Nasa Springer (Clara Bow) is the latest in a family of passionate individuals. Her grandfather, Silas Jennings (Fred Kohler) indulged in an extramarital affair on the wagon train west; her mother Ruth (Estelle Taylor) fell passionately in love with the Native American Ronasa (Weldon Heyburn). Nasa is prone to wild outbursts and fits of temper, and the only one who seems to understand her is her best friend, the half-Native American Moonglow (Gilbert Rowland). Nasa tries to be accommodating to her father Pete (Willard Robertson), but when he decides to announce her engagement to HIS pick for her spouse, Nasa impulsively elopes with ne'er-do-wellLawrence Crosby (Monroe Owsley), causing a serious rift with her father. Based on a novel by Tiffany Thayer (who Ben Hecht called "a fellow pornographer"), Call Her Savage (1932) is about as pre-code as you can get. We've got adultery, attempted rape, venereal disease, prostitution, drug abuse, alcoholism, homosexuality, and various states of undress (my colleague's review at Pre-code.com will give you a bit more information and images!). With all that included, it's rather frightening to realize that the producers took things OUT of the film that were just really too extreme even for a pre-code film (The article at the AFI Catalog goes into a great deal of detail outlining some of the scenes in the book that didn't make the movie.) As portrayed by Clara Bow (the film was developed for her, according to this TCM article), Nasa is a bit of a wildcat, and the scenes where Nasa throws a temper-tantrum tend to be over-the-top. However, when Ms. Bow is quiet, as in a scene where she sits on the floor beside her mother, or when she is trying to decide how to get money to support her child, her genuineness is quite touching. An experienced silent actress, Ms. Bow still relies on some of those tricks to get her point across. At the same time, her skills as an actress enable her to do more with just her eyes then most actors can do with their whole bodies.
Clara Bow's life was not easy. Her father abandoned her and her mother when Clara was very young. Her mother was mentally ill and at one point threatening her daughter with a knife as Clara lay in bed. It seemed that Hollywood might change all that, as Clara became more and more successful - nicknamed the "It Girl" because whatever "It" was, she had It (TCM article), she appeared in the first picture to win an Academy Award (Wings), and made the transition to talkies. But, the betrayal of her former secretary, who laundered much of Ms. Bow's dirty laundry in public during a court case, as well as her anxieties regarding her performances in sound films, caused her to retire. She'd recently married cowboy star Rex Bell; they would have two children and settle on a ranch in Nevada. Clara, however, became increasingly reclusive and uncommunicative; when Bell decided to run government office, Clara attempted to kill herself. Clara was briefly hospitalized for her disorders; though she and Bell never divorced, she ended up living alone in a bungalow on their property. Ms. Bow died of a heart attack at age 65, in 1965. (See also this article from The Guardian in 2016)
Thelma Todd as Sunny De Lane is not well served here. She
has very little to do except be petulant and nasty. As Larry Crosby's
lover, she spends most of her time taunting Larry and insulting Nasa. An
actress of some skill, especially in comedic roles, Call Her Savage is really a waste of her time. It was good to again see Monroe Owsley, who we've encountered in a number of pre-code film - usually as the villain. And he certainly is playing that character here. Larry Crosby is a reprehensible human being, who takes joy out of humiliating people. His mad scene is well done, and a later encounter with Nasa is full of venom. It's rather hard though to understand why Nasa is so taken with him - he's rather despicable. But, given Nasa's predilection for doing whatever her father DOESN'T want her to do, marrying Larry is perfectly in character.
We also wish there had been a bit more of Gilbert Roland. An attractive man, he is even more admirable in this film for his willingness to tolerate Nasa's fits of pique. Mr. Roland would go on to a successful career in film and television, working until his retirement in 1994. Though he has an equally small role in The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), he uses what he has to memorable effect. He's also wonderful opposite Barbara Stanwyck in The Furies (1950).
The New York Times, in its review of November of 1932, was not terrifically impressed with the picture. The reviewer complements Mr. Owsley and Mr. Rowland, but felt Ms. Bow overdid it a tad. We'll leave you with a scene from later in the film, where Nasa gives in to her frustrations. Our suggestion - watch the quiet moments:
A few years ago, we discussed The Bad and the Beautiful (1952) (you can see our prior review here. You'll also find a detailed description of the plot and characters there). We decided to revisit the film, this time looking at it from a slightly different perspective - our discussion for this viewing focused on the character of Jonathan Shields, as wonderfully portrayed by Kirk Douglas. So, the question is, is Jonathan Shields really bad? We have three characters who are furious at him. We looked at them in some detail. Fred Amiel (Barry Sullivan) is angered when Jonathan passes him over for an experienced director on the film of Fred's script, The Far Away Mountain. Is Fred justified in demonizing Jonathan? When we first meet Fred, he is working as a professional mourner because he cannot sell a script. Jonathan teams up with Fred and succeeds in getting them both jobs in Harry Pebbel's (Walter Pidgeon) studio. Though Fred is not aggressive in blowing his own horn, Jonathan is. The final result, Fred becomes an Oscar-winning screenwriter and director, marries the woman of his dreams (to whom Jonathan proposes on Fred's behalf), and has a happy, stable family life. Does Jonathan backtrack on his promise to get Fred the acting gig? Sure. Would Fred have gotten it, if Jonathan had pursued it further? Probably not.
Georgia Lorrison (Lana Turner) spends most of her time drinking and sleeping with men. She perpetually mourns for her late father, a great actor, notable bon vivant, and drunkard. Georgia however is notable for her beauty and for her inability to act. Jonathan, who was friendly with her father, sees talent where no one else does, and goes out on a limb to hire her to star in his picture. She inevitably breaks her promise to not drink and disappears on the first day of shooting. Urged to replace her, Jonathan instead sobers her up, and keeps her in the production. It's Georgia who envisions a great romance - Jonathan, a man plagued with his own demons, has no such idea. However, he attempts to protect Georgia from his relationship with Lila (Elaine Stewart); it's Elaine who makes sure Georgia knows. And Jonathan makes it clear he is furious at her callous revelation. Did he mislead her romantically? Probably. Is he really out to hurt her? No.
James Lee Bartlow (Dick Powell), tempted to Hollywood by a hefty paycheck and by his wife Rosemary's Gloria Grahame) eagerness to sample the bright lights of the big city, signs a contract to write a screenplay of his book. But Rosemary is a time suck. We learn that it took him seven years to write his first book, primarily because of her interruptions. To get the screenplay written, Jonathan asks his friend Victor "Gaucho" Ribera (Gilbert Roland) to squire Rosemary to the local hotspots to keep her distracted. Though we hear only one half of a telephone conversation, it's clear Gaucho has more on his mind than squiring. Jonathan, however, is very clear in his response. "I said 'squire', Gaucho". He responds. Is the fact that Rosemary and Gaucho choose to bring the relationship further than was requested Jonathan's fault? Not really, but perhaps he should have picked less of a Lothario as an escort.
The person who should resent Jonathan most is actually his biggest supporter. Harry Pebbel becomes Jonathan's employee after Jonathan and Fred strike out on their own (assumedly, without his key writer and director, Harry cannot keep his B picture studio going). Harry could see Jonathan (and Fred) as traitors, yet he is the one who forces our characters to look inward - to realize that their fame, awards, success all stem from what Jonathan did for them. He does not defend, but points out truths (like the fact that Jonathan let Georgia out of her contract over Harry's protestations). As such, Harry becomes the bellweather for our opinion of Jonathan, and he is hard to ignore. It's hard to imagine anyone other than Kirk Douglas doing it. He makes the character a real person - a combination of both the bad and the good. The nuances of Douglas'
performance become more visible with each viewing of the film. Since it's likely that Jonathan was loosely based on real people (see this AFI Catalog entry for some of possible candidates), it is important that Douglas create a real individual, not a caricature, which he does admirably.
When the film opened at the Radio City Music Hall in New York City, the New York Timesreview was not particularly enthusiastic. Regardless of their opinion, the film won five Oscars, including Best Supporting Actress (Gloria Grahame) and Helen Rose for her splendid costume design (b&w film). If you've not seen The Bad and the Beautiful in awhile, give yourself a treat and watch it again. Now, we're not saying that Jonathan Shields is a prince among men, just that, on second viewing, you might find yourself rooting a bit for his comeback.
We return to the films of Ronald Colman with the romantic comedy, My Life with Caroline (1941). Caroline Bliss Mason (Anna Lee) is very much a woman who, when she is not near the man she loves, loves the man she is near (with apologies to E.Y. Harburg). So, while she is on a trip to an Idaho ski lodge with her father (Charles Winninger), she announces that she has discovered her "true love" in Paco Del Valle (Gilbert Roland), a South American millionaire. Mr. Bliss, being no fool, cables Caroline's husband, publisher Anthony Mason (Ronald Colman), who immediately flies to meet his straying spouse in Idaho. Anthony been through this before - and as he waits to clear up Caroline's latest mess, he recalls the last time she found her "true love", and her relationship with artist Paul Martindale (Reginald Gardiner). Told in flashback, the film is primarily the story of Paul and Caroline and Anthony, as Caroline holds her lover off temporarily while she attempts to tell her husband that she loves another. Perhaps Caroline's one saving grace as a character is that it doesn't appear that she has cheated on her husband in the physical sense (though there is obviously an awful lot of cheating going on in her head). Normally, I wouldn't just refer immediately to a film review, but upon reading New York Times review. we were all struck by how on the mark it is:
"Things have come to a pretty pass, certainly, when Ronald Colman, that
old debonair dog, has to work to hold onto his lady as laboriously as he
does in RKO's My Life With Caroline. . . And such an unimportant fluff the lady is, too—such an
obvious nincompoop! Time was when Mr. Colman wouldn't have given her a
"how'dya do," let alone make himself silly for an hour and a quarter
chasing after her. Well, that only leads to this conclusion: either Mr.
Colman is slipping or his writers are".
Nincompoop is the perfect word for Caroline, and it is hard to envision why any man would put up with her nonsense. And WHY would one want to give up Ronald Colman for Reginald Gardiner, who is probably one of the prissiest human beings in film?
We can't really blame Ronald Colman, except for picking the film, as he is good as Anthony, with just the right amount of humor and tolerance for the part. Though not entirely a comedy, his talents in the arena were better served in Talk of the Town later that same year. That, far more than this, demonstrated his light touch. Here, he seems miscast; a better script would have helped. As discussed in this TCM article, Colman is just too sophisticated and too mature to be interested in such a flibbertigibbet as Caroline. Regardless, it was a film Colman and director Lewis Milestone very much wanted to do. Which brings us to Anna Lee. Though listed in the credits as being introduced to film, Ms. Lee had actually already appeared in 10 films (beginning her film career in 1932), though the roles were either minor or supporting parts. Later that same year, she would return to a second lead status, but this time in a film that would better utilize her talents - How Green Was My Valley, in which she played Bronwyn, the bride of oldest Morgan son. Lee, who was born Joan Boniface Winnifrith in Kent, England, had a long and successful career, segueing almost seamlessly from film to television, and ending her career playing Lila Quartermaine, first on the soap opera Port Charles, then playing the same character on General Hospital (performing from a wheelchair after an automobile accident paralyzed her from the waist down). She died in 2004, aged 91, the year after her a new production staff at General Hospital refused to renew her contract.
Which brings us to Reginald Gardiner - we wondered if, unlike Paco, Paul was under the delusion that Caroline was wealthy (or would get some kind of alimony from her husband. Fat chance, since she is this close to cheating on Anthony). We know from her father that any money that Caroline has is from her quite generous husband. It's rather hard to like Paul, and Gardiner, who really is a rather stuffy actor, doesn't make it any easier. In a sense, he is playing the same part he played in Christmas in Connecticut. He wasn't all that likable there either. Both Eva Gabor and Miriam Hopkins were considered for Caroline (see this article from the AFI Catalog); after Anna Lee was cast, she also received a long-term contract. The film, written by Milestone as Palm Beach Limited and based on a French farce, was the first outing for Colman's production company with Milestone and William Hawks, United Producers Corp.
While this isn't a film we would recommend, it has some interesting moments. And it does have Ronald Colman. We'll leave you with this scene from the beginning of the film.
This week, we again join Constance Bennett in a precode film. This one is Our Betters from 1933. Connie is Lady Pearl Saunders Grayston. We meet her as she has just married Lord Grayston (Alan Mowbray). She is determined to be a good wife to him, though she is aware that their marriage was one of convenience - he needs her money to
support his lifestyle. But Pearl finds almost immediately that her dreams of a life as a happy wife are naive. Her husband has no intention of giving up his mistress.
The film, taken from a play by W. Somerset Maugham, produced by David O. Selznick, directed by George Cukor, and with music by Max Steiner is not a great one, but it is interesting. Besides having some of the best behind-the-scenes talent in Hollywood, we have a fantastic performance by Bennett. Her Pearl becomes a society hostess, but one who is jaded and cold. We also want to pay homage to the fantastic costuming of Hattie Carnegie - take a look at the stunning (and scandalous) black dress Ms. Bennett wears to a party - it's a knockout! At one of her parties, we discover that she is planning to bring her sister, Bessie (Anita Louise) into the same lifestyle, by arranging her marriage to Lord Harry Bleane (Hugh Sinclair). Though Bessie seems willing, it soon becomes clear that she really loves Fleming Harvey (Charles Starrett). But everything begins to implode at a weekend outing to the Grayston estate, as we learn more about Pearl's rather seedy existence.
Among the party guest are GIlbert Roland. We enjoy him as an actor, but felt he was wasted here as the gigolo who pursues Pearl, but is involved with the wealthy Duchess Minnie. We also discover that Pearl is essentially destitute, thanks to her husband's bad handling of her finances, so she is using her wiles to "borrow" money from Arthur Fenwick (Minor Watson). Much of our conversation focused on the bartering of American heiresses for English titles. It is surprising that, in 1933 (this is a contemporary story), this was still going on. We especially discussed the life of Consuelo Vanderbilt, who was literally imprisoned by her mother until she consented the Duke of Marlborough
Carla Vanirska (Constance Bennett) is trying to get a train ticket to Vienna. The lines are so terrible, she cannot get near the ticket office. Enter Captain Rudolph Ritter (Gilbert Roland), who offers his assistance. He is hoping to accompany her on the train, but at a stop, she disappears into the night. The problem? She's an enemy agent, spying on his military forces during the First World War. After Tonight (1933) looks at the life of an espionage agent, and the problems faced when she gets much too close to the enemy. Constance Bennett makes an excellent spy. She is beautiful and clever. No one suspects that the lovely nurse could possibly be the agent K-14 that everyone is seeking. She is also daring. Even when she suspects a trap, she goes to a rendezvous, on the off chance that this might be a real meeting. Gilbert Roland is also excellent as the army officer who loves Carla. You do sympathize with both of these people, wanting Carla to escape, yet wanting her to remain with Rudolph.
We were also intrigued with all the spy paraphernalia that gets used: invisible ink, the messages hidden in books and jewelry, creaky steps that signal the possible intrusion of the enemy. A good use of all the spy games made the film even more enjoyable.
The movie has an especially well-done ending. We can't tell you what it is; we don't want to spoil it for you. But, we think you will like it.
