Monday, March 11, 2024

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

    

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, February 11, 2024

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, January 15, 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Saturday, December 09, 2023

Elvis Presley Reigns Supreme in King Creole

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thursday, November 09, 2023

Piper Laurie and Paul Newman Lend Dramatic Heft to The Hustler

           Upon hearing of the great Piper Laurie’s passing, several career highpoints from this major talent crossed my mind, including her work on television in Twin Peaks and, much earlier, giving one of the greatest live t.v. performances ever in the original Playhouse 90 airing of The Days of Wine and Roses, wherein the stunning dramatic range she offered announced the arrival of a prodigious talent, after serving several years in charming ingénue roles for Universal, wherein she started her career at 17. For me, the enduring nature of Laurie’s best work was illustrated on the day she died, as a live stream of Carrie, which praised her astounding, inventive work as Mrs. White, the title character’s fanatical mother, took place just before the news came out of her passing. Carrie marked a career resurgence for Laurie after 15 years away from the big screen, reaping Laurie her second Oscar nomination and fine opportunities ahead, which included yet another Oscar nod for her moving performance in Children of a Lesser God, and an Emmy and greater fame via Peaks. However, the primarily Laurie role that immediately came to mind when I heard of her passing was her unforgettable work as the tragic Sarah Packard in director Robert Rossen’s 1961 classic The Hustler. Upon first seeing this film as a teen, Laurie’s powerful, trenchant performance left a lasting impression, making me a fan of hers for life as I eagerly sought out other key Laurie films, while enjoying her later successes, which were always richly warranted.

                In The Hustler, Laurie is given a role that could quickly become maudlin in the wrong hands, but as Sarah, a lonely young woman seeking a purpose in life, who finds romance with pool shark “Fast” Eddie Felson, Laurie is dramatically riveting from her first moment onscreen. Employing a low, husky voice and a calm, melancholy countenance (it’s hard to forget Laurie’s wounded, searching eyes), Laurie clearly illustrates Sarah is unique, and deserves affection from the equally lost Eddie. In one of the film’s most moving moments, during a rendezvous at a park Sarah tells Eddie she loves him and he’s a winner, and Laurie lends stunning conviction to her lines as Sarah focuses intently on Eddie, causing the scene to linger in memory- one senses the fragile Sarah has dealt with much misfortune, and sees Eddie as a chance for love and redemption, due to Laurie’s rich interpretation of the role. Later, as the character faces progressively more difficult issues, Laurie remains completely believable and in-the-moment in detailing Sarah’s plight with an emotional intensity that leaves a viewer overwhelmed, to the extent one wants to reach out to Sarah to prevent any more harm coming her way.

Although The Hustler cemented Laurie’s status as a dramatic performer of rare skill and depth after her equally superb work in Roses, she abruptly left movies afterwards to focus on her personal role as wife and mother, setting herself up for one of the cinema’s most intriguing comebacks, with her lauded work in Carrie allowing Laurie to gain Academy Award nominations fifteen years apart, but for her prior two pictures. One can only wonder what Laurie might have accomplished during this break from 1961-1976, while being grateful she did have, via The Hustler, the chance to demonstrate her powerful dramatic gifts during her first period of stardom, and a successful later-career as a character performer of the first rank after her indelible comeback in Carrie brought her new, and lasting, fame.

                As The Hustler’s title figure, Paul Newman confirmed his status as one of the movies’ most talented and sensitive leading men. Although at this stage Newman had arrived as a top star, providing himself an actor of merit in such work as his breakthrough in Somebody Up There Likes Me as Rocky Graziano, perhaps his most memorable pairing with wife Joanne Woodward in The Long Hot Summer and his Oscar-nominated work as Brick in the sanitized but engrossing screen adaptation of Tennessee William’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Hustler marked a new peak for Newman. He brings such sincerity and vulnerability to the role the audience immediately understands Eddie’s mindset and motivations and stays with him even when Eddie shows character flaws. Newman works beautifully with Laurie and is commanding in his final scenes, wherein Eddie has a showdown with ace pool man Minnesota Fats and delivers a denouncement to his unsavory, vicious colleague, Bert Gordon, revealing the actor in his element, as he depicts Eddie’s anguish and drive with a dramatic flourish and complexity that ensured his place among the new decade’s top stars, as well Eddie’s position among Cinema’s most beguiling anti-heroes.

                As Minnesota Fats, Jackie Gleason effortlessly commands the screen with skill and perception. Bringing a knowing world-weariness to the role, Gleason makes an impressive about-face from the fame he’d gained as one of the top comics from the Golden Age of Television, avoiding any of the pretentiousness which often accompany comedians when they attempt dramatic roles and push too hard for sincerity, instead of trying to inhabit a role in an honest fashion. Gleason maintains a quiet, mature grace and dignity throughout the film, and shots of him observing Eddie’s alternating fortunes during their pool contests add ample depth to these scenes, as one wonders exactly how Fats views his young competition, and his sometimes-reckless behavior. Gleason would continue to prosper via his comedic endeavors on stage, screen and television, but on occasion more dramatic fare, such as his wonderful, very touching work opposite Tuesday Weld via their May/December storyline in 1963’s Soldier in the Rain, would again demonstrate Gleason’s gifts as an instinctive, intelligent actor of rare ability.

George C. Scott also makes a huge impression as Bert Gordon, one of the more callous figures to be found in cinema. First drawing major attention with film audiences via his forceful, Oscar-nominated work in 1959’s Anatomy of a Murder, Scott further established himself as a performer of great presence and intensity via his bold interpretation of the cold, calculating Gordon. The role could come across as unbelievable, as the seething Bert seems more interested in destroying Eddie (including his relationship with Sarah), than reaping benefits from their partnership by supporting Eddie’s prowess in the poolroom. However, Scott portraying Bert with all the fierce relentlessness at his disposal makes a viewer believe that whatever the character’s motivations, the talented Scott makes one accept every one of Bert’s nefarious actions, making them also wish to never encounter someone of his ilk, in a pool hall or anywhere else.

                Upon release, The Hustler received excellent reviews and fine box-office returns, leading it to becoming possibly the most honored film of the year outside of West Side Story. In addition to eight Oscar nominations (including ones for Newman, Gleason, Scott, Laurie and Rossen), with wins for Best Art Direction and Eugen Schufftan’s terrific B&W Cinematography, which perfectly captures the smoky, grimy pool hall atmosphere wherein much of the action takes place, the movie received many other accolades, such as Best Picture and Best Actor for Newman from the British Academy Awards, a National Board of Review Supporting Actor award for Gleason and a richly-warranted New York Film Critics’ Best Director prize for Robert Rossen, who impeccably meshed all the rich talents involved in the film (including a deft screenplay Rossen co-wrote with Sidney Carroll, based on Walter Tevis’ novel) into a cohesive whole, resulting in one of the best dramas of that or any era. The film has lost none of its impact over the intervening decades, and lovers of classic movies or film in general will discover a host of rewards await them via a viewing of The Hustler, including A-1 production values across the board, singular work by Gleason and Scott, a compelling story that expertly depicts a colorful array of characters and situations and, specifically, career-best work from Newman, and the haunting presence of one of the screen’s most gifted and instinctive performers, Piper Laurie.

I was able to see Ms. Laurie in person during the 2022 TCM Film Festival, aptly at a showing of The Hustler, wherein pre-screening Ms. Laurie offered wonderful recollections concerning her career and work on the film. I had missed the chance to see her in person several years before, right after she published her autobiography, but corresponded with her regarding an autograph request, which she graciously provided. She was in good spirits at the festival, and it was great to see one of my favorites discussing possibly her best film and performance. RIP, Piper Laurie. 

Saturday, October 14, 2023

Ray Milland, Gail Russell and Ruth Hussey Challenge The Uninvited

           Offering one of filmdom’s classiest forays into the supernatural realm, Paramount Picture’s 1944’s The Uninvited provides a highly atmosphere entry into the haunted house genre, with first-time director Lewis Allen adeptly maintaining an ominous flavor as events unfold at the seaside “Windward House” in England, wherein much of the action takes place. Allen, aided by a first-rate cast and ace cinematographer Charles Lang Jr.’s terrific, moody black and white cinematography, keeps audiences enthralled as the mystery intensifies, while Victor Young’s sublime score sets an appropriately gothic and, in the case of the lush theme song, “Stella by Starlight,” romantic tone. Favoring understated chills over more blatant shocks throughout the brisk 99-minute running time, The Uninvited provides a satisfying excursion into a ghostly world of suspense and mystery.

                The studio clearly had faith in the production, ensuring top talent across the board was enlisted to create one of the Paramount’s best 1944 offerings, including that enduring Young score and impeccable Lang lensing that helps set a dreamy ambiance throughout the film. Allen does a nice job proficiently maintaining a calm-yet-eerie mood as the story unfolds, allowing the focus to shift adeptly from the mystery at hand to the more overt supernatural elements seen at the Windward manor. The plot may appear far-fetched at times, but a deft script by Dodie Smith and Frank Partos (based on the novel Uneasy Freehold by Dorothy Macardle) nicely blends dramatic, comic, romantic and spectral elements, engrossing the viewer from the film’s outset up until the finale, wherein the mystery is at last resolved.

         By 1944 Ray Milland had established himself as a reliable, amiable leading man in both comedies and dramas, and the success of The Uninvited would nicely set up the star for his against-type, bravura performance in the following year’s The Lost Weekend. Although today Milland is best known for his harsh, committed work in his career role, in Uninvited and other top roles, he often uncannily meshed a lighter style into his playing, alongside more serious undertones (see his sly work in Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial “M” for Murder for another top example of this ambivalent persona Milland brought off so well). As Rick Fitzgerald, a young composer who gets more than he bargained for when he and his sister purchase Windward on a whim, Milland’s easy manner on-screen allows Rick to uphold an air of playfulness and likeability that has a modern feel nearly seventy years on, helping to anchor the film in reality as Rick faces several otherworldly dimensions at Windward.

                After starting the decade off in tremendous fashion with Oscar-nominated work in The Philadelphia Story, Ruth Hussey became well-known as a reliable pro in films, television and on stage, with The Uninvited providing one of her best screen opportunities post-Philadelphia. As Pamela, Rick’s impulsive sister who insists on their purchasing Windward upon sight, Hussey and her sensible, alert playing does a great job in making what could be an irresponsible character come across as intelligent and grounded. Audiences can buy into the premise that it would make sense for Rick and Pamela to completely pull up stakes, leave their previous lives behind and move to Windward largely based on the confidence Hussey displays as Pamela; in her hands, the risky switch appears to be exactly the right thing to do, instead of a very costly mistake.

                Making possibly the greatest impression in the film, nineteen-year-old Gail Russell beautifully fills the role of Stella Meredith, the ethereal young girl who has an unworldly attachment to Windward, based on its ties to her life there as a very young child, wherein tragedy struck. Gail had no formal training as an actor, but her beauty was such that in high school she had already gained attention as “The Hedy Lamarr of Santa Monica,” thereby making a career in films unavoidable to the Southern California native, what with Hollywood beckoning right next door. Russell was reportedly never comfortable filming during her career, turning to drink as a means of calming her fears on set, which lead to much heartache and personal setbacks. However, on-screen she radiates a natural glow and enchanting presence that make her work hard to forget as one of the more soulful, fragile female leads of the period. As Stella, she performs with a simple, beguiling earnestness that draws viewers to her and, aided by Young’s bewitching theme music and incredible, sad eyes equipped to break the heart of movie-goers everywhere, establishes herself as one of the more romantic and touching figures found in 1940’s cinema.

                Among the rest of the impressive cast, Donald Crisp scores yet another top film credit in his remarkable career as Commander Beech, Stella’s wary grandfather, who does everything he can to keep Stella away from Windward and Rick. With his stoic demeanor and gruff voice Crisp is appropriately commanding in the role, and adeptly illustrates the conflicts Beech is facing in regard to the mystery surrounding Windward. Taking a cue from Judith Anderson’s acidic “Mrs. Danvers” in Rebecca and Gail Sondergaard in just about any role of this period, Cornelia Otis Skinner (who bears a curiously strong resemblance to Sondergaard) also makes an impact as the sedate-yet-odious Miss Holloway, who bears as much interest concerning the history behind Windward as the commander and Stella do, and for good reason. Interestingly, Skinner was also a top author, who at the time was in the mist of adapting her bestselling (with Emily Kimbrough) Our Hearts Were Young and Gay for the screen, which would provide Gail Russell with another success in her burgeoning young career. Finally, Alan Napier lends a charming sophistication and geniality to his role of Dr. Scott, who aides in unraveling key plot points, while also taking a keen interest in the available Pamela.

                The Uninvited proved a major success upon its release in February of 1944, allowing for one of many Paramount hits in a banner year for the studio during the prosperous WWII period, and providing (after a few small parts) Gail Russell a vivid introduction to film audiences, leading to her place among Paramount’s top leading ladies through the rest of the decade. Lang’s faultless, noir-tinted photography gained the film’s sole Oscar nomination, but Young’s worthy score and “Stella by Starlight” have gained in stature over the years, with the unforgettable strains of “Stella” becoming a standard for many top jazz artists and vocalists, and turning up again in other key Paramount films, most memorably in Jerry Lewis’ masterwork, 1963’s The Nutty Professor. For contemporary viewers, the film provides a nice, subtle change-of-pace from the explicit, horrific content normally found in today’s movies of a similar ilk, while also serving as a key representation from the suspense genre during the classic Hollywood studio era, as well as a fitting reminder of the uniquely sensitive screen presence of one of the cinema’s loveliest ingénues, the extraordinarily beautiful Gail Russell.

Saturday, September 09, 2023

Rock Hudson and Doris Day Make a Dream Team for Pillow Talk

Providing a surprise comedy smash at the close of the 1950’s, Universal-International’s saucy, snappy Pillow Talk helped usher in a new trend of light, slightly racy sex comedies that flourished well into the next decade, while also serving as the debut for one of the era’s top romantic teams, with the ingratiating chemistry of Rock Hudson and Doris Day playing a huge role in the film’s success. Talk would push Day into the stratosphere as the #1 box-office draw for four years during the early 1960’s, while Hudson would gain a new career impetus just as his ranking as Hollywood’s top, ever-stoic leading man was starting to lose a bit of momentum. Aided by first-rate Ross Hunter production values, an inventive script by Stanley Shapiro and Maurice Richlin (from a story by Clarence Green and Russell Rouse, which dated back to 1942 but had never been produced), fine direction by Michael Gordon that maintains an apt sense of playfulness, and truly stellar support by Tony Randall and Thelma Ritter, Talk maintains a carefree, sly tone throughout its fast-paced 102 minutes that stands up over repeated viewings, with the appeal of that killer Hudson-Day combination never growing stale regardless of number of screenings and the passing of decades, with the ace couple representing a battle of the sexes in Talk via party-line adversaries Jan Morrow and Brad Allen, alternately bickering and wooing (via Brad’s alter-ego, Rex Stetson) through the intricacies of the ingenious plot with great charm and magnetism. Although both stars would have substantial success before and afterwards, their iconic work as an onscreen team par excellence remains at the forefront of any discussion concerning Hudson and Day’s filmographies.

It’s clear onscreen how fond Hudson and Day are of each other, creating an incredible bond and likability factor between the two an audience can’t resist, even with romantic elements often held at bay as Jan contends with the ne'er-do-well she knows Brad to be, as opposed to the warmth she feels for the imposter Rex, whom Brad presents himself to Day as. This is critical, as Hudson’s characters in Talk and its equally-amusing follow-up, Lover Come Back, in real life would be deemed completely despicable, with both cads focused on compromising Day’s virtue by every trick of the trade they can think of. Fortunately, in the movies this simply can’t be allowed to happen (especially during the production code era), but the dynamic interplay among two stars representing a sterling example of the idealized American couple circa 1959 convinces one that, somehow, Day’s forthright, proper maiden could tame Hudson’s chauvinistic ways production code or no, leading to a happy fade-out with marriage and children in the works.

For Hudson, after rising to the summit of box-office stars via his 1954 breakthrough in Magnificent Obsession and, specifically, his Oscar-nominated work in one of the decade’s biggest smashes, 1956’s Giant, by 1959 he found himself facing a career crossroads, with his would-be epic follow up to Giant, 1957’s A Farewell to Arms, out-performed by films Hudson turned down, such as Sayonara, The Bridge on the River Kwai and Ben-Hur. Although still among Hollywood’s top leading men, something fresh was warranted. Fortunately, just prior to the release of Hur, Talk offered a terrific change-of-pace for Hudson, granting a perfect vehicle to showcase his trademark smooth, relaxed manner, as well as a sense of humor Hudson was well-known for possessing off-screen, but had seldom been given a chance to display in films prior to Talk. Hudson’s knack for easy-going comedy is given free range in Talk, and as songwriter playboy Brad Allen and Rex, he appears to be having a ball performing in a wily, mock-serious manner that never appears to be pushing too hard for laughs, no mean feat given Talk was Hudson’s first major try at comedy. In Hudson’s hands audiences can also sense that, for all of Brad’s brash behavior, there’s not a hateful bone in his body, allowing one to root for Brad to hook up with Jan, at least in the proper manner. Hudson would continue to adopt this carefree screen persona for many of his subsequent films, before using it to gain additional popularity on television in the 1970’s in McMillian and Wife, his last truly successful screen venture.

With the film a massive hit in the fall of 1959 and her star shooting up an extra galaxy or two in the process, Doris Day gained her sole Oscar nod for Talk, and although the honor might be more merited for her dedicated, all-out musical comedy performance in Calamity Jane or possibly her finest work in the little-seen but completely beguiling comedy/drama It Happened to Jane (also from 1959) in another ideal teaming, this time with Jack Lemmon, Talk showcases a well-cast Day to great advantage as smart, independent career woman Jan Morrow, who’s built a fulling life as a talented NYC interior decorator (and, clad in a terrific wardrobe by Jean Louis, Day looked sensational and became a fashion icon with Talk). Since her 1948 debut singing the unforgettably mellifluous “It’s Magic” in Romance on the High Seas, Day had honed her craft in a series of light musical-comedies and dramas (many Day fans believe she also deserved Oscar attention for her gritty work as Ruth Etting in Love Me or Leave Me), and in Talk she once again demonstrates her gift for nailing any clever line throw her way, and is fantastic in possibly her most challenging scene, wherein she goes off on a crying jag in a completely convincing and hilarious manner during a long ride back to the city with Jan’s other romantic interest, Jonathan Forbes (Tony Randall). Day has some moments wherein she does a bit of the simpering that would become more apparent in her later 1960’s film as her “Good Girl” screen image intensified, but in Talk she mainly portrays Jan utilizing the direct, focused and ingratiating approach that highlights her best work, and is allowed to showcase the glorious, pitch-perfect vocal prowess that initially made Day a star, most notably singing the title song over the opening and end credits, and beautifully warbling the ultra-romantic “Possess Me,” heard on the soundtrack as Jan rides to a cabin with Rex and considers what the night might bring.

                By the release of Talk, Randall had established himself as one of the screen’s most gifted comic actors, after a breakthrough as the title character in 1957’s Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? and terrific work opposite Debbie Reynolds in The Mating Season marked Randall as an exceptionally skilled and unique talent. In Talk, Randall firmly sets himself as an integral part of the Day-Hudson dynamic, playing the first of his neurotic best friend/sidekick roles, which became a staple of the Day-Hudson films (the trio’s final teaming came via 1964’s Send Me No Flowers, with Day and Hudson now playing a couple dealing martial harmony and dis-harmony, with Randall their devoted next-door-neighbor and Hudson’s confidant). As the affluent Jonathan Forbes in Talk, Randall brilliantly combines an ultra-serious, strait-laced demeanor with his crack comedy timing to steal many moments in a highly individual style. Among the highlights is Jonathan growing more impatient with Jan’s hysteria with each passing mile during that crying jag scene (Randall’s increasingly exasperated facial expressions after every Day sob serve as perfect silent punchlines, creating bigger and bigger laughs), or Randall pricelessly conveying Jonathan’s slow realization that his buddy Brad has pulled a fast one on him and taken off with Jan for a cozy weekend.

                Also pleasantly along for the ride, Thelma Ritter scores heavily as Jan’s alcoholic but sage housekeeper Alma, who frequently listens in on Brad’s phone rendezvouses with a bevy of beauties. Over the previous decade prior to Talk, Ritter had gained a reputation as many filmgoers' favorite supporting player, with four Oscar nominations and such classics under her belt as All About Eve, Pickup on South Street and Rear Window. Having played similar roles many times before, Ritter is so in sync with the knowing Alma and makes her work look so easy it may appear there’s not much of a challenging nature to the part; however, take away Ritter’s distinct manner of playing these types of roles in her no-nonsense, honest fashion and Alma could easily become an irritating and unbelievable character. In Ritter’s hands, the audience immediately connects with Alma, and want to witness much more of her acerbic remarks regarding Jan’s love life, or lack thereof. In addition, stalwart pros Marcel Dalio, Allen Jenkins, Lee Patrick, Nick Adams and Karen Norris all assume the right comic flair to make strong impressions and gain laughs, while Perry Blackwell also scores as the singer at the nightclub Brad and Jan visit.

                Pillow Talk brought $7,500,000 (according to Variety) from first-run rentals into Universal’s coffers and gained a largely enthusiastic reaction from critics, leading the studio to create a string of similarly themed light concoctions, including the re-teaming of Day-Hudson in 1961‘s Lover, which was equally embraced by audiences and critics. Day and Hudson also found themselves among the top of the Hollywood heap for the next several years as they continued to thrive in the genre, either together or in other romantic pairings, specifically Hudson with Gina Lollobrigida in Come September and Day with Cary Grant in That Touch of Mink, which is the comedy that really locks Day into her infamous “virgin” persona in a more overt fashion than Talk, wherein you have Alma discussing Jan’s lack of beaus, but also later witness Jan thinking to herself “You’ve been out with a lot of men in your time. . .” after meeting Rex, conveying the idea that the 35-ish Jan is more a top career woman choosing to currently live alone, rather than a doe-eyed innocent regarding relationships. Along with Day’s nod, Thelma Ritter’s fifth Supporting Actress nomination, Art Direction-Set Direction (Color) and Best Musical Scoring, the Academy saw fit to grant the Oscar to that inventive, sly screenplay, and the film, Day and Randall also received Golden Globe nods. Offering top production values and a sterling cast and screenplay, Talk has remained a fan favorite for those devoted to Day, Hudson and Rom-Coms, wherein Talk is considered a blueprint for the durable genre, while also providing an ideal example of what 1959 audiences sought when looking for a piece of diverting, slightly risqué entertainment to spend an evening with.

                I recently completed a video tribute to Rock Hudson using clips from signature films and roles in his career; Pillow Talk of course is included among them. The video can be viewed here on YouTube.