I watch Moon. In Trixie, Kahn creates an endearing portrait of a woman who’s a victim of her time and circumstances, and this lady deserves to gain a better lot in life.

Kahn’s most celebrated work in Saddles and Young Frankenstein is original and brilliant, but it’s definitely on a different, more stylized comic plane than what Kahn pulls off as Trixie. Underneath pounds of makeup, tight dresses, baby talk, batting eyelashes, swaying hips, and bouncing cleavage, her Trixie remains a vividly real woman. Trixie Delight represents one of Madeline Kahn’s most irresistibly perfect cinematic accomplishments, therefore making this Moon nirvana for Kahn’s fans, and for any other moviegoer with a heartbeat.

Sandra Dee & Troy Donahue Find Stardom Awaits at A Summer Place

2008-05-26T23:56:00.000-07:00

As June looms around the corner, the time is right to venture to one of the great settings found in the melodramatic genre, 1959’s florid A Summer Place, featuring iconic 1950's teen idols Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue, ideally paired in their only screen teaming (Donahue appeared briefly in Dee’s other classic 1959 soaper, Imitation of Life, as the racist boyfriend who sadistically beats up Susan Kohner, but he shared no scenes with Dee). Physically and in temperament, the two match up extremely well; Dee clearly is enamoured with her lanky, boyishly awkward costar and, in return, Donahue manages to reciprocate Dee's attraction with some earnest baby-blue gazing of his own.

During Sandra Dee's breakthrough 1959 year, plenty of people were indeed looking at the young star, whether she was lousy with virginity (in her signature role as Gidget and as Susie in Life) or not (as the knocked-around, and eventually knocked-up, Molly in A Summer Place). Dee's screen persona as a type of insipid, junior-miss version of Doris Day is somewhat unfair to the late performer. Dee certainly could do the good girl perkiness thing in spades; however, possibly fueled by the many hardships she suffered in her personal life, Dee was also able to invest some of her roles with an impressive emotional grit and vulnerability, and Place probably afforded her the best chance to shine in this mode. Poor Molly gets kicked around plenty (both physically and emotionally) throughout the torrid course of the film, and Dee dives into the sometimes demanding role with aplomb, whether she's displaying mortification, then resentment, over the discovery of her father's illicit affair with her boyfriend’s mother or when, in her big scene, she breaks down when told by her heartless mother she is to be thoroughly examined by a doctor, after Molly returns from a night lost at sea with Johnny (this scene must have turned some heads in 1959, and it’s still uneasy to watch the young Molly unnecessarily subjected to such torment). Dee was only about sixteen at the time of filming Place, and her sensitive acting in these demanding scenes is convincing and moving, making one wish Dee had been afforded more opportunities to shed her “good girl” image, and take on heftier dramatic roles along the lines of her Molly Jorgenson.

Troy Donahue never showed much adeptness as a thespian during his brief rein as a leading man during the early 1960's, but in Place his California blond beauty and rigid demeanor suit his role as the pure-hearted, romantic Johnny. Although Donahue can't shake off his trademark stoicism, he focuses intently enough on Dee to display some star quality and, aided by the strong chemistry he creates with Dee, Place’s Johnny represents Donahue's best role and performance.

Dee and Donahue are surrounded by a solid lineup of players, with the lovely Dorothy McGuire headlining the cast as Sylvia, an innkeeper who effectively re-kindles some sparks when old flame Ken (Richard Egan) returns to the title locale to discover where life has taken his former love, while Arthur Kennedy convincingly stews in his brew as Bart, Sylvia's insolent spouse. The McGuire/Egan romance serves as a nice December counterpoint to the Dee/Donahue May coupling, and the gentle McGuire glows with love and warmth most effectively. It’s also nice to see parents being portrayed as intelligent and compassionate, instead of the overbearing, clueless stereotypes found in other teen-oriented films of the period, such as Rebel Without a Cause and Splendor in the Grass. However, the Generation Gap is fully represented in Place by the drunken Bart’s oftentimes cloddish behavior, and especially whenever Constance Ford appears as Dee's vicious mother, Helen, whose only goal in life is to destroy any fun, happiness, or beauty that dares to creep into the lives of any person she happens to come across and, in particular, her nubile young daughter. In the early sections of the film, Ford works at giving a sense of humanity to the hard-nosed Helen, acting unsure and apprehensive enough of the time to at least suggest Helen understands she possesses some unhealthy hang-ups regarding Molly's burgeoning sexuality. However, once Molly begins to harbor serious feelings for Johnny, the control-freak Helen goes completely batty, and Ford has a field day illustrating the unbalanced woman’s execrable attempts to destroy her daughter’s life, whether she’s turning Molly over to that creepy doctor or slapping her offspring directly into the family’s Christmas tree- Happy Holidays, Molly!

One of Max Steiner's most famous scores (Percy Faith's recording of the title theme was #1 for nine weeks on Billboard's Hot 100 chart) lends an air of nostalgia to the film, and the lush soundtrack immeasurably aids in setting the proper dramatic tone for each flamboyant scene– without Steiner’s contribution, it’s hard to imagine the film coming off at all. Delmer Daves directs competently, and sometimes more than that; I love how Daves sometimes has Ford backlit with red lighting, such as in the scene wherein she's seated by a red lamp during one of her nastiest attacks, wherein Helen calls Sylvia a “harlot of a mother”- awash in a red glow during this retort, Helen looks as if she’s ascended directly from hell just to make life miserable for both pairs of lovers. Capturing the time and place of its era perfectly (well, at least as portrayed in the movies of the period- unlike Ken and Sylvia, not many people were lucky enough to end up in a magnificent Frank Lloyd Wright-designed house), A Summer Place is a worthy example of the entertaining type of potboiler Hollywood frequently served up with relish during the 1950’s.

Answered DVD Prayers: The Tender Trap and Some Came Running

2008-05-21T00:59:00.000-07:00

With my purchase of the new-to-DVD Frank Sinatra: The Golden Years box set, I was able to finally watch two of Sinatra’s essential 1950’s films, which feature the star at his most iconic, in widescreen on my 40 inch TV. First up was MGM’s charmingly light 1955 comedy, The Tender Trap. As swinging bachelor Charlie Reader, a New York talent agent, Sinatra may be typecast but, wearing the part as comfortably as his fedora, he’s very easygoing and personable, and therefore he manages to keep his womanizing character from coming across as the despicable cad he certainly would be in real life, or in a lesser performer’s hands. It helps tremendously that Sinatra can still pull off the innocent, puppy-dog routine when his character gets in hot water with the ladies, even if by the fade-out he ends up being put in his place by nearly all of them (you go, girls). Debbie Reynolds is properly cute and innocent as Julie Gillis, a young actress signed by Charlie, whose unpractical approach to preparing for martial bliss helps land the agent in the title’s predicament. However, as Julie Reynolds is no one’s complaisant flower, and the zesty star is simpatico with her character’s stubborn determination to do just about anything her way, making her an amusing costar for the “broad-minded” Sinatra (the scene wherein Julie takes Charlie down a notch or twenty by informing him she finds him attractive in a “beat-up” way is priceless). In Reynolds hands, you sense this sweet young thing will have no trouble keeping the imposing Chairman of the Board in his place before, after, and during the wedding.

As Joe McCall, Charlie’s visiting married friend who thinks he yearns to have a bachelor's lifestyle, David Wayne gives a smooth performance that matches up nicely with Sinatra’s. However, the fourth major Trap player comes close to walking off with the movie: Celeste Holm is absolutely marvelous as musician Sylvia Crewes, Reynolds chief rival for Sinatra’s affections. Holm invests her role with so much sly wit, intelligence, and sophistication (I’d kill to come up with a line like Sylvia’s retort to an attractive gentleman who throws the “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” pickup cue her way. Her response? “It’s this face of mine. It’s what everyone’s wearing this year.”) it’s hard to believe this foxy lady is still available. Holm is remarkably alert and spontaneous in the part and, although she handles Sylvia’s many great lines with aplomb, Holm’s sly, penetrating looks also speak volumes, providing insight into the unsatisfied Sylvia’s thoughts on her largely one-sided feelings for Charlie. Breezy and light when necessary, she also gives plenty of gravity to the role when it’s called for, such as in her discussion with David Wayne regarding what men are available to an accomplished career woman of a certain age, and later in her kind, sage response to the married Wayne’s wedding proposal. This smart, funny woman clearly knows the score, and one can identify with Joe’s frustration over Charlie’s lack of commitment to Sylvia. Holm worked so well with Sinatra she was re-teamed with him the following year in High Society, wherein they put over “Who’s Wants to be a Millionaire?” with such professional gusto that the song remains one of my favorite musical moments from the 1950’s.

I’m a sucker for Carolyn Jones in just about any film she made during this period (she had a knack for making a distinct impression almost every time at bat, regardless of the size of her roles, which were usually small), and she has a nice reoccurring bit as Helen, Sinatra’s extremely blasé dog-walker, who zips in and out of the apartment any given time of the day or night to fetch the pet for a stroll. Lola Albright also has some good moments as the most sensual of Sinatra’s paramours, and her fishy kiss-off to her sometimes lover is perfectly played.

Warner’s once again comes through with a pristine print for the DVD (that red sweater-and-socks combo Sinatra wears in Trap is the reddest red imaginable, and his eyes are beyond the blue in that horizon). The wonderful Oscar-nominated Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen title song is wisely incorporated in the film at several intervals, including Sinatra’s memorable rendition that opens the film (when I think of prime 1950’s Sinatra, the image of him strolling towards the camera with hands in pocket, wearing his trademark suit and feroda, while he casually trills the title tune is the one that always comes to mind first) and during the closing sequence, wherein all four principals do a nice reprise of the song.

I can’t get enough Sinatra from this period, and I also recently ventured to the Museum of Radio and Television, wherein I was finally able to view the Producer’s Showcase 1955 musical production of Our Town, featuring the none-too-shabby lineup of Paul Newman and Eva Marie Saint as the young leads, and Sinatra as the narrator (Sinatra had quiet a year in ‘55: he was also fine in a supporting role in the shlocky-but-sometimes-fun hit Not as a Stranger, and he reached his peak as an actor in The Man With the Golden Arm). Both Saint and Newman were both around 30 at the time they played the teenage George and Emily, but their gentle, sincere performances make you buy everything they’re trying to put across (they’re also both heartbreakingly beautiful). Sinatra’s vocal prowess is amazing as, with supreme confidence, he masterfully sells “Our Town,” “The Impatient Years” and the production’s most enduring hit, “Love and Marriage.” Sinatra’s trademark laid-back acting is also a fine fit for the character, and therefore viewers are able to witness another prime example of Sinatra at his apex. I’ve been waiting for decades to see how effectively Sinatra introduced the classic “Marriage” to audiences, and I wasn’t disappointed, as the legendary crooner sounds as goods as he does on the famous hit recording of the song. I believe this was telecast live, and there’s nary a slip-up throughout the close to hour-and-a-half running time, marking this Town as one of the most endearing places to be found in the Golden Age of Television.

I followed up Trap with a complete genre reversal via my first wide-screen viewing of the 1958 Vincent Minnelli-directed film adaptation of James Jones’ expose of small-town America, Some Come Running. I have trouble forming objective options regarding these steamy 1950’s melodramas (Written on the Wind, Peyton Place, Imitation of Life, etc.)- I love them all unreservedly, with their mixture of colorful, often immoral characters, tempestuous emotions seething under (usually) proper exteriors (except for the scene-stealing tramps and bad girls- you know who they are), and florid, flamboyant performances by fine casts usually working at the top of their games. These lively entertainments may not be true-to-life, but they're something else, anyway.

In Running Sinatra stars as Dave Hirsh, a WWII vet who returns to his hometown of Parktown, Indiana with aspirations of re-starting his stalled career as a writer. If Sinatra doesn’t quiet mine the same gold he did via his previous enactment of a Jones character (From Here to Eternity, of course), his unflappable persona matches Dave’s confident, no-nonsense demeanor well. His two costars fare even better. Dean Martin gives possibly his finest performance as Bama Dillert, Dave’s true-blue friend who harbors an intense relationship with his hat. As usual, Martin come across as effortlessly charming in everything he does, but as Bama, he suggests a lot more complexity than in most of his hip characterizations, and he makes the role uniquely his own.

As Ginny Moorehead, the simple girl of easy virtue (Ginny is also loving, incredibly nice, and completely honest) whom Dave has picked up at the outset of the film, Shirley MacLaine is awesomely likable in the role that cemented her stardom. Tarted up to a capital “T” with heavy makeup, tight, gaudy low-cut dresses and hair I believe MacLaine one claimed she styled with an eggbeater for the role (well, somebody did), the young star amazingly manages to keep the overblown character firmly rooted in the realm of plausibility, whether she’s belting out “After You’ve Gone” in a drunken stupor, asking Dave to love her (its hard to imagine another performer making this moment work, but MacLaine makes Ginny’s desperation to be needed touching and real, instead of pathetic), or begging Bama to allow her to marry Dave without any interference. I prefer MacLaine in her early roles and, along with her more cynical Fran in The Apartment, Ginny represents the best example of the off-beat, sweet persona that made the young actress so appealing and original among her contemporaries. Her Ginny’s the heart of the film, and the vulnerability, simplicity, and flat-out kindness MacLaine makes an integral part of Ginny is very moving. Dave’s in love with the beautiful, composed schoolteacher Gwen (Martha Hyer), but MacLaine’s so convincingly dedicated to loving him, an audience can believe when Ginny states “I’m going to make you a good wife, Dave” that he couldn’t find a better companion, regardless of the intellectual incompatibility existing between the two.

The rest of the cast also has a lot to do with the film’s charm. As Dave’s successful businessman brother, Frank, Arthur Kennedy skillfully conveys the pleasant on the surface, sleazy on the underside aspects of the gentleman’s character (Kennedy would take this kind of role to an even lower life form the following year in yet another prime potboiler, A Summer Place). Hyer didn’t make out too well at Stinkylulu’s First Supporting Actress Smackdown a couple years ago, but I think her cool reserve and glacial beauty are perfectly suited to Gwen, the intelligent, if icy, teacher Dave becomes immensely attached to. Hyer plays opposite Sinatra very well, leading up to a killer payoff scene, wherein Dave finally is able to break through and seduce the formerly iron maiden. After the seduction, Hyer also does a great job illustrating the repressed Gwen’s conflicting emotions concerning Sinatra and their now-sexual relationship, and she's wonderful in her scene with MacLaine, wherein Ginny pleads her case to keep Dave. Gwen’s bewilderment as Ginny guilelessly asks Gwen to let her have Dave is excellently portrayed by Hyer via the use of a slight quaver in her voice and a frequently stunned expression (Hyer makes the viewer understand the reserved Gwen is clearly in awe of Ginny’s ability to lay all her cards on the table). In look and manner, Nancy Gates is also perfectly in tune with her part as Kennedy’s warm, sensual secretary, Edith- she may be a playing as much of a stereotype as MacLaine and Hyer are but, similar to her femme costars, Gates makes her work memorable. Leora Dana, equipped with a voice that stops just short of a cackle every time she utters a word, also turns in a nice performance as brother Frank’s cold, superficial, socially-aware wife (I love the way Dana pauses when Sinatra answers her pleasant-but-insincere greeting with, “You haven’t changed a bit, Agnes” with steely contempt, before she responds uneasily with, “Oh, what a liar.”).

There’s an excellent featurette on the making of Running and its legacy, wherein a good point is made how Minnelli deliberately allows the film to unfold at a slow pace, in order for the incredible carnival finale to have maximum impact. The climax of the film really is something to see in widescreen, and supports the notion that all the care and time Minnelli took to put this set piece together (which drove “One take, or else” Sinatra to distraction) was worth the trouble. Also essential to Running’s success is Elmer Bernstein’s powerful score, which cues every dramatic highlight, adding plenty of excitement to the film. I can’t really agree with Peter Travers that Running represents Sinatra’s peak as a dramatic performer (surely Sinatra was pulling Travers leg when he told the critic to take a look at Running (instead of Golden Arm) after Travers mentioned The Manchurian Candidate as the film containing Sinatra’s best dramatic work). Running is featured in another stunning Technicolor transfer from Warner Brother, and the film’s never been such a pleasure to watch. DVD also includes the film theatrical trailer.

I also checked out the frenetic, harmless 1964 comedy Marriage on the Rocks, which is worth a look, as it features a top cast and some amusing sights you won’t see elsewhere, such as Sinatra improbably playing a fuddy-duddy businessman (it’s hilarious to watch the ultra-cool Frankie, shocked at his wiseacre son’s mention of grandma “hitting the sauce,” exclaim “Now, you cut that out!” to the kid in a conservative tone that would make Fred MacMurray or Robert Young proud), Deborah Kerr shrugging away on a Go-Go dance floor with Dean Martin, the formidable Hermione Baddeley in kilts playing the bagpipes, Joi Lansing putting the va-va in voom as Martin’s bikini-clad secretary, and Nancy Sinatra playing Frank’s daughter with a considerable amount of charm. The other two titles in the set include the aforementioned, rescued from public domain Arm which, besides Sinatra, also features Eleanor Parker and the unbelievably gorgeous Kim Novak to very good advantage, and 1965’s None But the Brave, which might be worth a look-see).

At Her Worst, She's Your Best Bette

2008-05-18T01:47:00.000-07:00

Bette Davis’ behavior onscreen during the third night of LACMA’s tribute to the star featured the lady at her most disreputable, much to her fans’ delight, as the Bing Theater unveiled two of the screen idol's classics (or a classic and a camp classic, at least), The Letter and Beyond the Forest.

Davis’ second collaboration with favorite director William Wyler, the 1940 adaptation of Somerset Maugham’s The Letter features one of Davis’ most memorable and skillfully crafted performances as Leslie Crosbie, the seemingly cool, aristocratic wife of a Singapore rubber plantation owner, whose hidden passions sometimes get the best of her. The film is just about perfectly cast all the way down the line: Herbert Marshall is wonderful as Robert, Leslie's world-weary yet very affectionate husband, and Oscar-nominated James Stephenson gives a finely shaded performance as Howard Joyce, the lawyer friend of the Crosbie’s, who risks his reputation to try to save his impulsive client (Stephenson is terrific at displaying his character’s many conflicted emotions regarding Leslie and her fate). Gale Sondergaard as the silent, ominous Mrs. Hammond is usually considered the “heavy” of the piece, but I find the grinning, soft-spoken Ong Chi Seng (masterfully played by Victor Sen Yung, who achieved his greatest fame portraying Charlie Chan’s son) as Howard’s assistant a much more complex and sinister villain. You can tell Seng cares about his employer, but Sen Yung vividly depicts how Seng refuses to allow his feelings to override his ambition. The lady of the hour, of course, is amazing, and Davis gives a textbook example of how to lie on screen. Leslie spends most of the film attempting to convince everyone’s she’s innocent of the cold-blooded murder she engages in during one of filmdom’s most sensational openings ever and, in Davis' adroit hands, it’s easy to see how one could believe her. Unlike many actors before and since, by word or gesture Davis never plays up the idea to the audience that she’s lying. She simply acts as the shrewd Leslie should as she attempts to save herself. This woman is too smart to give anything away, and Davis (immeasurably aided by Wyler’s deft hand) keeps her usual theatrics in check as she adeptly illustrates Leslie’s deceitful manner.

Forest is one-of-a-kind cinema, with Davis portraying the screen’s first (and maybe only) brunette blonde bombshell. Fortunately Davis is in no mood to be subtle this time around- sashaying around the dead-end mill town she yearns to escape for the bright lights of Chicago, Davis’ Rosa Moline is selfish, evil, and priceless. Constantly forcing herself on the somewhat willing object of her passions, Rosa is just a gal who can’t say no, as long as lover-boy Neil (played by David Brian) is available, or even when he isn’t (I’ll take Forest over Fatal Attraction any day of the week, as Davis absolutely refusing to be ignored by Neil is much more fun to watch than observing Glenn Close throwing grief and rabbit stew Michael Douglas’ way). Davis may be miscast, and probably at least a decade too old for the role besides but, fearless as ever, she forges ahead anyway, determined to give audiences their money’s worth. Boy, does she deliver. No one’s more fun to watch than Davis when she’s playing one of her over-the-top vixens and, harlots though they may be, she makes you care for these women, too. Always a vivid performer, Davis is so alive as Rosa one can’t help but root for her to achieve her aims, even if she’s hellbent on having a reunion with her lover in Chicago at any cost.

Although her artistic peaks may be better represented by films of The Letter ilk, as Jeanine Basinger states with expert precision on her truly wonderful audio commentary for In This Our Life, audiences experience something very, very special when given the chance to watch Davis in “full-throttle” mode as the screen legend vamps away as a spiteful, deeply flawed, outrageous character- in Our Life, Davis’ nasty Stanley’s seems determined to destroy the lives of those nearest and not-so-dearest to her, just because she can. Stanley's not overly polite to strangers, either: I love the moment when Stanley runs over a couple pedestrians and Basinger glibly opines that “Eek. She really is bad. She runs over- Hello!- a mother and a child- a mother and a child. That is bad. That is not what we do.” In Forest Davis is up to her old tricks again, and she starts the film by taking great aim to aimlessly shoot a porcupine out of a tree before assessing, “I don’t like porkies. They annoy me.” She eventually gets around to hunting down bigger game when “Moose” (played by Minor Watson) threatens to thwart the petulant Rosa’s attempts to ignobly obtain her selfish goals (Moose to Rosa: “You’re something for the birds, Rosa, something for the birds.” Rosa to Moose: “And you’re something to make the corn grow tall!!”).

An explanation here of what Rosa’s up to doesn’t do her shockingly inappropriate behavior justice- you really have to watch the movie. Suffice to say, when the terminally discontent Rosa leaves a post-office in a huff and a former schoolmate sympathetically states something to the effect of, “It’s hard for a girl like Rosa to live in this town,” and the woman’s colleague acerbically shoots back with, “It’s hard on the town!” it probably drew the biggest laugh of the night from the clearly entertained audience, who knew exactly what type of girl Rosa was.

Dona Drake, as the Moline’s slatternly maid, Jenny, makes a fine impression in her brief, hilarious confrontations with Rosa, quite a feat considering the abundant theatrical charms of her overpowering costar. No one else gets much of a look in, although Joseph Cotton’s around to take a lot of abuse as Rosa’s kindhearted-but-dull (although, with Cotton in the part, kind of hunky) husband, Louis, and Ruth Roman displays a calm, warm presence I don't remember seeing in any of her other performances. King Vidor’s again proves himself a master of the potboiler genre (check out Duel in the Sun, The Fountainhead and Ruby Gentry for further proof of Vidor’s gifts in this area), and is the only director I can think of in this enormously entertaining genre (c’mon, you know you love these florid melodramas, too) who can give Douglas Sirk a run for his money.

P.S.- For much more on Forest, check out the wonderful Canadian Ken's take on the film over here. Kim at the terrific Sunset Gun also has plenty to say about Forest, and Davis in general. And for a much more in-depth look at The Letter, check out the peerless Self-Styled Siren's take on the film.

LACMA Launches a Tribute to a Great Bad Girl

2008-05-06T17:29:00.000-07:00

Moving 675 miles south to Long Beach to start a new job has already reaped a huge benefit, as the switch allowed me to be present for the first and second nights of the LA Museum of Art’s (a.k.a. LACMA) month-long film series honoring the 100th birthday of Bette Davis (the tribute’s official title is Fasten Your Seatbelts: The Essential Bette Davis). TCM host Robert Osborne was there on opening night to help present an unveiling of the beautiful artwork for the upcoming Bette Davis postage stamp (showing Davis as Margo Channing in All About Eve). The classy Osborne uncharacteristically and refreshingly dropped his proper demeanor at one point, drawing the biggest laugh of the evening with his observation that, somewhere in heaven, or someplace, Joan Crawford is gritting her teeth, thinking to herself, “Bette has a stamp now, and I don’t have one yet.” Kathryn Selmak, Davis’ onetime friend and assistant, also joined in the fun, concluding her thoughts on the screen legend with the quip, "If Davis was here tonight I’m sure she’d say, ‘I’d like to kiss you, but I just licked my stamp.’”

I enjoyed viewing Davis' Oscar-winning work in her first teaming with director William Wyler, Jezebel, but the print was not of the best quality which, considering the event at hand, was disappointing. The movie’s showcases Davis in one of her finest roles and performances, and the 1938 film was an apt choice to kick off the series. As Julia Marsden, a selfish, indomitable Southern belle, Davis glows with a vibrancy few stars have ever matched, and the audience is on Julie's side, regardless of (and maybe because of) the character's frequent lapses of deceny. In Davis’ hands, you sense Julie’s unbreakable spirit will overcome the formidable obstacle she’s dealt at the film’s fade-out, impossible odds against her be damned. And, although Vivien Leigh is truly peerless in Gone With the Wind, Davis’ performance in Jezebel does make me wonder what she might have done with Scarlett O’Hara. It certainly would’ve been a very different film, but I bet she would have triumphed.

I’d never actually made it through the second feature of the evening, The Old Maid, and I only kind of managed to this time, as I kept falling asleep as this dated (even for 1939, I’d suspect) tale of a sacrificial mother slowly unfolded. Through my dreamy haze I did take notice Davis was remarkable in her transformation from innocent lass to the bitter title character. She’s mesmerizing to watch in the later sections of the film, and her acting therein demonstrates Davis could manage to do a 180 on her usual larger-than-life on screen persona and still transfix, unlike her deliberately toned-down, and fairly uninteresting, playing in The Man Who Came to Dinner and Watch on the Rhine. Davis, looking tired and lost, employs a low, quiet tonal quality in her voice to suggest volumes of depth and feeling have been stored up in this repressed woman, and her realistic, subtle playing is fascinating.

Davis’ famed feud with Crawford is the one everyone talks about, but the lesser-known Miriam Hopkins was probably the co-star that Davis despised the most. Watching Maid, I was surprised to find few traces of the “upstaging” tactics Davis accused Hopkins of engaging in. Although in her first scene Hopkins’ forced playing appears artificial, she actually works well opposite Davis, and appears to conduct herself with more professional decorum than her co-star gave her credit for (for example, I didn’t notice Hopkins trying to steal the spotlight through the use of flamboyant gestures or inappropriate blocking). Hopkins is, after all, the same artist who made vivid impressions in films such as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Lubitsch’s Trouble in Paradise. In any event, much to possibly both of their chagrins, the Davis/Hopkins teaming worked well enough for the two to be reunited a few years later for another successful weepie, Old Acquaintance, wherein Davis (on screen, at least) was finally able to get her hands on her nemesis, in the film’s most memorable moment.

The second night of the festival I returned to watch Davis at her apex in All About Eve, and ascending in Of Human Bondage. I’ve already jotted down my thoughts on Eve- it was a kick to finally see the film with a large audience of film aficionados. Just as Dorothy senses Kansas is somehow, and suddenly, a distant memory, as I listened to the enthusiastic reaction to Joseph Mankiewicz’s brilliant dialogue and Davis’ magnificent playing of Margo Channing (of course there was thunderous applause when Davis uttered “Fasten your seatbelts . . .”) I understood the Eden I found myself in bore no resemblance to the rural surroundings of my childhood and, until now, adulthood. I look forward to attending every showing of All About Eve that I can find in the LA area as I continue my love affair with the metropolis.

Maybe I needed to see Bondage on a large screen to fully appreciate what the young Davis pulls off in her star-making role as Mildred, probably the coarsest waitress in film history (in Mildred Pierce, the nasty, snobbish Veda is dismayed to find out her honorable mother is a waitress, when she should be proud of the hard-working Mildred. However, if this Mildred was her mother, all bets are off). It certainly helped that LACMA managed to obtain a decent print of the film, as I’ve only viewed Bondage in those God-awful public domain VHS and DVD versions. From my previous looks at the movie, the only images that really lingered was Davis peering seductively over that champagne glass at Leslie Howard and, of course, her showy hissy-fit near the end of the film, when she spews venom at Howard after he rejects her amorous advances, ripping his character to shreds before (in the next scene) performing the same service on everything else in his apartment (“All those paintings gone!” “His life’s work!” “What a bitch!”) and burning the bonds that could see him through medical school (“Make that a super bitch!”).

I always thought Davis came across as electric but overly mannered in the film, but it all came together on a big screen. For the first time, I sensed how much truth existed in the star’s emotionally gripping work, and how intelligent her playing was (she clearly invested all her considerable talent and energy into bringing this Cockney tart to life). Mildred is a larger-than-life character, so it’s entirely fitting you can’t keep your eyes off Davis, and it’s easy to grasp how, amid all the genteel screen heroines of the period, the star's vicious, unsympathetic playing of Mildred blew everyone away. At times Davis invests Mildred with at least a tiny sense of compassion for the smitten Philip (Howard, in a fine, understated performance), allowing the actress to suggest a trace of humanity does exist in the character. Still, most of the time Mildred is a horrible, spiteful pain-in-the-ass to the noble, kind Philip, and Davis clearly relishes the chance to dig into the meaty histrionics. Philip only wants to care for and love Mildred, but Davis’ wench is having none of it, thank God. Philip finally gains his redemption after meeting the lovely Frances Dee (Dee’s acting is lovely, too). However, due to Davis’ incredible presence, Mildred is missed when she’s not around making the lovesick Philip miserable, and one eagerly looks forward to her popping up unwanted on his doorstep once again in a progressively-sorrier state of mind and body.

I’m looking forward to seeing at least a couple more films in the series, before work beckons me back to reality. Here’s the rest of LACMA’s roster for the Davis tribute:

Tuesday, May 6th-
1:00 p.m.- Mr. Skeffington

Friday, May 9th-
7:30 p.m. - The Letter (A Davis peak!)
9:15 p.m. - Beyond the Forest (A Davis valley! The Davis valley! Or the peak of the valley, depending on your tastes. I think Forest is can’t miss cinema, and I can’t wait to watch the movie with a “camp” of Davis supporters- I have a feeling not too many people will leave the theater after The Letter has screened, and some new arrivals might be present. “What a Dump!” Hell, “What a movie!” Love Dona Drake as Jenny, the ineffectual housekeeper (hence the dump), retorting after being chastised and insulted by Davis' Rosa (if you look carefully, it appears Davis writes the word "slut" in the dust on a kitchen table after she states to Drake the table's so dirty she can write Jenny's name in it), “Mrs. Moline, don’t let us start calling each other names. I’ve got a few fancy ones I've been saving up that are just aching to be used.” How often I’ve wanted to state something to this affect to a condescending boss.)

Saturday, May 10th-
7:30 p.m.- Now, Voyager
9:40 p.m.- Old Acquaintance (with Bette still hating Miriam to a fare-thee-well)

Tuesday, May 13th-
1:00 p.m.- Front Page Woman

Saturday, May 17th-
7:30 p.m. - The Little Foxes
9:40 p.m. - Payment on Demand

Tuesday, May 20th-
1:00 p.m.- Dangerous (most feel Davis received her Oscar for Dangerous because she was overlooked for her work in Bondage. Watch this film without the bias that it contains a “lesser” Davis performance, and you’ll be surprised how vivid and great Davis is in it).

Friday, May 23rd-
7:30 p.m.- Dark Victory
9:30 p.m.- Marked Woman

Saturday, May 24th-
7:30 p.m.- The Star
9:10 p.m.- The Catered Affair

Tuesday, May 27th-
1:00 p.m.- Juarez

Saturday, May 31st-
7:30 p.m.- Whatever Happened to Baby Jane (I’ll see you there as we once again watch Davis screech her way through "I’ve Written a Letter to Daddy" and the mortified Crawford trying to rise above her screen sister’s plethora of extremely rude shenanigans, to no avail)
10:00 p.m. – The Nanny (What? No Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte? Oh well, Davis is definitely demented and interesting to watch in this one, too, and she's miles away from Fran Dresher- or, at least, several city blocks away).

General admission to all evening double features is $9.00, and includes admission into the art museums, so get there early. Admission to the Tuesday matinees is only $2.00 general and $1.00 for seniors 62 and over. Tickets can be purchased at the museum’s box office or at lacma.org. Parking across the street is $7.00, but if you check out the side streets you might (especially in the evening) find a free parking spot near the museum.

Kristen Stewart Steps Into the Wild

2008-01-06T18:35:00.000-08:00

Although it’s not the type of showy performance or role likely to nab any major kudos, or maybe even a spot among the more diverse field found at Stinkylulu’s 2nd Annual Supporting Actress Blogathon, the quiet, lovely work of young Kristen Stewart in Into the Wild left possibly the most indelible mark of any 2007 supporting actressing I viewed. Although Stewart is subdued throughout her brief appearance as Tracy, a free-spirited, yet melancholy, sixteen-year-old who catches the eye of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsh) midway through his series of exploits across American, she leaves a vivid impression on both McCandless and the viewer. First spotted singing to a crowd in the purest, sweetest voice imaginable, the dreamy, serene Tracy is mainly around to provide a brief romantic interlude for Wild’s wandering hero. However, Stewart’s soulful, intelligent eyes, graceful sensitivity, and phenomenal, ethereal screen presence make Tracy a figure hard to forget after McCandless moves on to his next, and biggest, adventure.

The camera loves Stewart to such a degree that, after her first few Wild scenes, I started suspecting she probably could have given Lillian Gish or Greta Garbo a run for their money during the Silent’s heyday some eighty-odd years ago as, to misquote Norma Desmond, “They had faces then.” As Tracy, Stewart’s beautiful, unguarded visage manages to convey both freshness and world-weariness, allowing the talented newcomer to project something akin to a jaded purity, which I’ve never seen onscreen before. I was surprised to find out Stewart was actually the same age as her character- the adage “wise beyond her years” could have been coined for her, as the mature comportment Stewart displays throughout her Wild appearance is rare to find in an ingenue.

Stewart’s possesses an insightful, focused, and naturalistic acting style, and she brings off Tracy so effortlessly a viewer might simply overlook her substantial accomplishment in Wild. Stewart is always fully “in the moment” as Tracy, to the extent an audience can be forgiven for assuming director Sean Penn simply cast a non-professional, then improvised her scenes in a semi-documentary style. Stewart’s abundant acting prowess is evident in what (for me) constitutes the film’s most perfect moment, wherein Tracy interrupts a serious exchange between McCandless and fellow nomad Jan (Catherine Keener, in an earthy, warm performance) and lets out a slight, nervous laugh while informing the couple dinner is ready, before she quickly departs the scene. Stewart plays Tracy’s reaction to her unwitting intrusion upon Christopher and Jan’s private discussion very skillfully; the giddy quaver found in Stewart’s voice may not have been scripted, but it’s exactly how the alert, sage Tracy should react after unexpectedly discovering her normally laid-back friends involved in such a solemn conversation. The wounded look in Stewart’s eyes during Tracy’s sad, gentle, and mainly wordless goodbye to McCandless also lends a remarkable degree of depth to her characterization, leaving one to ponder what road Tracy traveled in life after Christopher embarked on his own final journey.

Although Stewart’s been around for a few years since her big breakthrough as Jodie Foster’s offspring in Panic Room, I’d never seen her in any role before her delicate, penetrating portrayal in Wild, and I left the screening wanting to view more, a lot more, of her work. The sometimes perverse fortunes found in the world of cinema makes it hard to determine how things will play out for Stewart; however, adorned with uncommon beauty and perceptive acting skill, Wild’s breathtaking young star should have a bright future as a major film performer.

Love For Christmas

2007-12-12T15:00:00.000-08:00

I made another video featuring one of my favorite songs of the season, as sung by Bobby Sherman (Snoop Doggy loves Bobby). Please enjoy this slice of Christmas cheese over here at YouTube.

Merry Christmas.

Scaring Up Some Memorable Chills and Thrills

2007-10-31T20:24:00.000-07:00

As Halloween unfolds, the film genre I admit to staying far away from is upon us, as explicit slasher movies of the Chainsaw (or Saw), Elm St and Friday the 13th variety invade theaters and DVD players across the country (the films in the clever, tongue-in-cheek Scream franchise are the only recent thrillers I can stomach). However, in regards to classic cinema, I do like a good scare now and then (I prefer then over now, so it doesn’t happen too often), and I’ve had opportunities over the years to partake of some of the exceptional classics of the suspense genre. Though less graphic than today’s epics of gore, these films offer moments of sheer terror that can leave a viewer more breathless than a pack of Camels.

My introduction to truly chilling cinema, which still constitutes the most frightening evening of my life, occurred one dark and stormy night when my unsuspecting mother, who never allowed me to view R-rated films, took me to a double feature of Freaks and the Robert Wise directed The Haunting. Mom must have thought these pre-ratings code films were okay for a ten-year-old to watch. I found Tod Browning's legendary 1932 Freaks, featuring a cast of real-life circus performers as the title characters, both creepy and fascinating, and was unnerved by the prologue to 1963’s Haunting, wherein the dark history of a mansion is recounted. I might have been able to get through both of these features without quite reaching my wit’s end, but the theater’s programmer included a cartoon short to ensure the evening’s entertainment would scare any hell completely out of me. I spent the next six or seven minutes glued to my seat in fascinated terror as the theater rolled out the 1953 classic UPA cartoon short The Tell-Tale Heart, based on the famous Edgar Allan Poe story. Brilliantly narrated by James Mason, this cartoon uses gifted artist Paul Julian’s unusual, terror-inducing imagery to illustrate Poe’s ode to insanity. For the next three decades this short stayed with me, as visualizations of Julian’s designs, accompanied by Mason’s nervous, desperate vocal deliveries, lingered strongly in the memory, especially the murder sequence, wherein the victim jumps up in bed and cries “No!” just before he’s attacked. I finally was brave enough to watch the film again as an adult, and the terror was undiminished. The British censors gave this Oscar-nominated short an “X” rating, due to the subject matter being too intense for children, but American children, including me, were on their own. Beware, kids.

1945’s Dead of Night, the British-made horror anthology that’s still the best of its kind, also places near the top of my list of moviedom’s best thrillers. Five tales of the macabre (although one of these is distinctly lighter in tone) are built around a framework involving a haunted man (excellently played by Mervyn Johns) who pays a visit to a house inhabited with strangers he’s sure he’s seen before. Outside of the uneven comic episode directed by Charles Crichton, the movie offers many suspenseful moments, including the eerie opening “Room For One More” story involving a man who witnesses a mysterious incident while recuperating from a race car accident, which later pays a huge dividend. Two further episodes also provide their share of shivers. However, the “scare” factor reaches sky-high proportions in the final Alberto Cavalcanti-directed sequence featuring Michael Redgrave’s intense and terrifyingly believable portrayal of ventriloquist Maxwell Frere, an emotionally-distraught character convinced his dummy, Hugo, has a mind of his own and is going to leave him (the eerie dummy looks menacing enough to accomplish this and much, much more, such as overtaking his master’s soul). I got chills just writing that last line, as remembrances of this unnerving story came to vivid life. Scenes such as Frere’s final meeting with Hugo and, later, a rival ventriloquist are creepy enough that even a distressed Freddy Kruger would bite his nails/blades completely down to the nub upon watching Night’s most disquieting passage. Due to the truly disturbing Redgrave segment and an equally-unsettling climax wherein Johns’ loses his sanity, I’ve only managed to watch Night a couple times as, although I tell myself “it’s only a movie,” the thought of watching this again (especially alone), is outweighed by the risk of incurring a heart attack via a Night viewing.

And finally, 1967's Wait Until Dark, starring Oscar-nominated Audrey Hepburn as a blind woman battling for her life in cat-and-mouse fashion with the diabolical Alan Arkin, contains one of the greatest jump-out-of-your-seats-screaming moments ever (the undersea "decomposed head roll" in Jaws is the only scene I can think of that comes close). If you've seen the film you'll know what I'm talking about; if not, guarantee yourself one true shock some Halloween by catching it. The actors are good, the situations tense and realistically depicted, and that classic fright moment is unforgettable.

Celebrating Joan Fontaine's Finest Hour in Rebecca

2007-10-24T13:08:00.000-07:00

I'm a little late to the Joan Fontaine birthday party. The screen legend reached a landmark (her 90th) on Monday, and I'm ashamed to admit I had no idea the lady was achieving this milestone (In regards to classic films, I'm very good with dates, but I draw a blank concerning stars' birthdays). Good genes obviously run in the family, as Joan's rival sister, Olivia de Havilland, turned 91 last July. I feel a little under-qualified to do a Fontaine post, as I'm merely a fan, while others have come into much closer contact with one of these extremely famous siblings. As part of Self-Styled Siren's wonderful Fontainefest, she relates a by-proxy encounter with one of her favorites; dear Stinky Lulu recalls a time wherein de Havilland offered him a large measure of praise; and J.J. over at As Little as Possible reveals he actually kept up a correspondence with the lady of the hour. By contrast, last year I managed to make it to a function honoring the still-spry de Havilland, but I had to share her time with about 1,000 others, from a seat near the back row. I also checked out the beach at Carmel last summer, but Joan must have forgot I was coming to her hometown, as she wasn’t there with the Welcome Wagon to greet me.

Outside of viewing Fontaine in her signature roles in Letter From an Unknown Woman and Rebecca, the most fitting method I can think of to pay tribute to Joan's talent is via her truly brilliant screen tests for Rebecca (found on the Criterion 2-disc Special Edition of the film). Besting competition is one thing, but beating out Vivien Leigh, Margaret Sullivan, Loretta Young, and Anne Baxter for the showcase role in one of Hollywood's great romantic dramas is something else. The other four candidates have some good moments in their tests, and Baxter and (especially) Young come across as capable enough to meet the major requirements of the role (youth, beauty, sensitivity), but Joan Fontaine's extraordinary. Eyes cast downward, and alternating her voice between a monotone and a quavering tentativeness, she’s the only actress to fully comprehend the many facets that make up the character of "I" (faithful to the Daphne du Maurier novel, the heroine's name is never mentioned). Fontaine's so on-target, vibrant, and original in her interpretation, it's stupefying producer David O. Selznick supposedly hemmed and hawed over casting her in director Alfred Hitchcock’s 1940 classic. In her autobiography, Fontaine relates Selznick kept asking her to do another test (which she refused to do- watching her tests, one can understand why Joan didn't feel it necessary to twice prove herself the ideal choice for the lead), and even came close to signing Baxter instead.

Aided by George Cukor's coaxing (and probably his own common sense), Selznick made the right decision and cast Fontaine. She's even better in the movie, offering a subtle, quite, assured performance as the shy, nervous young woman who, before the final fadeout, develops the fortitude to stand up to some fairly imposing adversaries. Fontaine pulls off the difficult task of coming across as sweet without being cloying, while also managing to suggest many complexities exist behind the inexperienced I’s charming manner. The actress easily holds her own against (and often, betters) co-star Laurence Olivier (who's properly handsome and gloomy, but a bit too stoic and rigid), Judith Anderson (playing the infamous "Mrs. Danvers" with ominous zeal), George Sanders, and Florence Bates. The believable intensity Fontaine brings to every scene is compelling to the utmost degree, and her performance is the foremost reason viewers of Rebecca adopt a state of fascination as they watch the story unfold.

The film would go on to win the Best Picture Academy Award, but Joan lost the Best Actress Oscar she richly deserved to Ginger Rogers. Happily, Fontaine only had to wait a year to pick up her own prize for a fine (if not quite as impressive) performance in her follow-up Hitchcock-directed vehicle, Suspicion (she beat her sister, who was up for Hold Back the Dawn, in the process). After scoring additional screen successes during the next decade or so in The Constant Nymph, Jane Eyre, Unknown Woman, and Ivanhoe, among others, Fontaine pared back her film output after the 1950's, but she didn’t slow down as she pursued other interests, including aviation, golfing, cooking, and interior decorating. However, Fontaine’s primary legacy rests on her filmography and, in particular, her enchanting, memorable work in Rebecca. Seldom has a performer been so exactly right for a role, and the film’s enduring appeal is immeasurably indebted to Fontaine’s accomplished, perceptive performance.

Bidding Adieu to Two Irreplaceable Talents

2007-10-20T16:40:00.000-07:00

This week brought the passing of two formidable performers I’ve enjoyed watching and hearing throughout my life.

Deborah Kerr built an extraordinary list of film credits over an illustrious career, showcasing her remarkably adroit thespian skills throughout the 1940’s, 1950’s, and 1960’s via a wide array of memorable screen characterizations. Best known today for rolling in the movie’s most famous surf with Burt Lancaster and for dancing to a fare-thee-well with Yul Brynner, in addition to her career peaks in From Here to Eternity and The King and I Ms. Kerr’s considerable talents shined in many other starring roles. With equal effectiveness, she could play a mousy, emotionally unstable young woman (Separate Tables, wherein she has an incredible breakdown scene that, for me, surpasses anything else in the movie), a down-to-earth Australian wife and mother (The Sundowners), a nun possessing turbulent emotions under calm, proper exteriors (in both Black Narcissus and Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison), a compassionate "older woman" (as Laura Reynolds in 1956’s Tea and Sympathy, a role that also brought her great acclaim on Broadway), and an unbalanced- or is she?- governess (The Innocents, an unforgettable adaptation of Henry James’ "The Turn of the Screw," featuring Kerr in possibly the best performance of her career). Throughout her lengthy career, Kerr maintained her high level of performing excellence in inspiring fashion- if one looks up "professional actress" in the dictionary, there’s a good chance a picture of Kerr will accompany the definition.

Kerr fit the "Proper English Lady" roles she frequently played to a "T"; however, amid the conventions of the production code prevalent during her heyday, the beautiful Scotland native also managed to vividly convey a good deal of sensuality in many of her films. Kerr’s most famous vehicle for showcasing her sex appeal is, of course, Eternity, but as Black Narcissus’s Sister Clodagh, check out the way Kerr calmly but intently gazes at the hunky free spirit played by David Farrar, or listen to the erotic subtext she pulls off in not-so ladylike Anna’s one word response (a passionate "Yes") to Brynner’s suggestion they dance much closer in The King and I. And, um, let’s just say Kerr matched up very, very well with awesomely virile Robert Mitchum in Allison and The Sundowners. Kerr’s heroines nearly always found a way to stay in touch with their sexuality and this trait, along with her astute acting ability, helps lend a contemporary feel to most of her major roles. Try to think of another movie queen from 1940-1970 whose work has stood the test of time better, and you’ll be forgiven for drawing a blank.

Ms. Kerr picked up New York Film Critics Awards on three occasions (for 1947’s I See a Dark Stranger and Narcissus, 1957’s Allison, and 1960’s Sundowners), and a Golden Globe for The King and I (she won another Globe as 1958’s "World Film Favorite- Female"), but the six-time Oscar nominee never managed to take home a competitive Academy Award (Kerr received a well-deserved honorary award in 1994). The Oscar slight is a bigger mystery than anything her Miss Giddens witnesses in The Innocents, as Ms. Kerr proved time and again throughout her estimable career that talent like hers is as golden as it is rare.

I’ve been a fan of Teresa Brewer’s ever since discovering my mom’s old 78 of Brewer’s signature hit, 1950’s "Music!, Music!, Music!" as a child, feeling an immediate connection with the bubbly, down-to-earth young woman who charmingly demanded we "Put another nickel in!" Ms. Brewer’s distinctive vocal style placed her among the foremost recording artists of the 1950’s. Only 19 when she hit the big time with "Music!," Brewer had started developing her immense vocal abilities on radio at the age of two(!), and therefore was a polished professional when she achieved major success. Brewer’s skill as a singer was evident by her adaptability to many musical styles and genres: she could manage pop, country, and jazz with equal aplomb. Listening to her two biggest records, "Music!" and 1952’s "Till I Waltz Again With You" illustrate Brewer’s remarkable range. Shifting from the cheery, baby-doll voice she employs on "Music!," Brewer projects a mature, considerably passionate vocal delivery style for the ultra-romantic "Waltz." It’s hard to believe you’re listening to the same vocalist, let alone one who recorded the songs a scant two years apart.

Brewer would manage to effectively mix the up-tempo tunes with more subdued love songs, scoring hits into the Rock & Roll era with such records as "Ricochet," "Jilted," "A Tear Fell," "A Sweet Old-Fashioned Girl," and covers of "Let Me Go, Lover,’ and "You Send Me." After her recording career dropped off, Ms. Brewer continued to find success as a live performer for the next several decades, when she wasn't spending (self-imposed) time away from the spotlight as a wife and mother. Gifted with one of the most vibrant, memorable voices in popular music, Teresa Brewer had a knack for finding "the nicest part of any melody," and putting it over with originality, verve, and skill.

Montgomery Clift Provides a Huge Asset to The Heiress

2007-10-17T16:25:00.000-07:00

I meant to come up with an entry sooner for Nathaniel’s current “Montgomery Clift” blogathon. Funny how, even with a couple months’ heads up, time managed to swiftly pass without me even typing one word in Clift’s favor. Although the date is late, I still feel compelled to attempt to put down a few coherent thoughts concerning one of the gifted actor’s peaks as a performer, and therefore one of my favorite performances ever.

Although I’m a sucker for Clift in just about any role (Oscars for The Search and From Here to Eternity would have been appropriate), I hold one portrayal in particular regard. Working in perfect collaboration with director William Wyler, Clift offers one of his most dexterous, intelligent performances in Wyler’ masterwork, 1949’s The Heiress. Aided by Wyler’s adroit direction, Clift’s skillful interpretation of Morris Townsend has left me in mystified admiration each time I view the film. Is it possible Morris is not a just villain seeking his fortune, but truly in love with the title character, Catherine Sloper (beautifully played by Oscar-winner Olivia de Havilland)? Due to Clift’s magnificently subtle playing, my sense of wonder surrounding his Heiress work has never abated, even though I’ve viewed the film many times. In Clift’s deft hands, Morris Townsend becomes one of the movies’ most complex, intriguing and impenetrable characters.

One expertly acted and directed moment illustrates the paradoxical nature Clift and Wyler were able to invest the character of Morris with. At the end of Morris’ first encounter with Catherine at a social gathering, Wyler moves the camera in for a close-up of Clift/Morris as he stands perfectly still in a doorway watching Catherine leave the party off camera, while the romantic strains of Aaron Copland’s score play on the soundtrack. This fade to black is shot and played in a manner that allows a viewer to interpret any number of emotions on Morris’s face: cunning, longing, compassion, greed, and love are all there for the taking, thanks to Clift and Wyler’s shrewd technique. The scene serves as a nice bookend with one of Morris' final moments, which also highlights the ambiguity that plays a central role in the character's psychological makeup. After Townsend has come back to Catherine and believes they are to be reunited, there's a moment wherein an unobserved Morris stands in the Sloper home and takes in his opulent surroundings. The calm smile of satisfaction on Clift's face as he glances around the room, hands in pockets, can be viewed both as an underhanded cheat's smirk of victory, or as an earnest look of happiness from a lover who's relieved he's finally returned to the place and person he loves most. Again, Wyler and Clift wisely leave it up to the viewer to decide what the character's motives are.

The true nature of Townsend’s character may lie somewhere between villain and lover. Mulling the performance over anew just before setting down to write this hosanna to Clift, a scene from a very different film came to mind. At the end of 1953’s Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Lorelei Lee (Marilyn Monroe) offers this sage defense (directed at her wealthy intended’s disapproving father) after allegations she’s simply a gold-digger are directed at her: “Don’t you know a man being rich is like a girl being pretty? You might not marry a girl just because she’s pretty, but my goodness, doesn’t it help?” Twisting Lorelei’s argument around to fit the dynamics of The Heiress (“. . . A girl being rich is like a man being pretty . . . ”) casts some interesting light on both Morris and Catherine’s mindsets. Could Morris be pleased Catherine is immensely rich, yet also love her for the warmth, sensitivity and complete lack of guile Catherine displays towards him (at one point Morris states to Catherine, “That’s what I like about you- you’re so honest”)? Those tormented gasps of "Catherine!" as Morris desperately bangs on that locked door at the film’s astounding conclusion indicate a soulful attachment to Catherine does exist. Conversely, although Morris’ kindness to Catherine at the dance sets the tone for his relationship with her, she’s obviously also drawn in by her suitor’s charm, class, and Greek-God physical attributes. In the Heiress sequel of my dreams, Morris returns the following day to find an open door, and he and Catherine patch things up, both admitting their attraction to the other is based on several characteristics, which includes wealth on one side and beauty on the other.

In June of 2006, I attended what probably will turn out to be the highlight of my moving-going years. The LA Museum of Art featured a special showing of The Heiress, which included an appearance by Olivia de Havilland, who offered some wonderful insights concerning the making of the film (read more about that here). Just as enjoyable as the conversation with de Havilland was the opportunity to finally view the film with a large audience fully cognizant of the film’s status as a Hollywood classic. However, I was surprised by the audience’s reaction to Clift’s portrayal of Morris Townsend. Judging by the tsk-tsk’s and near-hisses that were directed at the character after Morris returns to Catherine late in the film, the audience clearly wasn’t buying into Morris’ rational concerning his abrupt departure from his fiancée’s life earlier in the film. Townsend explains he left Catherine because he didn’t want to be responsible for her losing her large fortune due to her father’s disowning her if she married Morris.

The dispassionate Mr. Sloper certainly makes clear his belief that no one could love Catherine except for her money, but must we buy into this harsh opinion of his daughter's merit? Witness the rain-soaked scene wherein Catherine makes it clear she must marry Morris without her father’s consent. As de Havilland delivers two key lines (“We must never ask him for anything or depend upon him for anything. We must be very happy, and expect nothing from him- ever”) Wyler shoots Clift’s costar in the foreground while she embraces him, thereby shielding Clift’s face from view. We only see Morris pull back slightly from Catherine after she finishes talking, while he utters a barely audible “No” (or is it “I know”?). Clift also keeps his face in a mask-like state after Catherine’s profession, and although actions like this may serve the viewpoint that Morris is a young man desirous of Catherine’s money, his (possibly) mortified reaction to her revelation also can be used to support Morris’ later claim he didn’t want to be the cause of Catherine losing her father’s inheritance.

If one accepts Morris only as an opportunistic cad, the character would have to be as good an actor as Clift while offering extremely heartfelt proclamations such as “Oh Catherine, you make me very happy . . . I’ll cherish you forever” after she accepts his proposal of marriage. Although Morris is revealed as a scoundrel in Henry James’ “Washington Square,” Clift and Wyler work hard to add shadings to Morris’ personality, and they succeed in giving many dimensions to the role that probably never existed in the character before Clift put his considerable stamp on the part. The young actor’s excellent work in The Heiress serves as a harbinger of the perceptive characterizations that would mark the majority of Clift’s role during his impressive heyday as a star during the 1950’s.

Although The Heiress is considered among the actor’s best films, when accessing Clift’s finest performances, Morris Townsend has been undervalued, and is normally not mentioned alongside his work as Matthew Garth, George Eastman and Robert Prewitt. However, in terms of both temperament and appearance it’s hard to image another actor fitting the part as well, and providing the same vulnerability and finesse Clift brings to the role. His Morris Townsend provides enduring evidence of Clift’s phenomenal talents, and illustrates why Clift was regarded as a Hollywood heavyweight during the first decade of his film career.

Thank you for running this blogathon, Nathaniel. Nice to have someone provide a means for some deserved exposure to Montgomery Clift, one of Hollywood’s most gifted, if tragic, figures.

"Hooked on a Beauty" Video

2007-10-11T19:20:00.000-07:00

Although I've had no blogging profile for awhile now, I was doing something related to my love of classic movies during the last couple of months. Here's the result:

I posted the video on YouTube over here, too. In both uploaded videos, the music is a little out of synch with the photos (I think the music and pictures are more in synch in the original movie I have on my computer). The uploaded versions are still fairly close to what I was going after- just not exactly right. I still had quite a bit of fun working on this, and I'm planning to make a "male version" (using Paul Newman, Clark Gable, etc.) following the same idea, but I'm not sure what song to use. I want something upbeat with a girl singer, and I'm leaning towards "I Will Follow Him," but I haven't decided for sure. Guess I'll start looking for pictures to use, and take it from there.

P.S. I went back and re-edited my blog video to add a photo of the great Deborah Kerr, who just passed away on October 16th. I had her in mind at one point while I was looking for pictures to use in the video, but somehow I managed to leave her out. Shame on me.

The One That Mattered: Shani Wallis in Oliver!

2007-07-07T05:01:00.000-07:00

Upon hearing of Emma’s excellent theme for her blogathon over at All About My Movies, I imagined that, as a lifelong devotee of films, coming up with the single “Performance That Changed My Life” would be a challenging task. The usual portrayals that have remained seared in my consciousness came to mind: Vivien Leigh and Marlon Brando in Streetcar; Leigh in Gone With the Wind and Brando in Last Tango in Paris; Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz; Agnes Moorehead in Magnificent Ambersons; Montgomery Clift in From Here to Eternity; Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl; Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest; Dorothy Malone in Written on the Wind and The Tarnished Angels (this is my consciousness, remember, and I love Malone), etc. However, when asking myself what single performance led to my passionate, unending love of film, one portrayal stood out as the most viable choice: Shani Wallis’ work as the heroic, tragic Nancy Sykes in 1968’s Oliver! first opened my young cinema-going mind to the imaginative wonders to be found at the movies. Over thirty years after first viewing director Carol Reed’s excellent adaptation of the Broadway hit musical (based on Dicken’s Oliver Twist), Wallis’ beautiful, touching work remains unforgettable and, for me, her Nancy still defines the joy, drama, surprise, and sheer magic a great performance can offer a filmgoer.

From her introductory scene with the shy Oliver (an endearing Mark Lester), wherein Nancy cements her status as Fagin’s wayward boys’ mother figure while performing the wonderful “I’d Do Anything” number with Jack Wild, Ron Moody, and the boys, Wallis never puts a foot wrong in a superior characterization- watching the film, one wonders why her career didn’t take off subsequent to this Oscar-winning movie. Although Wallis only appeared onscreen a few times prior to this demanding role (her main pre-Oliver credit appears to be as a “Nightclub Vocalist” in Charlie Chaplin’s A King in New York, from 1957), she has an instinctive gift for film acting, and remains remarkably subtle and naturalistic throughout her portrayal, even though the character of Nancy provides an actress with many opportunities for high melodrama or scene-stealing. Not with Wallis in the part, though. In her hands Nancy, gowned in a dingy red tattered dress throughout the movie, remains a warm, down-to-earth, and richly human force, whether battling over Oliver’s welfare with her brutal husband, Bill Sykes (Oliver Reed, oozing depravity in his best work onscreen), or vividly illustrating the ties that bind Nancy’s to her ne'er-do-well lover in the show-stopping “As Long as He Needs Me.” When Bill forces Nancy to help him kidnap Oliver after a rich benefactor, Mr. Brownlow, has taken charge of the orphan’s welfare, Wallis skillfully handles the difficult job of conveying Nancy’s conflicted state as she betrays the boy she’s grown to love in order to appease Bill. Although a viewer is unnerved by Nancy’s actions, Wallis illustrates the character’s tormented feelings so convincingly not all the audience’s compassion is bestowed on the title character. Wallis also handles the show's signature tune in remarkable style, maintaining her cockney accent while using a rich, tremulous vocal delivery resonant with feeling (when Wallis gasps the line, “Oh, yes, he does need me . .” during the song’s opening passages, acting through song has never appeared so poetically believable) as the tune slowly builds to its emotional climax to powerfully convey Nancy’s unshakable attachment to the nefarious Sykes.

The film’s emotional peak is reached late in the film, after Nancy has made the decision to return Oliver to Brownlow without Bill’s knowledge. As a terrified Oliver remains under the ever-watchful eye of Bill, Nancy begins to sing the catchy “Oom-Pah-Pah.” As Nancy attempts to use the song to distract Bill from Oliver long enough to get the boy away from his diabolical captor, while also trying to maintain a cheerful countenance as she good-naturedly gets others to join in the dancing and singing, the tension mounts to unbelievable portions. “Oom-Pah-Pah” and the song’s immediate aftermath remain one of the most exciting sequences I’ve ever seen in a film. The few minutes which transpire between the opening lyrics of the song and Nancy’s untimely end shortly afterward both flabbergasted me and turned me on to the movies for life. It’s impossible to describe the impact Oliver!'s climatic moments had on my impressionable young mind, as Wallis and director Reed flawlessly depict the brave, unselfish sacrifices Nancy makes to save Oliver. I’d never seen anything like it, and I have rarely been as transfixed and transcended by any movie sequence since. The anguished final offscreen moans Wallis provides Nancy prove more shocking and indelible than any graphic depiction of her character’s downfall could (or any thousand chainsaw massacres could, for that matter). How could this caring, beautiful constant in Oliver’s life, so gloriously alive moments ago, be abruptly removed from his life, and from ours? Wallis makes the viewer care so deeply for Nancy that her character’s fatal last encounter with Bill is impossible to shake off, long after Oliver has obtained his happy ending.

Wallis’ career, both prior and subsequent to Oliver!, included many forays into the theater, but this awesomely talented performer never obtained another film role to match her work as Nancy. No matter. Wallis is a phenomenal presence in Oliver!, and her scant filmography means little when viewing what this gifted actress and singer accomplished the single time she was given the chance to shine onscreen in a memorable role. Shani Wallis simply was, and is, the definitive Nancy Sykes.

8 Things About Me Meme

2007-07-04T02:38:00.000-07:00

I'm back to the blogging drawing board again, as I've been tagged to describe eight random factoids about myself, whether you like it or not. This is the first time I've been included in one of these memes and, appropriately enough, the "you're it" came from the creator of the first blog I ever read and responded to- the ever-prolific Nathaniel from The Film Experience. So, following his lead, here goes:

The way this works, I state the rules first:
1) I list eight bits of my biographical makeup.
2) I tag eight others, and list/link to them at the end of this post.
3) If you're tagged by me and the spirit moves you,
you write eight random facts about yourself on your blog.
3) Finally, you contact eight more people to tag,
and list/link to them at the end of your post.
4) In the end we all die anyway, so feel free to simply ignore the tag if the spirit doesn't move you.

Things you don't need to know about me, but you'll sit there and listen, dammit:

1) At age four, I expertly mimicked Julie Andrews while I was playing the Mary Poppins soundtrack, and my older sister instantly knew “This kid is gay” (it took me another ten years to get it).

2) Not much of a cook, but my blackberry pies are good enough that a coworker once bought one from me for a big dinner she was giving, so there.

3) I went to L.A.’s Museum of Radio and Television last summer solely to watch the footage of Ann-Margret singing “Bachelor in Paradise” at the 1962 Academy Awards, but they didn’t have the show on file (someone please You Tube this!) so, to lessen my disappointment, I watched Rock Hudson and Mae West dueting on “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” during the 1958 Oscarcast. I told you I was gay.

4) I love to bowl, but I can’t break 200 to save my life (195 is my top game).

5) I’ll never get enough of those “What’s My Line?” mystery guests (from the 1950-67 seasons, of course- hurry up with the DVDs, already).

6) After a lackluster academic performance in high school, at 29 I started working my way through college, and I finally graduated (Summa, baby) six years later.

7) In my favorite movie (so far) of 2007, Away From Her, I thought Olympia Dukakis looked about twenty years younger than she did in Moonstruck, twenty years ago.

8) I had to Google-search "meme" to find out what it means. So much for college.

Okay, now the fun part- I'm tagging:
All About My Movies, Cinemania!, The Crowd Roars, The Gilded Moose, Green Briar Picture Shows, Jake Watch, mainlymovies, and Nick's Flick Picks

Smacking Over at Stinky's, and a Hutton Highlight

2007-05-27T11:29:00.001-07:00

I finally got off my erratic blogging butt this month and contributed to a Smackdown over here at Stinkylulu’s. The Oscar-nominated supporting actress performances from a strong year (1950) will be reviewed by dear Stinky and his guest panel. I don’t think my opinion regarding the work of the chosen five is too controversial, with one high-profile exception I’ve never been able to stomach (literally: I’ve threatened to puke if she wins the Smackdown). One of my two favorites is finally seeing the light of day on DVD after many years removed from society. Stinkylu’s detailed take on any given Supporting Actress race always makes compelling reading, so head on over and check it out if you’re of Stinky’s “actressexual” persuasion.

The recent passing of Betty Hutton, one of filmdom’s biggest stars during the 1940’s through the early 50’s, had me pondering anew another great, somewhat unheralded 1950 performance: Hutton as Annie Oakley in the MGM smash-hit version of Irving Berlin’s legendary Broadway musical, Annie Get Your Gun. Hutton desperately wanted to create the role of Oakley on film, seeing the part as the career-topper for her it indeed turned out to be (Annie was one of MGM’s top grossers that year, and Hutton landed on the cover of Time magazine for her efforts). When Judy Garland bowed out of the film early on in shooting (despite her great vocal work, the footage of the pale, wan Garland as Annie makes it clear it was in her best interests for the studio to replace her) Hutton enthusiastically stepped into the role of a lifetime. Watching the already-vital Hutton push her talents (and emotions) as far as they’ll go in Annie provides a viewer with the rare opportunity to see a star truly giving her all for the sake of her craft.

Hutton’s most impressive feat may be her original take on Annie. It would have been tempting to (and somewhat risky not to) follow the lead of Ethel Merman, who had scored so hugely in the role on Broadway; however, comparing the Broadway Cast recording and the movie’s soundtrack, it's obvious Hutton intended to roll the dice and play Annie her own way. There’s a rich emotional resonance and a sense of realism in Hutton’s work- she appears to be attempting to become Annie more than simply act the part, and her instinctive understanding of the character is complete. In early scenes, Hutton goes a bit overboard on the theatrics via her all-out approach to the role, yet she’s still a compelling, unforgettable presence onscreen, especially while literally blasting her way through “You Can’t Get a Man With a Gun.”

Although Hutton’s often appropriately bombastic, she also shades Annie with a touching vulnerability that helps keep her playing richly human. In addition, Hutton shows unusual perception in listening and reacting during a song. Watch Hutton’s despondent, silent facial expressions during costar Howard Keel’s “The Girl I Marry,” as Annie realizes she completely lacks the qualities Wild Bill is seeking in his ideal woman. Due to Hutton's vivid (and true) emoting, it’s one of the most moving moments found in a musical, and fans used to Hutton’s “out there,” sometimes overbearing style may be surprised by the emotional delicacy the star manages in Annie’s quieter moments. Compare the vivid lifeforce Hutton comes across as during the rousing first rendition of “There’s No Business Like Show Business” (with Keel, Louis Calhern, and Keenan Wynn) to her latter, somewhat more subdued take on the song, wherein it slowly dawns on Annie she’s become a star: these very different interpretations of “Business” make it clear Hutton understands there are many complexities hidden underneath Oakley’s gruff backwoods origins (and Hutton again proves she's remarkably gifted at reacting to lyrics during the first take on "Business": as her costars stand behind her extolling the virtures of life in the theater, Hutton's face grows more and more rhapsodic until, overcome with euphoria, her Annie finally lets out with "There's NO people like SHOW people!!" in such believable fashion that for once a viewer buys a character spontaneously bursting out in song). Of course, there’s plenty of Hutton’s signature rambunctious charm on display elsewhere, and she’s at her funniest squaring off against her equally-imposing (if more laid-back) costar during their sharpshooter contests and their intense verbal shoot-out, “Anything You Can Do.”

After achieving a personal triumph with Annie and headlining the 1952 Oscar-winning blockbuster, The Greatest Show on Earth Hutton, as much a fireball offscreen as she was on, walked out of her Paramount contract, and never regained her footing as a show business headliner. However, anyone who’s seen her in Annie won’t forget Hutton’s endearing vitality and substantial talent, and the film makes a fan wish Hutton had received more opportunities to display her gifts in first-class vehicles during her volatile career.

Mrs. Miniver Nobly Serves Britain's WWII Effort

2007-02-06T17:46:00.000-08:00

As the last classic movie in the county library’s current “Based on the Book: The Affairs of Women” series, 1942’s Mrs. Miniver offers a good example of what 1940’s wartime audiences considered first-class entertainment. One of the biggest hits of the decade, this screen adaptation of the Jan Struther novel went on to take 6 Oscars and cemented Greer Garson’s status as the silver screen’s premier leading lady of the era. Seen today, this straightforward William Wyler-directed drama involving a middle-class British family (or maybe not so middle-class, as MGM never did anything small- the Miniver’s home is one step down from a mansion, and not a big step) coming to terms with Great Britain’s entry into WWII may leave viewers wondering what the fuss was about. Still, with its unusual blend of domesticity, turmoil, and tragedy, Miniver intermittently provides the viewer with some good entertainment and, though overlong, the film is worth a look.

In what surely constitutes one of the most vapid opening segments found in any Best Picture winner, the title character’s seen buying a hat she “just has to have,” then worries how to break the news of her purchase to her normally spendthrift husband, who’s uncharacteristically out doing some splurging of his own. Things don’t get much more exciting as Mrs. Miniver allows a flower to be named in her honor, while elsewhere in the household romance blossoms between the Miniver’s eldest son and a local girl. Fortunately, after about an hour of such blase activities (and just when the audience is ready to jump up in exasperation and shout “Who Cares!!!” ala Bea Arthur in “The Golden Girls,” as Dorothy tires of listening to yet another of Rose’s endless Saint Olaf stories), director William Wyler turns up the melodrama a notch or ten for the film’s compelling second half. At-home bombings, an unforgettable encounter with an emotionally unstable invader, a climatic flower show (which Wyler manages to bring off without too much sappy sentiment), and the final stirring sermon are only some of the redeeming events which turn the tide in Miniver’s favor. Although the film ranks as one of the lesser achievements in the director’s durable, hard-to-surpass career (the director himself viewed the film as a pro-war propaganda piece, and not much more), Wyler’s assured craftsmanship accounts for many of the film’s merits, and he warrants praise for getting as much dramatic mileage out of the flimsy material as he does (he was duly awarded for his efforts, receiving the first of his three directorial Oscars for Miniver).

Greer Garson’s matronly warmth and lush beauty offer compensation for the often lofty, too-regal manner found in her acting here (and in just about any part she took on- a notable exception is her charming work in the 1940 version of Pride and Prejudice). Although it’s easy to understand why Garson’s calm, confident presence would appeal to audiences during the hectic wartime years (according to the annual Quigley poll, Garson was a top ten box-office draw for five years running during this period, and the #1 female star in 1945), today her style of acting comes across as competent, but lacking in variety and star quality. More interesting than her performance in Miniver is the fact Garson received so much acclaim for the part, as the role of Kay Miniver doesn’t offer much in the way of meaty thespian opportunities; the character often serves as a dignified observer to all the excitement surrounding her, but rarely displays much emotion of her own. Even in the movie’s most surprising moment, the famous sequence wherein Kay is accosted in her kitchen by a wounded enemy solider (memorably played with a tense ferocity by Helmut Dantine, whose dangerous presence temporarily lends an element of unpredictability to the film’s proceedings) Garson seems determined to remain perfectly composed throughout the majority of this turbulent standoff, come what may. Garson is a good reactor when things get exciting, and for much of the film her restraint is suited to the character, but this has to go down as one of the least stimulating, most deliberately ‘controlled’ Best Actress performances in the history of the Academy Awards. Garson scored another huge 1942 success starring with Ronald Colman in Random Harvest (both films were among the top five box-office hits of the year), and perhaps her somewhat livelier work in that classic tearjerker helps justify her win (however, I’m sticking with Bette Davis in Now, Voyager).

As Clem Miniver, Walter Pidgeon works beautifully with Garson in their second screen pairing (they went on to costar again and again throughout the decade) and his calm, bemused air helps Garson lose some of her grandness (she even conjures up some spontaneous laughter in a few of their scenes). Teresa Wright has a refreshing, natural presence as Carol Belton, the girl who bewitches the Miniver’s oldest son, Vin (played by the handsome-yet-gawky Richard Ney, who works well with Wright, but comes across as a tad abrasive and over-earnest in his scenes without her. At least Ney impressed Garson, as the two married shortly after filming Miniver). Although her English accent comes and goes, Wright’s genial nature and simple, no-nonsense acting brighten the film considerably, although it’s almost unfathomable to understand why Wright was granted the Supporting Actress Oscar over the awe-inspiring work of Agnes Moorehead in The Magnificent Ambersons (but only almost: Wright was the second performer to gain nominations in the same year in both the Lead (for Pride of the Yankees) and the Supporting categories, and Miniver and Yankess were smashes, not so Ambersons. Ironically, Wright would miss out on a nod the following year for her most memorable performance in Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt).

As Lady Beldon, the class-conscious high society snob, the perfectly-cast Dame May Whitty resists typecasting, maintaining her dignity and stature while infusing the role with a fine sense of humor that keeps the character human (one can’t image anyone else playing the part). Whitty does as much as Wyler to ensure the centerpiece flower show sequence pays off in memorable fashion, making her character touching and likable without losing any of the formidable toughness integral to the Lady’s character. In the other major supporting role, Henry Travers displays his typical lovable befuddlement as Mr. Ballard, the unpretentious working-class gent who challenges Lady Beldon’s dominance in the flower show by creating the ‘Miniver Rose’ (both Whitty and Travers received Oscar nods for their indelible performances). Among the bit players, Peter Lawford can be spotted as a pilot, but I must have blinked during his footage.

Going in without any expectations the viewer is about to see one of the great motion pictures, Mrs. Miniver can be enjoyed on its own terms, as a high-class, workmanlike example of the Grade-A family-oriented MGM productions the studio routinely turned out during one of Hollywood’s most fruitful periods. Although Mrs. Miniver is definitely a product of its era, as an illustration of how the big screen could effectively be used as an outlet to express the patriotic fever sweeping the nation after the outbreak of WWII, Mrs. Miniver serves as a valuable time capsule of a fascinating period in 20th Century history.