Jean is No Angel

Ambulance driver Frank Jessup (Robert Mitchum) is wooed by Diane Tremayne (Jean Simmons) after he responds to an emergency call involving Diane's stepmother Catherine (Barbara O'Neil). Diane convinces him to accept a job with her family as a chauffeur, ostensibly to help Frank earn enough money to open a garage. However, Diane has other plans for Frank.  Our film this week is Angel Face (1953).

One of the great attractions of this film is the presence of three really strong women.  Mona Freeman, who finally gets to play a character with gumption; Jean Simmons playing the determined murderess; and Barbara O'Neill as the bane of Ms. Simmons existence.  These are all performances worthy of these excellent actresses.

Jean Simmons stars as the malevolent Diane, who hungers to again be alone with her father.  In the way is her wealthy stepmother, Catherine.  When Diane meets Frank Jessup, she sees him as a possible accomplice in the removal of her stepmother from Earth. Ms. Simmons is excellent in the role that she really didn't want. She was under contract to Howard Hughes, who was furious at Ms. Simmons for cutting her hair, and with 18 days left on her contract, forced her into this film. Mr. Hughes told director Otto Preminger to make the set as uncomfortable for Ms. Simmons as he could, so Mr. Preminger felt quite comfortable slapping Ms. Simmons one day when he was annoyed with her.  He came to regret his actions - Robert Mitchum punched him back in retribution (TCM article).

Once Diane sees Frank, she is determined to lock him in.  That means getting him away from his long-time girlfriend, Mary Wilton (Mona Freeman). Frank is quick to cheat on Mary - we wondered how many times he had done this before. While Mary is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in the beginning, a meeting with Diane makes Mary question her feelings for Frank.  Ms. Freeman plays the character with resolve.  She's no meek mouse allowing a man to get away with anything.  She wants her man to love her, not every female in the vicinity.

Catherine Tremayne, on the other hand, is satisfied with being second in her husband's life. She's aware that her writer-husband (who's been unable to produce a book for years) married her for her money. But he has affection for her, She is generous to him, and to Diane, but Diane is obsessed with her father, and sees Catherine as a barrier to her relationship with her father. Barbara O'Neil paints a portrait of a warm woman who is being maligned by her ungrateful stepdaughter.

Which brings us to the male members of the cast.  Robert Mitchum does a good job playing a not very strong man - Diane especially leads him around by the nose.  Shortly after we meet Frank, he's lying to his long-time girlfriend - and we don't trust him. Frank is a fairly unambitious man. He's interested in Diane, but it's a lazy kind of interest.  

Herbert Marshall (Charles Tremayne) is a good companion to Frank - he too is subservient to the women in his life - both Diane and Catherine.  Charles is weak and has lost any drive he might have had. One can see Frank becoming the same person in later years. 

The story was loosely based on the case of real-life case of Beulah Louise Overell and George Gollum who were accused of killing her parents (AFI Catalog).  The New York Times review by Howard Thompson (H.H.T.) was unenthusiastic, but this is an excellent, dark movie, with references to Out of the Past, Double Indemnity, and The Postman Always Rings Twice, without being a copy of any of them.  For more detailed information on the film, I invite you to view Eddie Muller's Noir Alley intro and outro to the film's airing.  Here's a trailer to give you a peek at the picture.

Has Pat Cracked Up?

George Steele (Pat O'Brien) assaults a police officer trying to get into the Manhattan Museum, where George works.  George is confused, and says he was in a train accident.  But Lieutenant Cochrane (Wallace Ford) from the police detective unit assures him there have been no train accidents in over seven months.  Is George about to Crack-Up (1946)?

Pat O'Brien gives a good performance as a war veteran who genuinely believes he was involved in a train wreck, but can't prove it.  If there is one problem with his portrayal it is that Mr. O’Brien is obviously too old (he was 47 when the picture was released) for the part he is playing. That aside, you do believe him both as a man being driven to the edges of sanity, as well as an intellectual with a deep interest and knowledge of art history. Mr. O'Brien's did only one other film noir, but he makes the most of it in this outing (TCM article).

He's well matched with Claire Trevor (Terry Cordell), herself a veteran of films noir.  She'd already done one notable noir - Murder, My Sweet (1944), and would win an Oscar for her performance in Key Largo (1948) two years after our film. It's a shame she doesn't have more screen time, but when she does appear, either working with Mr. O'Brien as his love interest, or with Herbert Marshall (Traybin), she takes command of the screen.

Though Herbert Marshall's part is small, he is used to good effect. You are never quite sure of the reliability of the character. Ray Collins (Dr. Lowell) is also in the same position.  By keeping the characters ambiguous, the audience is kept engaged in the action.

One small oddity in the film comes at the beginning. During an art lecture given by George Steele to a group of museum donors, Steele compares an old Master to a modern painting (which bears a passing resemblance to Dali), and trashes the modern painting. He is interrupted by an angry man in the audience; the man speaks with a distinct foreign accent and is nearly hysterical in his passion for the modern piece. It's an odd insert into the movie. As Derek Sculthorpe points out in his book on Claire Trevor (Claire Trevor:The Life and Films of the Queen of Noir), the screenplay seems to be linking modern art to radicalism - an acknowledgement to the increasing Red scare?

Based on the story Madman's Holiday by Fredric Brown, the film was not well received; Bosley Crowther's New York Times review found him "overwhelmed by [the film's] inadequacies." Regardless, in December 1946 Lux Radio Theatre did a production with Pat O'Brien and Lynn Bari. (AFI catalog).

While this is by no means a perfect movie, it certainly is worth a viewing, if only to see this very good cast work together.  We'll leave you with a trailer:

 

Bette Writes a Letter

Nighttime at a rubber plantation in Singapore; most of the workers are sleeping peacefully when shots ring out. A man stumbles from the main house, pursued by a woman with a gun. She fires into the man over and over again. She then calmly sends one of the workers for the district officer, saying it was an accident. We are discussing The Letter (1940).

This film features one of the more dramatic openings in movie history - a peaceful night interrupted by gunfire, as a woman pursues a fleeing man.  The report of the gun, the sounds of the previously quiet jungle screaming with panic - director William Wyler did 33 takes of the scene, though producer Hall Wallis told Wyler that it was the first take that he used in the final film (TCM Behind the Scenes). 

Bette Davis is the dominant force in the film. She is powerful even in scenes of quiet. While you are suspicious of Leslie Crosbie from the start (we did after all watch her gun down a man), Ms. Davis gently feeds the information to us strand by strand, much like the crochet lacework that is constantly in her hands. Ms. Davis was eager to work with Mr. Wyler - they'd previously worked together on the Jezebel, a performance which had won Ms. Davis an Oscar. (TCM The Big Idea). Nonwithstanding of their mutual affection and regard for one another, they still had disagreements - in a late scene, Mr. Wyler insisted that Ms. Davis look into Herbert Marshall's (Robert Crosbie) eyes to tell him she loved another. Ms. Davis was horrified - it was too cruel, she said, but Mr. Wyler insisted.  When she won the AFI Lifetime Achievement Award, Mr. Wyler was in attendance. "Even today 37 years later," he said, "we still disagree on it. Well, Bette read it the way I asked her to, but I'm sure she would like nothing better right now than to drive over to Warner Bros. and re-shoot the scene her way." The camera caught Ms. Davis nodding her head vigorously in agreement (TCM Trivia)

James Stephenson brings nuance to the character of lawyer Howard Joyce, the man who first grasps the levels of Leslie's duplicity.  He'd appeared in a variety of parts since he began in films in 1937 but this film was the first to use him to good effect.  He had his issues with Mr. Wyler, but Ms. Davis would convince him to try Wyler's way. Ultimately, he was nominated for an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor (he lost to Walter Brennan in The Westerner).  Sadly, Mr. Stephenson would only appear in five more films - he died in 1941 of a heart attack.  

The first actress considered for Mrs. Hammond was Anna May Wong, but William Wyler felt she was too young and too attractive to portray the sinister widow.  Instead, Gale Sondergaard was given the part, and she is excellent in a part that relies on facial expression and body language for her communication with the audience (Mrs. Hammond does not speak English). Ms. Sondergaard would eventually be forced to leave Hollywood for the New York stage when her husband Herbert Biberman was accused of being a communist.  She eventually returned to Hollywood, where she worked in film and television until her retirement in 1982. 

Herbert Marshall is very good in what is basically a thankless role as the cuckolded husband.  He'd appeared in the 1929 version of the film (as the murder victim) (TCM Pop Culture). He has several heartbreaking scenes at the end of the film that reveal much about this misused man.  

It's worth noting the presence of Frieda Inescort (Dorothy Joyce) in a very small role as defense lawyer Joyce's wife. Victor Sen Yung (here billed as Sen Yung) is quite convincing as Ong Chi Seng, the somewhat shady lawyer in training, who is the first to reveal the existence of the Letter. 

There is one other character in the film, and that is Leslie's lace crochet.  We see it immediately after Geoff's death, and slowly the project grows as Leslie's lies become more and more intricate.  The dropped lace project at the end signals the film's ultimate conclusion, much like the three fates weaving out the lives of mortals.

The New York Times review by Bosley Crowther was glowing, and the film was ultimately nominated for Academy Awards in the categories of Picture; Supporting Actor, Actress, Editing, Direction, Original Score, and Black and White Cinematography (it didn't win in any category) (AFI catalog).

Jeanne Eagles starred as Leslie in the 1929 film version (which had a very different ending, the Production Code not being an issue at that point).  There were three Lux Radio Theatre productions - May 1938 with Merle Oberon and Walter Huston; April 1941 with Bette Davis, Herbert Marshall, and James Stephenson; and March 1944 with Bette Davis, Herbert Marshall and Vincent Price.  The October 1956 Producer's Showcase television version was directed by William Wyler and featured Siobhan McKenna, John Mills, and Anna May Wong (who finally got to play Mrs. Hammond). Lee Remick starred in a 1982 television movie remake; also featured in that version was Sarah Marshall, the daughter of Herbert Marshall.

We'll leave you with a trailer of this remarkable film:

 

Dorothy is Homely

On the New England shore is a cottage which the locals believe is haunted. To Laura Pennington (Dorothy McGuire), a pennyless waif who is described by young Danny Hillgrove (Alec Englander) as homely, it is The Enchanted Cottage (1945). Laura is thrilled when she is asked to work there as a maid by the owner, Abigail Minnett (Mildred Natwick), a reclusive widow. Before Mrs. Minnett settled in the house, it was rented to honeymoon couples; Oliver Bradford (Robert Young) discovers the house and convinces Mrs. Minnett to allow him and his bride-to-be, Beatrice Alexander (Hillary Brooke), to honeymoon there. But their visit is delayed by the start of World War II, and when he does arrive, Oliver comes alone - a shell of a man, disfigured in a wartime accident.

Told in flashback by Laura and Oliver's mutual friend, composer John Hillgrove (Herbert Marshall), we know from the beginning that Oliver and Laura are a couple. We also know that they are well-liked in their community.  What the story brings is the long road they must travel to feel themselves worthy to be with other people. One particularly telling scene in the story of Laura's yearning for love occurs at a Canteen dance. Filled with airmen, Laura is ignored by everyone; men start to approach her, but when they see her, they turn back or avert their gaze. It's a heartbreaking moment, and one with which every young woman can identify. Because of this, Laura retreats back to the cottage where she hides with Mrs. Minnett, who herself bears scars that have caused her to secrete herself within the safe precepts of the house.

What the film is NOT is sensational (one wonders what film the designer of the poster above was watching when he created the tag line!) This is a sensitive and moving film, based on a play by Sir Arthur Wing Pinero. The play was written in 1922 as a morale booster for soldiers who were disfigured during the First World War (TCM article). That it would be redone as the Second World War ended is not surprising - sadly, it still had a tale to tell to GIs returning from Europe and the Pacific (a similar story is told by Homer Price in The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). 

Robert Young is excellent as an exuberant young man plunged into depression by his family's reactions to his injuries. The revulsion displayed by Violet Price (Spring Byington), Frederick Price (Richard Gaines) - Oliver's mother and stepfather - and Beatrice all combine to drive Oliver to consider suicide. Mr. Young shows us the hatred that he has for his family, for himself, and for the world that robbed him of his secure vision of the future. Joseph Cotton was briefly considered for the part of Oliver (he'd previously played battle-scarred vets in I'll Be Seeing You (1944) and Love Letters (1945)) (AFI catalog). Mr. Cotton would surely have been excellent, but it is hard to imagine anyone but Mr. Young in the part.

It's hard to make Dorothy McGuire plain. She is an exquisite woman, with a radiance that make her pretty face even more beautiful. In prior productions of the piece, Laura was given a real physical defect - buck teeth, a crooked nose, a limp - but this film makes Laura homely with a bad hairdo, no makeup, and dull lighting. As Bosley Crowther points out in his (unfavorable)  New York Times review, "a girl of moderate features (and fair intelligence) can make herself look very sweet." But herein Mr. Crowther misses the point that Ms. McGuire fully understands. Laura is homely because she feels that she is homely and undeserving of love. Ms. McGuire enacts a woman who has grown to fear the world; she's been told so many times that she is plain that she feels it is hopeless to even try to be appealing. It's a masterful stroke - one that makes the viewer identify with Laura even more. Like Mr. Young, Ms. McGuire was not the first choice for the part - both Ginger Rogers and Teresa Wright were considered.

Herbert Marshall as the pianist blinded in the last war is superb as the man who slowly leads Oliver back to the land of the living. And Mildred Natwick - it's impossible for her to ever make a wrong turn. Her love for Laura, her sympathy for Oliver, and her belief that they can have for each other the love that she lost when her husband died is moving beyond imagining. Hillary Brooke is also convincing in her major scene - asked by Oliver's mother to try to get him to come home, she does so reluctantly. Her horror at the changes in him are matched only by her disgust with herself for this reaction to the man that she believed she loved.  

Also worth noting is the brief appearance by Josephine Whittell as the thoughtless Canteen manager who forces the delicate Laura onto the dance floor with the cruel and uncaring soldiers. Ms. Whittell's career extended from 1917 to 1948. Many of her appearances were uncredited  and unnamed (like this part). She also appeared in several Broadway plays between 1911 and 1926 (including No, No Nanette). She died in 1961, three years after her final film appearance in The Buccaneer. 

 

As we mentioned before, The New York Times was dismissive of the film (Mr. Crowther also thought that simple plastic surgery could heal what is obviously severe neurological damage that causes Oliver's face to droop on one side, and his arm to be unusable); Variety, however was complimentary.  In 2014, this film was Robert Osborne's pick for his evening of films, and was one of Whoopi Goldberg's picks when she was guest  programmer in 2007. The film did get one Academy Award nomination - the score by Roy Webb was nominated (but lost to Miklos Rozsa's Spellbound).

This is the second film version of the play - the first was in 1924, with Richard Barthelmess and May McAvoy as Oliver and Laura; in 2016, it was filmed again, this time Paul D. Masterson and Sarah Navratil in the leads (the war in this case is in Iraq).  Robert Young and Dorothy McGuire reprised their roles in the Lux Radio Theatre edition of the story in September of 1945. Academy Award Theatre did a radioplay in December 1946, with Peter Lawford, Joan Loring, and Herbert Marshall.  September of 1953 saw a General Electric Theatre version with Joan Fontaine and Dan O'Herlihy; and in September of 1955, Lux Video Theatre presented the story, with Teresa Wright, Dan O'Herlihy, and Sara Haden. It was even spoofed by Carol Burnett in her version entitled The Enchanted Hovel.

We'll leave you with the film's trailer and a hearty recommendation to view this lovely movie:

Robert is Behind the Wall

After running his car off the road, Steven Kenet (Robert Taylor) is found in the vehicle with the dead body of his wife beside him. When it is discovered that Kenet has complained of blinding headaches and periods of blackout following brain surgery, his trial is postponed to discover if he is competent to be charged with murder. Dr. Ann Lorrison (Audrey Totter), a state psychiatrist, is charged with the task of evaluating Kenet. In the meantime, he'll be kept behind the High Wall (1948).

This is a thoroughly enjoyable film with some small issues, not the least of which is the character of Steve Kenet. As portrayed by Mr. Taylor, Kenet is a violent man, with an instinct towards strangulation when he is riled. We see him attempt to kill two people, and he hurts several more. Yes, he has good reason to be angry at William Whitcombe (Herbert Marshall), and he has suspicions about his wife once he arrives at Whitcombe's home. Regardless, his murderous fury is out of place for a man who is ultimately trying to prove he is not a killer.

Kenet's predilection for violence also makes it hard for us to believe that Dr. Lorrison could have feelings for him. Let's start with the obvious - Ann is his doctor; he is her patient. It's totally unprofessional for her to go above her duties as a physician. Plus, she has offered to watch after his child (which, quite frankly, is a bit dodgy as well. One way or another, having the child in her care prejudices her opinion of him). Steve also unleashes his violent behavior in her direction - not exactly conducive to loving behavior.

These points aside, High Wall is a tight mystery that keeps you interested throughout. According to this TCM article, director Curtis Bernhardt wanted to show Kenet as a man damaged by the War. Both Bernhardt and Taylor were veterans; Taylor plays Kenet as someone who is perhaps suffering from PTSD, with violent surges followed by periods of blackout in which he doesn't remember his actions.  It 's a conceit that works well IF you eliminate the love affair between Kenet and Lorrison.

We very much enjoyed Audrey Totter in the role of the psychiatrist. With the exception of her decidedly bad taste in men, Ms. Totter plays Lorrison as a professional woman who is confident in her ability to treat patients and bring them back to a mainstream life.  Ms. Totter's career tended towards roles as second leads in A pictures (such as The Unsuspected 1947) or as the lead in B films. But her B films tended to be film noir, and she shone as the femme fatale.  She was Robert Montgomery's object of lust in The Lady in the Lake (1946) and Richard Basehart's promiscuous wife in Tension (1949). In a 1999 New York Times article (an interview that included noir "dames" Marie Windsor, Coleen Gray and Jane Greer), Mr. Totter acknowledged that "the bad girls were so much fun to play..." When she and her husband, Dr. Leo Fred married (they were married from 1952 until his death in 1996), she slowed down her career to raise their daughter, occasionally appearing in television shows like Zane Grey Theatre and Lux Playhouse.  She continued working until 1987 (her final appearance was in an episode of Murder, She Wrote). She died, age 95, in 2013.

If you are used to Herbert Marshall as a good guy, this film will quickly dissuade you that he is only capable of being a nice guy. He plays Whitcombe as a sociopath - only interested in himself and quite capable of doing whatever it takes to maintain his own status quo. Without giving too much away, there is one incident that is so sudden, and so cold-blooded that you will literally gasp as you watch it happen.

Screenwriter Lester Cole was called to appear before HUAC eight months after the release of this film, resulting in his imprisonment and blacklisting. This was the last script that was produced under his name (AFI catalog); he was able to get three others sold using fronts. His star in our film, Robert Taylor, testified to HUAC that Mr. Cole was a Communist.

The High Wall was produced as a radio play on the Lux Radio Theatre in November 1949, with Van Heflin and Janet Leigh and the leads.  It received a positive review from Variety though it did not do well at the box office.

We'll leave you with this scene in which Mr. Taylor has a flashback. Next week, we'll be looking at another woman psychiatrist dealing with an accused murderer.

Joan Meets Greer Again

When Jimmy Lee's (Robert Taylor) proposal of marriage to Mary Howard (Joan Crawford) is rejected, Jimmy begins to suspect he has been replaced in Mary's affections. He is distressed to discover that his rival is the very married publisher Rogers Woodruf (Herbert Marshall). Based on Mary's theory (as purported in her new novel) that the rejected wife and new lover can have an intelligent conversation about the affair, Jimmy maneuvers Clare Woodruf (Greer Garson) into a meeting with Mary, without either knowing about their mutual lover.

We discussed When Ladies Meet (1941) several years ago, but with the opportunity to discuss it in the context of the Harding/Loy version, we decided to view it again. As with the prior film, the plot hinges on the relationship between Clare and Mary. One real problem with this verson is that Joan Crawford's Mary becomes quite annoying.  The film requires that you be able to like both women, but it is hard to like Mary. She's snobbish and affected (taking on the personality of Rogers). As a result, you begin to wonder why anyone would like her.  Plus, where Ms. Loy appeared innocent and somewhat naive, Ms. Crawford SEEMS more knowing, and that sophistication works against her characterization. With Mary and Clare more obviously played as contemporaries (where there seemed almost a big sister-little sister affection between Ms. Harding and Ms. Loy), Mary should know better than to be taken in by a cad like Rogers.

That the first film was pre-code, and this one is firmly within the Code era makes very little difference. The stories are exactly the same, and we still have little bits of double-entendre (primarily from Spring Byington as Bridget Drake). The character of Walter del Canto (Rafael Storm) is played as though the actor intends him to be gay (which was not the case in the original). The racy plot is still not all that racy.

Spring Byington  is a marked improvement over Alice Brady. She plays Bridgie as a tad risque, but essentially sweet. She has a much lighter touch than Ms. Brady, and is able to make the character very appealing.  Interestingly, Ms. Byington had originated the part on Broadway (AFI catalog); why she was passed over in the first iteration of the film is puzzling - she had appeared the same year that version was released as Marmee in Little Women (1933). Ms. Byington had a long and varied career.  From 1924 to 1935, she appeared steadily on Broadway, appearing in 20 plays (including The Merchant of Venice, in which she played Nerissa). Her film career really started in 1933 (she had appeared in one short film in 1930); after she left Broadway for good, she worked steadily in films, television, and radio (her show, December Bride was first a radio, then a television show).  She married once, (she was engaged for a long time, but her fiance died before they wed) and she had two daughters. She was close to actress Marjorie Main, but their relationship is unclear. She loved science fiction and at one point took flying lessons (the studio made her stop). She died of cancer in 1971 at the age of 84.

Even with a second viewing, we were unimpressed with either of the men in this version. In the earlier film, Robert Montgomery's youth played in his favor. His attempts to convince Mary of Rogers duplicity seemed innocent, if somewhat artless. Robert Taylor, however, is much older and more mature in appearance. His wooing becomes almost stalker-ish, making him unappealing. If there is any chemistry at all, it is between Mr. Taylor and Ms. Garson. Their scenes on the boat are humorous and convivial. He never seems to have even a moment of camaraderie with Ms. Crawford. By the end though, we felt the women would be better off alone than with either Mr. Taylor or the self-absorbed Rogers.

The performance that really stands out in this film is that of Greer Garson, who, according to this TCM article was being groomed for stardom by MGM (following an Oscar nominated performance in Goodbye, Mr. Chips). Ms. Garson started her career on stage and television in the UK, and that was where Louis B. Mayer discovered her. Following her small, but important part in Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939), she appeared in Pride and Prejudice (1940) with Laurence Olivier, and in Blossoms in the Dust (1941), the first of FIVE consecutive Oscar nominations as Best Actress. She would ultimately be nominated seven times, winning for Mrs. Miniver (1942).  [She currently holds the record for the longest Oscar speech - 5 minutes and 30 seconds].  Her 1943 marriage to Richard Ney, who had played her son in Mrs. Miniver and was 27 years younger than Ms. Garson created a bit of a scandal; the marriage lasted until 1947.  Some say the problems in the tumultuous marriage resulted from the age difference. However, the couple were separated almost immediately after their marriage when Ney was called up to serve in the military. When he returned, he found work hard to come by, while his wife was still quite popular, resulting in dissension (Michael Troyan, A Rose for Mrs. Miniver: The Life of Greer Garson, 1999). Following that divorce, Ms. Garson married Buddy Fogelson. She worked sporadically after that, eventually retiring with her husband to his Texas ranch. They were together until his death in 1987. Ms. Garson died in 1996 at the age of 91.

The New York Times wondered in their review why this "Hoover-vintage comedy" was "resurrected". We wondered the same thing. It's not really a showpiece for any of its actors - quite frankly, it does most of them a disservice. It's worth a look to see Greer Garson and Spring Byington, though. We'll leave you with this trailer, which introducess several of our key characters:

Dr. Ann

The Flame Within (1935) stars Ann Harding as Doctor Mary White, a successful psychiatrist in New York City.  For many years, she has been pursued romantically by Dr. Gordon Phillips (Herbert Marshall). Mary is aware, however, that Gordon will expect her to relinquish her career as part of their marriage and she is not ready to be just a housewife.  When Lillian Belton (Maureen O'Sullivan) attempts suicide, Gordon and Dr. Jock Frazier (Henry Stephenson) consult Mary on her treatment.  Mary discovers that Lillian is deeply in love with Jack Kerry (Louis Hayward), an unrepentant drunkard, and it is Lillian's fear for his life that drives her to suicide.  Mary determines that saving Jack is the best way to cure Lillian.  But there are consequences. 

In the pantheon of films about women doctors, this is one of the weaker ones.  Ann Harding is quite good as Mary, but the script gives her no help in creating a convincing character.  That you like and believe in Mary at all is due to Ms. Harding's abilities as an actress (according to this TCM article, she was Barbara Stanwyck's favorite actress, and with good reason!).  Released as the Production Code was being firmly enacted, it often feels like the screenwriters don't know what to do with Dr. White; as a result, the character goes from a strong, successful, independent career woman to an impulsive, dependent housewife. 

It's clear at the beginning of the film that Dr. White is good at her job, and well respected by her peers. Even Dr. Phillips, who wants her to stop working and be just his wife, refers his ailing patient to her care.  Despite this, nothing that she does from the moment she meets Lillian Belton convinces us that Mary actually knows what she is doing. Lillian attempts suicide in despair over Jack Kerry's alcoholism.  So Mary decides to cure Jack, and that will cure Lillian.  There is a highly regarded alcoholism specialist on staff, but Mary doesn't even consult him.  And how does curing Jack take care of Lillian's exaggerated co-dependence? The first time they have a fight, Lillian is probably going to again attempt a swan dive out a window. What the writers know about psychiatry one could engrave on the head of a pin.

On the plus side, alcoholism is treated as a disease, not as a joke (even if it can be treated successfully in two weeks), with specialists attached to the field. And the seriousness required to study medicine is addressed in Mary's early speech to Gordon, when he (AGAIN) asks her to give up her career to be his wife. "No work? Just Mrs. Gordon Philips, housewife? Oh what did I give up my youth for? Why did I give up most of my life to this thing if I were just to forget it and throw it away as if it had never been... it's more than a profession. It's a religion." 

It's hard to warm up to Herbert Marshall as Dr. Philips.  If he is so in love with Mary, why does he put conditions on their marriage? He seems to not love her, but loves his vision of her. At the same time, his pursuit is almost stifling, and he comes across more as a stalker than as a passionate lover. The unhappiness that will come with her selection of him over career is just not important to him.  As a result, he is unlikable, cold, and unbending.

Maureen O'Sullivan is good, if a bit manic in the role of Lillian.  At one point, the part was earmarked for Merle Oberon (AFI Catalog). Ms. O'Sulllivan had already made a name for herself in Hollywood with her appearance as Jane in Tarzan, The Ape Man (1932), notably for an apparently nude swimming scene with Johnny Weissmuller (she would ultimately appear as Jane in 6 films). She appeared in a variety of films in the 1930s and beginning of the 1940s, including The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934), A Yank at Oxford (1938) and Pride and Prejudice (1939).  By the 1950s, she was primarily appearing on television; and in the 1960s, she changed to work on Broadway, both acting and producing.  She was married from 1936 until 1963 (his death) to director John Farrow; they had eight children including Mia and Tisa Farrow. In 1983, Ms. O'Sullivan remarried, and was with her second husband, James Cushing until her death in 1998 (at the age of 87) of a heart attack.

We were less impressed with Louis Hayward, a good actor who deserved a better part.  Mr. Hayward gets to do little that justify the passion of two women for his inebriated man about town.  Interestingly, it was Mr. Hayward's performance that was most lauded in this New York Times review

In some respects, this film almost feels like a precursor to Spellbound (1945), where we have a psychiatrist who becomes emotionally (and unprofessionally) involved with a patient.  Regardless, the film is worth a look, especially when compared to Kay Francis' pre-code women doctor films such as Mary Stevens, M.D. and Dr. Monica, or with Ms. Harding's other venture into medicine in The Right to Romance (1933).

Doris Answers the Phone

Newlywed American Kit Preston (Doris Day) is wending her way home through a London "pea-souper".  A voice in the night calls her by name, then threatens her life.  Panicked, Kit runs home and tells her husband, Anthony (Rex Harrison).  He reassures her that it is common London practice to try to spook people in a London fog.  But the next evening, Kit receives a phone call from the same voice, again threatening to kill her by the end of the month.  The police are summoned, but are suspicious that no one else heard the voice but Kit.  Meanwhile, Kit becomes more and more terrified as the calls escalate - calls that no one hears but her. Our film this week is the mysterious Midnight Lace (1960).

Our discussion started with a birthday toast to Ms. Day, who turned 95 on April 3rd. For several members of our group, this was the first time they had seen Ms. Day in anything but a musical comedy.  And while her performance here is perhaps not as impressive as her work in Alfred Hitchcock's The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956), she is still excellent as the terrorized victim.  According to the AFI Catalog, Ms. Day became truly hysterical (using as an inspiration for the scene a moment in her life when her first husband became abusive) and Ross Hunter had to shut down production in order to allow her to recover. 

If there is one problem with the film, it is that, in many respects, it has not aged well.  Kit is so remarkably helpless.  Sure, she's being stalked, and that is scary, but she does nothing to protect herself (she's wealthy - couldn't she hire a bodyguard?) She is aware that the police doubt her veracity, yet when her husband is finally in the house during one of the calls, she hangs up the phone before he can get on the extension (though why she doesn't just hand him the phone is another issue!)  There are times when you want to shake her!

On the plus side, you have a real mystery, with a number of worthy suspects that keep you guessing throughout the film.  We'll start with Roddy McDowall (who was odds on favorite among the newcomers to the film) as Malcolm Stanley, money-grubbing son of Kit's put-upon housekeeper, Nora (Doris Lloyd).  He provides the character with just the right amount of sleaze and menace, and given that he really only has a couple of scenes, Malcolm is a character that stays in your mind as the action progresses.

Mr. McDowall started his career as a child actor in the UK; in 1940, his family moved to the United States to escape the Blitz in England; by 1941, he was starring in John Ford's How Green was My Valley, and in 1943, he became the first owner of the collie America loved in Lassie, Come Home.  Mr. McDowall worked steadily in Hollywood, in both film and on television; worked on Broadway (he was Mordred in the original cast of Camelot, and played Artie Strauss in Compulsion, the role assumed by Bradford Dillman in the 1959 film) and in regional theatre, making a reasonably seamless transition to adult roles.  A highly regarded photographer, he worked for magazines such as Look and Life, as well as publishing several books in the field.  He remained close friends with his Lassie co-star, Elizabeth Taylor, was also a dear friend of his Midnight Lace co-star, Myrna Loy (he called her "Fu" because of her early role in  The Mask of Fu Manchu),  and was known for his parties, in which he would screen classic films for his guests.  Winner of both a Tony Award and an Emmy, Mr. McDowall died of lung cancer in 1998 at the age of 70.

Herbert Marshall  has a few scenes as Charles Manning, another possible culprit.  A deep-in-debt gambler, Charles COULD be trying to kill Kit to distract Tony.  Marshall, unfortunately, has little to do in the film; mostly, he looks worried and distracted.  It's always good to see him, but he really is underutilized in the part.

John Gavin's Brian Younger at first seems like a nice guy, who is always in the right place at the right time, but then there are those mysterious phone calls from the local pub.  What IS he up to?  Gavin, an amazingly attractive man, is well cast here, though I would say his perfect part was as Trevor Graydon in Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967), in which he mocks his white-bread good looks.  A reasonably successful actor, who appeared in Spartacus (as Julius Caesar) and Psycho (both 1960), Mr. Gavin would leave film and television work for a career as a diplomat (Ambassador to Mexico) during the Reagan administration.  Currently retired after a successful business career, Mr. Gavin and his wife Constance Towers have been married for over 40 years. 

Finally, there is a half-hearted attempt to make Kit's Aunt Bea Coleman (Myrna Loy) appear to perhaps be in cahoots to drive Kit crazy.  But really, Myrna Loy?  Her role as the reassuring voice that attempts to soothe the increasingly agitated Kit is very small, but she is a welcome presence in any film.  A noted liberal, Ms. Loy related in her autobiography Myrna Loy: Being and Becoming that she cautioned conservative John Gavin about being seen with her - she stated that he must have been, since he "rode Reagan's coattails right into an ambassadorship."

The voice that plagues Kit is discussed in this TCM article, comparing it unfavorably to something that  "now it sounds like a character on The Cartoon Network."  And while that is true, we did find the voice unnerving enough that, if we received a call  like that, we'd be calling the police as well.  Wacky, perhaps, but also unsettling.  

Doris Day has 17 glorious outfits designed by Irene in the film.  The decision by the group was that the one above, was our favorite (I'm a sucker for hats that match a dress!)  The midnight lace of the title was a jet black lace pegnior, that was probably the most ordinary of the items of clothing Ms. Day wears. Several of the outfits are viewable on Google Images.

 The film opened to moderate reviews (see this Bosley Crowther overview from the New York Times).  In New York City, it premiered in Radio City Music Hall (along with a new stage show and The Rockettes), always a sign of a prestige film.

We'll leave you with this trailer from Midnight Lace. 
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Tyrone Finds the True Meaning of Life

This year's TCM Cruise presented a number of films with Tyrone Power (which is never a hardship for me); not surprisingly, I saw them all.  The third night of the cruise featured The Razor's Edge (1946), based on W. Somerset Maugham's novel, and introduced by Alex Trebek and Robert Osborne, both huge fans of this excellent rendition.  (For those of you who liked the Bill Murray remake, sorry - I didn't care for it, and neither did the evening's hosts).

The story focuses on Larry Darrell (Power), He has physically survived the First World War, but is tormented by the death of a friend, who died saving Larry's life on the eve of the armistice.  Why, Larry wonders, should he live, when this man is dead, and what can he do with his life to make up for that death?  Larry's fiance, Isabel Bradley (Gene Tierney) is sympathetic, and agrees that Larry should travel for a while, to try and find the answers to his questions.  But when, a year later, Larry is still determined to continue his quest, Isabel balks - she is not willing to live as an itinerant, with a husband who has no ambitions to anything but the life of a nomad.  So, they separate, only to be reunited years later, when both their lives - and the lives of their friends and relatives - have drastically changed.

This is a complex film, following the lives of a number of central characters over a period of nearly 15 years, all of whom are in some way related to Larry and Isabel.  The characters are real - with faults and flaws.  We admire Larry, but would find him impossible to live with.  We sympathize with Isabel, but gasp at her machinations.  It's a film of greys - there are almost no black and whites.

Elliot Templeton (Clifton Webb) is a prime example of a "grey" character.  Wealthy, selfish, and somewhat arrogant, Elliot is also generous and intrinsically good.  Late in the film, a priest characterizes Elliot as "a good man. His defects were on the surface, but he was generous of heart ...and kindly toward his fellow creatures."  That he is basically good is reflected in the fact that our narrator, Maugham (Herbert Marshall), actually likes Elliot (also calling him "kind and generous"), even though he feels that Elliot " has no friends, only acquaintances."  Elliot's wealth has allowed him to live his life in Europe, hobnobbing with the wealthy and noble, and to look with aghast at his much loved sister, Louisa (Lucile Watson), who has chosen to spend her life in the Midwest.  But, when his niece and nephew-in-law lose all their money in the Stock Market crash, it is Elliot who takes them in, and supports them and their children until they can get on their feet.  Webb paints a picture of a man whom you like in spite of yourself; he allows us to the see the inner Elliot.

Anne Baxter won her Academy Award for playing Sophie MacDonald, a loving wife and mother whose life is shattered after an automobile accident.  Other actresses were considered for the part (Susan Hayward, Betty Grable, Judy Garland, Anabel Shaw, Nancy Guild, and Bonita Granville, according to Ms. Baxter), but it is hard to imagine anyone else doing it.  The character of Sophie floats in and out of the story, as she does in the lives of the other characters.  Sophie's alcoholism becomes a major focus of the film, and it is Baxter's seering portrait of Sophie's problem that more than likely cinched the award for her.   While we sympathize with Sophie, Baxter is careful to make her unappealing in the latter half of the film - again, she is painted in grey tones.  And her alcoholism is not something that just appears because of the accident - early on, Sophie tells us that her husband Bob (Frank Latimore) doesn't like her to drink because of what it does to her.   Of course, Joseph Breen tried to get the alcoholism eliminated from the film - Darrel Zanuck refused to take it out, as essential to the story (for more on this and other casting issues see these AFI notes.)

Gene Tierney was not the first choice for Isabel.  Both Joan Fontaine and Olivia de Haviland were considered, as was Maureen O'Hara.  In her autobiography, 'Tis Herself, Ms O'Hara recalls that the deal was all but completed.  There was one proviso, however: producer Darrell Zanuck told her to keep quiet about her casting.  She didn't - she told her friend Linda Darnell - who was in a relationship with Zanuck at that point, unbeknownst to Ms. O'Hara - and Zanuck fired her later that day for blabbing.  Regardless of the fact she was not the first choice, Ms. Tierney shines (she was nominated for an Oscar - losing to Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce) as Isabel, and creates a character of dimension and layers.  As hideous as some of her actions are, even narrator Maugham cannot dislike her, nor in a sense can we do more than shake our heads at her selfishness.  According to this TCM article, Tyrone Power (newly back from his service in World War II), developed on crush on her.  She privately let him know that, though divorced from Oleg Cassini, she was seeing someone else - future president John Kennedy.  Though Tierney loved JFK deeply, it was not too be.  Kennedy was already looking towards his future in politics, and men married to divorcees just didn't get to be president in the 1940s.

Gray Maturin (John Payne) is the man who has loved Isabel for years, and who ends up married to her when Isabel is unwilling to wait for Larry.  It's interesting that his name is "Gray", because he is perhaps the only non-gray character in the film.  Gray is, in fact, the only really "good" person we meet.  He loves Isabel unquestioningly and he likes Larry, even though Larry is the competition.  It is Gray who has to interact with Sophie on the most critical day of her life - Payne gives us a man who is caring, but unable to do more than just sympathize.  Payne works hard to make Gray a complex, but not weak character;  he mostly succeeds, as we care about Gray and understand how deeply honorable he is. 

One other character of note is that of Miss Keith (played by Elsa Lanchester).  As the private secretary of the Princess Novemali, the part is tiny - at one point, we see her in the background of the action, but finally get to meet her at the film's end.  Like Gray, she is someone who is deeply good.  Though Lanchester only has this one brief scene with Tyrone Power, you will remember her.  Her Miss Keith is a woman of integrity in a world of mere surface.

In the discussion prior to the film, Robert Osborne cited one scene in the film that he thought one of the most beautiful on film.  You can see it below, as Isabel tries to seduce Larry, to keep him from going away again. A magnificent setting, and two of filmdom's most attractive people - this scene does shine.  

We'll be returning to more films from the festival in coming weeks (along with our regular conversations).

Barbara Has Breakfast

Our film this week in a romance from 1937.  Breakfast for Two features Herbert Marshall as Jonathan Blair, a ne'er-do-well playboy who has spent his adult life drinking, carousing, and ignoring the family business, the Blair Steamship Company of New York (except of course, for the income that it brings him).  On one of his drunken jaunts, he meets Valentine Ransome (Barbara Stanwyck).  Valentine is from a wealthy family, and is on a visit to NYC from Texas.  It doesn't take her long to decide that Jonathan is the man for her.  But Valentine is not willing to take him on as is, so she decides to rehabilitate him: force him to take responsibility for the steamship line (and its many employees) and, in the bargain, break up his affair with Carol Wallace (Glenda Farrell), a gold-digging actress who only serves to aid and abet his bad behavior.  With the cooperation of Jonathan's valet, Butch (Eric Blore), Valentine begins her campaign to turn a boy into a man.

Stanwyck is delightful as Valentine.  She's tough and smart; much smarter, in fact, than Jonathan deserves.  We spent a good portion of the movie wondering just WHAT Valentine sees in Jonathan.  Part of the problem for that reaction rests on Herbert Marshall.  Put in contrast to the dynamic Stanwyck, Marshall is comes off as rather passive.  Forces revolve around him and he weakly responds.  He and Stanwyck really have no chemistry together; he is already a rather bland actor (which works beautifully in films such as The Little Foxes and The Enchanted Cottage), but here, he just is a nonentity.  

Though this was a film role Ms. Stanwyck was enthusiastic about getting (she found the light comedy a relief after the intensity of Stella Dallas), after this, she began turning down parts from RKO.  During her suspensions, she got work on the radio, including several roles on the Lux Radio Theatre (These Three, Dark Victory, and Morning Glory are a few examples).

Herbert Marshall had an interesting and lengthy career.  He began in film during the silent era (his first film was in 1927 - Mumsie) , but already had an extensive stage resume, appearing in his first play in 1911 (Lady Ursula).  He served in the army during World War I (in a regiment that also included Basil Rathbone, Ronald Colman, Cedric Hardwick, and Claude Rains).  Shot by a sniper in the knee, his leg was eventually amputated just below the hip.  He determined to return to acting -  his limp was barely noticeable, in spite of being in some pain, both from phantom limb syndrome and from the pressure of the prosthetic itself.  Interestingly, his second silent film (now in Hollywood) was in The Letter, as the murdered lover Geoffrey Hammond.  He segued to the role of the husband, Robert, in the Bette Davis remake.  Mr. Marshall continued acting in films and on television until the year before his death.  He died, age 75, in 1966 of heart failure.

We were also amused by Donald Meek as the Justice of the peace who cannot pronounce the name Jonathan (it comes out as Joe-Nathan).  Each time Jonathan corrects him, he waggles his finger and proceeds to mis-pronounce the name yet again.  But the funniest one in the movie is, without doubt, Eric Blore.  His Butch is loyal to his boss, but sick and tired of Jonathan's laissez-faire attitude towards life.  Blore plays Butch as almost fatherly towards this man he sees as "his charge".  And while Jonathan's infantile behavior might once have been amusing, Butch now sees it is time for him to grow up and assume some responsibility.

Totally wasted is Glenda Farrell.  She's merely a blonde bimbo who has little to do but shriek and look vexed.  She has little dialogue, and isn't given even the merest chance to show what she can do.  Too bad.  She could have been a better foil for Stanwyck.

The film's sets are gorgeous and ornate, reflective of the Jonathan's opulent lifestyle.  Originally titled A Love Like That, it was filmed in sequence.  See this TCM article for more background information.

The window washer scene, which is a particularly funny routine, was based on a vaudeville routine that the director (Alfred Santell) saw years earlier in the The Gus Edwards Kids Act,  Edwards was a vaudeville staple, but was also a composer, and was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. 

We leave you with a delightful scene between Marshall and Farrell. We'll be back soon with more Stanwyck.