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Beauty in Black and White - the Film Noir Art of Guy Budziak

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Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall in The Big Sleep

Guy Budziak is a woodcut artist whose striking high-contrast prints evoke dense and haunting images from classic noir, proto-noir and neo-noir films. My recent  Nightmare Alleyblog entry featured Guy's rendering of atantalizing moment from the film:
Tyrone Power, Ian Keith and Joan Blondell in Nightmare Alley

Guy studied painting and earned his BFA at Wayne State University in Detroit, his interest in printmaking confined to a class or two he’d taken along the way. After moving into a downtown Detroit neighborhood, Guy began checking out film noir rentals from a nearby public library with a sizable movie catalogue. His dedication to painting would wane, but his passion for film noir would lead to his move into woodcut printmaking; a friend urged him to create art inspired by his love of noir. His first piece, completed in 1999, was an image from Out of the Past. A few years later Roger Ebert, a great fan of the film, would buy (note: see Guy's comment below)a print. 

Robert Mitchum and Jane Greer in Out of the Past


In 2008, Guy’s image of Alain Delon in Jean-Pierre Melville’s 1967 neo-noir Le Samourai appeared on the cover of Ginette Vincendeau’s book,Les Stars et le Star-Systeme en France (The Stars and the Star-System in France), published by L'Harmattan.
  

In 2012, Giuseppina Magazine, a lavish art, entertainment and fashion quarterly ($48 an issue) published a six page spread spotlighting Guy’s work. In the interview that accompanied his images, Guy was asked what he found most intriguing about film noir. 

…I think above all else it is mood, mood and atmosphere perhaps more than anything. Night and fog, and rain, of course. While I can appreciate those films inhabited by gumshoes garbed in trench coats and fedoras and femme fatales in slinky gowns, these components aren’t mandatory for me. What many don’t realize is that the real stars of noir aren’t necessarily writers, actors or directors, but rather cinematographers, directors of photography, those responsible for the overall LOOK of these films.


Giuseppina Magazine#11

From now through April 21, Guy’s prints are for sale at significantly reduced prices. I’ll soon be framing and hanging the print of Nightmare Alley I just purchased and Iencourage those interested to click hereto go to his website and view an entire gallery of his incredible art.  Guy can be contacted through his site for information on how to purchase prints. 

Robert Ryan in On Dangerous Ground

Fashion in Film Blogathon: Shanghai Express (1932)

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Clive Brook and Marlene Dietrich

Between 1930 and 1935, Josef von Sternberg filmed six wondrous and surreal flights of imagination for Paramount starring Marlene Dietrich with costumes by Travis Banton. The director and Dietrich had already made their first film together, The Blue Angel (1930), for UFA in Germany and, on the heels of that film's sensational premiere in Berlin, departed for Hollywood. Von Sternberg, who was born in Austria but mostly raised in America, had worked previously with Banton in the U.S. on Underworld (1927), a groundbreaking silent crime drama.

Evelyn Brent as Feathers McCoy in Underworld

The first of the six Paramount productions was Morocco (1930), the film that made a star of Dietrich. It brought Academy Award nominations to von Sternberg, cinematographer Lee Garmes, art director Hans Dreier - and for Marlene Dietrich her one and only Best Actress nod. Morocco also introduced elements and themes that would recur in Josef von Sternberg's future Dietrich films: an enigmatic siren, besotted men, distant locales, misleading appearances, frustrated passion and the redemptive power of love. 



Marlene Dietrich and Gary Cooper, Morocco

Shanghai Express (1932), the third of the collaborations with Dietrich and Banton, was, according to the director, "loosely based on a single page by Harry Hervey." Hervey actually provided more pages than that andfrom those pages Jules Furthman crafted a clever script. Von Sternberg constructed a China made of "papier-mache" and, borrowing a locomotive and railway cars from the Santa Fe Railroad, set the scene for the tale of a train hijacked en route from Peking to Shanghai by Chinese revolutionaries.

imagining China, Shanghai Express

Crowded on board with a clutter of cargo is a disparate group of passengers, several of whom harbor secrets. Among these travelers is dry-as-dust British military officer Donald ‘Doc’ Harvey (Clive Brook). Early in the journey he encounters the great lost love of his life, Magdalen, now known as “Shanghai Lily” and an infamous ‘coaster’ living by her wiles – played to the hilt by Marlene Dietrich at her most ravishing. As the trip unfolds and the train makes its way down the exotic and dangerous coast of China, Doc and Lily wrestle with reignited desire for each other. The hijacking triggers a crisis in their reunion.

Dietrich's first appears onscreen veiled and swathed in crepe and feathers, wearing crystal beads and kid gloves, carrying an Art Deco handbag, and more blonde than ever before. She is the quintessential femme fatale.Sleek and mysterious, Lily’s cynicism and insolence are tempered by her profound femininity. Dietrich skirts the edges of parody as the soft-spoken, worldly-wise heartbreaker. Brook is mostly sulky and long-suffering in his role; what attracts such a sensual woman to the repressed doctor is neither easy nor difficult to fathom.

veil, feathers, crystal, kidskin

This ensemble was concocted, according to Dietrich’s daughter Maria Riva, by her mother and Travis Banton. She writes of Dietrich going to the studio and running into Banton’s private office shouting, “Feathers! Travis - feathers! What do you think…Black feathers! Now, what bird has black feathers that will photograph?” The black-green tail feathers of Mexican fighting cocks were eventually chosen. Selecting the proper veil fabric took as long. Riva reports that when Dietrich finally held up a swatch of “black 41” with its horizontal lines, “Travis let out a wild whoop.” Finally, von Sternberg came to take a look at the completed outfit. There had been concern about his reaction – the elaborate costume would be very difficult to photograph. In German he said to Dietrich, “If you believe I am skilled enough to know how to photograph this, then all I can offer you is – to do the impossible.” In English he said to Banton, “A superb execution of an impossible design, I congratulate you all.”  After the director left, Banton broke out a bottle of champagne.

fur, feathers and lace

David Chierichetti has written that Travis Banton worked to give Dietrich, with her perfect posture and slender figure, a softened quality. "Her clothes would usually be fussier than any others he designed, with drapings of fabric and much use of fur and velvet that would be unflattering to a heavier figure." Banton understood that few but Dietrich couldsuccessfully wear a busy mix of textures and patterns.
 
maribou

~
Cinematic virtuoso and visionary Josef von Sternberg didn't hesitate to claim that he not only directed his films but was also responsible for every facet of every one of them, from lighting and photography to set design, costuming and, sometimes, music. Though the director freely admitted that Lee Garmes excelled behind the camera, he also maintained that Garmes did exactly as he was told, "to the extent that I would always be beside the camera. No picture of mine has been independently photographed." Dietrich, for her part, supported these assertions. As for costumes, von Sternberg's involvement in designing Dietrich's wardrobe was, as David Chierichetti has noted, "as hard a question to answer as how much he photographed the films."What is evident in the films von Sternberg made for Paramount with Dietrich and Banton is that costume was as much an element of narrative and theme as every other meticulously designed visual and aural detail.

Shanghai Lily's introduction - her attire and bearing suggest different possibilities: seasoned seductress, dark angel and more.
Lily is regally bundled in fur when she toys with her former lover. Teasing, she puts his military cap on her own head - at a jaunty angle. This is a woman who knows how to take command.

By the time Dietrich utters the line, "Shanghai Lily has reformed," Magdalen has begun to resurface.
In the final scene, Dietrich is again bedecked in Shanghai Lily's black-feathered vamp ensemble - but Magdalen can be seen and heard in her expression, her voice and her words. Doc, who she now calls by his given name, Donald, surrenders to her completely. She tosses away his riding crop and glove as they embrace.

Josef von Sternberg, in a 1966 interview with Oscar-winning film preservationist Kevin Brownlow, acknowledged that he had no interest in ‘authenticity’, “…on the contrary, the illusion of reality is what I look for, not reality itself.” Of the six von Sternberg/Dietrich/Banton films, film critic/historian David Thomson has written, “They are sublime, radiant and utterly undated, where earnestness, noble intentions, showing real life with pained sincerity (all plausible in the difficult times of the 1930s), have perished by the wayside.”

Shanghai Express was the most financially successful of the six Paramount productions though its critical reception was mixed. Von Sternberg was flattered when novelist/philosopher Ayn Rand told him that the film had impressed her as other films rarely had. Naturally he asked what it was that captivated her so. He wrote, perhaps ironically, that she told him it was “the way the wind blows through the fur-piece around Marlene’s shoulder when she sits on the back platform of the train.”



Shanghai Express was Oscar-nominated for Best Picture, Josef von Sternberg was nominated for Best Director and Lee Garmes won the Academy Award for Best Cinematography.

~

Travis Banton was Paramount's Chief Designer from 1929 until 1938. Before coming to Hollywood to design Leatrice Joy’s costumes for The Dressmaker of Paris (1924), he worked at various design houses including his own in New York. His reputation got a major boost in 1920 when he designed Mary Pickford’s wedding dress for her marriage to Douglas Fairbanks.

Mary Pickford in wedding gown, 1920
Banton’s designs were known for their fashionable cuts (frequently on the bias, his specialty), luxurious fabrics, and beads, feathers, lace, fur and other ornamentation. His designs embodied the “Paramount Look” of the 1930s. He never took home a costume design Oscar, no doubt because the award didn't exist until 1948, after the better part of his film career was over. Leaving Paramount, Banton went on to work for Fox on films like The Mark of Zorro (1940), Blood and Sand (1941) and A Yank in the R.A.F. (1941). He designed gowns on Columbia’s Cover Girl (1944) and for Universal’s Smash-Up: The Story of a Woman (1947). One of his late film assignments was designing gowns for Joan Fontaine in the haunting Max Ophuls drama Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948).The designer is also credited with mentoring his Paramount assistant Edith Head, who became the best known and most Oscar-winning costume designer in Hollywood history.



Rita Hayworth, Cover Girl (1944)
 

Banton’s eventual decline has been attributed to overwork and overindulgence. “He was a genius. Boy, did he drink! That’s what ruined him…” said Louise Brooks, a woman who knew firsthand about drinking and ruination. Evelyn Brent, the first actress to work on a von Sternberg/Banton film, recalled, “He was the kind of designer who read the script and would find out who was going to play the part, and worked out the clothes that way.” The feather and velvet hat he designed for her in Underworld started a fad. 

Maria Riva knew Banton when he designed for the Dietrich/von Sternberg films. Of him she said that he “had the Ronald Colman look long before Ronald Colman had a look” – cashmere blazer, white flannels, paisley ascot and silk shirt with French cuffs. Dietrich’s long-time photographer John Engstead recalled that the actress didn’t listen to many but would always take advice from von Sternberg and Banton. David Chierichetti has written that it was his work for Dietrich that made Banton’s designs immortal. And costume designer Walter Plunkett (Gone with the Wind,An American in Paris) remembered, “The rest of us always watched Banton because he was always ahead of the fashion trend.” In fact, Banton's use of the strapless bodice pre-dated by four years Christian Dior'scelebrated use of it as part of his "New Look" of the late 1940s.
 
Travis Banton and Marlene Dietrich

~

Marlene Dietrich forever attributed her initial success in film to Josef von Sternberg, insisting "I was nothing but pliable material on the infinitely rich palette of his ideas and imaginative faculties." She learned everything about filmmaking, most especially lighting and photography, from him. The director would be unusually modest when it came to taking credit for 'inventing' Marlene Dietrich. "I did not endow her with a personality that was not her own...I gave her nothing she did not already have. What I did was to dramatize her attributes and make them visible for all to see."

The Paramount films she made with von Sternberg and Travis Banton were Morocco, Dishonored (1931), Shanghai Express, Blonde Venus (1932), The Scarlet Empress (1934) and The Devil is a Woman (1935). She and von Sternberg parted ways afterward. When her career foundered he advised her to make Destry Rides Again with James Stewart for Universal in 1939; it was a hit and revived her reputation. She went on to reinvent herself again and again.

Dietrich would work with Travis Banton on two more Paramount films, Frank Borzage's Desire (1936) and Ernst Lubitsch's Angel (1937).

Marlene Dietrich in scenes from all six films directed by Josef von Sternberg with costume design by Travis Banton


This post is my entry in The Hollywood Revue's Fashion in Film Blogathon...click herefor more information and links to participating blogs.

 Notes:
Fun in a Chinese Laundry by Josef von Sternberg, MacMillan Co. (1965)
Marlene Dietrich by Maria Riva, Alfred A. Knopf (1993)
Hollywood Costume Design by David Chierichetti, Harmony Books (1976)
The Parade's Gone By by Kevin Brownlow, Bonanza Books (1968)
People Will Talk by John Kobal, Alfred A. Knopf (1985)
The Big Screen: The History of Hollywood by David Thomson, Farrar Stauss and Giroux (2012)   

MAD MEN 6

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When Mad Men returned to the air waves (and all those second and third screens) last year, nearly 18 months had elapsed since the previous season. Die-hard fans like me barely survived the overlong wait. When the premiere date for season five was finally announced, I decided to celebrate with a month-long blog event. Sunday Night is Mad Men Night was a joint effort with four blogger friends who each assessed the award-winning series from a different point of view:


FlickChick, of A Person in the Dark, contemplated past versus present through the authentic period detail the series is famed for with Mad Men: Now and Then and Back Again.

Whistlingypsy, whose blog is Distant Voices and Flickering Shadows, took a thoughtful look at the series via some of its key female characters in The Feminine Mystique of Mad Men.

Christian Esquevin, author of Adrian: Silver Screen to Custom Label and the blog Silver Screen Modiste, reflected on the series through its iconic Mad Men Style.

Motorcycle Boy, a contributor to The Lady Eve’sReel Life, gazed into Mad Men: Through a Glass Darkly, linking the series narrative and its themes to the roots of addiction.

My own piece was a wide-ranging Meditation on Mad Men.

And now that Mad Men 6 is about to begin it is perhaps a good time to look back at where season five ended...and consider where the new season may take us.


 

Top: The Francis and Draper families, season 6; lower left, Peggy on her own; lower right, three partners

NOIR NEWS

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Robert Siodmak's The Killers (1946) screens April 17th at Noir City: Hollywood

A presentation of the American Cinematheque and the Film Noir Foundation, Noir City: Hollywood, the 15th annual Los Angeles film noir festival, is in full swing now and runs through April 21. Films screen at the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood and the Aero Theatre in Santa Monica. For program and ticket information, click here.




The 14th Arthur Lyons Film Noir Festival is set for May 16 - 19 in Palm Springs, California. This year's program features 12 films and many special guests:

Thurs. May 16
7:30 pm Three Strangers (1946), with special guest writer/director Michael Lindsay-Hogg, son of Geraldine Fitzgerald

Fri. May 17
10:00 am Alias Nick Beal (1949)
1:00 pm Mary Ryan Detective (1950), with special guest Marsha Hunt
4:00 pm Try and Get Me (1950)
7:30 pm Edge of Doom (1950), with special guest Joan Evans

Sat. May 18
10:00 am High Tide (1947)
1:00 pm Strange Illusion (1945), with special guest Jimmy Lydon
4:00 pm Champion (1949)
7:30 pm Murder Inc. (1960), with special guest Stuart Whitman

Sun. May 19
10:00 am The Suspect (1944)
1:00 pm Christmas Holiday (1944), with special guest Patricia Ward Kelly
4:00 pm The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

For more information, click here.
John Huston's The Asphalt Jungle (1950) screens May 19 at the Arthur Lyons Film Noir Festival

Now available from the Film Noir Foundation is the stunning Spring 2013 edition of the organization's e-magazine, Noir City. The cover story, "Dark Mirrors" by Vince Keenan, takes a look at film noir remakes. Also inside, Imogen Sara Smith's in-depth (19 pages!) profile of France's legendary Jean Gabin, a look at director Richard Fleischer's RKO years and reflections on the careers of Frank Lovejoy and Julie London - click here to find out how to receive an e-copy of the latest Noir City.

CAGNEY

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Cagney, color by Claroscureaux

"...every time I see him work, looks to me like a bunch of firecrackers going off all at once."
Will Rogers 

During an era when impressionists, those performers whose gift it is to mimic the very famous, were a staple on television, Cagney was an essential in every repertoire. Cagney. An electric and singular presence, he is among the handful of Hollywood legends instantly identifiable by just one name. His film career began in 1930 and came to an end in 1981, but he is as revered by film buffs today as he was treasured by audiences throughout his active years. This tribute is my contribution to The Movie Projector's Cagney Blogathon. Click here for links to participating blogs.

James Francis Cagney came into the world in July 1899, the second of seven children, two of whom died in infancy, born to Irish-American James and Carrie Cagney on New York's lower east side. The elder James Cagney was a bookkeeper-turned-bartender, a charmer and a drinker who liked to play the horses and didn't hold many steady jobs. His titian-haired wife was a gritty matriarch, the linchpin who held the Cagney clan together and inspired her children to succeed. James died at age 41 in the devastating Spanish flu pandemic of 1918. Not long after, Carrie gave birth to their only surviving daughter, Jeanne. The four Cagney boys were used to working at odd jobs and contributing to the household "kitty," but now the family's survival depended on them.
The Lower East Side, early 20th Century

Jim, known in the neighborhood as "Red," took his first regular part-time job at 14 as a copyboy with the New York Sun. At 15, with his brothers Harry and Ed, he worked part-time for the New York Public Library. But he always had other small jobs on the side so he could better "feed the kitty." He never joined a neighborhood gang, but he was a street fighter, a tenacious one, and was good enough that he began training to become a pro. His mother, a staunch believer in education as the only sensible way out of poverty, put a stop to this plan the moment he mentioned it to her.

Through the years, Carrie regularly sent her boys to neighborhood settlement houses for lectures and classes. Jim developed an interest in ecology through a talk he'd attended; this passion remained with him all his life. When oldest brother Harry was studying to become a doctor, Carrie decided it would be a good idea for him to learn something about public speaking and persuaded him to join the dramatics club at the Lenox Hill Settlement House. When Harry became ill just before a performance, Jim stepped in for him. It was his first turn as an actor. He relished the approval of the audience and later recalled that 'little Jim' suddenly didn't feel quite so little.

Cagney had learned a popular dance called The Peabody at Lenox Hill and when a friend tipped him to an opening for a dancer at $35 a week in vaudeville, he took what he knew of dancing to the audition and was hired. The show was called Every Sailor and, to young Cagney's surprise, he would be performing in a dress. He later wrote, "And that is how I began to learn dancing - as a chorus girl." A quick study, he watched the other dancers and practiced what he saw. After the revue closed he toiled briefly as a runner for a Wall Street brokerage house and was grateful when he got a job as a chorus boy in the 1920 musical Pitter Patter. Eventually he was offered a spot as a specialty dancer in the show and for the next few years worked in vaudeville performing specialty routines. One of the acts Cagney joined for a time was a "3-act" known as Park, Rand & Leach. He took the place of Archie Leach (later Cary Grant) who was moving on. Park, Rand & Cagney didn't last long either.

Cagney and Joan Blondell onstage, Penny Arcade
In 1925 Cagney won the role of "Little Red," one of two leads in Maxwell Anderson's new drama, Outside Looking In. The play co-starred Charles Bickford and opened at the Greenwich Village Theatre. Receiving good reviews, the show moved uptown where it ran for four months. Of Cagney's first performance on the legitimate stage, critic Robert Benchley cited his 10-minutes of silence during a kangaroo-court scene as "something that many a more established actor might watch with profit." When Outside Looking In closed, it was back to vaudeville for Cagney, but from 1928 - 1929 he worked steadily on Broadway. Then, in early 1930 he was cast, with Joan Blondell, in a new show, Penny Arcade. Though its Broadway run ended in just three weeks, Al Jolson happened to catch it and bought the movie rights. When he sold the rights to Warner Brothers, he recommended Cagney and Blondell to Jack Warner and they were cast in their original roles. A crime story about bootlegging, murder and a frame-up, the film - re-titled Sinners' Holiday (1930) - launched Cagney's film career. A New York Times critic reviewed the film positively, observing that "the most impressive acting is done by James Cagney..."

The picture that made Cagney a star was his fourth for Warners, The Public Enemy(1931). Esquire's Dwight McDonald would write that Cagney's heartless and brutal thug, Tom Powers, made Humphrey Bogart look like a "conscience-stricken Hamlet." Though the actor always regarded his Hollywood career as transitory, Cagney would never have to look back after the break-out success of The Public Enemy. He received star billing thereafter.

Cagney and Jean Harlow, The Public Enemy (1931)
Cagney's memories of The Public Enemy included the on-the-set hazards of making gangster films before the use of prop ammunition. Real bullets were routinely used and he had a close call in a scene involving machine-gun fire. Dodging bullets wouldn't be Cagney's only grievance with Hollywood. He'd become a headliner in less than a year, but his contract didn't mirror his popularity at the box office. Early on he vocally objected to the low pay and unholy hours the studio imposed. He called it a "factory approach." When the Screen Actors Guild was founded in 1933, Cagney joined and was elected to its board of directors. He later served a term as SAG president.With the help of his youngest brother Bill, who he had enlisted as his business manager (Harry and Ed had both become doctors), he doggedly battled Warners. Jack Warner referred to him as "the professional againster." Production head Hal Wallis called him "our house rebel."

During a contentious separation from Warners in 1936, Cagney traveled east with a friend and spent time on Martha's Vineyard. Years earlier, as a boy, he had fallen in love with the countryside when visiting relatives who lived in rural New York. Now he could afford to buy a country property of his own. The Vineyard seemed the ideal location - he would own a farm surrounded by the sea. He purchased a 100-year-old farmhouse on 100 acres that was only accessible by dirt road for $7,500; annual taxes totaled just $39. Cagney's Chilmark farm  became a much-loved retreatwhere he could enjoy a tranquility his life in Hollywood lacked. The stand-offish Vineyard locals came to know and admire him and would call him, with sincerity, a good neighbor.

Irish Mafia, l -r, seated: Tracy, O'Brien, McHugh, Cagney; standing: Overman
In Hollywood, Cagney concocted another form of respite. With a close-knit band of actor friends, he started The Boys Club. An industry columnist nicknamed the informal group "The Irish Mafia." Its core members were Cagney, Pat O'Brien, Frank McHugh, Spencer Tracy, Lynne Overman, Ralph Bellamy and Frank Morgan. They sometimes talked shop but, according to McHugh, their nights out were more concerned with stimulating conversation and laughs than the movie business.

Cagney began work on Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) after his latest problems with Warners had been ironed out.  For this film, a crime thriller about childhood friends whose lives go in different directions, the studio afforded a generous budget. A tenement set covered four city blocks and street scenes included authentic push carts and hurdy-gurdies. Even Cagney was impressed, "...when the studio put its heart into doing a thing, they went all the way." This time out Cagney refused to work with live bullets. Though director Michael Curtiz assured him he was safe, the actor insisted on a process shot for a shoot-out scene. It was a good thing he stood his ground. The machine-gun fire, supplied by the same gunner who had worked on The Public Enemy, hit precisely where Cagney would've been standing in the shot.

Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), Cagney surrounded by The Dead End Kids

For the role of archetypal gangster Rocky Sullivan, Cagney based his portrayal in part on a local character he'd seen on the streets as a kid. He was "a hophead and a pimp" who stood on a corner all day, hitching up his pants, pulling at his necktie, moving his shoulders, snapping his fingers and smacking his hands together. The mannerisms with which Cagney endowed Sullivan would provide the material for a legion of impressionists years later. An exact replica of Sing Sing's death cell and corridor to the electric chair were created for the film. As Rocky Sullivan walked from the cell to his fate, James Cagney was thinking of the neighborhood boy he knew best in his youth, Peter Hessling, known as "Bootah." In his autobiography, the actor wrote he would always remember July 21, 1927. On that night he was performing on Broadway, Jack Dempsey KO'ed Jack Sharkey, and Bootah went to the electric chair at Sing Sing. "I wept when I heard about him," he recalled. The irony that art was imitating his life - with a twist - in Angels with Dirty Faces was not lost on him. Cagney received his first Best Actor nomination from the Academy for his performance and was named Best Actor by the New York Film Critics Circle.

Cagney's Chilmark property, Martha's Vineyard, photo by David Welch

By the time he marked his first decade in Hollywood, Cagney was on his way to becoming a wealthy man. Not only did he have a more lucrative deal with Warners, but he had also begun buying real estate. His properties would include a small island at the tip of Southern California's Balboa Island, acreage in the desert town of Twentynine Palms, California, his home on 10 acres in Beverly Hills, the Martha's Vineyard estate, a farm in Northridge, California, and the vast Verney Farm in Dutchess County, New York.  Also at this time, his entire family - mother, sister and all three brothers - relocated to Los Angeles. His wife, Willie (aka/"my Bill"), a dancer he'd met on Pitter Patter in 1920 and married in 1922, didn't mix with the Cagney clan, but Jim was nevertheless thrilled to have everyone close at hand. In 1940 Jim and Willie adopted a son, Jim, Jr., and in 1941 they adopted a baby girl known as Casey.

Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)
Because of his ongoing disputes with Warner Brothers and his progressive politics, Cagney had been tagged a "radical." The Dies Committee (1938 - 1944) was the first incarnation of HUAC and in 1940 when the LA County District Attorney named Cagney as a person with an interest in the Communist Party, the actor met the accusation head-on. First he called a press conference and passionately denied the charge. Next he met with Rep. Martin Dies, head of the Congressional committee, and stated his case in person. Dies effectively put the matter to rest. Yankee Doodle Dandy(1942) began making its way toward production soon afterward. The role of Broadway's legendary and multifaceted George M. Cohan was a perfect fit for Cagney, who said of himself, "once a song-and -dance man, always a song-and-dance man" and neatly described his own style as "flash, with always a dash of the eccentric and a bit of humor." The film lifted his career to another peak; his performance earned him an Academy Award and his second Best Actor award from the New York Film Critics. Yankee Doodle Dandy, released in the early days of World War II, also cemented his reputation as a good and patriotic American.

On behalf of the war effort, Cagney took part in many war bond drives, traveled with the USO and gave the U.S. Army access to his Vineyard property for use in its maneuvers. Also during the war years, Jim and his brother Bill established Cagney Productions. The company produced three features before it was absorbed into Warner Brothers as a production unit.

White Heat (1949)

John McCabe's 1997 biography, Cagney, opens with a disturbing domestic scene. Young Jim sits in the kitchen closely watching his father across the dining table. The elder Cagney starts rocking from side to side and then begins a "low keening" that will build to a wail. These episodes were called "Dad's fits" and would portend Cagney's Cody Jarrett in White Heat(1949). The actor considered it "a good picture in a number of ways." The original script had been typical formula, what he called "the old knock-down-drag-'em-out," so, as he he often did, he set about making improvements. He suggested to the writers that the story be modeled on Ma Barker and her boys and that Jarrett be psychotic. This, Cagney reasoned, would be a natural set-up to his character's climactic demise. It was also his notion that Jarrett be a mama's boy and proposed a scene with Cody sitting on his mother's lap. "Let's see if we can get away with this," he said to director Raoul Walsh. They did. Virginia Mayo, who played Cagney's mistress, remembered of working with him that, "he always gave to you more than you gave to him" and was astonished that he wasn't Oscar-nominated for his performance.

Doris Day and Cagney, Love Me or Leave Me (1955)
Cagney would receive his final Academy Award nomination for Love Me or Leave Me(1955), the film that revealed Doris Day's dramatic potential, and most of his later film performances were well received. The making of Billy Wilder's One, Two, Three(1961) was a frustrating, unhappy experience for Cagney and during filming he determined it was time to retire. For the next 20 years he would spend most of his time on his working farm in New York and on Martha's Vineyard. His cherished pastimes included raising Morgan horses, sailing and painting.

Ragtime (1981)
In 1974 he became the first actor to receive the American Film Institute's Lifetime Achievement Award. He was accorded Kennedy Center honors in 1980, and in 1981 returned to the screen for a high-profile cameo role in Ragtime, Milos Forman's film adaptation of E. L. Doctorow's best-seller. In 1984 he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Of Cagney, Orson Welles said, "He always played right at the top of his bent, but he was always true. Sure, acting can be too broad. Broad is wide - spread out. Cagney was focused. Christ, like a laser beam! Cagney was one of the biggest actors in the whole history of the screen. Force, style, truth, and control - he had everything. He pulled no punches. God, how he projected! And yet nobody could call Cagney a ham. He didn't bother about reducing himself to fit the scale of the camera; he was much too busy doing his job."

Elia Kazan, who'd had a small role in City for Conquest(1940), recalled Cagney as "a completely honest actor." Kazan erroneously assumed that Cagney had fully worked out his performance in advance, at home, and marveled that "what he did always seemed spontaneous."

Late in life Cagney looked back on working with a young actor who psyched himself up before every scene. When a scene had to be re-shot, Cagney viewed the second take. "There I realized what the difficulty was...he was doing it for himself, not the audience. He was psyching himself up to be the character, instead of just understanding the character and playing it for the audience." Cagney's philosophy on acting was simply stated and often quoted, "You walk in, plant yourself squarely on both feet, look the other fella in the eye and tell the truth." Those who worked with him would doubtless agree that is exactly what he did.

James Cagney died at Verney Farm in 1986 at age 86. His pallbearers included a former heavyweight champion (Floyd Patterson), a ballet legend (Mikhail Baryshnikov), an Academy Award winning film director (Milos Forman), movie producer A.C. Lyles, and one of his closest long-time friends, actor Ralph Bellamy. His obituary in the New York Times mourned the passing of the "Master of Pugnacious Grace."

CAGNEY ACCEPTING THE AFI's LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENT AWARD IN 1974

Cagney's AFI ceremony was said to be "the most star-studded gathering in Hollywood history" and that "if a bomb had been dropped on the assemblage, Hollywood would have been wiped out."

Sources:
Cagney by Cagney by James Cagney, Doubleday (1976)
Cagney by John McCabe, Knopf (1997)

Still life paintings by James Cagney

Happy Birthday, Tyrone Power!

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artwork by Rob Kelly

99 years ago Tyrone Edmund Power was born in Cincinnati, Ohio. 22 years after that he became a movie star and would remain one for the rest of his life – another 22 years. The biggest male star at 20thCentury Fox during the ‘30s and ‘40s, Power is remembered by most today as a charismatic leading man of extraordinary looks and resonant voice. He was also a talented and ambitious actor.

Rose of Washington Square
Today, on the 99th anniversary of Power’s birth and the 98th anniversary of Alice Faye’s, Turner Classic Movies will air one of their hits from the 1930s, Rose of Washington Square (1939). The film, the third and last pairing of Power and Faye, was a barely veiled fiction based on Fanny Brice’s rise to fame and her tumultuous relationship with her second husband, professional gambler Nicky Arnstein (Brice was incensed and sued Fox for defamation of character - the case was settled out of court). TCM and the Fox Movie Channel are airing a broad range of Power’s films this month – click here for a schedule.

Tyrone Power’s centenary will be celebrated in 2014 with film retrospectives in his hometown as well as in New York and Los Angeles. Click here for more information. To learn more about his life and career, click here.

Tyrone Power and Henry Fonda in Jesse James (1939)...airs on TCM May 19

Of New York History and New Hollywood Horror...

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EDWARD CLARK'S "FOLLY"

The address, One West 72nd Street, may not register with many who live outside the city of New York, but the name of the building at the corner of 72nd Street and Central Park West is more familiar.  The Dakota, a famed luxury co-op on the Upper West Side, has been home to many high profile luminaries, served as the setting for one of Roman Polanski's best known films, and was the site of an infamous murder in 1980.

Posh apartment houses designed expressly for the well-heeled were rare in New York in 1880, when construction of the Dakota began. Apartment housing at that time and place was mainly associated with tenements and lower class living, but in the late 1860s the Stuyvesant building opened. It attracted the reasonably well-to-do in droves and soon more such residences were in the works.

The Dakota by Richard Britell
The lot on which the Dakota would stand was in an area that was then largely undeveloped - both far north and west of what was considered the city's boundaries. And though the building would face Central Park, that region of the park had yet to be landscaped or developed. In fact, the street that was to become Central Park West was still but a dirt road. Astonishingly, all 65 of the Dakota's 4- to 20-room apartments were rented by the time its doors opened in late 1884; from that day until the stock market crash of 1929, there was not even one vacancy in the building.

Dakota railing detail
Edward Clark, an attorney who made a great fortune as partner to Isaac M. Singer in the Singer Sewing Machine Company, conceived and built the Dakota. He hired architect Henry Hardenburgh (the Waldorf-Astoria, the Plaza Hotel), then early in his career at age 32, to design the building. The project would establish Hardenburgh's reputation. Massive and extravagant, the Dakota's exteriorwas an eclectic interpretation of German Renaissance style while the interior reflected French architectural influences then popular in New York. In his 1970 illustrated novel Time and Again, Jack Finneywrote of the Dakota's "pale yellow brick handsomely trimmed in chocolate-colored stone," of its roof "like a miniature town...of gables, turrets, pyramids, towers, peaks" shingled in copper-trimmed slate and "peppered with uncountable windows, dormer and flush, square, round, and rectangular." Sadly, Edward Clark would not live to see the completion of the Dakota, and his own sumptuous apartment in the building would be bestowed upon his 12-year-old grandson and heir.

Leonard Bernstein's piano in his Dakota apartment

Robert Ryan in his home at the Dakota (later
purchased by John Lennon and Yoko Ono)
Once the Great Depression took hold following the market crash, several large apartments were broken up into smaller ones and years later, in 1961, the building became a co-operative.  Over its long history, the residence served as home to many notables of  stage, screen and other lively and literary arts. The first actor to move into the Dakota came in the late '30s, he was William Henry Pratt, better known as Boris Karloff. Others would include Lillian Gish, Judy Garland, Lauren Bacall (with and without Jason Robards, Jr.), Judy Holliday, Jose Ferrer and Rosemary Clooney, Teresa Wright, Robert Ryan, Zero Mostel, Jack Palance, Gwen Verdon, Zachary Scott and Patrick O'Neal. Composer/conductor Leonard Bernstein lived at the Dakota, as did dancer Rudolf Nureyev, playwright William Inge, director John Frankenheimer, Warner Bros. exec Ted Ashley, singer Roberta Flack, feminist/writer Betty Friedan, and interior decorator Syrie Maugham, one-time wife of author W. Somerset. John Lennon, founding member of the Beatles and beloved cultural icon, is perhaps the most widely known of all the Dakota's famed residents.

John and Sean Lennon in their Dakota kitchen

As with many structures of gothic appearance, the Dakota endured rumors of supernatural incidents and ghost stories. Movie critic and Dakota resident Rex Reed recalled that a doorman warned him early on to expect to see Boris Karloff's ghost. Strange and unexplained events were witnessed below ground, in the basement, and for a brief period a so-called "Phantom of the Dakota" vandalized the building and spooked its inhabitants. But it was only with the release of Roman Polanski's Rosemary's Baby (1968), set and partially shot at the Dakota, that the building's reputation for quirkiness and opulence took on a decidedly dark facet. With the deadly 1980 shooting of John Lennon at the building's front gate, the incomprehensible and horrifying became real.

Long-time Dakota resident Lauren Bacall at home in 2011

ROSEMARY'S BABY
 

When Roman Polanski walked into the office of newly appointed Paramount Pictures production head Bob Evans for the first time in 1967, he thought he was there to discuss directing Downhill Racer, the project Evans touted when he asked for the meeting. Instead, Evans quickly admitted that, knowing Polanski loved to ski, he'd used the project, the story of a U.S. Olympic team skier, as a lure. What Evans really wanted to talk with Polanski about was directing a film adaptation of Ira Levin's soon-to-be-published horror thriller, Rosemary's Baby. Evans gave him the printer's galley proofs to take home and look over. In a sitting, Polanski read through Levin's chilling tale of a contemporary Manhattan couple who move into a fabled apartment building - with terrifying consequences. He quickly agreed to direct.

Bob Evans and Roman Polanski
Why was Evans intent upon hiring Polanski to directRosemary's Baby? William Castle, producer/director of low-budget horror movies, had optioned the screen rights for the book. Castle, who had an exclusive contract with the studio, hoped to direct the film himself. But Evans wasn't interested in making the grade "B" genre fare Castle turned out, pictures like The Tingler (1959), 13 Ghosts (1960) and Strait-Jacket (1964). Evans, destined to became a legendary figure in the New Hollywood era, saw Rosemary's Baby as a director's film and his interest was piqued by the Polish director of what he called "three really offbeat thrillers," Knife in the Water (1962), Repulsion (1965) and Cul-de-sac (1966). Knife in the Water, a taut psychological drama that marked Polanski's feature film debut, brought an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Language Film and international acclaim. Repulsion starred Catherine Deneuve and Cul-de-sac starred her sister, Francoise Dorleac; both were moody, surreal films that won international awards. Evans believed Polanski's iconoclastic vision might conjure something special and unusual out of Levin's sly, dark fiction and was able to convince Castle to confine himself to the role of producer. Polanski thought Levin's book a "well-constructed thriller," cinematic in nature, and immediately began work on the script, writing from dawn to dark for days on end.

Ira Levin

In the meantime, Rosemary's Baby was published and became a #1 best-seller. The National Observer called the book "the best chiller to come down the gooseflesh trail in many a moonless night." Even the New York Times review was a rave and anticipation for the film adaptation ran high.

Tuesday Weld and Robert Redford

Polanski originally planned to cast the lead roles with actors who possessed the All-American good looks and energy depicted in Levin's book and favored Tuesday Weld for Rosemary and Robert Redford as her husband, Guy. When Bob Evans suggested Mia Farrow, the director at first thought her too waif-like and ethereal for the part. But after meeting and discussing the role with her he hired her without so much as a screen test. Robert Redford became unavailable and Warren Beatty turned down the role of Guy, so Polanski turned to John Cassavetes, an intense, charismatic actor who was also making a name for himself as an independent filmmaker. The hand-picked supporting cast included Hollywood troupers Ralph Bellamy, Patsy Kelly and Elisha Cook, Jr., as well as stage and screen veterans Maurice Evans, Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon. Uncredited in the role Polanski characterized as "the real star of the picture,"  the Bramford apartment building, was the Dakota. Exteriors were shot on-site and Dick Sylbert, Polanski's production designer, scrupulously recreated the Dakota's interiors (off-limits to movie-makers) in Hollywood. Rosemary's Baby would begin and end with aerial views of the imposing structure.

"Bramford"/Dakota interior sketch by Richard Sylbert

Production was underway for only a week when Charles Bluhdorn, Paramount's new owner, began to have second thoughts about Polanski, whose focus on artistic values and fine details he viewed as unreasonable perfectionism. One day while on the studio lot Polanski ran into legendary filmmaker Otto Preminger. Dejected, he told the older director there was talk he was going to be replaced on Rosemary's Baby. Preminger asked if the studio was happy with the rushes and when Polanski told him it was, he said: "Roman, remember this: You can go over budget as much as you like, provided the rushes are good. They only replace a director when the dailies are lousy." What Bob Evans saw in Polanski's dailies was an "ominous sense of fright" - and it thrilled him; he told Paramount, "If he goes, I go." Both stayed.

Mia Farrow and Roman Polanski on the set
Polanski was determined to recreate the exact time frame in which the story was set, late 1965 to mid-1966, just two years before the film was made. Trends had shifted inthat brief period;by 1968 styles had begun to swing from the influence of all-things-English ushered in with "the British Invasion" to a more bohemian sensibility reflecting the "flower power"/"hippie" phenomenon. His insistence on authentic detail drove costume designer Anthea Sylbert's meticulous replication of mid-'60s fashion. She captured the look of the moment with Rosemary's Mod-era shifts, mini-dresses and attire like the red chiffon pants suit to be worn ona romantic evening at home. Other time-specific touches include Rosemary's decision to have her pageboy tresses snipped into a short Vidal Sassoon cut, Rosemary relaxing on the sofa with Sammy Davis, Jr.'s book Yes, I Can (a 1965 best-seller), a glimpse on TV of the Pope's October 1965 visit to New York, and Timemagazine's famous "Is God Dead?" issue (April 8, 1966) conspicuous among the reading material in her doctor's waiting room.

Costumes by Anthea Sylbert

Polanski later said the story line of Rosemary's Baby had posed one problem for him, it conflicted with his own worldview. He didn't believe in Satan. So he decided, "for credibility's sake," to add an element of ambiguity suggesting the possibility that Rosemary's imagination was the source of her fears. With careful camera placement and the use of special lenses,Polanski presented the story through Rosemary's eyes. Drawn into Rosemary's point of view, the audienceeasily relates to her confusion, feelings of vulnerability and increasing fright. Like Rosemary, the viewer is aware of lurking danger but wavers between believing what she begins to suspect is happening or accepting the rational explanations offered by others.

Mia Farrow and Ralph Bellamy (Dr. Saperstein)

While Rosemary remains constant as a naive and mostly defenseless young wife, those who inhabit her shrinking world are more enigmatic - from her ambitious actor husband and intrusive neighbors to her wise and kindly old doctor. Ironically, some of the characters who are revealed to be most wicked are also the most comically grotesque. In keeping with Polanski's brand of humor, the film is laced with darkly comic moments:
  • Rosemary and Guy dine at the home of her friend Hutch (Maurice Evans). As Hutch carves a lamb at table, he relates the ghoulish history of the Bramford - which included a pair of sisters who, it was later charged, devoured children...
Rosemary and Guy meet The Castavets
  • The aftermath of a shocking suicide introduces the Castevets, Minnie (Ruth Gordon) and Roman (Sidney Blackmer), a pair of elderly oddballs who arrive on scene decked out as if fresh from the vaudeville stage.
  • Rosemary sees her baby for the first time and, uncomprehending, shrieks, "What have you done to its eyes?" Roman Castevet crows happily, "He has his father's eyes!"
Without resorting to genre gimmickry, Polanski crafted a tight, stylish psychological thriller. And a blockbuster. The last auteur-directed shocker to create such a box office sensation had been Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho in 1960. Rosemary's Baby's successwould go on to inspire the wave of lavish, A-budget horror films to come, notably William Friedkin's The Exorcist (1973) and Richard Donner's The Omen (1976). It would bring an Academy Award to Ruth Gordon for her supporting performance and a nomination to Roman Polanski for his adapted screenplay.

Considered a genre-transcending classic today, Rosemary's Baby remains a landmark of modern horror, as capable of jangling nervesand inducing chills as it was in its infancy 45 years ago.

 

Rosemary's Baby is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from the Criterion Collection. This special edition contains many extras, including: a documentary featuring Polanski, Mia Farrow and Bob Evans; an interview with Ira Levin; a documentary on the life and work of composer Krzysztof Komeda (who died 10 months after the film was released) and other special features.

~
Notes:
Life at the Dakota by Stephen Birmingham, Syracuse University Press (1979/1996)
Roman by Polanksi, William Morrow & Co. (1984)
The Kid Stays in the Picture by Robert Evans, Hyperion (1994)

TCM's Friday Night Spotlight in July: Francois Truffaut

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Francois Truffaut
Friday nights in July are going to be hot, and I’m not talking about the weather where I live. Beginning tonight and on the 12th, 19th and 26th, Turner Classic Movies will feature hour after hour of the films of one of the pioneers and masters of the French New Wave, Francois Truffaut (1932 – 1984). Film Critic David Edelstein of New York Magazine and NPR’s Fresh Air, hosts the series.

Coincidentally, I’ve been catching up with and revisiting Truffaut on my own lately. It started when I was putting together a birthday tribute to the French actress Francois Dorleac in March. Dorleac worked with several legendary European filmmakers in her brief but notable career – Philippe de Broca, Jacques Demy, Roman Polanski, Ken Russell - and Truffaut. I'd seen Polanski's Cul-de-sac (1966), Demy's The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967), and set out to find de Broca's That Man from Rio (1964), Russell's Billion Dollar Brain (1967) and Truffaut's The Soft Skin (1964). I’m still looking for That Man from Rio, but did manage to get my hands on Billion Dollar Brain and The Soft Skin.

Jean Desailly and Francoise Dorleac, The Soft Skin (1964)

The Soft Skin has never been one of Truffaut’s better known films. When it screened at Cannes in 1964, the crowd booed and, in its time, the film was generally dismissed as conventional and disappointing. Following as it did on the heels of his innovative and much-admired earlier works - The 400 Blows (1959), Shoot the Piano Player (1960) and Jules and Jim (1962) - The Soft Skin was derided by some as Truffaut’s bid for mainstream acceptance. Stuffy New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther, who famously fell badly out of step with the times in the ‘60s, called it “a curiously crude and hackneyed drama.” However, as so often happens, with the passage of years came reassessment and The Soft Skin, though still relatively obscure among Truffaut’s films, has gained a reputation among film buffs as one of his stronger efforts. A deceptively straightforward but suspenseful modern domestic drama, it deals with the sudden and ardent extramarital affair of a celebrated literary scholar, and features affecting performances by its two stars - Jean Desailly as the besotted intellectual and Francois Dorleac as the beautiful young thing of a flight attendant who turns his well-ordered life upside down. Georges Delerue, the award-winning composer who scored 11 Truffaut films, composed a striking score evocative of the frantic pace and emotional disconnect that marked the Space Age. 

Alfred Hitchcock and Francois Truffaut
The Soft Skin was the first of four films in what is known as Truffaut’s “Hitchcock cycle,” a group of films he was working on at the time he conducted and published his now-famous interviews with the Master of Suspense.  In different ways, each film reflected a Hitchcock influence. The Soft Skin was followed in the cycle by Fahrenheit 451 (1966), The Bride Wore Black (1968) and Mississippi Mermaid (1969). All but Fahrenheit 451 will be screened on TCM this month.

In June, when it aired as part of another TCM Friday Night Spotlight series, I recorded Shoot the Piano Player, Truffaut’s inventive and completely charming New Wave classic. Unpredictable, by turns comic and tragic, its special charms are accentuated by a charismatic and perfectly cast star, Charles Aznavour, and Delerue’s infectious,  jazzy score. I found it irresistible and watched it twice in a sitting. This put me in the mood for yet more Truffaut, and I very soon revisited one of his early ‘70s classics, Oscar winner for Best Foreign Language Film, Day for Night (1973), a delightful celluloid homage to filmmaking, the great love of Truffaut's life.
 
Jacqueline Bisset and Jean-Pierre Léaud, Day for Night (1973)

TCM's Friday night series includes 21 Truffaut films, from The 400 Blows, his first feature, to his very last, Confidentially Yours (1983). See full program schedule below. 

Click here to read Martin Scorsese’s moving tribute to Francois Truffaut for TCM in his current “Scorsese Screens” column. 

Friday Night Spotlight: Francois Truffaut 
(begins 8pm Eastern/5 pm Pacific)

July 5

The 400 Blows(1959) stars young Jean-Pierre Léaud as Truffaut’s alter-ego Antoine Doinel in his troubled adolescence

Antoine and Colette(1962), a film short with Léaud as Antoine Doinel; Marie-France Pisier co-stars as the woman with whom he becomes obsessed

Stolen Kisses(1968), Truffaut’s second feature-length film, with Léaud again as Doinel who, by this time, is leaving military service and adapting to civilian life; with Delphine Seyrig and Claude Jade

Bed & Board(1970), the third installment in “the Doinel cycle,” stars Léaud, with Claude Jade as his wife

Love on the Run(1979), the last in the Doinel series, with Léaud as Doinel, Jade as his ex-wife, and flashbacks to footage from the earlier films

The Green Room aka/Vanishing Fiancee (1978), the story of a man unable to stop grieving the death of his wife, starring Francois Truffaut, Nathalie Baye and Jean Daste

July 12

The Bride Wore Black(1968) with Jeanne Moreau in a Hitchcockian tale of a new bride’s single-minded vengeance, with Jean-Claude Brialy; based on a novel by Cornell Woolrich

Confidentially Yours(1983) - Jean-Louis Trintignant and Fanny Ardant star in the story of a wrong man accused

Mississippi Mermaid(1969), starring Catherine Deneauve as Jean-Paul Belmondo’s mail order bride; adapted from a Cornell Woolrich novel

Such a Gorgeous Kid Like Me (1972), a black comedy with Bernadette Lafont as a beautiful woman in prison who recounts her life story to a sociologist

Shoot the Piano Player(1960) stars Charles Aznavour as a one-time concert pianist who seeks anonymity but can’t escape his past

July 19

The Soft Skin(1964), This story of a literary highbrow who falls madly for a beautiful young woman was allegedly inspired by true stories of adultery and mayhem; starring Jean Desailly, Francoise Dorleac and Nelly Benedetti

Jules and Jim(1962) with Jeanne Moreau, Oskar Werner and Henri Serre in the tale of an ill-fated love triangle

Two English Girls(1971) stars Jean-Pierre Léaud as a young French writer who has romantic involvements with two sisters

A Story of Water(1961), co-directed with Jean-Luc Goddard, is a short film about a young woman determined to leave her village and go to Paris; with Jean-Claude Brialy and Caroline Dim

The Woman Next Door(1981) is Fanny Ardant, who unwittingly becomes the new neighbor of happily married Gerard Depardieu, her former lover

The Man Who Loved Women (1977) stars Charles Denner as Bertrand, a compulsive womanizer whose skirt-chasing has fateful consequences, with Brigitte Fossey and Leslie Caron.

July 26

Day for Night(1973) with Jacqueline Bisset, Jean-Pierre Léaud, Jean-Pierre Aumont, Francois Truffaut and Nathalie Baye – Truffaut’s timeless paean to moviemaking

The Last Metro(1980), set in Paris during the Nazi occupation, stars Catherine Deneuve as an actress and Gerard Depardieu as her director-husband who is Jewish and must go into hiding

The Wild Child(1970), about a boy literally raised by wolves, starring Francois Truffaut and Jean-Pierre Cargol

The Story of Adele H(1975) with Isabelle Adjani as Adele, the high-strung daughter of renowned 19thcentury poet/novelist/dramatist Victor Hugo, who becomes romantically obsessed with a military officer

Jeanne Moreau, The Bride Wore Black (1968), poster art


How sweet it is: "The Honeymooners" on MeTV

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In the final episode of the first season of AMC’s Mad Men, set in 1960, advertising wunderkind Don Draper pitches his creative concept to Kodak for its latest product, a slide projector called the Carousel. He speaks of the power of nostalgia and describes the device as a time machine with the ability to take people to that place everyone most longs to go, “back home again.” As he delivers his presentation in a darkened conference room, images of Draper’s own young wife and children flash onto a screen one by one, and the carousel works its magic on on those who watch.

MeTV is another sort of time machine. Its viewers are regularly transported to an earlier, some say more golden, age of television – the ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s, those decades when the network’s target audience, the baby boom generation, was, like me, very young. Tripping into the past by way of MeTV is a purely cheerful experience, nothing at all like the harrowing journey of Martin Sloan (Gig Young) whose “Walking Distance” detour into his past took him through the looking glass of The Twilight Zone.

Thanks to MeTV I’ve once again been able to travel The Streets of San Francisco and revisit The Rockford Files, The Dick Van Dyke Show, Mary Tyler Moore and, most recently, Rhoda– all great and legendary series. But the show I can never resist, no matter how many times I’ve seen it, is The Honeymooners, the classic 39 episodes that aired on CBS from 1955 – 56. Since it airs on MeTV at 1:30 a.m. PDT these days, I’ve got the DVR up and running in the middle of the night just so I can savor the antics of Ralph and Alice Kramden (Jackie Gleason and Audrey Meadows) and Ed Norton (Art Carney) a time or two more.

Alice and Ralph - a promised trip to the moon will end with "Baby, you're the greatest!"

Everyone in my family was a big fan of Jackie Gleason and we were crazy about his Ralph Kramden, the supersized New York bus driver, a man with “big ideas” and dreams of becoming a “big shot” one day. We got a kick out of Ed Norton, the quirky sewer worker who was Ralph’s neighbor and best friend, and adored long-suffering Alice Kramden, purveyor of carefully dispensed and devastating wisecracks, who knew well that beneath Ralph’s bluff and bluster he was a big-hearted softy. The Honeymooners ran on television in one form or another from the early ‘50s into the late ‘70s, so it’s fair to say that it was always in  the background of our lives as my brother and I grew up. 

The Honeymooners made its first TV appearance as a comedy sketch on Cavalcade of Stars, a variety show Jackie Gleason hosted on the now-dufunct DuMont Network from 1950 – 1952. When he was hired away by CBS in 1952 and began the enormously successful Jackie Gleason Show, The Honeymooners continued as a regular sketch within the show. It was wildly popular and became an increasingly more prominent part of the program, so when Gleason decided to take a break from the hour-long variety show format, it became a stand-alone half-hours series from 1955 – 56. The 39 episodes from that season came to be referred to as “the Classic 39.” When Gleason resumed the hour-long variety show format for a final season, 1956 – 57, The Honeymooners returned as a sketch segment.

Art Carney, Jackie Gleason and Audrey Meadows on the set

In 1962 Jackie Gleason returned to TV after a hiatus with his American Scene Magazine (1962 – 1966). The Honeymooners was occasionally featured as part of this variety show. Sue Ane Langdon would appear as Alice in two 1962 sketches and Audrey Meadows would return as Alice in an hour-long 1966 musical sketch.

Beginning with the 1966 – 67 season and through the remainder of its run until 1970, The Jackie Gleason Show was filmed in color and The Honeymooners installmentsof this era are known as “the Color Honeymooners.” Sheila MacRae portrayed Alice during this run of mostly mini-musical episodes.

From 1970 – 1978, The Honeymooners returned in a series of nearly annual specials with Audrey Meadows returning as Alice in 1976. Finally, in 1985, a Honeymooners reunion special aired in May and an anniversary special aired in October.

Of all the show's incarnations, it's the early Honeymooners I'm forever drawn to. Part of this, of course, is about the pure quality of the show during that period when it was at its peak. But another part of the attraction has to do with memories of nights with my family in front of a console TV and the unrestrained laughter that filled our living room.


Jackie Gleason and Paul Newman, The Hustler (1961)

Jackie Gleason (1916 – 1987), dubbed “The Great One” by Orson Welles, was nominated for five Emmys from 1953 – 1956. He was honored with a Peabody Award for excellence in television entertainment in 1956, won a Tony Award for Best Actor in a musical for Take Me Along in 1960 and garnered a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination in 1961 for his performance in The Hustler. “Away We Go” is etched in the marble of the mausoleum in Miami where he is interred.

Art Carney (1918 – 2003) was nominated for eight Emmys for his portrayal of Ed Norton - he won five. He was nominated for a Tony Award for Best Actor in A play, Lovers (1969), and originated the role of Felix Unger in The Odd Coupleon Broadway in 1965. Carney won a Best Actor Oscar for his performance in Harry and Tonto in 1974. 

Audrey Meadows (1922 – 1996) won one of four Emmys she was nominated for for her portrayal of Alice Kramden. She worked steadily in TV and movies from the early 1950s until 1995.

~

This post is part of Me-TV's Summer of Classic TV Blogathon hosted by the Classic TV Blog Association. Go to http://classic-tv-blog-assoc.blogspot.com to view more posts in this blogathon. You can also go to http://metvnetwork.com to learn more about Me-TV and view its summer line-up of classic TV shows.

Hitchcock...in 3D!

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My introduction to 3D movies finally came this past weekend and I’m sure it surprises no one who knows me that this happened by way of a classic rather than one of today’s CGI extravaganzas.  My initiation into stereoscopic 3D film, a process that has been around forever but has gained a firm foothold only recently, took place on Sunday afternoon, when I happily watched the only 3D film Alfred Hitchcock ever made with a near-full-house audience at one of my favorite theaters, the Rafael.

The Rafael Theatre, San Rafael, CA
Dial M for Murder (1954) was the last film Hitchcock made as part of his deal with Warner Bros., a studio that had a huge hit with the 3D horror thriller House of Wax in 1953. On the heels of that film’s box office success, Jack Warner decreed, for the moment, that Warners would or should make all subsequent films in 3D. Hitchcock, who was ever interested in evolving filmmaking technology, agreed to make his final film for the studio using 3D. It would be his first and last foray into the process. Because it could not be released until the Broadway play it was adapted from had ended its stage run, Dial M did not come out until mid-1954, just as public fascination with 3D films had begun to wane. In fact, once it went into wide release, the film screened far more often in 2D than 3D. The first “golden age” of 3D film had lasted only from 1952 until 1954; the process was an expensive and unwieldy undertaking at the time, and other, less difficult to produce and exhibit technologies, like CinemaScope, would move to the forefront.


According to AMPAS, “Hitchcock used the All-Media rig developed by the optical department at Warner Bros. to experiment with stereoscopic techniques…” To emphasize the impact of 3D, he paid great attention to the film’s art direction, in particular, set design and decoration, as well as the placement of actors within each scene.  Since the action, based as it was on a play, takes place primarily on one set, a London apartment interior, this sort of approach was a necessity.  Of course, in the hands of an artist of Hitchcock’s caliber, 3D became a showcase not only for the drama at hand but, simultaneously, showcased the process itself. Hitchcock’s distinctive style coupled with the potency of 3D makes for an intense and evocative film experience. All that transpires onscreen - from a woman quietly reading her newspaper to a violent scene of attempted murder - is enhanced by the director's grasp of the 3D format.

Grace Kelly

I have seen Dial M for Murder many times in 2D. I think it may have been the first Hitchcock film I ever saw. There was once a local Los Angeles TV station that aired a different movie every week, all week: in the early evening five nights, Monday through Friday, and then again Saturday night. Was it KTLA? One week the movie was Dial M. And I watched it every night. Hooked by Hitchcock at a young age! But Dial M hasn’t been a favorite of mine. After seeing Vertigo, Rear Window, Notorious, Strangers on a Train, Shadow of a Doubt, Psycho, ETC., it seemed fairly tepid fare. And yet, when I found out it was to be screened at the Rafael, I instantly purchased tickets online. I had realized by now that Hitchcock on the big screen is a different experience from Hitchcock on the small screen (even on a good-sized small screen in HD). This realization first dawned on me when I attended a screening of the silent version of Blackmail (1929) at the Rafael a few years ago and grew more profound with later viewings of North by Northwest(1959), also at the Rafael, and Vertigo(1958), at the Paramount, Oakland’s Art Deco movie palace.

Anthony Dawson and Grace Kelly

I was not disappointed with the newly restored Dial M for Murder in Dolby 3D. At all.  With visual depth and dimension it seemed to me a different film. Where, before, the film had seemed as flat as its two-dimensional format, it now, literally, came to life.  I’d thought of it as talky and static (as filmed plays often are) but now its atmosphere teemed with suspense, every word spoken implied more, facial expressions and physical movements suggested barely concealed undercurrents. Dialogue-heavy as it is, the film now seemed to move along at a brisk clip. Though one scene was obviously designed for 3D (and must’ve caused quite a stir when the film was first shown), Hitchcock clearly understood 3D and exploited it with precision in every frame. 

dialing M...

Among Dial M for Murder’s claims to fame is that it was the first of Hitchcock’s three films starring Grace Kelly. He had first seen the young actress opposite Robert Alda in an early ‘50s screen test for Taxi,a film that was never made. She would go on to make High Noon (1952) with Gary Cooper for Fred Zinnemann and Mogambo (1953) with Clark Gable and Ava Gardner for John Ford before Hitchcock managed to cast her in Dial M. If director Gregory Ratoff thought Kelly was perfect for the role of the Irish lass she might have played in Taxi because, he said, “she’s not pretty,” Hitchcock saw something else entirely. By the time the two were finished making pictures together in 1955, Kelly was vaunted as one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood - due in no small part to Hitchcock’s presentation of her.

A scene designed for 3D

Thanks to the resurgence of 3D, Dial M for Murder can now be seen as it was originally conceived and appreciated as the bona fide classic it is.


August 12: A Day - and Night - Under the Stars with Catherine Deneuve

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This is my entry for the 2013 TCM Summer Under the Stars Blogathonnow in progress and hosted by Jill Blake of http://sittinonabackyardfence.com/ and Michael Nazarewycz ofhttp://scribehardonfilm.wordpress.com/. Visit their sites for more information on the month-long blogathon and links to participating blogs.

In June 1965 the American magazine, Look, carried a feature entitled, "The Sister Stars of France" celebrating, with pages of pictures and a little hyperbolic prose, the Dorleac sisters of Paris. The piece commended their family which, "after only three generations in the theater, has given France not one, but two, gifted girls." The Dorleac sisters were Francoise, then 23, and Catherine, about to turn 22, who took her mother's maiden name, Deneuve, to avoid being confused with her sister. The "soignee" Francoise was described as "mistily delicious" in one of her recent films, That Man from Rio (1964), and "sweet" Catherine was pronounced "the crushable girl in a crushing world" in one of hers, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964). Just two years later, in June 1967, Francoise perished in a car crash. By then, Catherine had added a twist or two to her pristine screen persona.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg airs on TCM on August 12 at 8pm Eastern/5pm Pacific

The Look article had mentioned that Catherine's next picture was to be Repulsion. That film, directed by Roman Polanski and released in the U.S. in October 1965, showcased Catherine as a withdrawn young woman who goes violently psychotic while staying alone in her vacationing sister's London apartment. In 1967, she would make two noteworthy films. The Young Girls of Rochefort,a lollipop-colored musical, co-starred Catherine and her sister, Francoise, as a pair of dreamy twins longing to leave their seaside town for Paris; it was directed by Jacques Demy (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg). In her second feature of that year, Luis Bunuel's surreal and erotic Belle de Jour, the film with which she is most often identified, Catherine portrayed a refined young Parisian wife with a few psychosexual kinks.

Belle de Jour airs on TCM August 13 at 2:15am Eastern/August 12 at 11:15pm Pacific

The Belle de Jour shoot was demanding. Catherine later recalled that she'd felt exposed in every way and that more of her had been shown, physically, than she had originally been led to expect. She was deeply unhappy on the set and, she remembered, "there were moments when I felt totally used." Francoise was still alive at that time and provided crucial moral support. The sisters were able to talk about her challenges of Belle de Jour, Catherine later said, "in the way you only can when you're personally close and do the same kind of work."  It might seem surprising that Catherine agreed to work with Bunuel once more when he sought her two years later for his Freudian reverie, Tristana (1970). But she had been impressed with the script and thought it important for her to work with Bunuel again - especially in his native Spain. In the end, she would count Tristana among one of her favorites of her own films.

Mississippi Mermaid (co-starringJean-Paul Belmondo, shown above)airs on TCM August 12 at 9:45am Eastern/6:45 am Pacific

In the late 1960s Francois Truffaut sent Catherine a lengthy note urging her to "say yes to Hitchcock."  During a trip to the U.S. in the fall of 1968, Catherine had met Hitchcock for lunch at the Plaza. It's likely they discussed his plans to make a film of The Short Night based on a novel of the same name as well as a non-fiction account by a double agent. Hitchcock owned the rights to both books and had traveled to Finland, where the story was set, in August 1968 to scout locations. Among those he hoped would star in the film were Sean Connery and Catherine Deneuve.She received a script from Hitchcock but the project was eventually abandoned when his health failed. Catherine lamented not having the chance to work with him but, thanks to Truffaut, she would have her moment as a Hitchcockian blonde.

In the same note in which he urged Catherine to work with Hitchcock, Truffaut also mentioned the project he and she were about to embark upon, Mississippi Mermaid (1969), the first of their two film collaborations. Mississippi Mermaid was also the last in a series known as Truffaut's "Hitchcock Cycle," the group of films he completed during the time he conducted and published his series of interviews with Alfred Hitchcock. Based on a Cornell Woolrich (Rear Window)novel, Mississippi Mermaid's storyline centers on a wealthy Reunion Island plantation owner (Jean-Paul Belmondo) and the arrival of his mail order bride (Deneuve) - who looks nothing like the picture she sent before she sailed to meet and marry him.
 
another French twist...
Catherine's wardrobe on Mississippi Mermaid was created by one of the great fashion designers of the 20th century, Yves Saint Laurent. He designed costumes for her on many films, beginning with Belle de Jour and including Jean-Pierre Melville's last film, Un Flic (1972), and Tony Scott's first feature, The Hunger (1983). The actress and the designer developed a close, lasting friendship; she wore his designs off screen as well as on and became his inspiration and muse.

The Hunger airs August 13 at 4:15am Eastern/1:15am Pacific on TCM

With a body of work spanning 50 years and including more than 100 mostly European films, Catherine Deneuve has portrayed a wide range of characters on screen, expanding her repertoire (from sweet and innocent to beautiful and aloof to strong and independent) as her career progressed. She came, almost accidentally, to film acting through her sister and was initially admired primarily (and extravagantly) for her serene and impeccable porcelain beauty. Soon enough she was recognized for the depth and sensitivity of her work and, as her reputation flourished, she was able to pick and choose her roles - with several being developed expressly for her. In 1998, Catherine was interviewed on NPR's Fresh Air. She was intrigued by a quote the host read to her, the words of film critic David Thomson: "Deneuve is a fantastic actress, her beauty is a receptacle for any imagination, perhaps the greatest cool blonde, forever hinting at intimations of depravity." She was pleased, laughed lightly and remarked, with modesty, "I would like to meet the person he's talking about."

Catherine was awarded a Golden Palm at Cannes in 2005
Catherine Deneuve, was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for her performance in Indochine (1992); she was nominated for a BAFTA for Best Actress for her performance in Belle de Jour; she was a winner, with her co-stars, of the Berlin International Film Festival's Silver Bear award for 8 Women (2002); she won two of France's Cesar awards for Best Actress - for The Last Metro (1980) and Indochine; and won the Volpi Cup prize for Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival for her performance in Place Vendome(1998). In addition, she has been honored with a multitude of special and lifetime achievement awards.

TCM's Summer Under the Stars tribute to Catherine Deneuve is much deserved - and also well timed; on October 22, she will turn 70.


TCM's Summer Under the Stars, August 12: Catherine Deneuve
(all times Eastern/Pacific)
 
6:00am/3:00am - Le Petit Poucet(2001), A fantasy/fairytale directed by Olivier Dahan

7:45am/4:45am - Repulsion(1965), directed by Roman Polanski and succinctly described by producer Robert Evans as a "really offbeat" thriller, it won the Berlin International Film Festival's Silver Bear honors as well as a directorial award for Polanski; in English

9:45am/6:45am - Mississippi Mermaid (1969), Francois Truffaut's Hitchcock-influenced mystery/thriller, with Jean-Paul Belmondo

12:00pm/9:00am - Un Flic(1972), cool and dark neo-noir directed by a master, Jean-Pierre Melville (Bob le Flambeur, Le Samourai), with Alain Delon and Richard Crenna

2:00pm/11:00am - Le Sauvage(1975), Jean-Paul Rappeneau's madcap romp, with Yves Montand, Tony Roberts and Dana Wynter

4:00pm/1:00pm - The Last Metro(1980), a wartime drama set in Nazi occupied Paris, directed by Francois Truffaut, with Gerard Depardieu; Oscar-nominated for Best Foreign Language Film and winner of 12 Cesar awards

6:15pm/3:15pm - I'm Going Home(2001), directed by Portuguese filmmaker Manoel de Oliveira; an exploration of mortality and the fourth film Oliveira made after the age of 90, with Michel Piccoli and John Malkovich; nominated for the Palme d'Or at Cannes 

8:00pm/5:00pm - The Umbrellas of Cherbourg(1964), all dialogue is sung in this innovative musical directed by Jacques Demy; winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes; nominated for five Academy Awards including Best Foreign Language Film; Grammy-nominated for its score

10:00pm/7:00pm - Tristana(1970), Luis Bunuel's sadomasochistic dream, with Fernando Rey and Franco Nero; Oscar-nominated for Best Foreign Language Film

12:00am/9:00pm - Ma Saison Preferee(1993), Andre Techine's emotional, character-driven family drama features Catherine Deneuve and Daniel Auteuil as a conflicted brother and sister; with Chiara Mastroianni (Catherine's daughter with Marcello Mastroianni); nominated for the Palme d'Or at Cannes
 
2:15am/11:15pm - Belle de Jour(1967), one of Luis Bunuel's late-career masterpieces - about a bourgeois young wife with a secret life, with Michel Piccoli; winner of the Golden Lion and Pasinetti Award at the Venice Film Festival

4:15am/1:15am - The Hunger(1983), an ultra-stylish, dark and erotic vampire tale directed by Tony Scott, with David Bowie and Susan Sarandon; Scott's feature debut and the film he made preceding his blockbuster, Top Gun (1986); in English
 

Un Flic airs on TCM August 12 at noon Eastern/9am Pacific

Notes:
Look magazine, June 1, 1965
Fresh Air on Stage and Screen, with Terry Gross (WHYY Inc., 2000)
The Guardian, Sept. 21, 2005; interview with Geoff Andrew at BFI/Southbank 
The Private Diaries of Catherine Deneuve by Catherine Deneuve (Pegasus Books, 2007)

Summer Under the Stars: Unfaithfully Rex

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When Rex Harrison came to Hollywood in 1945 to make a movie, he was 37 years old, had already been on the stage in England for 22 years and had been making films there since 1930. Orson Welles later claimed it was on his recommendation that Harrison was given his first American role, a part that Welles himself turned down, that of the King in the 1946 production of Anna and the King of Siam. Welles told his friend, director Henry Jaglom, over one of their now famous lunches, “I suggested him. Rex made pictures that only played in England, teacup comedies and things. No one in Hollywood knew who he was.” Welles had refused the role, he said, because he didn’t want to work with Irene Dunne, who had already been cast as Anna. And so, Rex Harrison made his American film debut.

Anna and the King of Siam

At the time he arrived in Hollywood, Harrison was married to his second wife, German actress Lilli Palmer. She also began making movies in the U.S. and started by co-starring with Gary Cooper in Fritz Lang’s Cloak and Daggerin 1946. Both Mr. and Mrs. Harrison starred in 1947 classics - for Rex, the first and best of his three films for Joseph L. Mankiewicz, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, with Gene Tierney; for Lilli, Robert Rosen’s Body and Soul, opposite John Garfield. Rex also starred in The Foxes of Harrow in 1947; Lilli would star in My Girl Tisa in 1948. Then came the scandal that ruined Harrison’s personal reputation and may or may not have brought him the nickname “Sexy Rexy.”

Lilli Palmer
Rex Harrison, it seems, was a ladies’ man. By 1947, he had become involved in a romance with actress Carole Landis. The affair was no secret in Hollywood and was apparently made public by columnist/radio commentator Walter Winchell. On the night of July 4, 1948, after Harrison spent the evening with her at her home, Landis consumed a lethal dose of barbiturates. Ruled a suicide, her death was naturally surrounded by a storm of hearsay and speculation. The rumor mill had it that Landis was despondent because Harrison refused to leave Lilli Palmer and/or because he was soon to depart for New York to star on Broadway in Anne of the Thousand Days. There was even some conjecture that Harrison had murdered the woman and staged the scene to look like suicide.


Carole Landis
A few months before Landis’ death, Harrison had completed production on a film for legendary writer/director Preston Sturges. It would be the one-time wunderkind’s final cinematic gem, a darkest-black comedy titled – perhaps unfortunately – Unfaithfully Yours (1948). The lurid and lingering Landis tragedy would have an impact on the fate of the film. In an attempt to distance it from the scandal, the film’s release date was held up for several months. Additionally, publicity was dialed back - and the marketing campaign changed drastically. It was labeled a murder mystery, it was touted as “six kinds of picture all rolled into one” – confusing and misleading the movie-going public.


Preston Sturges had written a Broadway hit in 1929 and trekked to Hollywood following the play’s adaptation to the screen. He penned several films for Paramount, including Easy Living (1937) and Remember the Night (1940). In 1940, he asked for and was given a chance to direct as well as write. The result was his political sendup, The Great McGinty, a break-out hit that brought Sturges an Oscar for his original screenplay. A string of sly and exhilarating classics written and directed by Preston Sturges followed, namely: The Lady Eve (1941), Sullivan’s Travels (1941), The Palm Beach Story (1942), Hail the Conquering Hero (1944) and The Miracle at Morgan’s Creek (1944). But Paramount had begun to view its genius-in-residence as next-to-impossible to deal with, and relations between the studio and the man soured. When his split from Paramount finally came, Sturges went into partnership with Howard Hughes on California Pictures Corporation for three disastrous years. Sturges and Hughes parted ways in 1947 and the writer/director soon went to work for Darryl F. Zanuck at 20th Century Fox. Zanuck was interested in a story Sturges had written years earlier titled Matrix. In the end, Matrix was dropped for lack of interest and a treatment of another early Sturges story - he called it The Symphony Story - was picked up instead and retitled…
 
Preston Sturges

Unfaithfully Yours bears most trademark Sturges elements – it moves at a dizzying pace, overflows with clever dialogue, is peopled with assorted (and well-cast) eccentrics and its plot completely confounds audience expectations. But in this case, Sturges ventured into especially dark farce…

The film opens with the return to New York of Sir Alfred de Carter (Harrison), a well-known symphony conductor, who has been in London. He is warmly welcomed by his beautiful young and doting wife, Daphne (Linda Darnell). But soon mischief is afoot. It seems that before leaving New York, Sir Alfred had asked his rich but dull brother in law (Rudy Vallee) to keep an eye on Daphne while he was away. The brother in law misinterpreted the request and took it upon himself to hire a private detective to monitor her. And now he has come to deliver the detective’s report. Sir Alfred, initially shocked and outraged at the misunderstanding, eventually manages to read the report and works himself into a frenzy of jealousy and suspicion. While conducting a concert after quarreling with his wife, Sir Alfred begins to fantasize about how to handle what he believes is her infidelity. As he conducts three orchestral pieces, he vividly imagines three different possible scenarios – each played out onscreen. The first fantasy involves murder and a frame-up, in the second Sir Alfred is noble and obliging, in the third he falls victim to his own bravado. When the concert finally comes to an end, Sir Alfred sets out to make real one of his fantasies.

Unfaithfully Yours - fantasy or reality?

Although Sturges wasn’t entirely happy with the film’s final cut (which came courtesy of Mr. Zanuck), he was pleased with the performances – Rex Harrison executes a superb turn as the temperamental artist/bungling schemer. Sturges was also particularly fond of the fantasy segments. He wrote that he tried to construct the three scenarios envisioned by the conductor “as if written and directed by Sir Alfred, who is neither a writer nor a director.” In his fantasies, the conductor imagines his own behavior “vividly” while the other characters are “marionettelike.” Sturges believed this would be “the natural result of Sir Alfred’s ability to have them say and do exactly what he wants them to say and do.”

The film’s themes are dark and, perhaps for the audience of its time, too much so for “six kinds of picture all rolled into one." Its timing in proximity to the leading man's notorious Hollywood scandal was extremely unlucky. For whatever reason or combination of reasons, Unfaithfully Yours was not a success. In his autobiographical notes Sturges reflected, “Unfaithfully Yours received much critical acclaim and lost a fortune.” That the film failed to find an audience contributed to the steep decline of his increasingly precarious career. He would write and direct only one more Hollywood film (The Beautiful Blonde from Bashful Bend in 1949) and it was a resounding flop.

My Fair Lady, with Audrey Hepburn
Rex Harrison continued to work steadily and successfully on stage, film – and TV – for the rest of his life. He gained worldwide stardom with his performance in George Cukor’s 1964 film adaptation of My Fair Lady, a long-running Broadway hit in which Harrison originated the role of Henry Higgins and for which he won a Tony Award. For transferring his Henry Higgins from stage to screen, he duly took home an Oscar for Best Actor. Knighted in 1989 at age 81, Sir Rex would, as the producer of The Circle, Harrison’s final Broadway play, put it, very nearly die “with his boots on;” his last stage appearance preceded his death, in 1990 of pancreatic cancer, by only six months.Harrison’s long Hollywood career had brought him two Oscar nominations and one win; his even longer career on Broadway brought him five Tony nominations and three awards as well as a special Drama Desk Award in 1985. He was honored with two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, one for film and one for television.

Kay Kendall

Rex Harrison would also continue to be inconstant in his private life. Sandy Sturges, Preston’s widow, recalled walking in New York with her husband and Harrison in the early 1950s. Suddenly and unexpectedly Rex walked away and left them – he’d spied a lovely young thing on the street and simply followed her. His interest in women, Mrs. Sturges recalled, was “not subtle at all.” Harrison’s marriage to Lilli Palmer continued until 1957, when the two divorced so that he could marry his lover, actress Kay Kendall, who was dying of leukemia. He married Welsh-born, Oscar-nominated, Tony-winning actress Rachel Roberts in 1962. That marriage ended in divorce many years later and, it is said, she reacted by drinking ever more heavily and by finally taking her own life. Harrison was married to the ex-Mrs. Richard Harris, Welsh actress/socialite Elizabeth Rees-Williams, for a time, and his 6th and final wife was Mercia Tinker, to whom he remained married for the rest of his life.

Rachel Roberts and Rex Harrison
Harrison has garnered much praise for his work on stage and screen, but not much admiration for his conduct out of the limelight. One of his biographers, Nicholas Wapshott (Rex Harrison, 1991) met the actor while researching his biography on British director Carol Reed. Wapshott considered Harrison a “technical genius” capable of “effortless delivery of difficult prose.” He noted that the actor didn’t make much visible effort, “he was inescapably Rex in everything - but his understanding of the text meant that he hit every note the first time.” On the other hand, the author found Harrison, in person, “a cad of the first order,” and at first hesitated to take on the biography of a man whose “black-hole egotism meant he could not appreciate the worth of others, particularly other men, and his attitude to his string of wives…and lovers was often hard and heartless.” Wapshott blamed Harrison’s involvement in the Carole Landis scandal for the fact that Unfaithfully Yours “languished for years.”
Rex Harrison and Claudette Colbert in Aren't We All

Tony-winning, Oscar-nominated actor Frank Langella admired Rex Harrison’s work extravagantly; “He was my idol. I thought him the most accomplished, technically perfect, and totally believable English actor of his time.” Langella managed to meet Harrison twice. Their first meeting occurred in the early ‘70s at a cocktail reception in the older actor’s honor. Langella encountered his idol in the foyer where he was removing his hat and coat. The young actor put out his hand and began to extend a greeting when Harrison flung both his coat and his wife’s over Langella’s arm, as if he was a servant, and made his entrance into the party. The two met again in 1984 when a friend of Langella’s was appearing in Aren’t We All on Broadway with Harrison and Claudette Colbert. Forgoing dinner with his friend and Miss Colbert (who utterly charmed him) in order to try once more to pay his respects to Harrison, Langella found him in his dressing room and finally delivered his heartfelt homage. The old actor heard him out and dismissed him with, “Thank you. Very kind. I’m afraid I can’t ask you to sit down.” Langella was not amused and would remember that his good friend, Harrison’s 5th wife, Elizabeth, told him of Rex, “He was the only man I ever knew who would send back the wine at his own dinner table.”
Rex Harrison and Preston Sturges on the set
British film critic and historian David Thomson‘s view of Harrison the actor is fairly restrained, seeing in most of his screen roles the personification of the stereotypically empty-headed aristocrat. However, Thomson allows that Unfaithfully Yours was “one of the few films that made use of his grating charm.”

Harrison is in top form in Sturges’ black-humored classic, adapting with surprising ease to the writer/director’s penchant for slapstick. Unfaithfully Yours airs on Saturday, August 31, at 3:00pm Eastern/noon Pacific, part of TCM’s 2013 Summer Under the Stars tribute to Rex Harrison.



This is my entry for the 2013 TCM Summer Under the Stars Blogathonnow in progress and hosted by Jill Blake ofhttp://sittinonabackyardfence.com/ and Michael Nazarewycz of http://scribehardonfilm.wordpress.com/. Visit their sites for more information and links to participating blogs.

Notes: 
My Lunches with Orson by Henry Jaglom and Peter Biskind (Metropolitan Books, 2013) 
Preston Sturges by Preston Sturges adapted by Sandy Sturges (Simon & Schuster, 1990) 
The New York Sun, “Unfaithfully Yours, Rex” by Nicholas Wapshott, March 8, 2008 
Dropped Names, a Memoir by Frank Langella (Harper, 2012) 
The New Biographical Dictionary of Film by David Thomson (Knopf, 2010)

Viktor und Viktoria's Darling of the Gods

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Before The Cafe, Lesser Ury, 1920s
Guest blogger Karin (aka/Whistlingypsy) of Distant Voices and Flickering Shadows is a freelance technical writer living in the Austin area. She has contributed to Reel Life in the past, treating readers to lyrical prose as well as a unique exploration of her subject in every case - from her two-part series on legendary art director Van Nest Polglase in 2010, to her entry on composer Bernard Herrmann for my Vertigo blog event early in 2012, to her contribution, "The Feminine Mystique of Mad Men," for my Mad Men blog event later that year. Karin's current fascination is Weimar-era Berlin's art, cabaret, cinema and music scene...
                                                                                      ~  The Lady Eve

Classic films offer the viewer an opportunity to glimpse, however briefly and dimly, the world in which the audience and the performer lived. Classic films can also provide an imperfect record of the psychological and sociological issues of concern to the public. For many of us, German cinema during the Weimar era remains frustratingly elusive, while art and auteur
Renate Müller performs "Castle in Spain"
 in Viktor und Viktoria
cinema rightfully have a place in the nation’s legacy, popular cinema has suffered neglect with critics and fans. Thomas Elsaessar, in Weimar Cinema And After: Germany’s Historical Imaginary, states this is due, in part, "to a bias on the part of the Weimar cultural elite for art films or American popular cinema, a scarcity of surviving examples from other genres, and a persistent myth that German cinema was incapable of producing really good comedies after Ernst Lubitsch left for Hollywood". The development of Weimar cinema coincided with the transition from silent films to sound pictures and German filmmakers excelled in making cabaret-style comedies and popular musicals. Most film fans are familiar with Viktor und Viktoria (1933) as the inspiration for not one but four remakes. The original material also acts as a small crack in the otherwise accepted perception of German cinema as a dark mirror reflecting a nation’s soul and authoritarian traits.

She Represents 
Jeanne Mammen (1927)
The film certainly reflects Weimar era sauciness in all its manifestations, but referring to the film as a spoof of Vesta Tilley, London’s famous male impersonator, is to ignore the influence of Berlin’s inclusive cabaret history. Berlin’s cabarets were home to some of Europe’s most creative and experimental individuals, encouraging a free exchange of ideas and influencing art, cinema, literature, music and philosophy. The cabaret scene brought into being an incisive and satirical world of humor and music, exploring fads and fashions, political ideologies and sexual mores in the city and Germany at large. In fact, the tension between conservative and liberal, experimental and quotidian made Berlin’s cabarets simultaneously attractive and a target to competing factions. Cabarets, most importantly, supported a tradition of male, as well as female, impersonators who fashioned stage personas meant to depict gender ambiguities, outwit censors and reflect life.

Fans of Blake Edwards’s 1983 version of the film will find many similarities in Reinhold Schünzel’s dynamic and provocative original. Susanne Lohr (Renate Müller), a young aspiring actress, is befriended by Viktor Hempel (Hermann Thimig) after both audition for but fail to get work. The pair consoles one another in a local café, Susanne sharing her aspirations to become a cabaret performer, Viktor revealing his ambition to be a serious actor. Viktor admits that he is presently working as a female impersonator, and when illness prevents him from performing his act, he persuades his new friend to perform in his place. Susanne and Viktor’s luck changes over night and the pair is launched on a European tour that eventually takes them to London. Susanne becomes the toast of society, and the object of Robert’s (Anton Walbrook, billed as Adolphe Wohlbrück) fascination.

The film rightly deserves acclaim for achieving in the early sound era what others such as Rouben Mamoulian were not. Schünzel’s use of sound and image to comic effect, and his integration of singing and dancing in the plot, foreshadowed the integrated Hollywood musical. Viktor und Viktoria (1933) is not simply a brilliant example of the early sound era musical, but a joyous exploration of the rhythm of speech and music. The entire film is in blank verse, rhyme or sprechgesang (the spoken song), in combination with carefully orchestrated blocking, camera movement and editing. The film also reflects irony and nostalgia for operetta, once a part of the cabaret legacy and denounced in 1913 as ‘the worst enemy of German theatrical art’. The more optimistic film operettas of the late Weimar era reflect a myth that luck could bring overnight prosperity. Susanne’s discovery and instant fame integrate cabaret humor and the operetta myth in a post-Weimar era film.

Georges et Georgette (1934)
During the early sound era, the practice of filming additional versions for foreign markets was common in both Europe and Hollywood. The same year Viktor und Victoria was filmed in German; Georges et Georgette (1934) was filmed for French language audiences. Anton Walbrook reprised his role as Robert, Meg Lemonnier took over the role of Susanne and Julien Carette (La Grande Illusion) appeared as Georges. In 1935, Jessie Matthews, the dancing divinity, princess personality and the girl Bette Davis called ‘England’s greatest star’ appeared in a British Gaumont-Gainsborough remake.

First A Girl (1935)
The plot of First A Girl (1935) is expanded to include a job in a dress shop for Elizabeth (Matthews), which allows for additional song and dance numbers. Viktor und Viktoria (1957) is an Agfacolor quality film and strays the farthest from the original. Erika (Susanne in the original) invents a brother as part of her "cover story", and when Erika can no longer maintain the charade, she tells Viktor she has “killed” her brother, Erik. Through a comedy of errors, Erika is arrested for the “murder”, and her beloved Jean (Robert in the original) confesses to complicity in the murder. A comparison of the double-exposure travel montage from Viktor und Viktoria to the same from First A Girl reveals the latter's faithful adaptation (the quality of the first is a bit squiffy, the dialogue is in German, but Susanne sings "Castle in Spain" in English).



Robert and Susanne get "uncomfortable"
Schünzle’s film is certainly available for gay and gender film scholarship, but in its charmingly prim manner, the premise extends few invitations. The material for Schünzel’s Viktor und Viktoria becomes a sophisticated adult comedy and adds levels of gender ambiguity, when the traditional plot of a woman dressing as a man evolves to a woman passing for a man. The film also expands the notion of pre-code films and takes the screwball comedy to levels Lubitsch and Mamoulian would not have been permitted to explore, in which feelings are present but denied or thwarted. However, contemporary audiences and non-German speaking viewers are at a disadvantage in appreciating the film’s allusions and nuanced jokes. The most skillful effort of translation can take the viewer only so far in understanding an element of humor uniquely rooted in Berlin joke-telling. In his book Berlin Cabaret, Peter Jelavich recounts an experience of a visitor to the city, “No gestures, no wry faces, no smirks: the Berliner is dry and cold-blooded when he jokes. He displays an intentionally deadpan countenance, which stands in such contrast to his words that it never fails to provoke laughter” (many cabaret performers stood absolutely still while performing). This aspect of Berlin and cabaret style humor is reflected in Robert and Susanne’s inexplicably tense manner of flirtation, which initially seems counter-intuitive to notions of joke delivery.

Viktor und Viktoria's ensemble cast
Robert’s bemused fascination quickly turns to gleeful torment after discovering Susanne’s secret and realizing the many ways he can use this against her. Although a visit to the barber and a visit to a seedy cellar cabaret play-out ironically, Susanne remains a sweet, if baffled, young woman in over her head, showing no hint of the transparent sexuality Dietrich displays in her Lola-Lola or Amy Jolly characters. This is hardly surprising given the political climate in Berlin at the time. Work on the film began, and the film's premier occurred, within month's of the Nazi accession to power. In October of 1932, Berlin’s chief of police ordered a ban on same-sex couples dancing in public. In January of 1933, the process of gleichschaltung (“the forcing into conformity”) brought artistic organizations under state control while eliminating objectionable artists from the field. The hugely popular Eldorado cabaret became the headquarters of the Sturmabteilung (SA), and in February of 1933, Hermann Goering ordered closure of similar establishments and instituted the arrest and imprisonment of gays and transvestites.

Renate Müller
In the absence of a definitive biography, Renate Müller’s life and early death have acquired legendary proportions. However, a search of available publications makes it possible to sketch a less sensational portrait of the actress’s last days. Renate Müller's skills as a singer and her knowledge of foreign languages made her the ideal actress for musical comedies. The actress made twenty-five films between 1929 and 1937, and her role in Reinhold Schünzel’s Peter der Matrose (1929) was the first of seven comedies in which she appeared for the director. Her sister, Gabriele Müller, described Renate’s screen appeal and why she captivated Weimar era audiences, “A new type of character was born in German film: after the ‘vamp’ and the ‘cute girlie’, there appeared a girl with heart who wasn’t a sweetheart, who was smart but not a bluestocking, charming yet not coy – a down-to-earth and bracingly natural girl.” Her trip to England in the summer of 1931 to film Sunshine Susie, as part of a British Gaumont-Gainsborough-Ufa film exchange, was reported widely in the cinema related press, and her personal appearances drew large crowds of fans.

Renate Müller 
in Sunshine Susie (1931)
Her girl next-door persona and her wide-ranging popularity would prove to have a darker responsibility once the Nazis reached power. She is said to have been brought to the attention of propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, who saw in the actress a Hollywood style star, and one who could fill the void left by Marlene Dietrich after she emigrated from Germany. She continued to play coquettish and self-confident females, however, in 1937 when UFA became "the most horizontally and vertically intergrated German film conglomerate under the Nazis"; she found her career increasingly sidelined and she was forced to take a role in Togger (1937), a blatant propaganda film. In May of the same year, People Of The Studios, reported “O.E. Lubitz, once producer-manager for Bavaria and Atlantia films, has formed a company with Styria-Film of Vienna, with offices in Berlin. Renate Müller, one-time English star takes the lead in a film version of the Strauss operetta, Die Fledermaus", in fact, the role went to another actress. The mystery surrounding Renate Müller’s death on October 7, 1937, officially attributed to a cerebral hemorrhage, lead to increasingly wilder speculation including a rumored suicide.

A musical number from Liebling Der Götter
Phil M. Daly reported on May 20, 1947 in his column, Along The Rialto (The Film Daily), director Henry Wilcox and his wife, actress Anna Neagle, would produce a film “based on the life and exploits of Renate Müller”. The reporter proceeded to refer to the actress as a “Nazi spy, film actress and musical comedy star” and the proposed film as a “spy thriller”. The actress's biography would eventually receive the cinematic treatment, over protests of surviving family members, in Liebling Der Götter/Darling of The Gods (1957). Tim Bergfelder in International Adventures: German Popular Cinema and European Co-Production describes the film's grim opening, “Even audiences previously unfamiliar with Müller’s fate would have known not to expect a happy ending after an introductory, and rather didactic, caption at the beginning of the film informed them that the narrative would 'portray the life and death of an artist in unfree times'. Contemporary viewers hoping to find a dramatic re-creation of the actress’s life will undoubtedly be disappointed (a bit a trivia, Peter Van Eyck, who plays Renate’s love interest in the film, is said to have been romantically involved with Jean Ross).

I would like to thank Lady Eve for her gracious invitation to contribute to her always elegant blog. I would also like to acknowledge the invaluable help provided by DocTom (Thomas) in understanding certain nuances of the German language.

Reference Material: Berlin Cabaret, Peter Jelavich; Film and the German Left in the Weimar Republic: from Caligari to Kuhle Wampe, Bruce Murray; International Adventures: German Popular Cinema and European Co-Production, Tim Bergfelder; The Film Daily, December, 1930, March 1932, May 1947; Weimar Cinema And After: Germany’s Historical Imaginary, Thomas Elsaessar; World Film News and Television Progress: People Of The Studios, May 1937.
 
Click here for all of Karin's contributions to Reel Life.

Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me): My Mortal Enemy by Willa Cather

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Bette Davis, Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Davis
The Metzinger Sisters of Silver Scenes are hosting a classic film event,The Great Imaginary Film Blogathon - and this is my entry. Click here for links to participating blogs.

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In 1926, Pulitzer Prize-winning author Willa Cather published her eighth novel, a novella, really, titled My Mortal Enemy. Among the writer's many poetic works of prose fiction, the book earned a reputation for both its lean structure and dramatic plot. When I read it for the first time, I couldn't help but imagine what a powerful film My Mortal Enemy might be. Yet I also knew that, because of Cather's profound unhappiness with the film version of A Lost Lady (1934, starring Barbara Stanwyck), she hadn't allowed her other works to be adapted in her lifetime and that at the time of her death in 1947, the terms of her will dictated a ban on future film adaptations. Mostly because I saw in My Mortal Enemy's central character, Myra Driscoll Henshawe, a role that would provide a golden opportunity for the right actress to deliver a blistering tour de force performance, I despaired that it would never be dramatized.

The tale unfolds from the point of view of its narrator, a young Midwestern woman named Nellie, who grew up enchanted by the local legend of a great romance that had taken place not too many years before she was born. Myra Driscoll had been the pampered only heir of her great-uncle, the wealthiest man in town. Though well-educated and handsome, Oswald Henshawe was of more humble origins, and the love that developed between the two was unacceptable to Myra's guardian. Myra threw away the certain inheritance of most of her great-uncle's enormous fortune when she defied him and eloped with Oswald. For young Nellie, Myra and Oswald's "runaway marriage" was "the most interesting, indeed the only interesting" story among those told on "holidays or at family dinners."

Myra had been taken in by her great-uncle when she was orphaned in childhood. He took her traveling with him to Europe, had her portrait painted by an esteemed painter, lavished her with clothing and jewelry as well as a riding horse and "a Steinway piano." She was spirited and witty and pretty and her guardian took pride in her. Though she enjoyed a close, affectionate relationship with her uncle, she was also proud and willful. When he solemnly promised he would "cut her off without a penny" if she married Oswald, she didn't react immediately. Some months later, though, Myra went out on a sleigh-ride with friends and never returned. She and Oswald met at a pre-arranged time and place, were married with his parents and her friends on hand and departed in the wee hours on an express train.

Drawing by Edward Hopper

The Myra we glimpse through Nellie's reminiscences of the stories she's been told all her life is  passionate, impulsive, determined and full of self-confidence. The Myra we encounter when Nellie meets her in person is much older and very worldly. Myra and Oswald return to the small town 25 years after their elopement and Nellie, now 15, is finally introduced to the couple she has idealized as storybook lovers. She meets Myra first and is both bewitched and intimidated by the still-handsome but heavier-than-expected middle-aged woman. Myra's "charming, fluent voice, her clear light enunciation" bewilders Nellie, who also notes that her "sarcasm was so quick, so fine at the point - it was like being touched by a metal so cold that one doesn't know whether one is burned or chilled." Oswald is less imposing though also charismatic, and Nellie is captivated by his "dark and soft" eyes, shaped "exactly like half-moons." She observes "something about him that suggested personal bravery, magnanimity, and a fine, generous way of doing things." Nellie was more comfortable with Oswald than Myra, "because he did not frighten one so much." By the time the Henshawes leave days later, it has been decided that Nellie and her aunt will spend the Christmas holidays in New York and stay at a hotel near Oswald and Myra's apartment on Madison Square.

Madison Square painted by Paul Cornoyer, circa 1900

Once in New York, Nellie falls instantly in love with the couple's apartment in a brownstone on the north side of the Square. She enthusiastically takes in every detail - including long velvet curtains "lined with that rich cream-colour that lies under the blue skin of ripe figs." She is dazzled at the celebrity-studded New Years' Eve party the Henshawe's host, and enthralled when an opera star sings an aria from Bellini's Norma to piano accompaniment. But she also observes first-hand a darker side to the Henshawe marriage.  After spending a pleasant day with Myra in Central Park, Nellie notices in her friend what seems an "insane ambition" when the woman offhandedly reveals her deep disappointment that her lifestyle isn't at all grand enough to suit her. Then, finally, Nellie walks in on the pair in the midst of a ferocious argument. Myra has found a key on Oswald's key-ring that he cannot or will not explain to her satisfaction. Already, Nellie is aware that a young woman of Oswald's acquaintance has given him a gift of topaz cufflinks and that, to avoid Myra's jealous wrath, he had asked her aunt to pretend they were a Christmas present from her. As Nellie and her aunt leave New York, Myra makes sure to tell them that she knows the cufflinks were not a gift from the aunt, "I was sure to find out, I always do," she says. Nellie will not see the Henshawes for another ten years and when she does encounter them again, it comes as a complete surprise.

At 25, Nellie ventures, without much conviction, to a West Coast city (reminiscent of Los Angeles then) to teach. She takes rooms in an apartment-hotel and once there finds that the Henshawes are living in the same building. Their circumstances are much reduced and Myra, now a wheelchair-bound invalid, is dying. Oswald, who holds a low-paying job with the city while carefully tending to his wife's needs, looks far older than his years. Myra appears to Nellie "strong and broken, generous and tyrannical, a witty and rather wicked old woman." Those traits the younger woman had admired and disliked have become ever more distilled.

As death approaches, Myra grows more demanding and difficult, as does her dark resentment of Oswald. She is openly suspicious of him and seems to blame him for her every discomfort and complaint. On one particularly bad night she laments that she must "die like this, alone with my mortal enemy..." Nellie, chilled as she listens to these bitter words, reflects that "...violent natures like hers sometimes turn against themselves..." 


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I’ve envisioned many actresses in the role of Myra Henshawe.

A rich, multifaceted character like Myra would have tantalized Miss Bette Davis during her heyday. With William Wyler in the director’s chair, Davis had turned in three outstanding performances – in Jezebel (1938), The Letter (1940) and The Little Foxes (1941), all of them earning Best Actress Oscar nominations for her, and Jezebel bringing the gold statuette. And all three characters possessed traits in common with Myra – spoiled, impetuous Julie, manipulative Leslie Crosbie and fierce Regina Giddens. So, with Wyler directing Davis and an evocative score by Max Steiner, My Mortal Enemy could easily have been another stellar Warner Bros. release during Hollywood’s Golden Age. While Warners might’ve been inclined to put George Brent or Herbert Marshall in the role of Oswald, the studio’s best bet would’ve been Paul Henreid. It seems to me, though, that another actor, someone like Lew Ayres, would've been a better fit.

I’ve also imagined My Mortal Enemy as a Technicolor production from the 1950s starring Deborah Kerr and Gregory Peck. Kerr’s lofty poise and ability to convey tumultuous emotions (Black Narcissus, From Here to Eternity, The Innocents)would've made for an interesting take on Myra, who was as haughty as she was passionate. Gregory Peck would have had no trouble portraying gentle, magnetically attractive Oswald. A good pick to direct might’ve been John Huston, who so often and successfully adapted literary gems (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Moby Dick). Huston also devised the vivid color concept of Moulin Rouge (1952) and directed both Kerr and Peck in popular films of the 1950s.

In the late 1960s, My Mortal Enemy could’ve provided a high profile vehicle as well as a solid follow-up to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The characters were within their range, but Liz & Dick's  tabloid notoriety and worldwide superstardom at the time might well have overpowered the actual characters and story. Perhaps with Mike Nichols, who directed Virginia Woolf, at the helm, My Mortal Enemy could’ve been one of those memorable transitional films that bridged the shift from the studio era to the age of “easy riders and raging bulls.”
Meryl Streep, Jeremy Irons, The French Lieutenant's Woman

Meryl Streep was well established by the 1980s, and a complex and meaty role like Myra would’ve seemed tailor-made for her remarkable talents. Teaming her with Jeremy Irons, her co-star in The French Lieutenant’s Woman (1981), would’ve worked well. On the other hand, there’s the superb but relatively underrated Judy Davis, who emerged with My Brilliant Career (1979) and A Passage to India (1984), earning a Best Actress Oscar nomination for the latter. Davis possesses, along with an ability to express the deep anguish of a divided soul, the vivacity and sharp humor integral to Myra’s personality. I would pair Davis with William Hurt and put them under the direction of Martin Scorsese, who later rendered a moving and meticulous adaptation of Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence (1993).

By the early 1990s, adaptations of Willa Cather’s fiction for television had begun to surface. Perhaps the ban on “film” adaptations did not, technically, apply to broadcast media. A PBS production of O Pioneers!, starring Mary McDonnell, appeared in 1991 and a Hallmark Hall of Fame adaptation of the same novel appeared in 1992, starring Jessica Lange. In 1995, the USA Network aired a TV-movie version of My Ántonia, the second novel in Cather’s Prairie Trilogy (after Pioneers), starring Jason Robards and Eva Marie Saint. Finally, in 2001, the third book in the trilogy, The Song of the Lark, was adapted for PBS, starring Maximilian Schell and Alison Elliot.

Following the death of the last living executor of Willa Cather’s estate, Charles Cather, in 2011, The Cather Trust dropped the prohibition contained in her will against the publication of her letters and the adaptation of her fiction to film. In April of this year Knopf published The Selected Letters of Willa Cather. A dramatization of My Mortal Enemy, it seems, could actually come to pass. Cate Blanchett, now in her early 40s, is still young as well as old enough for the plum role of Myra. But the possibilities are endless - and fascinating.

Cate Blanchett by David Downton

TCM Presents Five Tyrone Power Films in Primetime and Late Night

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Nightmare Alley to Make Its TCM Premiere

Nightmare Alley

Tyrone Power was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood from the late 1930s through the late 1950s and he was 20th Century Fox'smost famous star until Marilyn Monroe came along. Turner Classic Movies hasn't traditionally aired as many films of Fox's great stars as those from other studios - this has been about film rights more than anything else. Since TCM entered into an exclusive licensing deal with Fox, though, that has begun to change.


In August 2012, Tyrone Power was honored for the first time with a day filled with his films as part of TCM's annual Summer Under the Stars event. Soon after, more of Power's films began appearing on the channel than in the past, but Wednesday evening, October 16, marks the first time since then that TCM's primetime schedule and late night hours are being devoted to his movies.  Among the films to be aired are two that will be making their TCM debuts: Rawhide (1951), a Western, and Nightmare Alley (1947), a film noir that contains what most consider Power's best dramatic performance.

The Schedule (all times Eastern/Pacific):

8:00pm/5:00pm  Rawhide (1951), co-starring Susan Hayward, directed by Henry Hathaway

9:45pm/6:45pm  Nightmare Alley (1947), co-starring Joan Blondell, directed by Edmund Goulding

11:45pm/8:45pm  The Mark of Zorro (1940), co-starring Basil Rathbone and Linda Darnell, directed by Rouben Mamoulian

1:30am/10:30pm  The Black Swan (1942), co-starring Maureen O'Hara, George Sanders, Thomas Mitchell and Anthony Quinn, directed by Henry King

3:00am/midnight  Marie Antoinette (1938), co-starring Norma Shearer, directed by W.S. Van Dyke 


The Black Swan


Hitchcock Week...and more...at the San Francisco Symphony

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Just over two years ago I attended – and was astounded by - “Casablanca with the San Francisco Symphony” at Davies Hall. Conductor Michael Francis led the orchestra in accompanying the beyond-iconic classic with Max Steiner’s unforgettable score. What an experience it was (click here for my reaction)...

Now the symphony is about to present a Halloween season series, Hitchcock Week, spotlighting several of the Master’s films with live musical accompaniment. The piècede résistance will be “World Premiere: Vertigo” on Friday, November 1, with the symphony accompanying Hitchcock’s great masterpiece with Bernard Herrmann’s brilliant, haunting and, some would say, peerless score. 


Bay Area film lovers, get thee to a box office, online or otherwise! Hitchcock Week is about to begin… 

Wednesday, October 30, 8pm, Psycho, with Joshua Gersen conducting Herrmann’s legendary score 

Thursday, October 31, 7:30pm, The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog, live organ music will accompany Hitchcock’s early silent thriller on Halloween night
Kim Novak and James Stewart, Vertigo (1958)
Friday, November 1, 8pm, Vertigo -Vertigo accompanied by the San Francisco Symphony…what more is there to say? 

Saturday, November 2, 8pm, Hitchcock! Greatest Hits, clips from several Hitchcock classics – To Catch a Thief, Strangers on a Train, Dial M for Murder, North by Northwest– to be hosted by Eva Marie Saint, with Joshua Gersen conducting

Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint in North by Northwest (1959)

The symphony has scheduled more classic films with orchestral accompaniment through the rest of its 2013/2014 season: 

Friday and Saturday, December 6 and 7, 7:30pm, Singin’ in the Rain 

Saturday, February 15, 8pm, A Night at the Oscars will feature celebrated scenes and scores from memorable films 

Saturday, April 12, 8pm, Charlie Chaplin's City Lights 

Saturday, May 31 at 8pm and Sunday, June 1 at 4pm, Fantasia 

A “Compose Your Own Film Series” package offers savings to those who buy tickets to three or more of these film concerts: Click here to go to the symphony website or call (415)864-6000.

Fantasia (1940)

Three (Mesmerizing) Hitchcock Villains Revisited on Halloween

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Today (and today only) our friend Lara of Backlots is hosting a one day Hitchcock Halloween blogathon and for the occasion I'm resurrecting an old favorite from the Reel Life archives.

In January 2011 the Classic Movie Blog Association hosted a Hitchcock blogathon and I decided rather than blog about a particular film, I'd take another approach. The result was an exploration of three legendary Hitchcock killers and the actors who portrayed them: Joseph Cotten's Uncle Charlie in Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Robert Walker's Bruno Anthony in Strangers on a Train (1951) and Anthony Perkins's Norman Bates in Psycho (1960). I was and still am fascinated by the complex characters of Uncle Charlie, Bruno and Norman - and with the masterful performances of the three daring actors who took their turns as what film critic/historian David Thomson calls Hitchcock's "smiling psychopaths."

Click here to read Three Classic Hitchcock Killers.

For links to Lara's blog and and more on Hitchcock Halloween, click here.


What a Character: Gladys Cooper

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The What a Character! blogathon is in progress now, hosted by Once Upon a Screen, Outspoken and Freckled and Paula's Cinema Club. Click here for more information and links to participating blogs. My entry for the event follows...

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Young Gladys
She was a beautiful child, wide-eyed and wistful, who began modeling at age six; during World War I she was the favorite 'picture postcard' pin-up of British troops; she went on tour in a musical at age 17 and by the time she neared 40 she was a star of the London stage. In 1940, at age 51, she began working as a character actress in Hollywood and would, over the course of the next three decades, earn three Oscar nominations for Best Supporting Actress. Her name was Gladys Cooper and she is best remembered for her performance as Bette Davis's cruel, steel-willed mother, Mrs. Vale, in Now, Voyager...


Gladys Cooper and Alfred Hitchcock launched their careers in Hollywood at the same time on the same film - Rebecca (1940). Cooper's was the small role of a tweedy aristocrat, the sister of Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier), who offered warmth and kindness to the beleaguered second Mrs. de Winter (Joan Fontaine). Rebecca, Selznick Pictures' follow up to Gone with the Wind, took the year's Best Picture Oscar and put Cooper (not to mention Hitchcock, Fontaine and Olivier) on the Hollywood map. Her obvious talent and commanding presence brought two less sympathetic roles next: Dennis Morgan's disapproving socialite mother in Kitty Foyle (1940) and the spurned wife of Laurence Olivier in That Hamilton
Gladys Cooper and Frank Morgan in Green Dolphin Street
Woman
(1941). Her facility in these roles paved the way for Cooper to be cast as the villain in Now, Voyager. She earned her first Oscar nomination in 1942 for her portrayal of this archetypal devouring mother. The following year she earned her second nomination as Sister Marie Therese, a severe and punishing nun in The Song of Bernadette (1943).


Typecast? Yes and no. Cooper was fortunate (and versatile) enough to be cast in sympathetic roles - in Mr. Lucky (1943), The White Cliffs of Dover (1944), The Valley of Decision (1945), Green Dolphin Street (1947) and other popular films - but she was as often cast as uppercrust autocrats. In 1947, she brought one of her most memorable wealthy dowagers to the screen as Mrs. Hamilton in the holiday fantasy The Bishop's Wife. This time, though, there was a twist; the imperious widow's hardened heartwas melted by no less an angel than Cary Grant - giving Cooper the rare chance to render both harsh and tender facets of her character.

Gladys Cooper and Cary Grant, The Bishop's Wife
The 1950s brought the actress far more work on television that in films, but she would add one more notable ill-tempered and overbearing mother to her gallery of silver screen harridans. Maude Railton-Bell, her role in Delbert Mann's Separate Tables (1958), doesn't command the wealth or position of Mrs. Vale of the "Boston Vales," but she does maintain the same kind of suffocating stranglehold on her dowdy spinster daughter (Deborah Kerr).

Gladys Cooper's credits during TV's early, golden days are impressive. She appeared on two legendary drama anthologies, The Alcoa Hour and Playhouse 90; she was featured on both Alfred Hitchcock Presents and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour; she guested on The Ann Sothern Show, Naked City, The Outer Limits, Burkes Law, Ben Casey, The Girl From U.N.C.L.E. (!) and was nominated for a
The Rogues
1964 primetime Emmy for The Rogues, a crime caper series in which she
co-starred with Charles Boyer, David Niven, Gig Young and Robert Coote. Most often talked about among her many TV performances, though, are her appearances on the venerable series, TheTwilight Zone. Cooper first appeared in a haunting 1962 episode entitled "Nothing in the Dark," in which she portrayed an elderly woman utterly terrified of death (personified by fledgling actor Robert Redford). Her second guest spot came the following year when she played one of several elderly travelers who have booked "Passage on the Lady Anne." Finally, later in 1963, came "Night Call," directed by Jacques Tourneur, in which she starred solo as an elderly woman who lives alone and begins to receive unnerving, anonymous phone calls.

Now in her mid-70s, Gladys Cooper still had a last good film or two ahead of her. She was a member of John Huston's illustrious cast in The List of Adrian Messenger (1963) and earned her third and final Academy Award nomination for her performance as Mrs. Higgins, mother of Henry (Rex Harrison), in the Oscar-winning musical, My Fair Lady (1964).

And that's not all. Before she embarked on her Hollywood career, Cooper had starred on Broadway several times. She returned to the New York stage in her late career and earned Tony nominations in her final two roles. She was nominated for Best Actress in a Play in 1956 for her performance in The Chalk Garden and again in 1962 for her performance in A Passage to India (in a role that would bring an Oscar to Peggy Ashcroft 20+ years later).

Gladys Cooper (center) in a 1971 revival of The Chalk Garden

At last, in 1967, as she approached 80, Gladys Cooper was named a Dame of the British Empire. Her life in the public eye had begun because of the great beauty with which she was naturally endowed; she was long considered the most beautiful woman in England. But Cooper was blessed with more than looks, she had striking talent and presence and profound devotion to her craft. The blush of youthful beauty would, as it always does, fade, but her power as an actress only matured and deepened through the years. Dame Gladys Cooper had been about to embark on a Canadian tour with a revival of The Chalk Garden in 1971 when she was stricken with pneumonia and died.

Bette Davis was set to tape a guest appearance on The Dick Cavett Show when she learned of Gladys Cooper's death; she shared her thoughts during the interview:
 

Fashion in Film Blogathon: Shanghai Express (1932)

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Clive Brook and Marlene Dietrich

Between 1930 and 1935, Josef von Sternberg filmed six wondrous and surreal flights of imagination for Paramount starring Marlene Dietrich with costumes by Travis Banton. The director and Dietrich had already made their first film together, The Blue Angel (1930), for UFA in Germany and, on the heels of that film's sensational premiere in Berlin, departed for Hollywood. Von Sternberg, who was born in Austria but mostly raised in America, had worked previously with Banton in the U.S. on Underworld (1927), a groundbreaking silent crime drama.


Evelyn Brent as Feathers McCoy in Underworld
The first of the six Paramount productions was Morocco (1930), the film that made a star of Dietrich. It brought Academy Award nominations to von Sternberg, cinematographer Lee Garmes, art director Hans Dreier - and for Marlene Dietrich her one and only Best Actress nod. Morocco also introduced elements and themes that would recur in Josef von Sternberg's future Dietrich films: an enigmatic siren, besotted men, distant locales, misleading appearances, frustrated passion and the redemptive power of love.

Marlene Dietrich and Gary Cooper, Morocco

Shanghai Express (1932), the third of the collaborations with Dietrich and Banton, was, according to its director, "loosely based on a single page by Harry Hervey." Hervey actually provided more pages than that andfrom those pages Jules Furthman crafted a clever script. Von Sternberg constructed a China made of "papier-mache" and, borrowing a locomotive and railway cars from the Santa Fe Railroad, set the scene for the tale of a train hijacked en route from Peking to Shanghai by Chinese revolutionaries.

imagining China, Shanghai Express

Crowded on board with a clutter of cargo is a disparate group of passengers, several of whom harbor secrets. Among these travelers is dry-as-dust British military officer Donald ‘Doc’ Harvey (Clive Brook). Early in the journey he encounters the great lost love of his life, Magdalen, now known as “Shanghai Lily” and an infamous ‘coaster’ living by her wiles – played to the hilt by Marlene Dietrich at her most ravishing. As the trip unfolds and the train makes its way down the exotic and dangerous coast of China, Doc and Lily wrestle with reignited desire for each other. The hijacking triggers a crisis in their reunion.

Dietrich first appears onscreen more blonde than ever before, veiled and swathed in crepe and feathers, wearing crystal beads and kid gloves, carrying an Art Deco handbag. She is the quintessential femme fatale.Sleek and mysterious, Lily’s cynicism and insolence are tempered by her profound femininity. Dietrich skirts the edges of parody as the soft-spoken, worldly-wise heartbreaker. Brook is mostly sulky and long-suffering in his role; what attracts such a sensual woman to the repressed doctor is neither easy nor difficult to fathom.

veil, feathers, crystal, kidskin

This ensemble was concocted, according to Dietrich’s daughter Maria Riva, by her mother and Travis Banton. She writes of Dietrich going to the studio and running into Banton’s private office shouting, “Feathers! Travis - feathers! What do you think…Black feathers! Now, what bird has black feathers that will photograph?” The black-green tail feathers of Mexican fighting cocks were eventually chosen. Selecting the proper veil fabric took as long. Riva reports that when Dietrich finally held up a swatch of “black 41” with its horizontal lines, “Travis let out a wild whoop.” Finally, von Sternberg came to take a look at the completed outfit. There had been concern about his reaction – the elaborate costume would be very difficult to photograph. In German he said to Dietrich, “If you believe I am skilled enough to know how to photograph this, then all I can offer you is – to do the impossible.” In English he said to Banton, “A superb execution of an impossible design, I congratulate you all.”  After the director left, Banton broke out a bottle of champagne.

fur, feathers and lace

David Chierichetti has written that Travis Banton worked to give Dietrich, with her perfect posture and slender figure, a softened quality. "Her clothes would usually be fussier than any others he designed, with drapings of fabric and much use of fur and velvet that would be unflattering to a heavier figure." Banton understood that few but Dietrich couldsuccessfully wear a busy mix of textures and patterns.
 
maribou

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Cinematic virtuoso and visionary Josef von Sternberg didn't hesitate to claim that he not only directed his films but was also responsible for every facet of every one of them, from lighting and photography to set design, costuming and, sometimes, music. Though the director freely admitted that Lee Garmes excelled behind the camera, he also maintained that Garmes did exactly as he was told, "to the extent that I would always be beside the camera. No picture of mine has been independently photographed." Dietrich, for her part, supported these assertions. As for costumes, von Sternberg's involvement in designing Dietrich's wardrobe was, as David Chierichetti has noted, "as hard a question to answer as how much he photographed the films."What is evident in the films von Sternberg made for Paramount with Dietrich and Banton is that costume was as much an element of narrative and theme as every other meticulously designed visual and aural detail.

Shanghai Lily's introduction - her attire and bearing suggest different possibilities: seasoned seductress, dark angel and more.
Lily is regally bundled in fur when she toys with her former lover. Teasing, she puts his military cap on her own head - at a jaunty angle. This is a woman who knows how to take command.

By the time Dietrich utters the line, "Shanghai Lily has reformed," Magdalen has begun to resurface.
In the final scene, Dietrich is again bedecked in Shanghai Lily's black-feathered vamp ensemble - but Magdalen can be seen and heard in her expression, her voice and her words. Doc, who she now calls by his given name, Donald, surrenders to her completely. She tosses away his riding crop and glove as they embrace.

Josef von Sternberg, in a 1966 interview with Oscar-winning film preservationist Kevin Brownlow, acknowledged that he had no interest in ‘authenticity’, “…on the contrary, the illusion of reality is what I look for, not reality itself.” Of the six von Sternberg/Dietrich/Banton films, film critic/historian David Thomson has written, “They are sublime, radiant and utterly undated, where earnestness, noble intentions, showing real life with pained sincerity (all plausible in the difficult times of the 1930s), have perished by the wayside.”

Shanghai Express was the most financially successful of the six Paramount productions though its critical reception was mixed. Von Sternberg was flattered when novelist/philosopher Ayn Rand told him that the film had impressed her as other films rarely had. Naturally he asked what it was that captivated her so. He remembered, with some irony, that she told him it was “the way the wind blows through the fur-piece around Marlene’s shoulder when she sits on the back platform of the train.”



Shanghai Express was Oscar-nominated for Best Picture, Josef von Sternberg was nominated for Best Director and Lee Garmes won the Academy Award for Best Cinematography.

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Travis Banton was Paramount's Chief Designer from 1929 until 1938. Before coming to Hollywood to design Leatrice Joy’s costumes for The Dressmaker of Paris (1924), he worked at various design houses including his own in New York. His reputation got a major boost in 1920 when he designed Mary Pickford’s wedding dress for her marriage to Douglas Fairbanks.

Mary Pickford in wedding gown, 1920
Banton’s designs were known for their fashionable cuts (frequently on the bias, his specialty), luxurious fabrics, and beads, feathers, lace, fur and other ornamentation. His designs embodied the “Paramount Look” of the 1930s. He never took home a costume design Oscar, no doubt because the award did not exist until 1948, after the better part of his film career was over. Leaving Paramount, Banton went on to work for Fox on films like The Mark of Zorro (1940), Blood and Sand (1941) and A Yank in the R.A.F. (1941). He designed gowns on Columbia’s Cover Girl (1944) and for Universal’s Smash-Up: The Story of a Woman (1947). One of his late film assignments was designing gowns for Joan Fontaine in the haunting Max Ophuls drama Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948).The designer is also credited with mentoring his Paramount assistant Edith Head, who became the best known and most Oscar-winning costume designer in Hollywood history.



Rita Hayworth, Cover Girl (1944)
 

Banton’s eventual decline has been attributed to overwork and overindulgence. “He was a genius. Boy, did he drink! That’s what ruined him…” said Louise Brooks, a woman who knew firsthand about drinking and ruination. Evelyn Brent, the first actress to work on a von Sternberg/Banton film, recalled, “He was the kind of designer who read the script and would find out who was going to play the part, and worked out the clothes that way.” The feather and velvet hat he designed for her in Underworld started a fashion trend. 

Maria Riva knew Banton when he designed for the Dietrich/von Sternberg films. Of him she said that he “had the Ronald Colman look long before Ronald Colman had a look” – cashmere blazer, white flannels, paisley ascot and silk shirt with French cuffs. Dietrich’s long-time photographer John Engstead recalled that the actress didn’t listen to many but would always take advice from von Sternberg and Banton. David Chierichetti has written that it was his work for Dietrich that made Banton’s designs immortal. And costume designer Walter Plunkett (Gone with the Wind,An American in Paris) remembered, “The rest of us always watched Banton because he was always ahead of the fashion trend.” In fact, Banton's use of the strapless bodice pre-dated by four years Christian Dior'scelebrated use of it as part of his "New Look" of the late 1940s.
 
Travis Banton and Marlene Dietrich

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Marlene Dietrich forever attributed her initial success in film to Josef von Sternberg, insisting "I was nothing but pliable material on the infinitely rich palette of his ideas and imaginative faculties." She learned everything about filmmaking, most especially lighting and photography, from him. The director would be unusually modest when it came to taking credit for 'inventing' Marlene Dietrich. "I did not endow her with a personality that was not her own...I gave her nothing she did not already have. What I did was to dramatize her attributes and make them visible for all to see."

The Paramount films Dietrich made with von Sternberg and Travis Banton were Morocco, Dishonored (1931), Shanghai Express, Blonde Venus (1932), The Scarlet Empress (1934) and The Devil is a Woman (1935). She and von Sternberg parted ways afterward. When her career foundered he advised her to make Destry Rides Again with James Stewart for Universal in 1939; it was a hit and revived her reputation. She went on to reinvent herself again and again.

Dietrich would work with Travis Banton on two more Paramount films, Frank Borzage's Desire (1936) and Ernst Lubitsch's Angel (1937). With or without von Sternberg's input, Banton's gowns for the great star were breathtaking.

Marlene Dietrich in scenes from all six films directed by Josef von Sternberg with costume design by Travis Banton


This post is my entry in The Hollywood Revue's Fashion in Film Blogathon...click herefor more information and links to participating blogs.

 Notes:
Fun in a Chinese Laundry by Josef von Sternberg, MacMillan Co. (1965)
Marlene Dietrich by Maria Riva, Alfred A. Knopf (1993)
Hollywood Costume Design by David Chierichetti, Harmony Books (1976)
The Parade's Gone By by Kevin Brownlow, Bonanza Books (1968)
People Will Talk by John Kobal, Alfred A. Knopf (1985)
The Big Screen: The History of Hollywood by David Thomson, Farrar Strauss and Giroux (2012)   

Remembering JFK

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Personal Memories of John F. Kennedy

At 43, he was the youngest man to be elected and the only Catholic President of the United States. His youth and religion were issues in 1960 when he won the office by quite a bit less than a landslide. After his assassination in 1963, at age 46, those issues became irrelevant - and 64% of those polled at the time claimed to have voted for him when he was elected, though his margin of victory was just over 50%.

Yes, John F. Kennedy was charismatic and handsome, but as important were his intelligence and cool head, major assets as he was drawn into intense Cold War world politics during his three years in office.

I was very young then. I remember reading in My Weekly Reader, a newspaper for grammar-schoolers, about him and other Democratic candidates in an article on presidential primaries. Little did I know that his candidacy would actually make primaries relevant to election politics. Later, when he’d won the nomination and was campaigning in Southern California, my parents took us to Lindbergh Field, San Diego’s airport, where Kennedy was to land and say a few words before delivering a major speech downtown. Dad had gotten a pass of some sort through political contacts that gave us admittance to the area on the tarmac where Kennedy would arrive. The enthusiastic airport audience was contained within a small fenced area where we awaited the candidate. Kennedy landed in a private plane and spoke briefly from a raised podium nearby. Then he began shaking hands with the crowd. I’d already moved from the back of the crowd, where my family was standing, to the front so I could hear better and get a good look. As the handshaking began, I climbed on top of a fallen papier mache donkey in front of the podium and reached for his hand. Success! I was thrilled. I’d been captivated by his eloquent words and magnetic presence. Now I’d shaken his hand.



Two months later he was elected. His iconic inaugural address and the grand inaugural ball (partly orchestrated by Frank Sinatra) followed in January. Soon came the Bay of Pigs fiasco, for which Kennedy took full responsibility – while learning just how much to trust the CIA and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. There was a triumphant trip to Paris with Jackie – and it seemed the U.S. had at last attained a stature in the world that, until then, had seemed the sole province of Europe. The Peace Corps was established and ‘physical fitness’ (the 50-mile hike!) was promoted. Kennedy’s frequent televised press conferences and speeches proved him to be the true ‘great communicator’ among modern American presidents. He spoke out and proposed a bill on civil rights, he signed the first limited nuclear test ban treaty with the Soviet Union and the UK…


And then he was gone.

It was the morning of November 22, 1963, sometime between 10:00 and 11:00am, Pacific Standard Time. I was in the language lab which was in the school's library building. I began to hear what sounded like a radio or TV at loud volume coming from the library. I wondered what was going on. My next class was gym and while I was changing clothes I began to hear rumors that shots had been fired at President Kennedy. I knew that someone had tried to shoot Harry Truman when he was in office and assumed this was the same kind of thing – an attempt. It was basketball season and we girls were on the court when the school principal’s voice suddenly came over the public address system and announced that President Kennedy was dead. My best friend was in the class with me and I remember that we sat on the court, hugging each other and sobbing.

That night, mother didn’t feel like cooking, so we went to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner. It was packed with families like ours. Apparently a lot of other mothers didn’t feel like cooking that night either. The eerie thing was that as we sat there in that restaurant full of people, no one spoke, not anyone at any table. The room was completely silent and it stayed silent.

My brother and I were glued to the TV through the rest of the weekend and, on Sunday morning, watched together in disbelief as Lee Harvey Oswald was shot and killed while in police custody. Then, on Monday, there was no school – it was the day of the President’s state funeral – and with it came all those never to be forgotten images…a widow heavily draped in black, heads of state from all over the world walking in the street with the family behind the coffin-bearing caisson, a riderless horse, the doleful sound of the funeral march as it played on and on, a little boy saluting his father's casket.


As I've watched some of the 50th anniversary specials about JFK's life, presidency and death this past week and mulled over my own memories and all that has transpired since, I've realized that so much more than innocence was lost 50 years ago today.


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