Claudette Colbert Reigns Supreme in Mitchell Leisen’s Sparkling Midnight

 

Among the 1930’s treasure trove of light, sophisticated comedies, few shine as bright as one entry not always mentioned among the likes of My Man Godfrey, The Awful Truth or Bringing Up Baby. However, in what is largely considered Hollywood’s “Golden Year” for films, Paramount Pictures had a truly sterling offering among the multitude of 1939 classics with the classy, whimsical Midnight. Mitchell Leisen, helming Arthur Hornblow Jr.’s first-rate production with great finesse, beautifully transfers the wealth of comic highlights and ingenious plot twists found in the imaginative script by Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder (adapted from a story by Edwin Justus Mayer and Franz Schultz) to the screen with precise pacing that maintains a consistently beguiling tone. Leisen also showcases his roster of top talent in front of the screen perfectly, allowing each player to shine in skillfully modulated performances rife with deft comic timing, in the process creating some of the breeziest, most stylish 94 minutes found in the screwball comedy genre, or anywhere else.

Claudette Colbert, at the height of her career after scoring a multitude of hits, including a mammoth 1934 that featured her in the title role of Cleopatra as well as Imitation of Life and her Oscar-winning role in the landmark It Happened One Night, is ideally suited to the role of Eve Peabody, a young woman finding herself stranded in Paris on a rainy night after losing her assets gambling in Monte Carlo but, gowned in the first of a series of gorgeous gowns by Irene, clearly not without other assets, setting her up for the Cinderella run alluded to by the movie’s title. Although the character might be irresponsible and troublesome on paper, with charm and warmth the chic, bemused Colbert gets the audience on Eve’s aside from the get-go, coming across as so good-natured and worldly-wise it’s impossible not to root for Eve, even at her most coquettish. Colbert slyly captures the duplicity of the character as Eve concocts some of the aforementioned plot twists, and she’s so crafty and funny bringing off the ruses one eagerly looks forward to each of her vastly entertaining deceptions. Colbert would continue to thrive in films throughout the 1940s, gaining an Oscar nomination for a matronly role in Since You Went Way and landing one of her biggest hits via 1947’s The Egg and I, before lessening her film output in the 1950s as she focused on other endeavors, including a return to Broadway, wherein she had attained early-career notice. 1961’s Parrish represented Colbert’s last feature film, followed years later by a nice career adieu with a Golden Globe winning, Emmy nominated turn on television in 1987’s The Two Mrs. Grenvilles.

Don Ameche rates one of his best roles and performances as Tibor Czerny, the taxicab driver who meets Eve at the film’s outset and quickly becomes enamored of her charms as he takes her around Paris. Obtaining success as a contract player at 20^th Century Fox in the mid-1930s opposite the likes of Alice Faye and Tyrone Power in popular output such as in In Old Chicago, 1939 would prove a prime year for the handsome star, with his amiable work in Midnight immediately followed by a signature role in a more dramatic vein, portraying the title figure in The Story of Alexander Graham Bell. For Midnight, Ameche graces Tibor with an attractive matter-of-fact air and playfulness in key early scenes with Colbert whom he shares an easy chemistry with, and he cuts a fine romantic figure as an everyman who is loyal, generous and humorous. Later, as the action moves to a country estate and Tibor finds himself at odds with Eve’s coy tactics, Ameche’s high-pitched tonal shift in delivery as Tibor becomes agitated with and embroiled in a stream of confusing contrivances is adorable and very funny. Ameche would continue to proper at Fox during the 1940s, with first-class work in Ernst Lubitsch’s Heaven Can Wait particularly noteworthy, before witnessing a professional ebb onscreen that ended with a resounding surge in the 1980s, brought about by the huge success of Trading Places and Cocoon, which brought Ameche a late-career Oscar.

                John Barrymore also finds a top career assignment as Georges Flammarion, the alert and mischievous member of the upper-class who takes a great interest in Eve’s affairs (literally). Barrymore may have been near the end of his career and life at the Midnight stage, but based on his lively, scene-stealing work in the film, hard-living had done little to dim his theatrical gifts and screen magnetism, as Barrymore appears to be relishing the chance to tackle the high-comedy aspects of the part with a thespian flourish that’s a delight to behold. As Georges’ philandering, cosmopolitan wife, Helene, Mary Astor appears every inch the part of a high society matron and trades barbs with Colbert with delightfully bitchy brio, while also demonstrating a deeper, more serious tone when apt. It’s also interesting to see Astor paired up with Barrymore, her former flame who helped bring the beautiful young Astor to screen stardom in the mid 1920’s via Beau Brumell and Don Juan. Georges and Helene represent one of the more forward-thinking married couples in classic film, suggesting a seemingly open relationship, which Brackett and Wilder artfully scripted to get past the rigid production code, and Barrymore and Astor do a terrific job making the Flammarions’ unorthodox bond believable. Post-Midnight, Astor would find her peak in 1941 with imperishable work as the conniving Brigid O’Shaughnessy in The Maltese Falcon and a Supporting Actress Oscar for once again being at odds onscreen with a major femme star (this time Bette Davis) in The Great Lie.

Handsome, genital Francis Lederer is also an ideal fit as rich playboy Jacques, who sets his cap for Eva in love-at-first-sight fashion, much to Helene’s chagrin. Lederer does a fine job of making Jacques serenely appealing in his pursuit of Eve at Helene’s expense, instead of coming across as the rakish cad he would be in real life. Rex O’Malley gets his share of zingers as the jet-setting, highly urbane (code for gay in the 1930s) Marcel Renaud, who first discovers the party-crashing Eve at a soirée and introduces her to the Flammarions and Jacques, thereby setting the film’s mistaken identity scenario in motion. As Stephanie, the socialite who hosts the party that enlivens the plot considerably, Hedda Hopper looks elegant and has a pleasant, friendly demeanor not seen as frequently in her more famous off-screen role as one of Hollywood’s most powerful columnists. Finally, Elaine Barrie, aka Mrs. John Barrymore at the time, does very well in the small role of Simone, the knowing milliner who offers a few observations on the tantalizing activities surrounding her.

Released in March of 1939, Midnight found favor with audiences and critics but, in a highly competitive year, failed to be cited much during the awards season. Through the passing decades, as the screwball genre rose in merit and elevated many of the decade’s top comedies included therein to classic status, Midnight was somehow often not listed among the chief films considered the most noteworthy. However, more recent showings on television and through releases on physical media have given movie lovers a chance to rediscover one of the true gems of 1930’s cinema. Filled with witty repertoire, glamourous settings, and a director and cast in beautiful synch with the spirited-yet-elegant flavor of the piece, this escapist tale of love and machinations found among the elite and would-be elite remains a fresh and enchanting viewing experience for those looking to be amused at Midnight, or any other time. 

Ann-Margret Soars to Stardom in Bye Bye Birdie

                Harkening back to an innocent, Baby Boomer-style Americana prior to upheavals shortly to come, 1963’s Bye Bye Birdie from Columbia Pictures offers a lively musical/comedy entertainment that wins an audience over with plenty of upbeat numbers inventively choregraphed by Oona White, a fun, good-natured tone upheld throughout the whimsical story’s unfolding by veteran director George Sidney and via the star-making, dedicated performance of the gifted, alluring and magnetic Ann-Margret, whom Sidney wisely centers many key musical segments around, including the iconic opening and closing retentions of the title song created for the movie. Based on the hit 1960 Broadway success, with book by Michael Stewart, lyrics by Lee Adams and music by Charles Strouse, the Irving Brecher screenplay adroitly transfers the material involving the title figure, Conrad Birdie, an Elvis-inspired teen idol, his induction into the Army and the frenzy it causes among his followers, while Sidney sets up tunes such as “The Telephone Hour,” “Honestly Sincere” and “A Lot of Livin’ to Do” with ingratiating style and humor. With a game, energetic cast lead by Dick Van Dyke recreating his Tony-winning role and a buoyant, playful scoring by Johnny Green that is in perfect sync with Sidney’s high-spirited helming, Bye Bye Birdie offers viewers a nostalgic opportunity to spend 111 minutes looking back at a more carefree cinematic era.

By 1963 George Sidney had solidified his position among the top film directors of the musical/comedy ilk, finding great success at the outset of his career in the 1940s via his rich association with MGM with hits such as Anchors Aweigh, the 1946 Judy Garland vehicle The Harvey Girls, huge early 1950’s Technicolor smashes Annie Get Your Gun and Showboat, Kiss Me Kate and, post-MGM, continuing his box-office hits at Columbia with 1956’s The Eddy Dunchin Story and the following year’s screen adaptation of Pal Joey, with an ideally cast Frank Sinatra. Helming the all-star 1960 Pepe, meant to be a smash follow-up for the beloved comedian Cantinflas after his triumph in the Oscar winning blockbuster Around the World in Eighty Days, set Sidney back when the film met with a tepid critical and box office reception. However, Sidney appeared invigorated by the choice Birdie assignment, bringing flair and distinction to the carefully crafted musical sequences, and showcasing Ann-Margret to ensure she’s seen to best advantage in the excitingly mounted songs. Although some of the comic material falls flat and there are romantic complications that wear thin, Sidney keeps the action apace enough to ensure the movie doesn’t grow tiresome and, with nearly every number an enlivening winner, helps place Birdie among the better stage-to-film musicals of the period. Following this return to form, Sidney would reteam with Ann-Margret for another big hit, Viva Las Vegas, and a not-so-big hit, The Swinger, before concluding his fruitful career with 1967’s Half a Sixpence.

As Kim MacAfee, the sweet sixteen Sweet Apple, Ohio resident chosen to bestow “One Last Kiss” on Conrad before his Army departure, Ann-Margret justifies the trust Sidney places in her, exhibiting a sense of confidence, talent and love of performing that is overwhelming to watch. The vibrant star takes what could be a standard ingenue role and adds startling charisma and sensuality to the part which, along with her high-powered singing and dancing abilities, allows audiences to become enthralled by her presence, specifically in the famous opening and closing moments wherein, against a dark blue background, as Kim Ann-Margret first laments the drafting of Birdie, then seductively bids him adieu in an exuberant, mischievous fare-thee-well fashion. During these bookends, Ann-Margret performs directly to the camera with such an all-out verve for performing and emotional resonance she places the movie on another level, lingering in memory enough to later inspire a great Mad Men episode based on her unusual impact in these sequences. She also thrives in the showpiece “Livin’” number, dancing with a vigor and abandon that are eye-catching, while also displaying slyness and energy in her opening solo, “How Lovely to Be a Woman,” then bringing a more subtle skill to her plaintive trilling of “One Boy.” After her enormous breakthrough in Birdie, Ann-Margret would banter and generate electric chemistry with her most famous costar, Elvis Presley, in Viva Las Vegas, then proceed throughout the 1960s with a hit-and-miss filmography, gaining a high point via 1965’s The Cincinnati Kid as a flirty vixen opposite Steve McQueen, before reinventing herself as a dramatic star of depth and perception with Oscar-nominated work in 1971’s Carnal Knowledge, then carefully balancing her career afterwards with high voltage appearances on stage and screen (including another Oscar nom, mixing flagrancy and a touching vulnerability in 1975’s wild rock opera Tommy) with moving performances in fare such as television’s Who Will Love My Children?, in the process amassing four Golden Globes to go with her “Best Newcomer of 1962” Globe and, after six nominations, finally winning an Emmy for a 2010 episode of Law & Order: SVU.

For Dick Van Dyke, riding high at the time on television via his self-titled show, with Birdie he launched his feature film career in fitting fashion, bringing his Broadway role of hack songwriter/would be chemist Albert Peterson to the screen with the light, good-natured, boyish charm and agility that made him so easy for audiences to identify with. His earnestness is nicely matched by Janet Leigh as his Girl Friday and fiancée, Rosie. Leigh was at a career high after her legendary performance in Psycho, followed by ace work in another all-time classic, The Manchurian Candidate. Although she may not be an ideal stand-in for Chita Rivera’s acclaimed stage interpretation of Rosie, Leigh’s gifts as an instinctive screen actor, honed since her 1947 debut in MGM’s The Romance of Rosy Ridge, lends a fresh presence to the part, as the star enacts Rosie with focus and energy. She and Van Dyke work very well together, both in narrative scenes and their two numbers together, possibly the best-known standard, “Put on a Happy Face,” and their final scene, singing and dancing to Albert’s ode to his ladylove, “Rosie.” Post-Birdie, Van Dyke soon followed with his biggest screen success in Mary Poppins, then continued to thrive on film and television, while Leigh would pare back her film output as she raised a family, with Harper, The Fog and a nice, touching cameo opposite daughter Jamie Lee Curtis in 1998’s Halloween: H20 representing some of her best later-career work.

Chief among the supporting players, Paul Lynde, a hit in the Broadway production, gains some of the film’s biggest guffaws as Kim’s acerbic father, who is unnerved by the event of Conrad Birdie in Sweet Apple. Lynde’s great comic timing and colorful playing in Birdie helped set him up for a strong list of credits in film and television for the rest of the decade and beyond, including standout work on Bewitched, then major stardom as the center of Hollywood Squares, while Mary LaRoche does a nice job emulating the perfect Donna Reed-type housewife as Kim’s also-concerned mother. Maureen Stapleton is prominent as Albert’s possessive mom, getting her best moment dueting with Lynde on the amusing “Kids.” True teen idol Bobby Rydell, sporting an amazing pompadour and toothy grin, matches up well with Ann-Margret as Hugo, Kim’s boyfriend jealous of Birdie’s connection to Kim, and demonstrates the strong vocal prowess that made him such a hit on records during the early-mid 1960s during the “Livin’” number.  As the title character, Jesse Pearson captures Birdie’s egocentric nature and brings a playful liveliness to his big “Honesty Sincere” showcase and while singing his portion of “Livin’.” Playing themselves, John Daly (from What’s My Line?) and Ed Sullivan (who is paid tribute to in song) add to the merriment and help firmly set the movie’s early 1960’s sense of time-and-place.

With an April 1963 opening, Bye Bye Birdie went on to set a box office record at the Radio City Music Hall and placed in the top ten hits of the year with $6,000,000 in rentals (according to Variety). The film garnered some mixed reviews but propelled Ann-Margret, who graced the cover of Life magazine shortly before the release of Birdie, to major stardom. During awards season, both the movie and Ann-Margret would gain Golden Globe nominations in the Musical/Comedy category, while the Oscars would nominate Birdie for Best Scoring- Adaptation or Treatment (Johnny Green) and Best Sound (Charles Rice). The soundtrack also met with success, rising to #2 for two weeks on the Billboard album chart. Physical media releases, television showings, several songs becoming standards with pop cultural references in shows such as the aforementioned Mad Men, The Simpsons and Friends, and Ann-Margret’s iconic opening and closing of the film have allowed Birdie to remain among the most beloved musicals of its era, while gaining additional fans with each new generation. Those looking for a diverting, satirical musical/comedy featuring a remarkable star-making performance should ignore the title and welcome a watch of this high-flying Birdie.

Cary Grant Stylishly Treks North By Northwest in a Classic Hitchcock Romp

 

Constituting one of the most perfectly-packaged entertainments of its era, MGM’s sleek 1959 production of Northwest by Northwest provides filmgoers avid for an enthralling night at the movies the ideal venue to forgo reality and dive into a thrilling adventure guided by the masterful hand of Alfred Hitchcock. Armed with a Grade-A cast and top talent in every department, including a typically rousing score, artful editing and ace cinematography by regular Hitchcock collaborators Bernard Herrmann, George Tomasini and Robert Burks, respectfully, and a terrific original screenplay by Ernest Lehman that could serve as a blueprint for all mistaken-identity storylines featuring a charismatic hero haplessly caught in a web of intrigue and in the arms of a mysterious could-be femme fatale. Mixing a host of intoxicating elements together with great wit and clarity, Hitchcock concocts one of his classiest and most enduring capers with his exhilarating trip North by Northwest.

Nearing the end of a decade wherein he witnessed a peak period of creativeness and popularity, both in films and on television with the event of Alfred Hitchcock Presents in 1955, the prodigiously talented director was surely looking for a viable commercial property to end the 1950s on a high note, after his previous, possible most personal work, Vertigo, brought in decent returns but failed to meet with the public enthusiasm granted other recent Hitchcock offerings such as Rear Window and To Catch a Thief. Lehman’s escapade-laden scenario, featuring aspects of comedy, romance and suspense, with memorably-drawn characters, both of noble and disreputable inclinations, gave Hitchcock ample material to work up some of his most lasting imagery onscreen, while also taking care of his famous cameo appearance more swiftly than, but as amusingly as in any other of his films. The film’s other wealth of assets exciting, including superlatively staged set pieces, specifically the famous crop duster sequence and imperiling Mount Rushmore finale, allows a top-of-his-game Hitchcock to display all of his formidable skills, once again proving his fully warranted “Master of Suspense” title in the process.

Cary Grant slips into the role of Roger Thornhill, the beleaguered advertising executive unwittingly drawn into the central plot surrounding the enigmatic “George Kaplan,” with apparently effortless class and charm. Grant, at the peak of his abilities and star charisma after over twenty years as a top male draw in such classic films as The Awful Truth, His Girl Friday and three previous Hitchcock outings, confidently depicts Roger’s mounting confusion and desperate attempts to avoid run-ins with said crop duster and other adversaries with the skill of a screen veteran who knows how to make his character’s every move come across as persuasive and relatable to audiences. In one of his best moments, Grant deftly maneuvers through a sequence wherein a drunken Roger deals with an out-of-control car, then the police, with a perfect blend of comic deftness and believability, not once making the bit come across as hokey. Judiciously utilizing his acute acting skill, Grant makes Roger a simultaneously cool and affable hero one is drawn to from the first frame to last, allowing a viewer to except all the improbable circumstances he becomes embroiled in, while enjoying every minute of watching how Thornhill/Grant will attempt to escape from his latest dangerous obstacle.

Northwest represented a change-of-pace for lovely, talented Eva Marie Saint, playing the alluring Eve Kendall, who seductively meets Roger on a train and quickly trysts with him, before plot entanglements reveal deeper motives on Eve’s part. Starting in television and on the stage in the late 1940s Saint, in a manner apropos to her surname, established herself as a moralistic, dramatic heroine of rare persuasion in films with her Oscar-winning debut in 1954’s On the Waterfront, and continued in this vein via Raintree County and riveting work in A Hatful of Rain. Hitchcock, deploying Saint as his latest enticing blonde, allows the star a chance to add glamour and some morally ambiguous shadings to allow Eve to attract a viewer’s interest from her first run-in with Roger as strangers on a train, a meeting that works out as stimulatingly as in an earlier Hitchcock classic. Saint appears to be relishing playing opposite Grant, especially in their romantic moments, including some clever, suggestive banter, while also using her strong dramatic gifts to later vividly show the turmoil Eve feels entrapped in as plot complications thicken and Eve is caught up with Grant between Mount Rushmore and a hard place. Saint would remain a foremost leading lady in films throughout the 1960s, starring in top offerings such as Exodus, Grand Prix and The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming, while carefully balancing a fruitful career with alternate roles as wife and mother, then continue to work in films and one television, gaining an Emmy in the process. North would join Waterfront as one of the bona fide seminal works in her filmography, with Saint honoring these and other quality films on her resume by serving as an unofficial ambassador for classic movies, appearing in the L.A. area frequently to offer wonderful interviews to rapt audiences, wherein she discussed her involvement with specific films being screened, and her fascinating career in general.

As Roger’s chief North adversary, Phillip Vandamm, James Mason imbues the role with a calm, disarming self-satisfaction that marks him a perfect dastardly counterpoint to Grant’s smooth playing in heroic mode. Mason was having a fine run in the 1950s, scoring with portrayals of difficult, morose men facing serious conflicts, specifically as a Norman Maine and Captain Nemo for the ages in his incredible 1954 one-two punch of A Star is Born and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, and in possibly the decade’s most surprising and harrowing suburban drama, Bigger Than Life, playing a teacher and family man who gets hooked on cortisone and goes berserk. Playing an outright villain in North, Mason is clearly in his element and appears to be having a lot of fun in the part, taunting Thornhill with a relaxed dexterity that indicates Vandamm is so assured a rogue that any explanation Roger offers Philip concerning who he is will be simply dismissed. With Mason’s firm grasp of the role, one believes Philip will gain his objectives by any means necessary, however macabre they may be, not minding and even enjoying it if a murder or two comes into play. Post-North, Mason would close out the decade with the vastly enjoyable sci-fi smash Journey to the Center of the Earth, then find later-career success in character parts, specifically with his wonderful work as Humbert Humbert in Lolita and Oscar nominations for Georgy Girl and The Verdict.

Jessie Royce Landis, returning to Hitchcock and Grant with aplomb after her success in Thief, steals several moments with her florid portrayal of Roger’s non-nonsense, wry mother, Clara. With her sly retorts and exasperation at her son’s seemingly far-fetched but true claims someone is trying to kill him, Landis’ and her killer comic timing prove North highlights during her brief appearances, making one wish for a follow-up film featuring Roger going South by Southwest with mother in tow. Martin Landau, in one of his key early roles, utilizes an icy blue-eyed gaze to great effect as Leonard, Vandamm’s ultra-loyal key henchman, artfully suggesting just how deep Leonard’s affection for his boss might go, during a period wherein the Production Code frowned on any hint of homosexuality on screen. Hitchcock regular Leo G. Carroll once again lends his urbane presence as a contact aiding Roger as he tries to figure out which way is up as he traverses throughout the film’s title. In other roles, Les Tremayne and his rich vocal tones are perfectly cast as the auctioneer perplexed by Roger’s unusual bidding technique, Josephine Hutchinson makes a strong, eerie impression early on as the duplicitous “Mrs. Townsend” and several other familiar character actors, including Edward Binns, Philip Ober, Edeward Platt, Maudie Prickett and Adam Williams also rate notice in small roles.

Upon its release in July of 1959, North by Northwest indeed proved to be quintessential summertime fare for patrons eager to take in Hitchcock’s latest tension-addled adventure, but one blessed with a light touch. At the box-office, the movie earned a hefty $5,250,000 in initial rentals (according to Variety), placing it among the top ten hits of the year. Critically the film also found favor, with many praising it as one of Hitchcock’s most ingenious and entertaining offerings, helping North to place on both The New York Times and the National Board of Review lists of the year’s top ten movies, while Hitchcock and Lehman also were mentioned by the Director’s and Writer’s Guild branches, respectively. At the Oscars, North would garner Lehman one of the more deserved nominations for Best Original Screenplay, along with nods for Best Art Direction and Tomasini’s editing, with Grant, alas, once again being overlook for one of his most indelible performances and Hitchcock also missing out on a warranted place among the top five. Time has only increased the appraisal of and public adoration for the film, with North growing a strong fanbase via television showings and various physical media releases, including a new 4K release featuring a pristine print of the movie. Those interested in seeing one of Hitchcock’s liveliest diversions featuring Grant at his suave best will find an irresistible venture awaits them with a journey North by Northwest.

And a fond farewell to Richard Chamberlain, who passed away March 29^th at age 90. Although the handsome, skillful and serene actor built a nice big screen filmography over the course of his esteemed career, including Petulia, The Three (and Four) Musketeers, The Towering Inferno (in a nice against-type turn as a villain) and The Last Wave, it was in television that Chamberlain sealed his superstardom, first during his 1961-66 run as heartthrob Dr. Kildare, with his fame carrying over to a top ten hit on the Billboard charts via his rendition of the show’s theme song, then a huge career boost in the 1980s as the “King of the Mini-Series” with the invent of Shõgun and an even bigger blockbuster, 1983's The Thorn Birds, both of which brough him Golden Globe awards and Emmy nominations. Chamberlain would continue in films and t.v., ending his television endeavors on a high note in 2017 via David Lynch’s Twin Peaks update. With his 2003 autobiography, Chamberlain also came out, in doing so exhibiting the same class, charm and intelligence that were integral aspects of his signature roles. Rest in peace to a fine talent, Richard Chamberlain.

Betty Hutton and Eddie Bracken Ascend in Preston Sturges' Miracle

 

Possibly the 1940’s wildest, sauciest and most inventive comedy, ace writer-director Preston Sturges’ uninhibited The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek provides a riotous ride for viewers during its 99 minutes, while artfully dodging Hays Code edicts throughout. Concerning the exploits of Trudy Kockenlocker, a lively young woman who sends the boys off to WWII with flair but later regrets her avidness, as she can’t remember who she might have married during an eventful night on the town, Sturges concocts an original screenplay that remains surprising and bold eighty years later. A top cast, led by Betty Hutton as Trudy, Eddie Bracken as her nervously nebbish suitor Norville, William Demarest as continually perplexed father, Diana Lynn as one of cinema’s sagest and snappiest little sisters, and a slew of Sturges regulars, dive into their roles with aplomb, skill and great comic dexterity, aiding in making this 1944 classic one of the era’s most enjoyable and memorable films.

At the height of his powers after a string of hits, the multi-talented Sturges’ creative juices were in full flow while devising Miracle in late 1942-early 1943 (the film’s release was delayed about a year). A true renaissance man after a fascinating childhood which included traveling with Isadora Duncan’s dance troupe, Sturges dabbled as an inventor and in the U.S. Army among other interests before starting his successful career as a writer for stage and films, breaking through with 1929’s Strictly Dishonorable on Broadway and as a writer-for-hire in movies and, starting with 1933’s The Power and the Glory, creating solo screenplays, with The Good Fairy, Easy Living and Remember the Night among his best script. Looking to gain more control of his work, starting in 1940 Sturges entered a golden period as writer/director at Paramount Studios with The Great McGinty, which brought him an Oscar for Original Screenplay, followed by (in short order) classics such as The Lady Eve, Sullivans Travels and The Palm Beach Story prior to helming Miracle. Clearly understanding his craft, it’s been stated Sturges would have to stuff a handkerchief in his mouth during takes to stifle his laughter, and his skill in setting up scenes for maximum hilarity is in full evidence in Miracle, with slapstick sequences and deft twists in the plot keeping the story moving in a consistently mesmerizing and amusing manner. Sturges would follow up Miracle with another classic WWII-themed comedy in 1944, Hail the Conquering Hero, before his fortunes onscreen would take a drastic downturn, with 1948’s Unfaithfully Yours, a flop in its day but now largely considered among Sturges’ best work, a late-career highlight for one of the cinema’s the most imposing talents.

The irrepressible Betty Hutton, a recent Paramount contract player after achieving success on Broadway, found her ticket to top stardom as the livewire-ish Trudy. Often explosive onscreen to the delight of many and regret of some, the buoyant Hutton’s talents prove an ideal fit for the free-spirited, extroverted and jovial Trudy. Working in terrific tandem with Sturges, Hutton reigns in her expansive emoting style enough to find a believable emotional balance in the character, illustrating both Trudy’s gregarious attitude while whooping it up with the G.I.’s while also adding dramatic complexity to the heroine when faced with conflict before and after her night of frivolity, managing to keep Trudy rooted in Sturges’ realm of boisterous comedy throughout. It’s a rich, entertaining portrayal that shows how appealing and effective Hutton could be onscreen with the right material and direction. Hutton would go on to resounding success during the next ten years, highlighted by her moving, vibrant work in the smash 1950 film adaptation of Annie Get Your Gun and a lead role in 1952’s Nest Picture Oscar winner, The Greatest Show on Earth, in addition to a string of 1940’s pop hits as a star Capital Records’ recording artist, including a #1 hit, “Doctor, Lawyer and Indian Chief.” However, after the blockbuster success of Greatest Show and starring in a Blossom Seeley biopic, Somebody Loves Me, the temperamental Hutton had a falling out with Paramount and quickly found her fortunes ebbing. Several comeback attempts reaped scant results in regard to rebuilding her career, but shortly before her death she gave a touching interview with Robert Osborne on TCM whereupon she reflected on her life (including an admirable, successful return to college during her later years) and amazing career.

Eddie Bracken was also on a sharp rise career-wise in 1944. As the earnest, nervous Norval Jone, who bears a lifelong endearment towards Trudy and proves his devotion in unorthodox ways, often to uproarious effect, Bracken holds the screen with energetic comic brio as Norval chaotically attempts to handle a series of mishaps with an increasingly jittery demeanor. He teams perfectly with Hutton in some of these scenes, with the dynamic duo creating a level of vibrancy rarely seen on the screen. With one of the greatest onscreen one-two punches ever in a single year, Bracken would follow-up Miracle with possible even more impactful work as a similarly hapless but identifiable and humane protagonist in Sturges’ supreme Conquering Hero follow-up. After this incredible year, Bracken would work in films and television to lesser effect, with a welcome late-career return to the spotlight alongside the Griswolds near the end of 1983’s hit National Lampoon’s Vacation.

Diane Lynn, after gaining much attention as the precocious teenage sidekick to Ginger Rogers in 1942’s The Major and the Minor, scores even more resoundingly in her distinct mature-beyond-her-years mode as Emmy, Trudy’s, wise-cracking, ultra-sage sister, who offers her befuddled sibling pertinent advice regarding her predicament, while trading barbs with her constantly exasperated father. As Constable Kockenlocker, Sturges’ regular William Demarest has perhaps his finest screen role, emphasizing both the Constable’s frequently irascible state, and his more caring, protective nature towards his daughters (Demarest would also score heavily opposite Bracken in Conquering Hero). Other key players, including several from Sturges’ “stock company,” include Porter Hall, Al Bridge, Emory Parrell, Esther Howard, Almira Sessions and, zestfully reprising their roles from McGinty to open Miracle and set the tone for the madcap antics to come, Brian Donlevy and Akim Tamiroff.

An outstanding success upon release in February of 1944, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek became one of Paramount’s leading money makers for the year, as well as scoring with awed critics who marveled at the latest example of Sturges’ mastery with the comedy genre. The film would go on to place among the top ten films of the year on both The New York Times and The National Board of Review lists, with the Board also singling out Hutton among the best actors of the year. At the Oscars, in a rare occurrence Sturges found himself cited twice in the Original Screenplay category, for both Miracle and Conquering Hero. Time has validated the movie’s place among Sturges’ greatest work (and therefore among the best comedies ever), with its position at #54 on the AFI’s 100 Years. . .100 Laughs list in 2000 and inclusion on the 2001 National Film Registry preservation list. Viewers searching for one of the zaniest, cleverest film classics will have an easy time rolling along with this true cinematic Miracle.

William Wyler Cinematically Rises with the Incisive Dodsworth

 

                In an era overseen by the almighty Production Code, wherein few major studio films were given the chance to address adult themes in direct fashion, Samuel Goldwyn’s thought-provoking 1936 production of Dodsworth, a class adaptation of the Sidney Howard play (with screenplay by Howard, based on the Sinclair Lewis 1929 novel), does a remarkably straightforward job of depicting the middle-age marital woes and infidelities of an affluent couple. Centered around the titular characters of Sam and Fran Dodsworth and the complications that arise as down-to-earth business magnate Sam retires and seeks to travel the world with the more flighty and sexually adventurous Fran, the absorbing drama examines their taut relationship and interactions with others who enter their world in a frank, arresting manner. Helmed by William Wyler at his most inspired and featuring an established cast doing top-flight work across the board, Dodsworth is enacted and lensed with a skill and perceptiveness that allows the movie to endure as an honest, inciteful portrayal of marriage (and lives) at a crossroads.

In a banner year that witnessed his rise to the top of the Hollywood directional pack with his helming of the stellar These Three, Come and Get it and Dodsworth, William Wyler demonstrated his gifts as a director of rare discernment, specifically in his talent for working with actors to gain complex, sensitive performances. This trait serves him particularly well in Dodsworth, as the story’s characters, particularly title character and his wife, possess multi-faceted personas that need careful handling by both director and his stars to bring the roles off with believable clarity. Wyler, showing an attention-to-detail and subtleness that were hallmarks of his filmography, enables his cast to give deft shadings to their telling portrayals resonating with truth. Both Wyler and screenwriter Howard clearly trust audiences to form their own opinions while interpreting the story’s themes and actions of the characters, granting an intelligence to the depictions on view that help lend a modern tone to the film nearly ninety years after its release. Following Dodsworth, Wyler would reap one of the most notable runs in films, with a record twelve Academy Award nominations for Best Director and three wins, building a roster that includes such classics as Wuthering Heights, The Letter, The Best Years of Our Lives, The Heiress, Roman Holiday and Ben Hur, among many others.

Walter Huston, sublimely recreating his Broadway triumph as Sam Dodsworth, gives a tour de force performance that captures every mood of the complicated tycoon, from his boyish enthusiasm over the simple pleasures in life, such as seeing the lighthouse rays from afar while on ship, to his tough demeanor when confronting Fran over her elitist and reckless behavior, to his forlornness over the possibility of a life without Fran. Huston plays a range of emotions with earnestness and imposing skill, from lighter moments wherein Sam shows excitement over setting out to discover new horizons, people and business opportunities, to deeply felt heartbreak Sam encounters when unexpected hindrances cause rifts in his marriage. Huston illustrates both the good fortunes and plights of a thoroughly decent man with moving empathy, causing a viewer to root for the noble, deserving Dodsworth to achieve a fulfilling life, with or without Fran. With this major screen accomplishment, Huston would become one of the most highly acclaimed and sought-after actors in film until his death in 1950, with four Oscar nominations, including a win for his unforgettable work as the sage prospector in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, directed by his son John.

Ruth Chatterton, in her most memorable role after previously triumphing on stage, then on screen as a leading star of the early Talkies period, with Oscar nominations for Madame X and Sarah and Son, also offers a masterful portrait as the coquettish, restless and pretentious Mrs. Dodsworth, who’s terrified of aging and appears willing to do everything she can to escape a life of small-town domesticated bliss with Sam in favor of adopting a frivolous, jet set lifestyle. It’s a tricky, highly unsympathetic role, but Chatterton clearly understands the many conflicting emotions driving Fran, vividly illustrating such character aspects as her love for and petulance towards Sam, an ever-burgeoning need for grasping the passion she’s missed, and her guilt for diving into a cosmopolitan lifestyle at Sam’s expense. Chatterton admirably holds nothing back in vividly delineating the egocentric Fran’s often selfish mindset, as she demonstrates her unwillingness to compromise her lofty attitude and fickle behavior to work with Sam on their future. She also exhibits Fran’s fears about losing her youth with a deft forthrightness that at least allows the audience to understand some of the insecurities behind her maddeningly erratic behavior. Following her indelible work as Fran, Chatterton’s career onscreen would abruptly end in 1938 after just two more movies, before she would move on to become a novelist, while also occasionally making appearances on television, including recreating her signature work as Fran in 1950 on Prudential Family Playhouse.

Mary Astor witnessed an important turning point in her career with her mature, insightful work as Edith Cortright, a traveling socialite who takes an interest in Sam. Exuding grace, dignity and a maturity well beyond her years, but suitable for the worldly-wise character, Astor creates in Edith a figure of great warmth and strength, in direct contrast to the self-centered, insecure Fran. Her calm, sage and compassionate demeanor is transfixing to watch, establishing Edith as the true heroine of the film from her first appearance. The simple economy found in Astor’s straightforward playing also result in one of the movie’s key exchanges, as Edith departs a dinner party with the Dodsworths and, encountering Fran preparing for a transgression with a lothario, throws a knowing and helpful “Don’t” Fran’s way as she exits. The timing of Dodsworth was fortuitous, as the glowing reviews for Astor immediately followed a scandalous custody battle between Astor and her ex-husband, and proved her onscreen popularity, which had started in the silent era during her teen years, was undiminished, leading to a big upswing in the quality of movies Astor was offered thereafter, with subsequent years bringing such sterling entertainments as The Hurricane, Midnight, The Palm Beach Story, Meet Me in St. Louis, a fitting swansong in 1964 via Hush. . .Hush, Sweet Charlotte and her 1941 career peak, with her pitch-perfect work as one of Noir’s earliest and most duplicitous femme fatales in The Maltese Falcon and an Oscar for going toe-to-toe with Bette Davis in The Great Lie.

As Fran’s chief paramour, Paul Lukas is casually urbane while putting the moves on a willing Fran in direct fashion. As Fran’s first possible Casanova on board the Europe-bound voyage, the young David Niven is also cool and collected, making the most of a great moment wherein he tells Fran exactly what he thinks of her coy behavior. Gregory Gaye nicely illustrates a more caring nature as Kurt Von Obersdorf, yet another on Fran’s list of handsome prospects, while as Kurt’s sage, domineering mother, the revered stage star and acting teacher Maria Ouspenskaya makes a forceful screen debut, capturing the audience’s complete attention with her steely glaze and regal air as she sums up Fran’s makeup in a brief, all-knowing manner. Spring Byington also scores as a sympathetic friend of Sam’s who lends him an ear at a critical juncture, while ingenue Kathryn Marlowe adds the appropriate freshness to her role as the Dodsworth’s daughter, Emily. Finally, in his film debut as Emily’s well-meaning husband Harry, John Payne is boyishly charming and so gorgeous that the top career he soon obtained at 20^th Century Fox and beyond as a prime leading man seems inevitable, based on his short but stunning Dodsworth appearance.

                Upon release in September of 1936, Dodsworth received an enthusiast reception from both general moviegoers and the critical sector, with the film placing among the top hits of 1936/37 (according to Variety) while gaining abundant praise for its savvy study of adult relationships. Among hosannas, the film place on the New York Times Ten Best list for the year, and Huston won a well-merited Best Actor prize from the New York Film Critics. At the Academy Awards, Dodsworth reaped seven nominations, including ones for Best Picture, Director, Actor, Supporting Actress (Ouspenskaya, setting the standard for one-scene wonders at the Oscars), Screenplay (but alas, nothing for Chatterton or Astor) and a win for Best Art Direction, to gain one of the most impressive dramas from classic Hollywood its rightful status as an Academy Award-winning film. More recent honors include placement on the National Film Registry’s 1990 list, and no less than the late, esteemed TCM host Robert Osborne selecting the movie as his all-time favorite. Film buffs looking for a classic that deals with grown-up issues without pretense or pandering should delve into following the Dodsworths as they traverse through parts unknown, both geographically and in a more personal, internal manner, in the process reassessing their own purpose and desires for an enticing and thought-provoking watch. 

Rod Taylor Warps to the Past and Future via The Time Machine

 

              Bringing sci-fi movies into the 1960s with verve and distinction, MGM’s class 1960 production of The Time Machine faithfully transfers the imaginative 1895 H.G. Wells novella to the screen with a vivid sense of time and place, whether it be 1900 when the story begins, or any other period the inventive hero H. George Wells traverses to during the film’s exciting 103 minutes. Directed and produced with the care and creativity that made him a master of the genre, George Pal adapts the smart, involving screenplay by David Duncan with a skill and precision that allows a viewer to suspend disbelief and be completely drawn into the fantastic premise, while showcasing the wonderful special effects, including a terrific model of the title vessel designed by Bill Ferrari and built by Wah Chang, with atmospheric panache. Top lensing by cinematographer Paul C. Vogel, ace editing by George Tomasini and a riveting score by Russell Garcia further enhance the film’s quality, along with a first-rate cast featuring the virile, handsome Rod Taylor, Alan Young, Sebastian Cabot and the awesomely named newcomer Yvette Mimieux, whom under Pal’s supervision bring more conviction and charisma than normally found in movies of a similarly surrealistic ilk.

                Pal, after assuring his place in sci-fi history as producer of early top cinematic efforts, including 1950’s Destination Moon, When Worlds Collide and War of the Worlds, moved into a role as director/producer starting with 1958’s fanciful Tom Thumb before helming the project perfectly suited to talents Pal had been honing since his initial days in the 1930s and 1940s as the creative force behind his patented Puppetoons (aka Pal-Doll) animation technique, for which Pal won a special Oscar in 1944. In detailing the series of incredible misadventures George finds himself in as he moves back and ahead in time, Pal appears to relish the opportunity to put startling Wells-inspired imagery on film, specifically once the intrepid inventor goes for broke and moves far ahead into the future, to find a civilization unlike any other seen before in movies, with Pal picturesquely depicting an idyllic environ wherein the simple Eloi race, a kind of forerunner to the flower children movement and “Summer of Love” found later in the 1960s, coexist in harmony,  save for the underground Morlocks, who rise at night to wreak havoc on the Eloi people. After his resounding accomplishment with Time, Pal would continue in the Sci-fi/fantasy realm with 1961’s Atlantis, the Lost Continent, experimenting with the massive Cinerama filming technique for 1962’s The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm, then do his final film as producer/director, 7 Faces of Dr. Lao. In the ultimate tribute, Pal found himself being immortalized (along with When Worlds Collide) in the opening of 1975’s The Rocky Horror Picture Show before his 1980 passing.

                For star Rod Taylor, Time would mark the Australian’s entry into leading man roles, after debuting on screen in his native land in 1954’s King of the Coral Sea, then establishing himself in Hollywood as a young actor of considerable merit via such significant productions as Giant, particularly appealing as Debbie Reynold’s fiancé in The Catered Affair, Raintree County and Separate Tables, as well as his first excursion into the sci-fi realm, 1956’s World Without End. As George, Taylor lends conviction and a low-key affable touch to the film, allowing an audience to quickly get on the adventurer’s side and willingly go along for the wild ride with George as he unorthodoxly plunges through time. Taylor does a great job of bringing focus and purpose to his playing, while also maintaining a genial tone at times to prevent the character from becoming too heavy or stiff, making George one of the most relatable heroes found in sci-fi films. Post-Time, Taylor made a major career mis-step by turning down the role of James Bond he could have been a great fit for, but quickly rebounded by bringing humor and magnetism to possibly his most widely-known role as the hero fighting off the pesky title figures in Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. The handsome, adept Taylor would become a fixture as a robust, reliable star presence for the rest of his career, specifically during the 1960s, wherein he found success in such various projects as the voice of Pongo in Disney’s One Hundred and One Dalmatians, having a great 1963 with, in addition to The Birds, playing opposite Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton in 1963’s The V.I.P.s and an extremely attractive pairing with Jane Fonda in the underrated romantic comedy Sunday in New York, then giving perhaps his most effective performance as the complex title character in 1965’s Young Cassidy, and again lending his sly, calm, confident comic gifts as Doris Day’s romantic leading man in Do Not Disturb and The Glass-Bottom Boat. After this richly rewarding 1960’s heyday onscreen, Taylor would alternate between films and television in often less-substantial work, but end his career on a terrific high note, playing Winston Churchill with elan and a twinkle in his eye in Quentin Tarantino’s exciting 2009 action-adventure Inglourious Basterds, before his death in 2015 at age 84.

                The lovely Yvette Mimieux gained her place among Hollywood’s top ingenues with her touching work as the childlike Weena, whom George meets after the title figure takes him to the year 802,701. Although inexperienced as a performer prior to her big breakthrough in Time, Mimieux possesses a perfect faraway, otherworldly screen presence and an intuitive, subtle acting style well-suited for the camera’s knowing gaze, allowing one to identify with Weena as a believable naïve figure, and feel protective towards her and George as they face underworld adversaries in the grotesque form of the Morlock race. Following her success in Time, Mimieux would solidify her place as a top young talent of depth and sensitivity with her emotionally compelling work in another 1960 hit, Where the Boys Are, then in 1962’s A Light in the Piazza, wherein she is endearingly teamed with George Hamilton, at his most charming, and sporting a fine Italian accent. Mimieux would continue as a leading lady in films and television for the next few decades, including reteaming with Pal for Brothers Grimm and with Charlton Heston in the hit melodrama Diamond Head, followed by 1970’s offerings such as Skyjacked, Jackson Country Jail and her last high-profile movie project in (fittingly) another opulent sci-fi opus, Disney’s 1979 The Black Hole, then focused on television (The Love Boat, Perry Mason) before early retirement from the screen in 1992, passing at age 80 in 2022.

                Alan Young, in between his great success on television via his Emmy-winning self-titled show from the early 1950s and the iconic Mr. Ed to follow just after Time, has possibly his best film role as David Filby, the supportive friend who is intrigued and befuddled by George’s fascination and experiments with time travel. Young gives depth, warmth and, when appropriate, a jovial air to his portrayal, while also sporting a convincing accent, and also expands his range by playing David’s son James, whom George meets twice during his journeys. Based on his work in Time, Young demonstrates acting chops worthy of a much richer film career, but Mr. Ed and ongoing television fame awaited instead. Another top t.v. name from the 1960s, Sebastian Cabot, makes a nice impression as one of George’s colleagues who is shown an example of what the invention can do in miniature form at the movie’s outset, before going on to major renown as the urbane Giles French on Family Affair. Others bringing persuasion to the story include Tom Helmore, a couple years after his duplicitous work in Vertigo, Doris Lloyd as George’s housekeeper, Mrs. Watchett and the inescapable presence of Whit Bissell, who seemingly appeared in every other movie during the period, and here shows up as part of the group George entertains with his new innovation.

Released in August of 1960, The Time Machine proved itself to be the perfect late-summertime diversion for audiences, including a wealth of baby boomers who would be the first to embrace the film as a childhood favorite, gaining subsequent generations of fans young and old from television airings and cinematic re-releases, with Time becoming a standard feature on the kiddie matinee circuit, wherein the thrilling tale and those creepy Morlocks kept adolescents in rap attention, including this author on several occasions. During awards season the Academy Awards came through, with Time winning the Best Special Effects award for Gene Warren and Tim Baar, thereby granting the movie warranted distinction as an Oscar-winning film. The lasting reputation of Time as a chief sci-fi classic has assured the movie a place in pop culture, with the imposing title creation cleverly turning up in 1984’s Gremlins and the story retold via a 2002 remake starring Guy Pearce (with a cameo by Young) that failed to capture the of the original. However, those looking for a transfixing, visionary sci-fi experience need only travel back to 1960 to discover the dazzling escapades awaiting them as they hop onboard George Pal’s singular production of The Time Machine.

William Holden and Gloria Swanson Go Wilder in Sunset Boulevard

 

In the annals of cinema, few films have as far-reaching and lasting impact as 1950’s Sunset Boulevard, Paramount Pictures’ one-of-a-kind, fascinating take on the darker aspects behind Hollywood’s tinsel and stardust. Director Billy Wilder, co-scripting a truly original tale with longtime co-writer Charles Brackett and D.M. Marshman, Jr., masterfully helms the bizarre, seriocomic tale of Norma Desmond, a former silent screen star still reveling in her glory years from decades past, who takes up with Joe Gillis, an opportunistic young screenwriter desperate to finds his footing in the movie business, mining every bit of dark comedy from the scenario without losing sight of the bleak drama at the film’s center. Moody, noirish-laced cinematography by John F. Seitz, a tense, atmospheric score by Franz Waxman and a quartet of stars, both old and new, giving career-defining performances help Wilder in bringing the eerie, insightful and remarkable story to the screen with unforgettable vividness and conviction.

Wilder had quickly risen up the Hollywood ladder after teaming with Brackett for a series of quality scripts, including Midnight, Ninotchka and Hold Back the Dawn, before finding success as a director/writer with 1942’s The Major and the Minor, starting his lengthy tenure as one of Paramount’s prime auteurs. By 1950, Wilder had witnessed a period of overwhelming popularity with audiences and critics, specifically with the one-two punch of one of the great noirs, Double Indemnity, followed by 1945’s The Lost Weekend, which brought Wilder his first two Oscars. Although both of these classics rate among Wilder’s peak films, with Sunset he managed to blend moments of comedy with some much grimmer themes, thanks to some of the wittiest dialogue ever committed to film, and the colorful nature of Norma Desmond’s outsized persona. With fearless creativity, Wilder illustrates the unsavory nature of the ill-fated relationship at the center of the film without softening the material to aid in making the characters more likable and sympathetic to viewers. Risking alienating audiences, Wilder managed to offer them an engrossing portrait of the seedy underside of the glamourous facade usually used to represent Hollywood, in the process forever changing how Tinseltown and the stars therein would be perceived on screen and off, as filmmakers strove to include a greater degree of realism in their work.

Gloria Swanson, once a star of the Norma Desmond caliber during her reign as a 1920’s screen siren, clearly understood her assignment and, working at a fervor pitch, instills a manic intensity into her work. Absent from the screen since 1941’s Father Takes a Wife, maintaining a successful career in radio during the rest of the decade, Swanson throws herself into one of the juiciest roles ever with passionate resolve, emoting throughout with a florid, sometimes literally eye-popping theatricality worthy of the diva for the ages Norma clearly is (although it’s wonderful Swanson is also given a great lighter Sunset moment, doing her ace impersonation of Charlie Chaplin, complete with cane and bowler hat). There’s little subtility to be found in her expansive playing, partially due to the larger-than-life aspects of the role, but Swanson’s intense style allows her to put a unique stamp on the dazzling anti-heroine with memorable aplomb, while selling each now-classic Norma line (including, ironically, “We didn’t need dialogue, we had faces”) to maximum effect, in the process creating one of the most iconic characters ever put on film. Sunset would gain Swanson possibly the greatest comeback storyline in Hollywood history circa 1950, then grant her lasting fame for her ever-transfixing work in the movie, long after most of her silent screen contemporaries were fated to disappear from the public eye.

William Holden was at a career crossroads when he stepped in to replace a skittish Montgomery Clift to score possibly his most enduring role. Holden rated as one of the most sensitive and skillful young leading men with his fine debut in 1939’s Golden Boy, followed immediately by a truly incisive, expert portrayal of George in Our Town, yet by the late-1940s his stock was falling, after failing to make a breakthrough in more substantial roles outside of the light comedy realm, however stable his work in fare such as Dear Ruth or Apartment for Peggy might be. It’s difficult to imagine anyone else bringing off the tricky combination of cynicism and charm Holden adroitly invests in his jaded-yet-captivating take on Joe, believability maintaining a level of truth and focus in his singular depiction, whether Joe is allowing himself to be drawn deeper into Norma’s desire to control him or later is confronting her and her chimera notions with straightforward, forceful conviction. Sunset would mark a new phase in films for Holden, elevating him to the forefront of stars, a position he would hold through the rest of his career, specifically during the 1950s, wherein he would gain an Oscar for his equally entertaining follow-up with Wilder, Stalag 17, then go on to star in a steady stream of box-office winners, culminating in one of the decade’s biggest hits (both financially and critically), 1957’s The Bridge on the River Kwai.

 With polish and his patented imposing presence, Erich von Stroheim regally enacts the role of Max, Norma’s former director and current chauffer and assistant who devoutly stands by and protects Norma and her delusions of grandeur. Von Stroheim, one of the most influential figures behind and in front of the camera during the silent era, is uniquely qualified to play the role after teaming with Swanson in the late 1920s for the opulent but unfinished Queen Kelly, which did much to destroy von Storheim’s status as an innovative, masterful director. Von Stroheim would continue on as an actor in films of various quality, with Sunset also providing him with a cinematic comeback and his final involvement in an important studio-backed film. With calm assurance and a mystifying severity, von Stroheim adds layers to Max that make a viewer wonder about his background, how he came to his present role as a seemingly underling in Norma’s world, and to what extent he factors into her life as an ominous or supportive figure.

Nancy Olson, possessing just the right amount of fresh-faced ingenuity and mature resolve in her second film, manages to hold her own with her powerhouse costars, specifically establishing a potent chemistry with Holden that would aid in their costarring three more times post-Sunset. As Betty Schafer, the young script reader who has screenwriting ambitions of her own and forges a partnership and romance with Joe, Olson enacts the role with an honest simplicity that makes her every expression ring true, while matching Holden’s touching sincerity and naturalism as the bond between Joe and Betty grows stronger. Following her Sunset rise, Olson would continue in films up to 1955’s smash hit Battle Cry, before alternating between life as a wife and mother, returning to the screen for roles in Disney offerings such as Pollyanna, The Absent-Minded Professor and Snowball Express.

In other roles, Jack Webb is good-natured as Artie Green, Joe’s loyal friend, a few years before Webb’s most famous role in a much more stoic mode as Sgt. Joe Friday on television’s Dragnet, while Fred Clark, in the midst of becoming one of Hollywood’s busiest character actors, puts in a good showing appears as Sheldrake, the blithe producer who goes toe-to-toe with Gillis early in the film. Cecil B. DeMille perfectly portrays Cecil B. DeMille with a low-keyed persuasiveness that plays importantly in one of the most moving passages in the film, wherein “C.B.” and his former star Norma (DeMille also guided Swanson to stardom in a nice off-screen parallel) are reunited at Paramount, before he reappears to have one of filmdom’s most famous exit lines ever directed at him just before Sunset’s final fade out. Also playing themselves, Hollywood columnists Hedda Hopper and Sidney Skolsky represent other members at the top of the Hollywood heap circa 1950, while as “the Waxworks” a trio of Norma’s bridge-playing buddies, former silent stars Anna Q. Nilsson, H.B. Warner and the legendary Buster Keaton are briefly on hand. The famous songwriting duo of Ray Evans and Jay Livingston can be spotted in the party sequence at Artie’s, along with Yvette Vickers, at the outset of her career as the giddy girl on the phone, before becoming a beloved B movie queen later in the decade.

Unlike some other off-beat movies that failed upon initial release but went on to become all-time classics, both the public and critics knew immediately what a quality picture they had on their hands with Sunset. After a successful premiere at the Radio City Music Hall in August of 1950 the movie did well, especially in metropolis areas, with patrons drawn by Swanson’s comeback and buzz concerning the unique nature of the film. After receiving mostly raves from reviewers, Sunset did exceptionally well during awards season, vying with All About Eve for top honors. At the National Board of Review, the film won Best Picture and Best Actress for Swanson, a feat replicated at the Golden Globes, where Wilder also won Best Director. Wilder also won a Quarterly award from the Director’s Guild and (with Brackett and Marshman) a Best Written Drama prize from the Screen Writers’ Guild, while the film placed in the top ten on both Time magazine and The New York Times lists.

At the Academy Awards, Sunset established itself as a major contender with eleven nominations, including Best Picture, Director, and nods for all four of its principal players, eventually winning three Oscars, for Best Story and Screenplay, Black-and-White Art Direction and for Waxman’s memorably stark score. Over time, the movie has ranked impressively on many polls and lists, including placing among the first entries on 1989 National Film Registry’s preservation list, high rankings (at #12 and #16) on the AFI’s 1998 and 2007 lists of the 100 greatest American films and the Writer’s Guild naming the script the seventh-best ever. The film influenced a multitude of films featuring past-their-prime divas and led to an Andrew Lloyd Webber 1993 musical that conquered London, then Broadway. However, those wanting to catch possibly Hollywood’s greatest and most audacious account of itself need look no further than 1950’s original take on the legendary fading superstar Norma Desmond, who ironically and iconically has only risen in stature with the passing decades, so strongly does the explementary work of Wilder and a supreme cast and crew resonant with filmgoers who never tire of venturing once again to tragic-tinged charms of Sunset Boulevard.

And a fond farewell to Gene Hackman, who sadly passed away at 95. Rising to fame with Oscar-nominated work in 1967’s Bonnie and Clyde after a movie debut via 1961’s Mad Dog Coll, Hackman became a leading force in films until his retirement in the early 2000s, serving as an everyman with an edge in a variety of heroic and anti-heroic parts. Hackman deftly added intensity and humor to his iconic work, such as Oscar-winning roles in The French Connection and, in a much more sinister vein, The Unforgiven, while also carefully underplaying (The Conversation, Mississippi Burning) or overplaying (The Poseidon Adventure, Superman) his juicy characters depending on the needs of the film. The versatile star also delighted in comedies on occasion, including Get Shorty, The Birdcage, a late-career Golden Globe for The Royal Tenenbaums and, in one of the most unforgettable unbilled star cameos ever, his hilarious turn as a lonely blind man who encounters the Monster in Young Frankenstein. RIP to one of the foremost imposing and creative actors of his generation, Gene Hackman.