A Night to Remember

Five years after the less than authentic but unarguably heartfelt Barbara Stanwyck/Clifton Webb Titanic film graced movie theater screens, the story of the doomed ocean liner returned to theaters in A Night to Remember -- a straightforward and relatively frank appraisal of the sinking, based on the non-fiction work of the same name by Walter Lord. Now it has been YEARS since I've seen this film, but as I mentioned earlier with the 100th anniversary of the sinking fast approaching I wanted to take the time to revisit some of cinema's classic portrayals of Titanic. I feel as though I was able to approach this film with relatively fresh eyes since it has been years since I've seen it, so the particulars of this film were rather hazy in my memory. But I couldn't have asked for better timing -- having just finished the Walter Lord book for the first time, to watch this film immediately following made for a powerful, immersive Titanic experience.

From the opening frames, the first thing that struck me about this film is its air of authenticity when compared to the 1953 Titanic. Unlike many (most?) films from this era, A Night to Remember has an almost documentary-style feel, with an astonishing attention to detail. This is a film that has stood the test of time and holds up brilliantly today, its understated grace lending it an unparalleled air of authenticity and realism. It is almost a beat-for-beat, word-for-word visual realization of the book. Of course it has the limitations of 1950s special effects at its disposal, but focusing on "just the facts" and foregoing the temptation to embellish the film with fictionalized characters/occurrences, A Night to Remember stands apart as an unmatched visual document of the sinking, an authority lended credence by the knowledge that the reminiscences of so many survivors were available, lending their invaluable perspective to Lord's book and the subsequent film.

A Night to Remember doesn't spend a lot of time establishing its core cast, instead briefly introducing major players such as Chairman of the White Star Line J. Bruce Ismay (Frank Lawton), builder Thomas Andrews (Michael Goodliffe), and Captain Smith (Laurence Naismith). While there is no "star" couple focus with which to romanticize the storyline and "hook" viewers, Second Officer Herbert Lightoller (Kenneth More) stands the closest to the role of a central star. Lightoller was the seniormost officer to survive the sinking, and his actions as documented in Lord's book and this film are nothing short of astounding, and More's performance a revelation. Lightoller's position in the ship is unique in that it is a window into both the crew and passengers' experiences, since as an officer Lightoller could walk in both worlds -- and he was a critical player in the dispatching of the lifeboats after the collision.

Anchored by More's performance as the workmanlike, competent Lightoller, the entire film does an excellent job resisting the temptation to succumb to melodrama. Performances are excellent across the board, extremely honest, never giving in to the temptation to idealize (or, conversely villainize) individuals. This is a film that showcases both the admirable, best and bravest tendencies in mankind as well as those painful moments of "mob mentality" or cowardice. My favorite scenes evoke the genuine pathos of the moment without resorting to hysterics -- the moment when a father sees his wife and children into a lifeboat, and he and his wife exchange a final look knowing this will be their last, but refusing to speak of it. The moment just before the sinking when an elderly steward attempts to comfort a lost child with promises to find his mother, knowing they are about to plunge into icy waters. The moment when the members of the band silently acknowledge the futility of attempting to escape the sinking ship, instead regrouping and playing "Nearer My God to Thee." Taken as a whole the unvarnished honesty of the performances is just one of the factors that make A Night to Remember an unforgettable, classic document of the disaster.

Before closing there are a handful cast appearances I must point out. Honor Blackman, better known today as Pussy Galore in Goldfinger, turns in a stellar performance as the wife and mother of the aforementioned gentleman who bids his family a heart-rending farewell at the lifeboats. Kenneth Griffith as wireless operator Jack Phillips gives a moving performance when he allows you to see the slowly dawning, horrific realization that perhaps his frustration with relaying useless personal telegrams blocked or slowed knowledge of the dangerous ice facing the Titanic. He's supported by David McCallum in one of his earlier film appearances as assistant wireless operator Harold McBride (McCallum best known for his roles in The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and NCIS).

In the last week I've delved rather heavily into Titanic-related material, and the thing that strikes me the most -- and that this film drives home really well -- is the sense of unreality about it all, the disconnect between the impact of the iceberg and the initial complacency of so many of the passengers. Even the (lack of a) response by the nearby Californian -- all underscore the fact that in 1912 a disaster of this magnitude, occurring with THIS ship, was absolutely unheard of, completely unfathomable. Taken together, both the book and film versions of A Night to Remember document not only the disaster of the sinking and the horrifying, needless loss of life, but the beginning of the end of an era, a devastating crack in mankind's general confidence in themselves and their accomplishments. May carefully crafted works like this serve to ever remind us of our past, remind us of the best mankind is capable of when the unthinkable strikes, but perhaps most of all remind us in this very uncertain world remind us where true security lies -- the truth of the hymn "Nearer My God to Thee," may  it be ever so.

Titanic (1953)

With the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic rapidly approaching, I wanted to take the opportunity to revisit the history of that unfathomable disaster and some of the films inspired by it. Particularly the "other" Titanic films, beginning with the 1953 classic Titanic starring Barbara Stanwyck and Clifton Webb. While this film lacks the gloss, spectacle, and budget of its more famous 1997 counterpart, actually I prefer it. Yes, it lacks the more impressive special effects and spectacle of the James Cameron film, and one can take issue with various historical liberties (particularly common in Hollywood's "Golden Age"). But I think at least one of the many reasons a general public fascination with the Titanic has endured is that it is in many ways a cross-section of humanity. On that ill-fated liner were some of the richest and most privileged individuals in the world (i.e. John Jacob Astor) alongside the poorest of immigrants, and in the face of that iceberg all men and women were equalized. And that is the greatest strength of this 1953 classic -- bringing a human face to the tragedy.

At the centerpiece of this film (which won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay) is the strained relationship between Julia Sturges (Barbara Stanwyck) and her husband Richard (Clifton Webb). As the film opens Julia is fleeing her society-obsessed husband with her two children, Annette (Audrey Dalton) and Norman (Harper Carter) for a more humble, grounded life in her home state of Michigan. She almost makes a clean "getaway," if you will, but Richard foils her plans by purchasing a steerage passenger's ticket and coming aboard. Webb and Stanwyck are two of classic Hollywood's brightest stars, and they positively shine in their roles as the estranged couple. The tension and genuine sense of heartbreak in their scenes -- particularly evident in Stanwyck's expressions (Webb is much more stoic), as she throws herself whole-heartedly into the role of Julia -- is practically palpable. The emotion and the history and the heart-wrenching sense of lost opportunity between these two characters makes their road toward the film's inevitable conclusion -- the sinking -- that much more wrenching, driving home the human toll of the tragedy in a brilliant, heartfelt fashion.

There's a youthful love story here as well, one that crosses class boundaries and foreshadows the changing and loosening societal standards and norms of the still-young 20th-century. Annette Sturges is a daughter of privileged, raised (in particular by her father) with an eye to making a brilliant marriage. In only his tenth film appearance, a very youthful Robert Wagner plays the very middle-class Gifford Rogers, a Purdue student who determines to pursue an acquaintance with the lovely Annette despite her initial disdain of his distinct lack of antecedents. Their budding romance is a joy to watch, principally because one cannot help but like the energetic and determined Giff. And while some may argue Giff's eventual survival is contrived (he falls from the Titanic while attempting to cut a lifeboat free & is subsequently rescued), personally I like the fact that the sweet Giff and Annette romance has a chance of surviving post-sinking.

One of the biggest sticking points between Julia and Richard is her view of his general uselessness outside of transient social obligations. The biggest blow to Richard prior to the sinking isn't the dissolution of his marriage -- it's the discovery that his beloved son, the "prize" who will carry on his name, is actually the product of an affair. Norman idolizes his father, and seeing Richard shut the child is an extraordinarily painful moment. However, when it becomes clear that the ship is going down and that many will not survive thanks to an appalling lack of lifeboats, Richard steps up in an extraodinary fashion. In large part the reason this film works so well for me is the character of Richard and his actions during the ship's final moments. Watching Richard realize that family, not social trappings, are the only things that matter is just one way in which this film serves as a powerful reminder of the best that humanity is capable of in the worst of times. And I defy you not to shed a tear during Richard and Norman's final moments. That, people, is why Clifton Webb is a classic.

I can't go without mentioning Thelma Ritter's performance as Maude Young, her character one of the nouveau riche who is Margaret Brown (the "unsinkable Molly Brown") in all but name. Her no-nonsense, unflappable attitude towards, well, everything and everyone is an absolute joy to watch. She takes a particular interest in George Healey (Richard Baseheart) a former priest suspended for his reliance on alcohol. Healey is an absolutely heart-breaking character, completely lost and without purpose until during the sinking he resolves to try and rescue crewmen trapped in the engine room. Both Healey and Richard become unexpectedly heroic during the sinking, providing two of the film's best performances.

Clocking in at a relatively short ninety-eight minutes, Titanic is a well-paced, smartly executed film that holds up extraordinarily well over fifty years after its release. This is not a big, glossy epic by today's standards -- and even by the standards of Hollywood's classic era this film feels remarkably understated. By focusing on the Sturges and a handful of other passengers for the first half of the film, this becomes a remarkably intimate viewing experience -- so by the time of the collison and sinking, we as viewers are well-invested in the lives of this handful of players caught up in a horror beyond their imagination.

I found this quote by Stanwyck, on filming the scenes where the lucky passengers to acquire spots in lifeboats flee the doomed liner --

"It was bitter cold. I was 47 feet up in the air in a lifeboat...the water below was agitated. We were re-creating an actual tragedy and I burst into tears. I shook with great racking sobs and couldn't stop."

That sense of responsibility, if you will, towards the material and the history is glaringly apparent in Stanwyck's performance. Leaving the lifeboat this is a woman eviscerated. It is a brilliant showcase for Stanwyck's considerable acting talent and a testimony to the enduring power of a little film with a lot of heart. Worthwhile viewing, especially as we approach the 100th anniversary of that infamous weekend in April that saw the loss of so many lives.

Third Finger, Left Hand

I really love this little movie -- of course, I have an admitted and severe bias in favor of anything Myrna Loy was involved in (she was SUCH a class act!). Third Finger, Left Hand is a frothy little romantic comedy that Loy made at the height of her popularity in Hollywood, and one of the last films she made before the advent of World War II and her subsequent hiatus from movie-making to focus on raising money for the war effort and supporting the Red Cross. Third Finger, Left Hand is a bit of a departure for Loy, as in 1940 she was firmly ensconced in the public eye as cinema's ideal representation of "the perfect wife." The film apparently did not perform well at the box office, but personally I think it's perhaps an overlooked gem in Loy's filmography, thanks in large part to her on-screen chemistry with her leading man (and real-life good friend) Melvyn Douglas. This little comedy was the stars' first pairing together; they would later reunite for the screwball classic Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House.

Playing the type of role typically reserved for actresses like Rosalind Russell, Loy plays Margot Sherwood Merrick, a dedicated working woman and successful editor of a prominent fashion magazine. Margot is a "Mrs," or so everyone in her life thinks -- she invented a fictional (and conveniently estranged and hard-to-find) husband in order to stave off unwanted male advances at work. "Mr. Merrick" also provides job security, as the magazine publisher has a wandering eye and a wary wife, intent on removing any temptation from her husband's path. But that ring on the third finger of Margot's left hand? -- why that means Margot is friends with the aforementioned wary wife and allowed the freedom to focus on advancing her career.

Margot's deception works extraordinarily well until a chance meeting with artist Jeff Thompson (Douglas), newly arrived in New York and hoping to secure an art deal for his paintings. In the type of convoluted "meet cute" that classic Hollywood did best, Margot unwittingly sabotages Jeff's art deal. (Be sure to note Donald Meek as the pretentious art dealer -- a veteran supporting player, Meek appeared in a wide range of films ranging from Stagecoach to Du Barry Was a Lady.) Jeff is, of course, enraged -- until Margot deftly negotiates a better art deal than he'd ever dreamed for his work. Sparks fly between Loy and Douglas, and the stage is set for a romantic clash of cultures as Jeff, a proud native of Wapakaneto, Ohio, has little patience for New York and NO understanding of career-minded women. But he can't seem to get Margot out of his head...and the funny thing is, she can't forget him, either.

Loy has such a refined, graceful screen presence it's a real trip to watch her embrace the some of the laugh-out-loud, outrageous comedic sequences in this film. I absolutely loved her fast-talking the art dealer and bowling Douglas over with her skill as a negotiator. *wink* (Be sure to pay attention to her FABULOUS 1940's costumes -- tailored suits, gorgeous gowns, and in the aforementioned scene a hat fashioned to look like a basket full of cherries -- I kid you not!) The chemistry between Loy and Douglas REALLY takes off once Jeff discovers her fake-husband ruse and decides to pose as the never-before-seen Mr. Merrick, immediately endearing himself to Margot's father (Raymond Walburn) and sister Vicky (Bonita Granville, the original Nancy Drew!). Margot's outrage at Jeff's presumption is hilarious to watch unfold, and drives her to the desperate measure of admitting her deception to Philip (Lee Bowman), her lawyer and wannabe suitor, who advises her that she must marry Jeff so she can then divorce him and marry Philip (a bit presumptuous on his part, but this is Hollywood, yeesh...). After marrying in Niagara Falls, Margot exacts her "revenge" on Jeff for embarrassing her by playing his shrewish, uncultured new bride when they happen upon some old friends from his home town. It's the type of broad comedy Loy didn't get to do all that often, and it's a lot of fun to watch because she really throws herself into the transformation with gusto. And the resolution, by-the-book thought it may be, makes me ridiculously happy.

If you're a fan of the sparkling romantic comedies from Hollywood's Golden Age, Third Finger, Left Hand is definitely worth seeking out. Filled with the charismatic appeal of Loy and Douglas, two of the era's brightest -- and funnest -- stars, this film is a thoroughly enjoyable and diverting romance. Loy would go back to playing the "perfect," brilliant wife roles she did so well (notable exception being 1947's The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer), but her turn as Margot proves she could hold her own in the office as well as the home. :)

On Dangerous Ground

On Dangerous Ground (based on Gerald Butler's Mad eith Much Heart) is one of my favorite film noirs from the 1950s -- it's a gritty tale of a policeman at the end of his rope and the tragic case that gives him a chance at salvation. It can be argued that Ground is an odd ("off-kilter") film. On one hand you have this almost wholly unlikable antihero and a tense manhunt, while on the other hand there's this unlikely love story between the cop and the sister of a murder suspect. Melodramatic? HECK YEAH. Strangely mesmerizing and compelling? ABSOLUTELY. :) Thanks to snappy direction and charismatic leads, the seemingly disparate storylines manage to work.

Robert Ryan plays Jim Wilson, a horrible, horrible policeman whose lack of a life outside of work has warped him into depressed, angry man, prone to excessive use of force in his "investigations" -- a real live wire! I really love how the film sets up the difference between Jim and his less crazy partners, "Pop" (Charles Kemper) and Pete (Anthony Ross). Pop and Pete each have concerned and loving families seeing them off to work. By contrast, Jim spends his dinner obsessing over mug shots (and has this pathetic sink in his apartment that I kid you not, looks like it comes to Ryan's knees -- as a tall person I sympathize). Jim has an appalling lack of perspective in his life -- a fact whose negative implication is quickly born out over the course of the next half hour where he beats two suspects nearly senseless. His boss sends Jim out of town to assist with an investigation -- an exile that the embittered cop, full of self-loathing for who he's become (and, this is key, having lost hope that he can be saved), little realizes will save his life.

Before I start dissecting Jim's journey towards redemption, I have to discuss some of the more technical aspects of the film's city scenes. On Dangerous Ground is direct by Nicholas Ray, perhaps best-known for the teenage-angst-ridden classic Rebel Without a Cause (the IMDB lists Lupino as an uncredited director as well). However the directorial duties played out, Ground features some truly fascinating, ground-breaking camera work and the use of light and shadow to heighten emotion and tension is particularly striking. When Jim and his partners are on patrol, the film puts a camera in the car with them, giving you their perspective and thrusting the viewer straight into the action. A hand-held camera was also employed for the foot-chase scenes. Instead of relying on the more conventional "static" camera angles, this film is intent on putting the viewer right in the middle of the story's tensest moments, and it works, brilliantly aided by a stellar Bernard Hermann score. Between Jim's shocking (for 1952) propensity for violence, the camera work and the way the city is shrouded in dark, oppressive shadow all play to the idea that Jim is a character literally drowning in the dregs of society, because he hasn't anchored his life to anything pure and meaningful.

Things start to look up for Jim when he's sent to the FRIGID NORTH to assist in a manhunt for the perp who killed some poor girl on her way home from school. Now, if you've never seen this film you might be tempted to think that Jim's northern exile means all sorts of depressing things like bleakness and aloneness, etc. And sure -- there is some of that, but the film saturates Jim's drive (again, much of it seen from the driver's perspective) north with light. There's an emptiness to the snow-covered land, but it's coupled with a purity that you can see start to work on Jim even before he liaises with the posse.

And what a posse it is -- the manhunt is just bizarre, because everyone seems to swarm around the countryside like ants or something, with no apparent regard for order or not stomping out their suspect's trail. It's a little nuts, especially because Jim comes off as being the reasonable one, like "let's interview witnesses," etc., and everyone else is all forget about THAT, city boy! Given what we've seen Jim do when he's coming off as level-headed you KNOW something's up, just sayin'. So Jim partners up with the victim's grief-stricken, revenge-mad father Walter Brent (Ward Bond), and they start running every which way, through the snow. And if you're at all like me you will find the fact that Jim is wearing dress pants and (presumably) city shoes while wading through knee-high snow drifts VERY distracting. The fact that Jim's legs don't freeze off at the knees is as much a miracle as his eventual transformation.

After A LOT of running, and a pretty spectacular single-car wreck on an icy road, Jim and Walter stumble on a desolate farmhouse inhabited by the beautiful Mary Malden (Lupino). Jim quickly deduces that Mary is blind (Walter is a little slow on the uptake), and is immediately smitten with her beauty and grace. I love watching Ryan watch Lupino in their scenes together. He takes the too-tightly wound character of Jim and throws himself into showing the powerful impact meeting Mary has on Jim's psyche -- though she may live in darkness, she is the light to his black despair, and her faith in him gives him something to live up to. Mary's blind faith (no pun intended) gives Jim a lifeline, a reason to want to be a better man, a goal to strive for -- and so he promises to do everything in his power to ensure that her crazy brother gets a fair trial.

Lupino and Ryan complement each other extremely well in this film, giving what in other hands could've been an extremely sappy, silly love story a nice measure of depth and gravitas. Lupino, with her exotic good looks and slightly gravelled, low-pitched voice was something of a fixture in film noir, making appearances in Moontide, Road House, and They Drive By Night to name a few. Likewise, Ryan was a fixture in noir and western pictures, often playing harsh, aggressive characters thanks to the presence and laser-like intensity he brought to the screen. Notable films include Crossfire, The Naked Spur, and The Longest Day. I love their on-screen chemistry, and I never tire of watching Ryan fall for Lupino. For all their characters' differences, Mary struggles with loneliness and trust just as much as Jim. I'm a complete sucker for redemption stories like this, where broken people find hope and healing and second chances, and Mary and Jim hit all the right notes, despite the at first blush improbability of their romantic pairing. 

When Jim fails in his mission to "save" Mary's brother, he's so crushed it just KILLS ME, and there's this moment when you fear that he's given up on his newly-awakened hope for a better life. As cliched as the ending of On Dangerous Ground might be, in my view it is the perfect ending to a film that at its core is about people fighting their way free of the chokehold of despair. Sure, Jim and Mary will have their challenges -- but we're left with hope. A hope that's anchored by Ryan's believably nuanced performance from a character brimming with rage and self-loathing to a man whose heart has been melted by a chance encounter with a woman who dared to have faith in him. Literally and figuratively Mary becomes Jim's "safe harbor" as he's navigated the "dangerous ground" of the criminal world, once at risk of being completely consumed. Their relationship and Jim's transformation are the unexpected emotional core of the film, and are what makes On Dangerous Ground one of my all-time favorite film noir classics.

Come Live With Me

Come Live With Me is one of a string of romantic comedies that James Stewart made in the 1930s that saw Stewart play the romantic lead before his "aww shucks everyman" persona saw him transition to suspense, western, and more "fatherly" roles in the actor's post-World War II career. Apparently Stewart's co-star, the lovely Hedy Lamarr, received some of her best acting notices for her performance in this film. Starring opposite a star of Stewart's persuasion, that should come as no surprise. *wink* Come Live With Me is a sweet-natured, charming confection from start to finish, necessary viewing for fans of Lamarr and especially Stewart.

In a case of life (vaguely, at least) imitating art, Lamarr's character in Come Live With Me is an Austrian political refugee, illegally staying in New York after her visa expires rather than face deportation back to Nazi-occupied Austria. (In real life, Lamarr was the only daughter of Jewish parents who married Viennese arms manufacturer Friedrich Mandl, a Jewish Nazi sympathizer. In 1937 Lamarr fled the marriage, obtained a divorce in London, and arrived in Hollywood in 1938.) Johnny has been carrying on an affair with Barton Kendrick (Ian Hunter, King Richard in The Adventures of Robin Hood), a publisher who is apparently in some sort of "open marriage" that allows him to carry on his romantic shenanigans with the "blessing" of his wife Diane (Verree Teasdale) - or so he THINKS, because in reality good ol' Barton is a classic example of male STUPIDITY. :P (Really, the thought that Lamarr would choose Barton over Stewart is in my mind proof the woman could act!)

Johnny's happy times in the US are in peril when I.C.E. raids her apartment (I exaggerate, but the result is the same - also, were immigration officials referred to as I.C.E. agents in 1941? Who cares --) to kick her out of the country because of her flagrant disregard for visa expiration dates. But the I.C.E. agent takes pity on Johnny, urging her to get married ASAP so she can stay in the good ol' US of A (I'm sure immigration officials LOVED that). Johnny's in a quandary - she doesn't want to get deported, but the man she's in love with is married and she doesn't want to be the cause of a divorce that would hurt his wife (gotta love that reasoning - *sigh*). But the perfect solution drops in Johnny's lap when she meets Bill (Stewart), a penniless writer with a bit of a chip on his shoulder (because no one wants to publish his great American novel). She proposes a marriage of convenience - his name allows her to legally stay in the country, while she provides him with $17.80 a week in living expenses (SERIOUSLY! I cannot wrap my head around how CHEAP that seems!) so he can continue to write. And we all know how marriages of convenience end in romantic comedies, right? They remain STRICTLY PLATONIC of course! (Riiiigggghhhtttt...) :)

I really just love watching Stewart in this movie, as he's at his adorable best falling in love with Johnny through their once a week meetings and writing his best work inspired by his fascination with her and their extremely unorthodox arrangement. Seriously, how can you not love a guy who insists to his divorce-minded, recalcitrant bride that they must get to know each other before they can get divorced - so he "kidnaps" her and takes her to his grandmother's house.

And Bill's grandma is a pistol. Come Live With Me was Adeline De Walt Reynolds film debut - at the age of 79! Reynolds must've been QUITE the lady. She raised four children after her husband's death in 1905, survived the San Francisco earthquake of 1906, and entered college in her 60s, graduating at 70. And then, THEN she embarked on a film career that would last nineteen years! Talk about INSPIRATIONAL, just sayin'! Even though she doesn't appear until the film's final third, Grandma's folksy wisdom and humor are central to the love story, playing a large part in softening Johnny's heart towards Bill.

If you think about the ending too hard, you won't be able to watch this film with a straight face. I am convinced that only Jimmy Stewart could deliver the whole spiel about firefly mating habits with a straight face and manage to come off as earnestly romantic in the bargain. Between delivering a toothbrush, the firefly speech, and reciting Christopher Marlowe if you allow yourself to surrender to the romanticism of the moment, you cannot help but be charmed by this film and Stewart's off-the-charts adorableness. A wonderful showcase for Stewart's understated brand of charisma and featuring one of Lamarr's best performances, Come Live With Me is a sweet treat for classic film fans.

"The Passionate Shepherd to His Love" by Christopher Marlowe

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the Rocks,
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of Roses
Andd a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and Ivy buds,
With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

With a taste in poetry like that, one wonders why Bill felt the need to go off on his fireflies tangent. *wink*

Four's a Crowd

Four's a Crowd was quite a departure for Errol Flynn. By 1938 Flynn had established himself as cinema's preeminent swashbuckling star, with films like Captain Blood, The Charge of the Light Brigade, and the just-completed technicolor epic The Adventures of Robin Hood to his credit. In an attempt to avoid typecasting, Flynn desired to appear in other types of films - and Warner Bros., eager to keep one of their top stars happy, obliged with the fluffy comedy Four's a Crowd. A perfect, glittering example of the 1930s screwball comedy Four's a Crowd is not, but thanks to the chemistry of its stars and sharp direction by Michael Curtiz, Crowd provides several laugh-out-loud sequences and is an effective showcase for Flynn's surprising affinity for comedy.

Now let's see if I can get this story straight. *wink* In a dry-run for her later appearance in His Girl Friday, Rosalind Russell plays fast-talking reporter Jean Christy, who discovers that the owner of the newspaper where she works, Pat Buckley (Patric Knowles - Flynn's co-star in Robin Hood, where he played Will Scarlett), is about to shut down the paper. When he torpedoes her suggestion to re-hire the paper's former managing editor Bob Lansford (Flynn), Jean takes matters into her own hands and approaches Lansford herself. Lansford is a fast-talking public relations wizard who now makes a living out of transforming the public image of rich tycoons into something more palatable (essentially buys them good reputations through big donations). Bob isn't interested in the paper, until he learns that Pat is dating the Lorri Dillingwell (Olivia de Havilland), the granddaughter of a notorious business tycoon that he's desperate to gain as a PR client.

Basically, everyone's in love with everyone else, and the romantic entanglements are way to confusing to make sense of in a blog post. It's better to just watch the craziness unfold on-screen. The Flynn-de Havilland-Knowles-Russell love quadrangle is a bit of a mess if you stop and think about it for too long. The best reason to watch this movie is the chance to see Flynn do straight comedy, and do it well. Admittedly I have a big Errol Flynn bias (I've adored him since I was a kid). But honestly, if you're only familiar with Flynn the swashbuckler, you might be surprised by how well he acquits himself in Four's a Crowd. He more than holds his own as the sauve, fast-talking Langford, his performance comparable to the likes of "screwball" acting staples Cary Grant or William Powell.

Flynn is hilarious, effortlessly flowing between stuck-on-himself PR rep, ardent lover, and slapstick physical comedy. The lengths his character, Langford, will go to in order to secure Dillingwell as a client know no bounds, including - waitforit - rigging a toy train race by greasing the tracks with stolen butter. The shenanigans in this movie are hard core people, positively cutthroat! *wink* The object of Langford's professional aspirations is played by character actor Walter Connolly, a character actor from the 1930s best known for playing borderline hysterical, apoplectic, highly exasperated characters (see It Happened One Night, Libeled Lady, and Too Hot to Handle). Watching Flynn flee from the hounds Dillingwell set after his character on multiple occasions will leave you in stitches, moreso because the usually debonair Flynn seems to really relish the absurdity of the moment.

Flynn and Olivia de Havilland made a total of eight films together, and there's a certain "spark" that lights the screen when they appear together in Four's a Crowd, testimony to the real-life (but unrealized) chemistry between the two of them that made theirs such a potent on-screen partnership. One of the film's funniest scenes takes place when Langford takes refuge in Lorri's bedroom, and she frantically tries to hide him from the housekeeper, security guards, and finally her grandfather, all while he's being "attacked" by her lap dog. The scene is pure slapstick gold, and Flynn and de Havilland seem to throw themselves into the action with unabashed glee. It's worth noting that the character of Lorri was a departure from the norm for Olivia de Havilland - known for playing "sweet," ladylike heroines, Lorri is a total self-absorbed twit. Personally the change works for me - it's interesting to see de Havilland explore this side of her acting range.

Watching Flynn's hilarious three-way telephone conversation with his leading ladies - frantically striving to keep the women unaware that he's been wooing them at the same time - makes me wonder what gems he could've produced if he'd been given the opportunity to play more comedic roles. The frenetic, funny pace of the telephone conversation just screams Cary Grant, but to his credit Flynn owns the moment. Good ol' Errol could've given Grant a run for his money if given the opportunity. *wink*

While lacking the sparkle and polish of screwball comedy classics like My Man Godfrey or Bringing Up Baby, Four's a Crowd is a fairly enjoyable little film, enlivened by performances from some of classic Hollywood's brightest stars. And if you're a fan of Errol Flynn, it's worth watching on the basis of his performance alone as the renowned prankster really seems relish the rare opportunity to indulge in pure, unadulterated slapstick on-screen.

Young Bess

Released to coincide with the coronation of Elizabeth II in 1953, Young Bess is a glossy historical epic, a Technicolor spectacle as only a studio like MGM could deliver. Based on the 1944 novel of the same name by Margaret Irwin (which I was happy to discover that Sourcebooks recently re-released), the film plays a little fast and loose with history in its attempt to provide a highly romanticized view of why Elizabeth I remained unmarried. But any historical fudging aside, the resulting product is a thoroughly enjoyable and engaging film that provides some fascinating insight into what Elizabeth the teenager might have been like.

The film is framed by Mrs. Ashley (Kay Walsh), Elizabeth's long-time governess and companion, and Mr. Parry (Cecil Kellaway), the princess's steward, celebrating the news that their charge will soon achieve the ultimate triumph - being crowned Queen of England. Their reminiscences take the viewer back to Elizabeth's tumultuous childhood, where her status at court was in near-constant upheaval thanks to her father's whims and remarriages. This film gave Charles Laughton the reprise his take on Henry VIII, a role he'd previously won an Oscar for in 1934's The Private Lives of Henry VIII. Physically Laughton is an excellent match for Henry's portraits, and he brings all of the life and bombast to the character that I always imagined the real-life Henry possessing.

One of the interesting things about this film is how it positions the upheaval losing her mother to the axe and her father's subsequent remarriages must have had on the young Elizabeth's pysche (Noreen Corcoran). Corcoran is an excellent young Elizabeth, bringing just the right balance of childhood insecurity and the determination and survival skills that would later define her as a ruler to the role. The "young adult" Elizabeth was played by Jean Simmons, in one of her best performances. Simmons was twenty four at the time of Young Bess's release, just one year shy of the quarter-decade mark when Elizabeth I ascended the throne. So though she's a bit older than the teen Elizabeth was during the history depicted on-screen, the Simmons' slight frame and pixie-like features work in her favor, lending her an air of youthful fire and vulnerability.

The object of Elizabeth's romantic yearnings in this film is Thomas Seymour, played by Simmons' real-life husband Stewart Granger (the two were married from 1950-1960 and appeared in four films together). The chemistry between Simmons and Granger is practically palpable, and lends credence to the script's assertion that Elizabeth and Seymour had a really passionate little thing going on. Now I love Stewart Granger. LOVE HIM. But this, my friends, is not his best work. He's a little too earnest here, hamming for the camera with his best "look at me, I'm an awesome romantic lead" emoting. I prefer the roles that allowed him to be a bit more playful, to balance the on-screen heroics with a sly glint of humor (i.e. Scaramouche).

The always-classy Deborah Kerr plays Catherine Parr, Henry's sixth and final wife, and the woman who stands between Thomas and Elizabeth. Kerr is all cool, kind regality to Simmons' more fiery emotionalism. This was an on-screen reunion for Kerr and Granger (there is some speculation they had an affair); the pair had made King Solomon's Mines three years prior. Whether or not the affair speculation is true, Kerr and Granger had a degree of on-screen chemistry that made Thomas Seymour's conflicting feelings for two very different women fairly believable.

My absolute favorite part of this film is Rex Thompson's scene-stealing performance as Edward VI. Young Bess marked Thompson's film debut at the age of eleven, and he'd continue to work, mostly in television, for the next thirteen years - a notable exception being his turn as Louis Leonowens in The King and I. Thompson is amazingly adept at stealing the scene every time he appears on-screen with his enthusiasm, prepossing demeanor, and confidence. This kid has the royalty thing DOWN - and to top it off his accent is quite good, especially considering that he's from New York (I was shocked when I discovered that fact). While this film paints, I think, an overly-positive portrait of the brother/sister relationship between Elizabeth and Edward, in the context of this film Simmons and Thompson's regard and camraderie work extraordinarily well. The film basically elminates their half-sister Mary, and focusing instead on the court intrigue the pair endured vis-a-vis Ann (Kathleen Byron) and Ned Seymour (Guy Rolfe), the latter appointed Lord Protector since Edward was a minor when crowned king. Elizabeth and Edward's struggles to survive court intrigues and the machinations of nobles who would seek to usurp their right to rule bonds them in a way that makes their childhood struggles poignant and sympathetic.

Young Bess was nominated for two Academy Awards - Art Direction and Costume Design - and is a veritable feast for the eyes. The sets and costumes are simply sumptuous, supplemented by a gorgeous score by Miklos Rozsa. Despite liberties taken with the historical record, Young Bess brings to life a youthful Elizabeth and her struggles in a compelling, highly watchable fashion. A slick, polished example of the classic Hollywood historical epic!

Mail Order Bride

I should not like this movie as much as I do. No, no I should not like it much at all, considering I am almost, without fail, violently *ahem* allergic to prairie-type romances. But 1964's Mail Order Bride is an exception, thanks to its zippy pace, laugh-out-loud funny moments, and Buddy Ebsen's turn as a long-suffering and reluctant matchmaker. Based on a short story by some person named Van Cort that appeared in The Saturday Evening Post, Mail Order Bride is a nice little reminder that Ebsen's career consisted of a lot more than his stint as Jed Clampett on The Beverly Hillbillies.

Ebsen plays Will Lane, an aging ex-lawman who travels to the town of Congress, Montana, to fulfill a friend's dying wish - that Lane "mentor" his friend's wild son and hold his property in trust for him until such a time, if ever, that Lane deems the son responsible enough to take charge of his inheritance. The son in question is Lee Carey, played with a rather kinetic mix of energy and petulance by actor Keir Dullea. (Side note: Isn't he GORGEOUS?)

Dullea was apparently something of a name in the 1960s thanks to starring in films like The Thin Red Line, Madame X, and 2001: A Space Odyssey. Anyways, back to Lee...basically, he is SPOILED ROTTEN and has no apparent desire to make anything of his life, instead choosing to while away the hours drinking, gambling, and carousing with his merry band of wild west frat boys and the town's sole loose woman, if you catch my drift. Lane decides this will not do, no this will not do AT ALL. However, as Lee proves remarkably stubborn, Lane determines that his only hope of salvation is to marry the kid off. With the help of the latest catalog from the outhouse (really - HA!!), Lane compiles a list of potential mail order bride applicants and travels to Kansas City to interview the lucky women (HA! again).

I think what I love most about this film is Ebsen's performance - he's so upright and unflappable and determined that come hell or high water he's going to save his friend's son from self-destructing - basically, the living, breathing embodiment of the "honorable cowboy." Lane's stubborn insistence on dragging Lee to salvation provides the film with most of its humorous moments, as Lee and his Gang of Stupid get wildly frustrated with the fact that Lane ALWAYS WINS. The only time he gets remotely rattled is on the "bride" interviews. After meeting a couple of wildly unsuitable candidates, Lane wanders into Hanna's Saloon, where he meets Hanna, a.k.a. Carrie (Marie Windsor). Turns out Carrie, sick of saloon life, wrote the ad, but since she's a bit too old for Lee she sends her UNNATURALLY VIRTUOUS FOR WORKING IN A SALOON maid, Annie (Lois Nettleton) and her young son off with Lane. As an added bonus she throws out the teaser that she doesn't think Lane is half bad, so he can chew on THAT surprise all the way back to Montana, thank you very much.

When Lee and Annie meet, sparks fly, but of course Lee doesn't want a ready-made family so he explains Lane's hold on his ranch and the two agree to a marriage in name only. (Riiigggghhhttt....that's gonna work, sure...) Look for a quick cameo appearance by Denver Pyle (a.k.a. Uncle Jesse from The Dukes of Hazzard) as the preacher who marries Lee and Annie. So while Lee and Annie fake affection and kiss in public (only for Lane's benefit of course!), the decrepit ranch starts to take shape and lo and behold, Lee can actually build a HOUSE when he puts his mind to it! He also finds himself rather rising to the occasion and filling the father role in the life of Matt, Annie's young son (Jimmy Mathers, the brother of Jerry, THE BEAVER HIMSELF), because it is an unwritten rule in this type of story that small children will make wannabe frat boys grow up.

Lee is really, really slow on the uptake, but after his "friends" nearly kill the junior BEAVER while torching his ranch, he realizes he really does love Annie and he's tired of getting ripped off. Because seriously, even in the most cliche-ridden of stories, a character has to stop with the doormat thing at some point, especially when that status is thanks to rank stupidity. Speaking of cliches, Lee gets his wedding rings from the hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold, Marietta (Barbara Luna) - in this film's world, that kind of plot twist makes perfect sense. As terribly cliched as that is, I LOVE IT. This cast is just nutty enough to make it work. *wink*

Mail Order Bride is really a good-hearted little movie, that manages to strike just the right balance between humor and action and emotion. I love the fact that it's a different twist on the familiar marriage of convenience story (you don't get much more unexpected than Buddy Ebsen as a matchmaker, just sayin'!). And the ending, where Lane leaves the new little happy family he helped create and returns to Kansas City and Hanna is PRICELESS. After all, why should the young people have all the fun, hmmm? *wink*

Boys' Night Out

While the 1962 "bedroom farce" comedy Boys' Night Out was not a critical or financial success, if you're a fan of films like the classic romantic comedy Pillow Talk, this is a film not to be missed. Both of these films were helmed by director Michael Gordon, who made sure that Boys' Night Out displayed the same glossy, sophisticated style as its more famous predecessor, a classic of the genre. This was also the first and only picture Kim Novak made under the auspices of her own production label - and though it didn't do well enough to warrant subsequent projects, it's one of my favorite Novak films. She positively sparkles in this comedy, and personality-wise reveals a vivacity and spunk largely absent from many of her earlier roles that required her to be little more than a pretty face (i.e. Vertigo). Arguably Novak's romantic lead, James Garner, benefited the most from this film - prior to this film, his most notable credit was the TV show Maverick, after Boys' Night Out, his big-screen leading man status exploded with appearances in The Great Escape, The Thrill of It All, and Move Over, Darling.

Bachelor Fred (Garner) is one of four friends - George (Tony Randall), Doug (Howard Duff), and Howard (Howard Morris) - who have a weekly "boys' night out" scheduled, where they usually go out for drinks and talk about doing something, like going bowling. In short, they're in a rut. During one of their less than satisfying "nights of freedom," the guys witness Fred's boss out on the town with his latest girlfriend. Seeing the very married boss by all appearances successfully keeping a "love nest" apartment in the city away from the prying eyes of his wife gets the three frustrated married men to thinking. If they split expenses, perhaps they could swing their own "love nest" getaway in the city - 1 apartment, 1 girl, 4 guys = enterprising thinking, right? *rolls eyes*

The three married guys and the issues they have with their respective home lives are FLIPPIN' HILARIOUS. Doug loves home repair, but his wife Toni (Anne Jeffreys) is too status-conscious to let him work on any project around the house ("what would the neighbors think?" "that we're living within our means!"), squashing every opportunity he gets to "be a man" and shop at hardware stores. Howard is green with envy over the food his three boys get to eat - since his wife Joanne (Patti Page - she also provided the film's theme song) is on a strict diet, he has to starve in order to support her. George - *sob* - only wants to finish a flipping sentence, a luxury his wife Marge (Janet Blair) never allows.

Tony Randall as George is by far my favorite supporting character in this film. The territory of bumbling sidekick or wannabe lothario is familiar and comfortable territory for Randall, as he's played similar roles with equally memorable and hilarious results in films like Pillow Talk, The Mating Game, and Send Me No Flowers. I just ADORE Tony Randall, and in this film (as is the case in many of his other comedies from this period) he's apt to steal the screen every time he appears with his facial expressions and line delivery. During the commuting scenes, Randall gets the best moments as he always starts an off-color story, the bulk of his narrative getting drowned out by passing trains - but Randall sells the moment with his gestures. *wink*  

Ironically, Fred the single guy is the only one with any reservations about this "love nest" scheme. Sure he'll never be able to find an apartment in the necessary (and CHEAP) price range, he agrees to look and stumbles upon an unexpected jackpot. Real estate agent Peter Bowers (Jim Backus of Gilligan's Island fame!) agrees to rent him a posh apartment for a ridiculously low amount, because the previous tenant had the dubious distinction of being the murder victim in a recently sensationalized case. Before you can say "boys' night out," Cathy (Novak) appears, interested in a rental advertisement, but conveniently the living, breathing, embodiment of the boys' "perfect girl" advertisement for their love nest shenanigans. Cathy however, has an ulterior motive - she's a sociology graduate student, seeking real-world examples for her thesis on "adolescent fantasies of adult suburban males" (PLENTY of fodder for her thesis in this group, HA).

With Cathy firmly ensconced in the apartment, the "games," if you will, begin - and this little comedy sparkles as talk and innuendo fly, while nothing ever actually happens. Boys' Night Out only hints at anything immoral, and in the end comes out squarely in favor of marriage and commitment. The married "boys" in question don't really want a mistress, as Cathy posits to her thesis advisor, they've just been sold on the idea that they "should" want one, as her strictly platonic evenings with them confirm. Cathy is a listening ear, and ironically once they've talked to her the guys become better husbands (which in turn is what raises the suspicions of their ever-lovin' wives).

As the only male properly eligible to fall for Cathy, Garner is just adorably sincere as the smitten suitor who longs to "rescue" Cathy from her road-to-nowhere life of SIN and DISSIPATION. His jealousy over the time Cathy spends with his three friends is all the funnier because we know nothing untoward is happening - and it all culminates in a nightmare that takes the form of a silent movie spoof, where Randall is cast as the evil lothario and Garner is Novak's white knight. It's easy to see from this film the early big-screen evidence of Garner's viability as a romantic leading man - he projects just the right blend of charisma, emotional vulnerability, and comedic chops that a thoroughly appealing leading man must have (at least in my world). :) All this and in Boys' Night Out, Garner lives with his mother - a delightfully snarky Jessie Royce Landis (a favorite of mine thanks to her turn as Cary Grant's mother in North by Northwest).

Sure, on the premise of Boys' Night Out is ridiculous. But if you're in the market for smartly scripted, fast-paced, glossy escapist entertainment, you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by this little 1962 gem. Chock-full of FABULOUS 1960s sets and clothes, with a swingin' fun score provided by Frank De Vol, for my money Boys' Night Out is a fun, sassy little romantic comedy that deserves to stand as a classic of its time.

Too Hot to Handle

Too Hot to Handle is the sixth and final film collaboration between Hollywood A-listers Clark Gable and Myrna Loy. Part screwball comedy, part high adventure,  Too Hot to Handle is a clear predecessor to later romantic adventures like Romancing the Stone, setting the template for this type of film - a heady mix of equal parts snappy dialogue, thrilling adventure, and romantic tension. I was somewhat surprised by how well this film (made in 1938) has aged, proving the staying power of its charismatic co-stars and its fast-paced, globe-trotting storyline.

Gable is Chris Hunter and Walter Pidgeon is Bill Dennis, each the star cameraman for rival news organizations. Now I'd always been aware of newsreels in the 1930s and 40s - prior to the advent of television and the internet, people got their news primarily through the papers or radio. But I'd never really given much thought to the people behind the newsreel cameras. In the 1930s, newsreels would've been a relatively new phenomenon, an exciting new format through which the biggest stories of the day could be consumed by the populace with an immediacy not afforded by print or audio formats. This film brings the culture of newsreel reporting to vibrant life. It's fascinating to watch Gable and Pidgeon strive to "scoop" each other as trend-setting players in the precursor to the modern news broadcasts we take for granted today.

When the film opens, Hunter and Dennis are languishing on the front lines of the Sino-Japanese War, unable to capture the footage of Japanese bombing raids that their respective bosses expect. Hunter is renowned and despised by his newsreel competitors for his willingness to do anything to land exclusive footage of a big story. Gable is perfectly suited to play the role of a fast-talking, ethically questionable (but oh-so-appealing), fearless reporter. There's a scene towards the beginning of the film where Hunter attempts to elaborately stage a fake Japanese air raid that is COMIC GOLD (many of the gags were created by an uncredited Buster Keaton). Between dealing with the neuroses of his soundman Joselito and the uncooperative locals he hires to stage his fake attack, the results are absolutely hilarious - I cannot remember the last time I saw Gable in a film where he was so effortlessly funny.

Hunter's cutthroat tactics start to backfire when his competitors stage a fake medical supplies delivery, and Hunter, not realizing he's being setup, causes the plane to wreck. He's shocked to discover that the pilot is actually a she - a fast-talking, streetsmart aviatrix named Alma Harding (Loy), desperately trying to raise her public profile so she can gain backers for a search-and-rescue mission seeking her long-lost adventurer brother Harry (George Lynn) in South America. The role of Alma lacks the polish Loy's characters were so well-known for in the 1930s (i.e. Nora in The Thin Man film series), but she exudes a fiestiness and an innate strength of character that lends her credibility here - just the right balance of vulnerability and tenacity. And even more importantly, Loy is one of the few leading women of the time that I can think of who could give as well as she  took opposite a star of Gable's prowess. Loy has the spunk, the fire, and the vitality to stand on equal terms with Gable's larger-than-life, raw force-of-nature personality, and ultimately, that is what makes her perfect for role of Alma.

The supporting cast is stellar, lending just the right mix of comedy to counterbalance the film's action sequences. Walter Connolly is perfectly cast as Gabby MacArthur, Hunter's boss at Union Newsreel. Prone to stress (thanks to a wife who wants to bleed him dry in a divorce settlement) and possessing a rather excitable nature, it's hilarious fun watching Gable give his on-screen boss fits. The biggest surprise was perhaps Marjorie Main as Kitty Wayne, Gabby's long-suffering secretary. Thanks to her turn as "Ma Kettle," I seem to always associate Main with more unsophisticated, stereotypical "hick country" roles, but here she's just as no-nonsense as ever, only more polished to suit the office setting. *wink* And I loved Gable's buddy chemistry with Leo Carrillo as Joselito, his soundman. The two exchange some hilarious quips, and Carrillo relishes the opportunity to masquerade as a wealthy South American landowner with hilarious results.

I was incredibly impressed with the special effects shots, especially the angles and editing for the sequence where Gable and Loy fly through the fog to film aerial footage of a sinking ship on the verge of exploding. I could never claim to be an expert on the technical aspects of filmmaking, but the sequence holds up incredibly well considering the relative limitations filmmakers had at their disposal in the 1930s compared to today. While the film isn't strictly accurate (particularly in its portrayal of the equipment available to newsreel reporters), what strikes me as rather timeless about the film is its portrayal of "faked" news events and the idea of filmmaking as "truth," if you will. Liken it to reality TV - all it takes is some clever editing and the way an event played out in real life can be recorded and presented on-screen as the new, "definitive" version of the truth. The film also plays with the idea of the role explicit news footage should play in the lives of everyday people, particularly when Alma has a strong emotional reaction to the captured images of the sinking ship, and questions the appropriateness of "exploiting" the sailors' deaths on-screen. I just found it fascinating to watch these news-related issues play out in a time that by comparison to our own is significantly less media-saturated.

The final third of the film, when Hunter, Alma, and Dennis make the trip to South America suffers from some unfortunate stereotyping of the natives they encounter enroute to rescue Harry. But the zippy pace and script provide Gable with a slew of opportunities to chew the scenery with his trademark wisecracks or sequences showcasing his affinity for broadly comic physicality. I loved how Gable's character goes above and beyond to make things right with Alma, yet he still can't resist going to ridiculous lengths to scoop a story out from under his biggest competitor's nose - Gable's verve and perspicacity embody the iconic, never-say-die image I carry in my mind's eye of reporters from the time period.

Part King Solomon's Mines and part Romancing the Stone, Too Hot to Handle is a relatively entertaining slice of cinema anchored by appealing performances from two of the brightest stars of Hollywood's Golden Age. While perhaps not my favorite Gable/Loy collaboration (I'm partial to the comedy Wife vs. Secretary), the almost-palpable star power and chemistry between Gable and Loy in Too Hot to Handle are potent reminders that once upon a golden time, they were "King and Queen" of Hollywood for a reason.

Torch Song

Torch Song, my friends, falls squarely in the film category of "it's so bad it's good." I think the best way I can describe this film is that it's oddly mesmerizing. I was inspired to revisit this movie after watching Michael Wilding's performance in Stage Fright, since besides the "oddly mesmerizing" factor he's the main reason I keep coming back to Torch Song.

Jenny Stewart (Joan Crawford) is a hard-as-nails, temperamental Broadway star who basically eats her underlings' souls for breakfast, spits them out, and then the fun starts all over again the next day (okay, so that's an extreme description, but you get my point). After walking out of a rehearsal in a fit of temper, Jenny goes home to run lines with her long-suffering secretary Anne (Maidie Norman), later succumbing to loneliness in a crying jag (see? the meanness is really just a cover). The next day we meet Jenny's boyfriend, Cliff Willard (Gig Young), who is a leech and a lush, but he's convenient to have around as an escort to parties, etc. She explains to Cliff that she's a domineering control freak because she loves her audience SO MUCH, and therefore she has to give them her best come hell or high water - no one is going to hold her back.

When Jenny finally shows up to rehearsal, she's shocked to discover that her long-time accompanist, Charlie (who she'd lovingly driven to drink and psychiatric counseling sessions), has quit and been replaced by Tye Graham (Michael Wilding), a distinguished and adorably gorgeous (okay, I will shut up now) blind pianist. To Jenny's never-ending shock Tye proves to be quite proficient at following her style and arrangements, though she rudely dismisses any of his suggestions (though she's not above trying out the aforementioned suggestions in secret - HA!).

What ensues is a battle of wills and a mutual fascination with each other that superficially, by today's film standards at any rate, seems highly unlikely - but somehow the brassy, rough-edged Crawford and the elegant, soft-spoken Wilding make the something that develops on-screen between their characters work. Unlike most of the people Jenny surrounds herself with, Tye refuses to be cowed by her demanding nature and most intriguing of all, she can't control him. What makes this relationship interesting for me, as a viewer, is that Tye's interest in Jenny seems on the surface wholly inexplicable. It is easy - and quite understandable - to write Jenny off as a controlling shrew based on her introduction. But as the film unfolds, Crawford gradually reveals the cracks in Jenny's armor.

Since her start as a young ingenue, Jenny has learned the hard way the truth of the old axiom that "it's lonely at the top." Having spent years relying on herself and her iron will to be successful, she became inured to the painful reality that people latched onto her not for who she was, but because of who she'd become - a wildly successful star. Lest you think Crawford playing a musical star is completely out of the realm of possibility, watch a very young Crawford opposite Clark Gable in 1933's Dancing Lady (Fred Astaire's film debut!). All of her vocals in Torch Song were dubbed, but Crawford to her credit could move competently around the dance floor when the situation required.

Jenny's own family are perhaps the worst user culprits - there's a tepid warmth to their relationship, but the bottom line is, they love taking advantage of Jenny's success to further their own plans. I absolutely ADORED Marjorie Rambeau as Jenny's mother. Brassy and insistent, she never comes out and asks for money, but she sure is persistent in her "suggestions." However, when push comes to shove, she really does care about her daughter's happiness, a fact I think both of them have been guilty of overlooking, blinded by the trappings of stardom.

There are a couple of other performances worth noting in Torch Song. Harry Morgan of Dragnet and M*A*S*H fame plays Jenny's long-suffering director Joe. And director Charles Walters, known for frothy musical confections like Easter Parade and Summer Stock makes a rare appearance in front of the camera as Jenny's harried dance partner Ralph Ellis.

There is a lot, and I mean A LOT, that one can laugh at when it comes to Torch Song. The very idea of Crawford in a glossy, MGM musical drama (not to mention the fact that Technicolor did Crawford no favors when it comes to her weird, red/brown hair color). Crawford in a big production number in blackface (yes, you read that right - it's shockingly horrid!). And from start to finish, Torch Song is packed with EPIC levels of melodrama and romantic cliches.

Yet for all that, there's a part of this story that the die-hard romantic in me cannot help but respond to - and that is the unflagging love and devotion Tye has carried in his heart for Jenny ever since seeing her breakout performance, long before she struck the big time and he went to war and lost his sight. Tye carries an idealized image of Jenny in his mind's eye - an image that we, as the audience, only barely see hinted at in Crawford's performance until she starts to thaw. But as Jenny starts to fall for Tye, and realizes the reason he keeps pushing back is because he's loved her for years, that perfect image Tye holds of her reminds her of who she used to be and of everything she's sacrificed for fame. It gives her something to aspire to, because she wants to be her best self him - accepting his love gives her something real to hold onto in the hollowness of her showbiz centered life.

Torch Song is a bizarre mix of melodrama and romance, and if you can suspend your disbelief and tolerate Crawford's signature brand of scenery-chewing, you might be surprised to find it oddly watchable. :)

Stage Fright

I have always considered myself an aficionada of Alfred Hitchcock's films, but somehow 1950's Stage Fright completely escaped my notice until I caught a recent airing on TCM. Though not quite on par with Hitchcock masterpieces like Rear Window or North by Northwest, Stage Fright is a fine example of the director's "lighter efforts," exhibiting an utterly charming, distinctly British sensibility. The delightfully dry, understated humor in the script combine with Hitchcock's signature flair for suspense, resulting in a droll, appealing slice of 1950s cinema.

The film opens with a "curtain" raising on the city of London, a blatant signal that everything which follows is a fiction. But the question is, does that fiction operate according to the usual filmmaking "rules"? Hitchcock starts the action immediately, cutting to Eve Gill (Jane Wyman) and Jonathan Cooper (Richard Todd) fleeing the city. Jonathan confesses to Eve that he's the secret lover of Charlotte Inwood (Marlene Dietrich) a popular and married actress. In flashback Jonathan narrates the events that brought him to Eve for help - Charlotte came to his apartment wearing a bloodstained dress, frantic after killing her husband during an argument. Jonathan agreed to return to her home to procure a fresh gown, and while attempting to stage a fake robbery is spotted by Charlotte's maid, Nellie Goode (Kay Walsh) - and now he's the police's number one suspect.

Eve, an aspiring actress, has long been in love with Jonathan, and determines to get her father the Commodore's (Alastair Sim) assistance in clearing Jonathan's name (and perhaps in the process at long last turning his affections toward herself). What follows is a thoroughly enjoyable mix of humor, heart, mystery, and suspense, delivered with a deftness of touch and a finesse like only Hitchcock could deliver. This is a cast that works really well together, and is one of the movie's biggest strengths - perhaps all the more notable because it was peopled with performers that weren't part of Hitchcock's list of usual "suspects" (i.e. Jimmy Stewart, Cary Grant, Grace Kelly, etc.). Stage Fright was the first almost entirely British film - filming locations and cast (with the exceptions of Wyman and Dietrich) that Hitchcock had made since the 1930s, lending it a feel and flavor rarely since in full force during his Hollywood tenure.

I've never really been a big Jane Wyman fan, probably because my exposure to her work has been limited to her roles in soapy, melodramatic films like Magnificent Obsession, All That Heaven Allows, and Miracle in the Rain. The character of Eve is by contrast a revelation - Wyman plays the wide-eyed, determined ingenue with a touch of spunk and an affinity for comedy (especially when Eve masquerades as a dowdy lady's maid to spy on Charlotte) that I never would've suspected. Stage Fright is perhaps the loveliest I've ever seen Wyman on film, and she brings a warmth and humor to the production that play extraordinarily well in the context of the story.

As Eve's crush Jonathan, Richard Todd is absolutely fantastic. My earliest memories of Todd go back to my childhood, when I watched his Disney films (The Story of Robin Hood, The Sword and the Rose, and Rob Roy) endlessly, and developed a huge crush on his classic good looks and boyish charm. Hitchcock puts those qualities to excellent use here. It's easy to see why Eve loves him, but should she is another matter entirely - there's an unsettling tension and energy underscoring Todd's performance that explodes in the final scenes in a wholly satisfying and surprisingly creepy manner.

The cast is liberally peppered with great British acting talent in memorable character roles, among them Kay Walsh as the hard-nosed maid Nellie with a propensity for blackmail, Joyce Grenfell in a hilarious scene as a carnival booth operator, and even Hitchcock's own daughter Patricia as "Chubby" Bannister, one of Eve's friends and a fellow student. But the award for the best and most hilarious performance must go to Alastair Sim as Commodore Gill, Eve's father and partner in crime (the crime being their amateur criminal investigation). I suspect Sim is perhaps most familiar (to American audiences, anyway) for his turn as Ebenezer Scrooge in the 1951 production of A Christmas Carol. As the Commodore, Sim is hysterically funny, practically stealing every scene in which he appears. Eve's somewhat unconventional father absolutely relishes anything that smacks of a slightly unsavory scandal, loves the idea of having a less-than-stellar reputation, and does everything he can to support his daughter's investigation - all with a delightfully droll, witty British sensibility.

I've always been rather ambivalent about Dietrich, and to be quite honest it's a little freaky how eerily "ageless" she appears in this film. But it's undeniable that she is probably the perfect foil for Wyman's Eve. Cold and icy, brittle and calculating, Dietrich's Charlotte is the antithesis of everything Eve represents - and quite frankly it's kind of fun to watch her mack for the camera and unravel as the film heads towards its climax. She even gets a Cole Porter penned song ("The Laziest Gal in Town"), a lyric that is deliciously ironic when considered in the contex of the film (and, according to the "making of" featurette included on the DVD, a number she regularly resurrected in her shows years later).

My absolute favorite part of this film is any scene featuring Michael Wilding (also known as Elizabeth Taylor's second husband) as "Ordinary" Smith, the detective investigating the murder of Charlotte's husband. Now I've seen Wilding in a handful of films (Torch Song, The Egyptian, and The Glass Slipper), and while he was good in those films, those characters didn't make me sit up and take notice of his urbane good looks and delicious voice. As the sweet and a bit shy Smith, Wilding is positively delightful. DELIGHTFUL, I tell you! The "meet cute" with Eve is just too adorable for words - and the fact that he basically loves her from the moment they meet? Be still my heart. :)

Spoilers...There is apparently some controversy about this film due to Hitchcock's decision to open with Jonathan's "lying flashback" (a decision he later regretted according to the "making of" documentary). After spending some time mulling over this storytelling technique, I've got to conclude that the decision to tell the story of the murder from the point-of-view of an unreliable narrator was perhaps ahead of its time, but ultimately serves the film well and makes the final "reveal" of Jonathan's true nature all the more chilling. As an audience we're used to a film being presented as "reality" from start to finish - but by raising the curtain on London over the opening credits signals the film's awareness that it is a fiction - and the lying flashback is an interesting method of messing with audience expectations and perceptions of the action playing out on-screen.

While it lacks some of the finesse and sophistication of other Hitchcock classics, Stage Fright is an entertaining, quirky, character-driven piece that I'm happy to have finally discovered. If you're a fan of Hitchcock's work - especially if you enjoy the "lighter" films like To Catch a Thief or The Trouble with Harry, this is a diverting little gem that is worth checking out, probably moreso because if my experience is any indication, it's been sadly overlooked!

Purchase Stage Fright on DVD.

Other Hitchcock films I've reviewed:

• Spellbound
• Rear Window
• North by Northwest
• Dial M for Murder