Ginger is in a Tight Spot

Sherry Conley (Ginger Rogers) has served four years in prison, when she is taken from the jail to a swanky New York City hotel by police officer Vince Striker (Brian Keith) and prison guard Willoughby (Katherine Anderson). Both are tight lipped as to the reason. However, it is clear that Sherry is in a Tight Spot (1955) when Lloyd Hallett (Edward G. Robinson) informs Sherry of the murder of her friend, Pete Tonelli (Alfred Linder). Tonelli was about to testify against gang leader Benjamin Costain (Lorne Greene), and Hallett wants Sherry to finish the job.

This is a tidy film, with a nice twist in the end that you really don't see coming. It's well cast and well-acted, with an engaging performance from a character actor - more on that later.

With a short, blonde hairstyle and severe clothing, Ginger Rogers looks much older than her 45 years. She looks hard, as her character should be, though at times she uses that baby voice that she sometimes exhibits when she wants the character to be naive or innocent.  Ms. Rogers is much too old for the role - Sherry should be hardened by prison life, but she also was supposed to have been a young girl who got caught up with a gangster. As the film opens, Sherry is by no means an innocent and while Ms. Rogers gives a decent portrayal, but this is no where near her best role.

Brian Keith is convincing as the police detective assigned to transport and protect Sherry. Mr. Keith does a good job making Vince hard-boiled, but he is equally adept at making him melt as he develops feelings for his charge.  

Brian Keith, the son of noted character actor Robert Keith, started his career in a few silent films as a small child (one featured his father), and in a bit part in Knute Rockne All American (1940). He then began a new job - four years in the Marine Corps as an air gunner. His return saw him in bit parts in a few more films, then on to Broadway, where, as Bob Keith, Jr. he appeared as part of the ensemble in the play Mister Roberts (which featured Henry Fonda in the lead - and his dad as Doc). He got roles in television episodes at this point, finally getting fourth billing in the film Arrowhead (1953). More television and several more films - including The Violent Men (1955), Nightfall (1957), and Storm Center (1957). But it was, perhaps, his role as Mitch in The Parent Trap (1961) that endeared him to a generation. It was this part that may have helped him to get the television series for which he is most remembered - Family Affair (1966). He continued to work in films and television until his death from suicide (his daughter had recently died, and he was suffering from emphysema) in 1997.

Edward G. Robinson is also good as the District Attorney who has pinned his hopes of deporting Costain on Sherry, though there is a hole in his plot line. Why, we wondered, would he approach this woman to testify against Costain, with no offer in hand? One would think that he would arrive with a promise of some reward for her danger, rather than just some lame appeal to her nobility. Mr. Robinson was at a low point in his career at this juncture. He'd been caught up in the McCarthy blacklist, and as he put it,  he "entered the 'B' picture phase of my career." (TCM article) Regardless, there is not an actor one looks forward to seeing more in a film than Mr. Robinson.

Lorne Greene is decidedly despicable as the gangland thug out to get Sherry before she can get him. Mr. Greene was two years from playing the ultimate good guy - Ben Cartwright in Bonanza. Also worthy of note is the performance of Katherine Anderson as the prison guard, Willoughby. Her's is a different kind of prison matron - she's kind and caring. Her affection for Sherry is evident from the minute we see her, and Ms. Anderson makes the character both memorable and engaging.

There is a theme that runs through the film - Sherry (who has been out of the world for four years) wants to watch television. But, every time she puts it on, all she can find is a telethon, hosted by a cowboy singer.  This was, of course, a dig at television, which had become the rival of the movie industry, and at television's penchant for telethons in the 1950s (AFI catalog). We should note that the film was set in New York City, which, in 1955 had six television stations (not two)!

The original Broadway play on which this film is based, Dead Pigeon (which featured Lloyd Bridges, Joan Lorring, and James Gregory), was inspired by Virginia Hill's testimony to the Kefauver Committee ("Gang Busters: The Kefauver Crime Committee and the Syndicate Films of the 1950s" by Ronald W. Wilson in Mob Culture: Hidden Histories of the American Gangster Film) [For more on Virginia Hill, see this bio].

New York Times review by H.H.T. (Henry Howard Thompson) called this "a pretty good little melodrama, the kind you keep rooting for..." and the book Dreams and Dead Ends: The American Gangster Film, 2nd ed. (by Jack Shadoian) says it is "a B gem that bears repeated viewings." We agree, and suggest you keep your eyes open for a it to appear on a TV set near you. In the meantime, here's a scene where Ginger Rogers talks to Brian Keith:

 

 

Classics for Comfort

2020 has been a year of interesting times, and in interesting times, we need comfort. What better comfort is there than a good movie?  So, from May 19-22, the Classic Movie Blog Association (CMBA) is hosting the Classics for Comfort Blogathon, in which we will all discuss those films that bring a smile to our lips or a song to our hearts.  In no particular order, I'm pleased to share with you five movies (and an honorable mention) that I turn to in times of trouble, stress, and/or sorrow that are comfort films for me.

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No comfort film list is complete without something from Ms. Hayley Mills. She is a delight - a wonderful actress with a list of excellent films to her credit. Adding just one to this list was a hard choice - in the running were Pollyanna (1960), which I discussed in a previous blogathon, Summer Magic (1963), and The Moon-Spinners (1964).  But, I ultimately opted to select The Parent Trap (1961), because there are TWO Hayleys to make me glad.  

Sharon McKendrick and Susan Evers live on opposite sides of the U.S. Sharon is in Boston with her mother; Susan lives in California on her father's ranch. They accidentally meet at summer camp, loathe each other at first sight, only to discover that they are "separated at birth" twins - when their parents divorced, each took one daughter, planning to never meet again. It was also decided by the parents that they would not tell their children of her sibling's existence.  Knowing it's the only way to get to know the other parent, the sisters decide to change places.  But when Susan discovers that father Mitch (Brian Keith) is about to marry the gold-digging Vicki Robinson (Joanna Barnes), the girls hatch a plan to get mother Margaret (Maureen O'Hara) back with her ex. 

This was Ms. Mills second film with Disney, and she shines in the dual role. She gives the two sisters distinct personalities. Even when dressed alike, you can tell them apart (amusingly, their parents can't).  Sure, the story is a fantasy, but who cares? The early rivalry episodes are full of tween deviltry and the latter partnership includes deviousness of quite a different ilk - you'll cheer when the twins set their sites on the obviously bad Vicki. And when Ms. Mills sings "Let's Get Together," a dare you to not groove to the music.

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We think of Edward G. Robinson (Martinius Jacobson) as a tough guy, but in Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945), he's the gentlest man you could ever meet. A loving husband to wife Bruna (Agnes Moorehead) and father to his daughter Selma (Margaret O'Brien), he works as a farmer in a small Wisconsin town.

In many respects, the film is a series of short stories, about Selma and her adventures (and arguments) with her younger cousin, Arnold (Jackie "Butch" Jenkins), about Martinius and his desire to build a new state-of-the-art barn, and about the budding romance between new teacher Viola Johnson (Frances Gifford) and newspaper editor Nels Halvorson (James Craig). The script hangs together beautifully, as the characters weave in and out of each others lives.

The beauty of the film hinges on the relationship between Ms. O'Brien and Mr. Robinson. There is a genuine tenderness between the two; adding Agnes Moorehead to the mix - an actress who, in my estimation, can do no wrong - only adds to the charm of the family connection. In one biography, Ms. O'Brien said she became very close to Mr. Robinson during filming (Margaret O'Brien: A Career Chronicle and Biography by Allen R. Ellenberger); this is certainly reflected on screen.

Yet the films avoids becoming schmaltzy. The town in which the Jacobson's live is not perfect. The town is poor; most of the young men are gone to the War; there is even a hint of child abuse. Ultimately, though, the film is about family and unity - the Jacobson's live in a community that comes together in crisis, even if it is only donating a calf to a cause.

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When times are bad, you need to laugh, and nothing will make you laugh more than Ball of Fire (1941). Gary Cooper (Bertram Potts) plays an English professor at work with six colleagues on a new encyclopedia. Professor Potts is horrified to discover that his understanding of slang is archaic. How can he write the needed article for the encyclopedia without further research? So he ventures out of the their cloister to learn the language of the day. On his journey, he meets Sugarpuss O'Shea (Barbara Stanwyck), a night club entertainer who knows just a bit too much about gangster boyfriend, Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews). Joe's solution - stash Sugarpuss with Bertram and his colleagues until Joe can marry her and keep her from testifying against him.

The combination of Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck is comic dynamite. She's forward and alluring; he's shy and retiring. But they spark on screen like nobody's business.  With her as the aggressor, Ms. Stanwyck is at her comic best - she needs him to become enamored of her, but there is danger in the air. She's never met anyone as gentle and considerate as him, and she finds herself falling for him (much to the consternation of Joe Lilac!)

There are so many wonderful scenes - Sugarpuss teaching the assembled professors the conga; Sugarpuss demonstrating the new slang to Bertram (in the form of yum-yum); Bertram learning to box. I could go on, but you get the idea.

We discussed this film at more length several years ago. But like so many of the great Ms. Stanwyck's films, it is a movie that cries for rewatching (and will have you in stitches throughout.

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Take two remarkable actors, add in some suspense,  sprinkle it with comedy, write dialog that sparkles and you've got Charade (1963). It's easily one of the most re-watchable and entertaining mystery stories around - even when you KNOW the ending, you really don't care. You want to watch the film again to meet with the charming, intelligent, and witty Regina Lampert (Audrey Hepburn) and the man of mystery Peter Joshua (Cary Grant). They are a combination to be imbibed regularly.

Regina is on vacation at a skiing resort in the French Alps with her best friend Sylvie Gaudel (Dominique Minot) when Sylvie's mischievous son Jean-Louis (Thomas Chelimsky) "introduces" her to Peter. He's intrigued, but she "already know an awful lot of people, so until one of them dies I couldn't possibly meet anyone else." Regina returns to her home in Paris, determined to divorce her always-absent husband Charles, only to find her apartment stripped bare and a message from the police. Charles is dead - murdered and thrown from a speeding train. The appearance of three threatening men, who demand to know the whereabouts of money Charles stole from them, add to Reggie's distress. And then there is the question - just WHO is Peter Joshua?

Cary Grant didn't want to do the film - he thought he was too old to be romantically involved with Audrey Hepburn, so the script was altered - she pursues him, and the effect is magic. After all, what woman wouldn't want to woo Cary Grant? Combine their interplay with an engaging story and you have a film to watch over and over. You'll laugh, you'll gasp, but you will never be bored.

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Sometimes, an inspirational film that brings tears to your eyes is just what you need when you feel blue. The true story of The Miracle Worker (1961) is one that does it for me. Based on the autobiography of Helen Keller (Patty Duke), a blind-deaf woman who lost both senses after a childhood illness, the movie introduces the uncontrollable child to Anne Sullivan (Anne Bancroft), herself almost blind, but as determined to teach Helen to communicate as Helen is to have her own way.

As a child, I was addicted to biographies of famous women. I think I read every one I could find in our local library. The woman that fascinated me most was Helen Keller. Her autobiography, The Story of My Life, was awe-inspiring. So too does this film bring a feeling of warmth and love that few movies are able to do. The strength of these two individuals, along with the unquestioning love of Helen's mother, Kate (Inga Swenson) make this a film of great passion.

Don't get me wrong - this is a film with humor as well, but I defy anyone to get to the end without a tear in their eyes. With Oscar-winning performances by Ms. Bancroft and Ms. Duke (both recreating their Broadway roles), The Miracle Worker is a film to lift your spirits.

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Honorable Mention:   No list of my comfort films is complete without a mention of one of my primary sources of comfort since childhood. Sure, including To Trap a Spy (1964), is a bit of a cheat. It’s a filmed version of two Man from U.N.C.L.E. episodes, but for me it's one of the places I go when I need to feel better.

It was love at first sight when I saw Robert Vaughn in an early episode of the show. My father took me to a double bill of this and another U.N.C.L.E spinoff movie The Spy with My Face (1965). To say I was in heaven is an understatement.  

The show ended up forming the basis of my first close friendship - one that abides to this day. When times are tough, when I’m sad or anxious, it’s Napoleon Solo who can make everything just a little bit better. (And it doesn't hurt to have Illya Kuryakin as well!)

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Don't forget to read some of the other blogs that are participating in the Classics for Comfort Blogathon. You're sure to find some other films that will brighten your days.

Joan Has Her Portrait Hung

Professor Richard Wanley (Edward G. Robinson), an instructor of psychology at Gotham University, has just sent his family on an extended trip to Maine. He spends the evening with his friends, Dr. Barkstane (Edmond Breon) and New York District Attorney Frank Lalor (Raymond Massey).  Several hours - and drinks - later, Richard exits the club and pauses to admire The Woman in the Window (1944), a portrait in the gallery next to his club. He's stunned to realize that, standing next to him is THE woman (Joan Bennett), who after some conversation, invites him to her apartment. His response to her query will change his life forever.

At the 2019 Noir City DC, we were treated to an introduction to this film by film historian Foster Hirsch. The film, he said, was about submerged desires, and what happens when these desires bubble to the top. Certainly, there is a sexual aspect to the interactions between Alice and Professor Wanley (at least, on his part!). But I disagreed that this was the result of a loveless or sexless marriage. We see Professor Wanley seeing his wife (Dorothy Peterson) and children (Robert Blake and Carol Cameron). He gives his wife a warm departing kiss; we later see him writing to her, and starting the letter "My Dearest Darling". This is certainly a long-time marriage, but he clearly still loves his wife, and very much misses his family.

Seeing Edward G. Robinson in anything is a treat, but he really outdoes himself in this film.  The juxtaposition between the nebbishy professor and the calculating criminologist is fascinating to watch. This was Mr. Robinson’s first film with Joan Bennett, and the chemistry between them is perfect - so good, in fact that the two would be reunited the following year for the impressive Scarlet Street.  Given Mr. Robinson's career of playing vicious murderers, it is intriguing to see him as a victim - though one who has a real crime on his hands.

Merle Oberon was at one point considered for the role of Alice (AFI catalog), but it is hard to picture anyone but Joan Bennett in the role. She is so enormously sexy that it's easy to picture the three clubmen (Dr. Barkstane, Frank Lalor, and Professor Wanley) discussing their dream girl based merely on a picture in the window of an art gallery.  With her dark hair (a change she made in 1938, which opened a new range of films for her), deep voice, and her seductive tones, she is a siren, wooing men to their doom. Her interactions with both Mr. Robinson and Mr. Duryea are letter-perfect. It's no wonder that Hollywood wanted this dream team to be reunited the following year.

Ms. Bennett, her husband, Walter Wanger, and Fritz Lang were the producers on the film; this opened up new opportunities to director Lang, whose vision for film had being circumscribed by producers like Darryl F. Zanuck. (TCM article)  The film's ending was Lang's idea; producer and screenwriter Nunnally Johnson wanted a different ending, but he was overruled.

Dan Duryea  (Heidt) is appropriately smarmy as the bodyguard hired by his company to tail Claude Mazard (Arthur Loft) - a wealthy man who has a reputation for losing his short temper and getting into fights.  While we initially think Heidt will be easily fooled by the Professor and Alice, we find he is by no means stupid, though he is avaricious and vengeful. Mr. Duryea spent the greater part of his career playing the villain, but he's never boring. His scenes with Ms. Bennett sizzle with tension.

The film's initial title was Off Guard. It received a single Oscar nomination for Score (Hugo Friedhofer and Arthur Lange)., losing to  Miklós Rózsa's Spellbound. Ms. Bennet, Mr. Robinson, and Mr. Duryea reunited to perform a Lux Radio Theatre version in June of 1945.

If you've never seen Woman in the Window, do get hold of a copy. It's a real treat.  I'll leave with the trailer:

Edward Sees Himself

The Whole Town's Talking (1935) about gangster "Killer" Manion (Edward G. Robinson), who just broken out of jail in search of stoolie "Slugs" Martin (Edward Brophy). With Manion's picture all over the front page of every newspaper in town, Arthur Ferguson Jones (Edward G. Robinson) is in a pickle - the mild-mannered clerk is a dead-ringer for Manion. How can the police catch Manion and not keep arresting Jones? Well, a pass issued by the Chief of Police seems like a good solution, but when that information hits the papers as well (thanks to Reporter Healy (Wallace Ford), Manion develops his own plan.

Mr. Robinson is quite impressive in the dual roles. Using him is an interesting and effective casting decision; it toys with the audience's familiarity with him in his gangster roles, by throwing another characterization into the mix.  Mr. Robinson doesn't rely on makeup or vocal changes to differentiate the characters - he uses his posture and his face. The audience always knows which character is which because of his skill in demarcating one man from the other. Clearly the star of the film - and the romantic lead - his performance also shows the skills that would make him a magnificent - and powerful - character actor as he aged. 

Following his success in Little Caesar (1931), it appeared that Edward G. Robinson was doomed to a career of gangster roles. So, when Columbia pictures wanted to borrow him for The Whole Town's Talking, he initially balked (TCM article). Under suspension and pressed for cash, Mr. Robinson eventually agreed to take the part. The film was so well received that there were rumors he would be nominated for an Oscar. However, Jack Warner used his influence to block the nomination - he didn't want a Warner star nominated for another studio's film (Little Caesar: A Biography of Edward G. Robinson by Alan L. Gansberg).

Jean Arthur is appropriately sassy as Wilhemina "Bill" Clark, the woman of Arthur’s dreams. He secretly writes poems to her, addressing them to Cymbeline; poems which she mocks (not knowing Arthur is the author). When she realizes that Arthur is a double of Manion, she becomes fascinated with the timid clerk. And while Bill finds Arthur's bachelor apartment exactly as she suspected (even to “a canary bird”), she has mellowed enough to find this endearing. We were especially amused by Bill’s discussions with the police, as she yells “Manion” to every crime about which they inquire. This film was something new for Ms. Arthur and contributed to her future in films like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) (Women in the Films of John Ford by David Meuel).

It's surprising to realize that the film was directed by John Ford. One doesn't often think of him in relation to films of this type, but he had directed contemporary American stories before (John Ford: The Man and His Films by Tag Gallagher). In his autobiography, Edward G. Robinson had nothing but praise for Mr. Ford. The pair bring a gentle comedy to the film - Arthur is amusing, but never mocked.

A quick tip of the hat to the always amusing Donald Meek as Hoyt, the first person to confuse Arthur with Manion  - his efforts to claim the reward for finding Manion are really funny (it's not a surprise that he's having a problem getting the money, since he keeps turning in the wrong person). 

We do wish the police were a little less stupid - the idea of giving Arthur a note, and then letting a reporter put that in the newspaper is so tantamountly idiotic that you can only shake your head at this plot device. Regardless, this is a very small complaint in an otherwise enjoyable picture.

When it opened at Radio City Music Hall, The Whole Town's Talking received a glowing review from Andre Sennwald at the New York Times. This was the first of Mr. Robinson's films to open at Radio City and was a huge success for the studio (Little Caesar: A Biography of Edward G. Robinson by Alan L. Gansberg). 

The story was adapted from a novel by William R. Burnett, the author of Little Caesar (which would certainly help explain Mr. Robinson's initial reaction to the role). Working titles were Jail Breaker and Passport to Fame (AFI catalog).  In February 1941, Jeff Corey took on the story for the Lux Radio Theatre.

This is a fun film, and one we wholeheartedly encourage you to view.  We'll leave you with a clip from the opening of the film:

Barbara Wants a Bigger Ranch

John Parrish (Glenn Ford), a former captain in the Union Army, has spent three years in the West, recovering from his wartime injuries. Engaged to Caroline Vail (May Wynn), Parrish has decided to sell his ranch and return east at Caroline’s urging. The only potential buyer is Lew Wilkison (Edward G. Robinson), the owner of Anchor, a huge estate. It's no surprise when Wilkison underbids for Parrish's ranch. But Parrish is infuriated and a new war is set in motion when Cole Wilkison (Brian Keith), Wade Matlock (Richard Jaeckel), and The Violent Men (1955) murder John's ranch hand Bud Hinkleman (Bill Phipps) to "convince" Parrish to take the offer.

This is an adequate western, with a stellar, though not well-used cast.  Glenn Ford is fine as a man who seems condemned to using violence, even though he yearns for a life of peace. His interactions with Edward G. Robinson are good (though short and on the technical side). Also convincing are his scenes with Dianne Foster as Judith Wilkison, the daughter of Lew and Martha (Barbara Stanwyck). Mr. Ford is quoted as saying this was one of his favorite films - primarily because he got to work with Ms. Stanwyck and Mr. Robinson  (Glenn Ford: A Life by Peter Ford).

What we missed were strong exchanges between Ms. Stanwyck and Mr. Ford or Mr. Robinson. Ms. Stanwyck's key scenes are with Brian Keith, an actor we all admire, but who is given precious little with which to work. Cole Wilkison is a villain - he's out for money and for sex; if he is able to hurt or kill someone while getting it, all the better. But his motivations are one-dimensional. As a result, the dialogue between these two fine actors is mere speechifying. It's a waste of talented performers who can give so much more. In Peter Ford's book, he says that he believed his father had fallen for Ms. Stanwyck. That alone makes you wish for just one scene in which she and Mr. Ford really talked. 

In his book Barbara Stanwyck: The Miracle Woman, author Dan Callahan says: "whenever Stanwyck has blond hair in a movie...get out of the way, buster, there's going to be a lot of trouble" and he is certainly correct in this instance. Martha is, without a doubt, one of the most unscrupulous characters Ms. Stanwyck has ever done. I'm sure you are thinking - "wait, what about Phyllis Dietrichson? Martha can't be worse than her!" But Indeed Martha is worse, because there is no depth to the character. Ms. Stanwyck tries, but she doesn't have the tools, in the form of a script, which allow Martha to have some substance. Ms. Stanwyck has one really good scene, in which she and Edward G. Robinson are trying to escape a burning house. It's only a moment, there is no real dialogue, but it is proof that when you have two dynamic actors, the results are electric.

Lew Wilkison has managed to distance himself from the current violence; Edward G. Robinson's portrayal is of a man who wants the power, but feels himself emasculated by the injury that limited his ability to walk. His daughter, Judith, as portrayed by Dianne Foster is far different than either of her parents. Initially unlikable, Judith becomes the only truly good character in the film. She has one goal, and it is not that of either of her parents. There is, however, a bond between father and daughter that is certainly not evident with her mother. Lew shows a concern for his child; Martha would rather just send her away.  

Ms. Foster had a brief film career; between 1953 and 1958, she was in 11 films (including The Kentuckian (1955) and The Last Hurrah (1958)). Beginning in 1959, she mostly appeared on television, guesting in shows such as The Wild, Wild West, Hawaiian Eye, Ben Casey, and Perry Mason. She's been married three times; her last marriage to Dr. Harold Rowe was in 1960 - the couple were together until his death in 1999. Ms. Foster has three children and lives in  California, where she is a painter.

Based on the novel Smoky Valley by Donald Hamilton (AFI Catalog), the film does not appear to have been well received; Though it is a beautifully filmed movie, done in Technicolor and Cinemascope, the New York Times review by Bosley Crowther said: "If, at the end, it leaves you feeling you've seen just another horse-opera...it's no wonder, for that's what it is." The New York Herald-Tribune called the two leads "Little Caesar in buckskin" and "Lady Macbeth of the plains" (TCM article).  It's not that it's a bad movie, it's just not a good one. With such a good cast, it's worth a single viewing (but if you have to choose a Stanwyck western, go for Trooper Hook).

Here's a trailer from the film:

Separated at Birth Noir

Noir City DC was held in October 2018, and featured a number of fascinating films. Though I would have loved to have seen them all, having a job and other responsibilities precluded that. We were, however, able to see a double feature of two rarely shown films. The first was Destiny (1944), the story of Cliff Banks (Alan Curtis), an ex-con who has a penchant for getting himself involved with the wrong women. The second film was Flesh and Fantasy (1943), an anthology film - three stories that looked at superstition, dreams, and destiny. But more interesting than the films themselves was that fact that, at one point, they were to be one film.

Eddie Muller, founder of the Film Noir Foundation (and the host of Noir Alley on TCM) introduced the films, and also hosted an impromptu discussion in the lobby of the AFI Silver Theatre on the intermission. He provided a fascinating look at the history of these two films, originally intended to be only one movie, with four separate, interrelated vignettes.

Julien Duvivier had already been acknowledged as a great director, thanks to films like Pépé le Moko (1937), when World War II broke out. Like many of his compatriots, he left France to work in Hollywood, where he felt he would have more creative freedom (EuroChannel article). Mr. Duvivier was friendly with Charles Boyer and the two formed a production company. The result was Flesh and Fantasy, which would be distributed by Universal Studios. Only there was a problem. Universal executives thought the first vignette was too odd for their audience, and yanked it out of the film.  Then, the following year, Universal decided release it with a frame built around the short (to make it feature length and "clarify" it). They called back actors Gloria Jean  (Jane Broderick) and Alan Curtis, and over their protests, forced them to film this new, odd sequence. Mr. Duvivier refused to participate (ordering his name be removed from the picture), and Reginald Le Borg reluctantly assumed direction of the new section. The new film was Destiny (1944)
The difference in tone and texture between the two episodes is glaring. As Mr. Muller pointed out in his introduction, you know when Mr. Duvivier's sequence begins (and ends) without being told. His portion is dreamlike, but at the same time, intense and moody. Mr. Le Borg's portion is more matter-of-fact (it also doesn't help that the script he was given makes little-to-no sense. Cliff Banks is turned into an idiot in the frame story. I found the character more interesting as a monster). John Garfield had been the first choice for Cliff (when it was still part of Flesh and Fantasy).

Both Teresa Wright and Bonita Granville were considered for Ms. Jean's role (AFI Catalog). Gloria Jean was brought to Universal as a singing star in the mold of Deanna Durbin. She saw Flesh and Fantasy as a turning point in her career. Finally, she would be in a dramatic role (with almost no singing) with fine performers Like Edward G. Robinson and Barbara Stanwyck. But, when the studio pulled her segment from the film, she was devastated, and felt that this action prevented her from advancing in the film industry (The Hollywood Reporter, 2018). By then end of the 1940's, her film career was pretty much over. She did some television, but eventually worked as an executive secretary at Redken Laboratories; she retired from that job after 30 years with the company. She moved to Hawaii to live with her son, Angelo and daugher-in-law (Angelo died in 2017). A biography was published in 2005 (Gloria Jean: A Little Bit of Heaven by Scott and Jan MacGillivray). Ms. Jean died in August 2018 of heart failure and pneumonia. She was 92.


The three stories that make up Flesh and Fantasy were supposed to flow, one into the other. Despite the unnecessary interruptions of Robert Benchley (I'm not really a fan. He frequently just goes a bit too far in silliness for my taste), the vignettes do still waft from story to story. The first (sometimes called "Mardi Gras"), stars Betty Field as Henrietta, an embittered seamstress, who yearns for Michael (played by Robert Cummings), a law student who is unaware of the homely woman. It has a romantic tinge, and is reminiscent of The Enchanted Cottage (1945). Ms. Field does a good job with the part, and provides just the right touch of hope to a woman who has all but surrendered her life. 

Story two (often called "The Palmist") concerns Marshall Tyler (Edward G. Robinson), a businessman who is told by palm reader Septimus Podgers (Thomas Mitchell) that he will kill someone. Tyler becomes obsessed by the prophecy, and is plagued by voices encouraging to control the prediction by picking a victim now, so that he will not be accused of a crime. Mr. Robinson is a deft actor who portrays mania well (if you've never seen him in Scarlet Street (1945), give yourself a treat). He's ably supported by Mr. Mitchell (a superb character actor), along with Dame May Whitty (Lady Pamela Hardwick) and Anna Lee (Rowena).

The final story features Charles Boyer as Paul Gaspar, a world-renowned high-wire performer who is having nightmares that see him falling from the wire as a lovely woman gasps in horror. While traveling back to America (and considering the future of his act), he meets Joan Stanley (Barbara Stanwyck), the woman whom he has seen in the dream. Romantic elements also infuse this story, and both Mr. Boyer and Ms. Stanwyck are excellent (and are excellent together). We also have Charles Winninger as King Lamarr, the sympathetic owner of the Paul's circus.
Originally titled For All We Know, Flesh and Fantasy also looked at actors Charles Laughton, Adolphe Menjou, Deanna Durbin and Greta Garbo as potential actors in the piece. (AFI catalog)  All three stories in Flesh and Fantasy made it to radio: a Screen Guild Theatre radio broadcast on April 1945 starred Ella Rains and Charles Boyer in "The High-Wire Performer" episode; a July 1945 broadcast featured Edward G. Robinson and Vincent Price in "The Palmist" episode; and in September 1945 John Hodiak and Claire Trevor enacted the "Mardi Gras" Episode.

Mr. Muller is hoping that one day, these films can be reassemble to finally show us the film Mr. Duvivier intended to release. In the meantime, I heartily suggest watching both films together, and let you mind wander over the possibilities. Here are trailers from both of the films:

Charlton Talks to God

The Ten Commandments (1956) was featured as this month's Fathom Events screening for TCM Presents, celebrating the 60th Anniversary of the film's release.  Starring Charlton Heston as Moses, the film also features its director, Cecil B. DeMille, the narrative voice of the movie.  At the time of its release, The Ten Commandments was the most expensive film ever produced (costing over $13 million), as well as being DeMille's most successful film.  It was also DeMille's final film. He would die three years later, at the age of 77. 

This screening showed the film as it was originally released, with an overture, end music and introduction by the director (as well as a 10 minute intermission.  With a running time of 220 minutes, that break was welcome) In his introduction, DeMille informs us that, as much of Moses' early life is not discussed in The Holy Scriptures (as the titles call The Bible), the film goes to the works of Josephus and Philo to fill in the missing period.  (You can see that introduction just below).   The film is reverent in its treatment of the story, and DeMille really wants the audience to understand that care that was taken in creating an accurate telling of the story of Moses.

Charlton Heston is perfect in the role of Moses - and it's hard to envision anyone else in the part (When DeMille did it as a silent film, in 1923, the part of Moses was played by Theodore Roberts, an actor who appeared in 23 films for DeMille, but did not transition to talkies).  According to the  AFI Catalog notes some sources claim that William Boyd ("Hopalong" Cassidy) had been DeMille's first choice for the part, though DeMille's autobiography stated otherwise.  It's been said that Heston's resemblance to the Michaelangelo Moses was the impetus for his selection.  You can judge for yourself from the images below.
Charlton Heston had already worked with DeMille - in the circus epic, The Greatest Show on Earth (1952), for which DeMille won the Best Picture Oscar (beating High Noon and The Quiet Man).  The Ten Commandments really pushed Heston into the star category, a status that Ben Hur would solidify when he won the Best Actor Oscar three years later.  Heston's magnificent speaking voice gives the character of Moses great power (though, it should be noted that the Moses of the Bible was not a good speaker, and asked God to allow his brother Aaron to do the speaking for him) and served him well in his lengthy and varied career.  Though best knows as the star of epics like this one, he worked in science fiction (Soylent Green, Planet of the Apes),  westerns (The Big Country), comedies (Wayne's World) and even Shakespeare (Julius Caesar, Hamlet, Antony and Cleopatra - the latter of which he adapted for the screen and directed).  In the 1980's, Heston segued into episodic television, as the star of the Dynasty spinoff, The Colbys (which briefly co-starred Barbara Stanwyck).  He was married to his wife, Lydia Clark for 44 years; they had two children, Fraser and Holly.  (Fraser made his screen debut (and only on screen appearance) in The Ten Commandments, age 3 months, as the baby Moses.  Fraser was cast en utero, several months before the sequences were scheduled to be shot.)  When Charlton Heston discovered in 2002 that he was suffering from Alzheimer's Disease, he retired.  He died in 2008.

With an unbelievably large and impressive cast: Yul Brynner as Rameses II, Yvonne De Carlo as Moses' wife, Sephora, Debra Paget as Lilia, John Derek as Joshua, Sir Cedric Hardwicke as Sethi, Nina Foch as Bithiah, Martha Scott as Yochabel, Judith Anderson as Memnet, it is hard to pick just a few to discuss.  We particularly enjoyed Vincent Price as the oily and lecherous Baka, The Master Builder.  He made a fine contrast to Edward G. Robinson as his equally lecherous, but far more sinister successor, Dathan.

Anne Baxter, as Nefretiri, however, was a huge disappointment.  Baxter can be a powerful actress, but uncontrolled, she can overact to the rafters.  This was one of the latter performances.   In one scene, where she is supposedly seducing Moses, she turns AWAY from him, eyes wide and smoldering, and instead tries to seduce the camera.  Interestingly, she was not DeMille's first choice for the part - he had in fact considered Audrey Hepburn, but decided her bust was too small for the wardrobe he envisioned for Nefretiri.  This Huffington Post article has some further tidbits of information.

According to this TCM article, Yul Brynner got the part of Ramses between acts of The King and I, and Yvonne de Carlo was hired based on her appearance Sombero.  DeMille was screening it to see Nina Foch; he ended up casting both women based on the 1953 film.

The special effects in the film are of varying quality.  Let's not forget, this is the pre-Industrial Light and Magic era, so special effects look clunky to modern eyes.  Of course, the most famous (and best) effect in the film is the parting of the Red Sea, a complicated process that involved lots of water, reversing of a filmed flood, and a great deal of post processing.  This article provides more detail on the processes used.  Less successful is the use of animation for the burning bush, and for the writing of the tablets of the 10 commandments.  It unfortunately looks animated - and bad animation at that.  DeMille should have talked to Walt Disney before he tried it!

An interesting historical note concern's DeMille's efforts at publicity for the film, including the "donation" of Ten Commandment stone plaques to  government buildings across the United States (this NPR report discusses the civil liberties issues involved in the display of these religious items on government facilities).  The repercussions of this publicity stunt continued for over 50 years.

I'll leave you with the trailer for this film.  All caveats aside, it's an impressive film that got a well-deserved big screen showing.  Perhaps one day, it will be shown in double feature with DeMille's 1923 silent version of the story (it would be a VERY long double feature!)

Edward G.'s Ancient Gang

We decided to return to the pre-code era this week, visiting Edward G. Robinson earlier in his career in the 1932 film The Hatchet Man (also called The Honourable Mr. Wong in the United Kingdom). Featuring an impressive cast of Caucasian actors all playing Asians, the film is quite politically incorrect, but has an ending that will knock your socks off.

Wong Low Get (Robinson) is the titular Hatchet Man for the Lem Sing Tong in San Francisco (a Chinese brotherhood that by modern standards would be the local mobsters).  The title of Hatchet Man is, as the opening crawl informs us, an honorable one that is handed down from father to son.  Following the death of the Tong's leader, the new chief, Nog Hong Fah (Dudley Digges) orders Wong to murder his best friend, Sun Yat Ming (J. Carroll Naish), who was complicit in the death of the leader.  Sun realizes that his death is imminent, and so makes out his will, leaving his fortune and the care of his 6 year old daughter, Sun Toya San (who will grow up to be Loretta Young), to the care of Wong.  His will also expresses his desire that Toya will wed Wong when she is of age.  The men talk, Sun forgives his friend for the deed he must commit, and Wong throws his hatchet.  We see a doll fall from the hand of the young Toya, its head hanging by a thread.  And then the story jumps forward 12 year.

We've already mentioned that this is a movie about the Chinese in America in which not ONE Chinese (or Asian) person appears.  As politically incorrect as this is in the 21st Century, this was standard practice in Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s.  As this TCM article points out, it was crucial to have a star name to tout, and those stars, of course, were Caucasian.  But, if you had a Caucasian done up to look Asian, next to a person of genuine Asian ancestry, the make-up on your white actor looked outlandish.  So, the decision was to hire an all-white cast, and everyone's make-up was the same.  Only here, it really isn't, as Edward G. Robinson is barely made up, compared to Loretta Young or Leslie Fenton (Harry En Hai).  As a result, Robinson maintains the facial expression that is crucial to his characterization while the other actors look as though they are wearing Halloween masks.

The other problem with the movie, from a modern perspective, is the relationship between Wong and Toya.  Wong raises her as a daughter, then marries her.  It is a trifle disturbing to think about, especially when you throw into the mix that Wong murdered her father.  But, Robinson's skill as an actor helps to mitigate the audience discomfort.  He is loving and gentle - he is even surprised when Toya consents to their marriage.  It's because of Robinson that the viewer can't help but feel sympathy for Wong.

The wonderful character actor J. Carrol Naish has a VERY small part, but as with most things Naish does, you don't forget him.  Naish had a long career, from 1925 until 1971.  He made the transition to television fairly seamlessly, and probably appeared as a member of every ethnic group on the planet. He was nominated for two Academy Awards (for Sahara in 1943 and A Medal for Benny in 1945, for which he was awarded the Golden Globe award).  Naish married his wife Gladys in 1929; they had one child and were together until his death of emphysema in 1973.  In his last role, he starred as Dr. Frankenstein in the low-budget Dracula vs. Frankenstein (which also featured Lon Chaney, Jr.).

Back in 2013, when we discussed She Had to Say Yes,  we talked about Loretta Young and her relationship with Clark Gable.  A new article on Loretta Young was recently released, and in light of our prior conversation, we thought it important to alert you to this new information.  Ms. Young's son, Chris Lewis, spoke to an interviewer about conversations he and his wife Linda had with Ms. Young.  After watching an episode of Larry King Live in 1998 (a show Ms. Young watched regularly), she asked Linda what "date rape" was.  Linda explained, and Ms. Young stated “That’s what happened between me and Clark.”  Ms. Young asked her son and daughter-in-law to keep the secret - she didn't want daughter Judy to think that her conception was totally without love.  But, with Judy's death (of lymphoma) in 2011, Chris and Linda felt it was time to confess his mother's secret, and though neither party from that night is there to confirm or deny, it is an important story to tell.  We hope you will read the article above. 

Directed by William Wellman, the movie is fascinating to watch primarily because of the ending (which we will avoid telling you).  It's interesting that, in a contemporary New York Times review critic Mordaunt Hall had no compunction about blowing the ending.  I know my fellow blogger at Pre-code.com was not impressed with the film, and while The Hatchet Man is far from perfect, we think it is worth viewing, if for nothing more than to see the ending.  We will just say that words have power, and curses aimed in the right direction can achieve as much as a weapon. 

We leave you with an early scene from the film - the introduction of Wong Low Get: