Five months after the opening of The Two Mrs. Carrolls, the next Warner Brothers pairing of Barbara Stanwyck and Peter Godfrey was released. Cry Wolf(1947) stars Stanwyck as Sandra Marshall Demarest, a newly married woman who arrives at the home of her recently deceased husband to find a mystery. Sandra's marriage to James Demarest (Richard Basehart) was a secret one, much to the consternation of his guardian, Mark Caldwell (Errol Flynn). Sandra is quite open that the marriage was one of convenience for her and for Jim - the marriage would allowed Jim to gain access to his inheritance. In exchange, Jim promised Sandra (his close friend from school) a stipend to support her graduate work (she is studying for a doctorate in geology) and a divorce in 6 months. But, on his visit home to notify his family of his wedding, Jim died suddenly. Now Sandra has arrived at his family home to find out exactly what happened to her young husband. Stanwyck is really impressive in the film. Her athleticism stands her in good stead as she rides horses, journeys through the house in a dumbwaiter, drops from ceilings, and climbs fences in search of the truth (TCM calls her a midlife Nancy Drew!). She also has a magnificent wardrobe, designed by her favorite costumer, Edith Head. (Ms. Stanwyck ALWAYS looked amazing in riding clothes! Take a look at her 20 years later in The Big Valley!) But, while we are told Sandra is a PhD student in geology, that point is never pursued. She could be anyone, not a highly intelligent graduate student. We wished that her training had been actually used to solve the mystery.
As
to Errol Flynn, if you are expecting him to be a romantic swashbucker,
think again. His Mark Caldwell is a stiff, unattractive liar. And
Flynn is not afraid to play him as such; it has been said that he ultimately relished the role BECAUSE it was so different from his usual fare, finally giving him a chance to play a more dramatic part. That the film attempts to tack
on a romantic ending is a betrayal of the work of both actors. It's
clear that Mark is genuinely suspicious of Sandra from the outset, and she doesn't like
or trust him one little bit. He's also quite the male chauvinist: “Next time you hear some odd noise in the night, just follow the
memorable custom of your sex and stick your head under the bedclothes." Why an educated woman would want him is beyond our ken. As a result, the ending of the film seems
like it belonged to a different movie.
Quite frankly, a lot of the film doesn't make sense. Mark claims to be protecting Jim and sister Julie (Geraldine Brooks, in her first film role) from [spoiler] the family's hereditary strain of insanity, but he does little to actually CARE for them. He just keeps them hidden. And, when Sandra arrives, claiming to be Jim's bride (regardless of her claim to a marriage of convenience), Mark makes no inquiries to determine if Sandra might also be bringing an heir to the Demarest fortune within her. One would think he would confide in her, regardless of his fears that the family skeleton could have an impact on the political career of his brother. Much of the suspense focuses on just WHAT is going on in Mark's laboratory. He is not called Doctor, so he isn't a physician (heck, his lack of knowledge about mental illness proves that). So, WHAT is he doing? We never find out (and when we see the lab, it doesn't look like anything was ever DONE in it. It's too clean to even be Mark's library!) The lab is more of a MacGuffin - just stuck in because working in a lab sounds mysterious and Frankenstein-y. Visions of Mark trying to reanimate Jim's dead corpse run through one's mind.
Errol Flynn was not the first person considered for the role of Mark - Dennis Morgan was the original thought (which would have been a reunion for him and for Stanwyck). And Dorothy Malone was to be Julie. Unlike Ms. Brooks, Malone would have come to the production with some film credits under her belt - including her standout performance as the bookstore clerk in The Big Sleep.
But Brooks does a good job with a fairly thankless character. That same year, she would graduate to a better part as Joan Crawford's stepdaughter in Possession. Ultimately, Ms. Brooks would make her name in television, as a featured guest star in such shows as Dr. Kildare, The Fugitive, and Bonanza (where she appeared as Ben Cartwright's first wife - and Adam's mother - Elizabeth Stoddard Cartwright), and in the theatre. She died in 1977, aged 51 of a heart attack. Totally wasted is Jerome Cowan
as Mark's brother, Senator Charles Caldwell. We enjoy seeing Cowan, and one wonders why he was even bothered with this virtual cameo. The music by Franz Waxman is quite excellent, and the costuming by Edith Head is exceptional. Her designs are classic, and could easily be worn today. Head was Stanwyck's favorite designer - according to Criterion, "Stanwyck
was so enamored of the clothes that Head created for her characters
that she hired her to design her personal wardrobe." According to Edith Head: The Fifty-Year Career of Hollywood's Greatest Costume Designer, Stanwyck was so impressed with Head's designs when they worked together in Remember the Night, that she asked for Head to be her costumer in all her films. Stanwyck had a notoriously long waist, which Head was able to camouflage, changing the direction of Stanwyck's film career to include more "dress roles".
So, while Cry Wolf starts well, by the end it feels rushed and is not really all that convincing. The New York Times was also not a fan of the film. As this TCM article points out, critical opinion in general was not very kind. However, you do have an opportunity to see Errol Flynn in a role that was very unconventional for him (and hints at the character of Soames in That Forsythe Woman), Stanwyck looking stylish, and a young actress at the start of her career. Here's a trailer to the film:
Our film for this week, The Two Mrs. Carrolls (1947), opens in a bucolic setting. We meet Sally Morton (Barbara Stanwyck) and her beau, Geoffrey Carroll (Humphrey Bogart) as they vacation in the Scottish countryside. Though they only met a week ago, they appear deeply in love. Geoffrey is a painter, and is happily sketching his new love. It begins to storm. The couple race for shelter; Geoffrey covers his beloved with his coat, then ventures back into the rain to help their guide. When he returns, he finds Sally cold and distant. She has inadvertently discovered a letter in his pocket - addressed to Mrs. Geoffrey Carroll. Sally runs out into the storm and leaves Scotland. Geoffrey, however, is now obsessed by Sally. He sees her as his muse, and determines that he must get her back. So, on his way home, he stops at a chemist's shop and manages to purchase a supply of poison. Within a year, he is married to Sally. Within two, he has lost his interest in his wife, and has discovered a new muse in the person of Cecily Latham (Alexis Smith). And it seems that Sally is destined to follow the first Mrs. Carroll to the grave.
As this TCM article points out, The Two Mrs. Carrolls was not well received upon its release (It had, in fact, moldered in the Warner Brothers vaults for two years before its release). Time magazine felt Bogart was miscast as an artist, while the New York Times's Bosley Crowther called the film 'a monstrosity" (they also stated that its release was delayed by the Warner Brothers for two years). We, however, could not disagree more. We found The Two Mrs. Carrolls to be an enjoyable film, with a strong cast that really pulls you into the action. The film is based on a play that ran for 585 performances on Broadway, (with Elisabeth Bergner as Sally and Victor Jory as Geoffrey; produced by Bergner's husband, Paul Czinner). Let's start with
Humphrey Bogart, who is wonderful as the insane artist. Bogart plays
Geoffrey with a delicacy that makes you at times doubt he could possibly
BE a murderer. His devotion to his daughter, Beatrice (Ann Carver) is
sincere. And his early scenes with Stanwyck exhibit a true love. But,
like Mr. Hyde, his dark side is quickly revealed, and the violent
underbelly of the character is apparent. Time's comment that "Bogart appears uncomfortable. Violence and murder are old stuff to him,
but madness and paint brushes are not quite his line," is a bit odd. For one thing, Bogart was well acquainted with "paint brushes" - his mother, after all, was the noted artist Maud Humphrey and baby Humphrey was her frequent model. (For more on Maud Humphrey, visit this website from the Winterthur Museum). And he was no stranger to playing insane characters either - his Joe Gurney in King of the Underworld and George Halley in The Roaring Twenties are not exactly poster children for mental health.
We know that Geoffrey's passion for Cecily would eventually head down the same road as his love for Sally, though Alexis Smith plays Cecily as such a viper, it's doubtful anyone would really care. While Sally runs from the possibility of an affair with a married man, Cecily relishes it. And while Geoffrey is quite insane, one wonders if Cecily's disregard for Beatrice would have been the eventual cause of her demise. We'll never know.
We loved Stanwyck as Sally. She's a strong woman, who, overwhelmed by her discovery of her husband's perfidy, still takes charge of the situation. Is she afraid of him? You bet, but she doesn't give in to being a victim. She fights to the very end. One also never doubts that Sally is a woman of integrity. We know that Cecily is a manipulative witch, but Sally is a loving mother and wife who is supportive of her husband when his career is on a downturn, but is not a doormat. That her warm relationship with her former fiance is believable is due to Stanwyck's sincerity as an actress. Also impressive is Ann
Carter. The actress had a short film career, and is remembered especially for The Curse of the Cat People and I Married a Witch (as Veronica Lake's daughter). She makes Bea a remarkably knowing child, but manages to avoid that smart-alacky attitude over-intelligent movie children often have. Her career was over by 1953. Around that time, she contracted polio. She eventually recovered, went to college, married, and had three children. When she died in 2014, at age 77, ovarian cancer, she had been married to her
husband (Crosby Newton) for 57 years.
I'm not big on spoilers, but the picture above was too good to resist, as actress Stanwyck observes the artistic results of Geoffrey's tormented mind. The revelation of Sally as The Angel of Death is a shocking moment - much more powerful on the screen. No details here, but suffice it to say, it's a scene to look out for. The blog The Last Drive-In has a number of photos from the film (many are spoilers, so beware); this photo was one of them. The director
of the film is Peter Godfrey. He had already directed Stanwyck in Christmas in Connecticut and Cry Wolf (which we will look at next time) and had directed Alexis Smith in The Woman in White. One wonders if he was familiar with Hitchcock's Suspicion - the scenes of Bogart carrying the poisoned milk to his wives is very reminiscent of Cary Grant on the same mission. Godfrey's career was respectable - he appears to have retired after directing some television episodes in the 1950s, and died in 1970. We'll leave you with a trailer from the film. Next week, another Peter Godfrey/Barbara Stanwyck mystery.
I haven't been to a double feature in a lot of year, and I miss it. So, it was a pleasure to attend the Fathom Event which featured two Christmas films. I've already discussed the first feature in an earlier post. Christmas in Connecticut (1945) was feature two. Barbara Stanwyck stars as Elizabeth Lane, the popular author of a cooking column in a national magazine. She's an imaginative writer, who shares wonderful recipes and household hints, speaking at length about her life in Connecticut with her loving husband and baby. There's only one little problem. She isn't married, has no children, lives in a small New York City apartment, and she can't cook. At all. Her recipes come from her adored Uncle Felix Bassenak (S. Z. Sakall), the owner of a popular restaurant which Elizabeth helped to fund at start-up. Her editor Dudley Beecham (Robert Shayne) is well aware of her deception, but the magazine owner Alexander Yardley (Sydney Greenstreet) is not. And he's a stickler for the truth. The action starts just before Christmas, and a young sailor, Jefferson Jones (Dennis Morgan) is hospitalized, after spending 18 days on a raft, with little food and water. His nurse, Mary Lee (Joyce Compton), is eager to get a husband, and Jeff (or "Jeffy-boy" as she calls him) seems like a prime candidate. To encourage a yearning for family in Jeff (who claims to have no family roots), she contacts Mr. Yardley (she once nursed his granddaughter), and asks if Jeff can spend the holiday with his favorite author, Elizabeth Lane. To save her and Beecham's jobs, Elizabeth consents to marry John Sloan (Reginald Gardiner), who has a home in Connecticut where she can host Jeff - and Mr. Yardley, who's decided to tag along. Hijinks, as they say, ensue.
In the various Barbara Stanwyck films we've discussed thus far, we've not had a chance to look at her comedies. She was a brilliant comedienne, but didn't always get the chance to demonstrate her remarkable timing. Interestingly, this film is only one year after the role that she is probably most remembered for - Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity (1944); definitely NOT a comic part. Ben Mankiewicz, in the introduction to Christmas in Connecticut, informed us that Ms. Stanwyck was not the first choice for the role of Elizabeth Lane - Bette Davis was (this is, after all, a Warner Brothers film, and Davis was under contract). But Ms. Davis declined, and Ms. Stanwyck, who had already shown her comedic abilities in The Lady Eve and Ball of Fire, was hired. The film was released two days after the Japanese surrender, but
(since it was filmed while the war was in progress), the military and
the war are very much in the forefront of the story. Jeff is at a military hospital when Mary Lee contacts Mr. Yardley; Yardley sees hosting a war hero as a civic duty (and good publicity for his magazines) and there is an implication at the end of the movie that Jeff will be returning to active service in the Pacific (where he was when his ship was destroyed). War efforts abound in the film - even the dance which Elizabeth and Jeff attend is more a war bond function than a Christmas party. This doesn't detract from the humor, but it is a note in the background of the film. This TCM article briefly discusses the film's positive reception (though the New York Times did NOT like it very much). As a side note, I discovered that, when it was released in New York City (at the Rialto) it was on a double bill with a Lon Chaney, Jr. horror film: The Frozen Ghost!
Wonderful character actors abound in the film. Una O'Connor as Sloane's housekeeper, Norah is very funny. Sidney Greenstreet as Yardley is also amusing, in his always gruff way. But the film is really stolen by S.Z. "Cuddles" Sakall, primarily because of the way he reacts with both Greenstreet and O'Connor. His love for and loyalty to Elizabeth is ever-present. His tacit dislike of Sloane is always evident. He methodically finds ways to prevent the wedding of Elizabeth and Sloane, making him all the more endearing. He is the film's Cupid, trying to make sure his beloved Elizabeth finds the right man. I'll close with a clip. It's probably the most famous scene in the film, in which Elizabeth Lane tries to flip a flapjack. Stanwyck, as always, is priceless.
The setting is a small English village in the 1850s. A young man arrives by train late at night. No transportation is available, so he walks to his new residence, Limmeridge House, where he will be working as an art instructor. En route, he meets an odd young woman, dressed all in white, who disappears when a carriage approaches. Thus begins the mystery that is The Woman in White (1948), based on the novel of the same name by Wilkie Collins. As a huge fan of Wilkie Collins and of the novel, I have mixed feelings about this film, which changes so many aspects of the original story (later on, I'll detail some of those changes). My colleagues were not familiar with the book, nor with the 1997 BBC production (which appeared on PBS); as a result of our discussion, one member is planning to read the book, the other to take a look at the more recent adaptation. Since our discussion of the film did look at the book as well, readers should be warned that spoilers will be included. I usually try to avoid them; in this case, it would be impossible. By and large, the group felt that the movie was disjointed, and once information about the book was included, they all said they would have liked a film that more closely followed the novel. However, the change in the character of Laura Fairlie (Eleanor Parker) from namby pamby to someone who actually has a backbone, was a vast improvement. Wilkie Collins painted his main heroine as the helpless blonde female - she is gorgeous and gentle, and therefore does not have a brain in her head, or the ability to do much more than faint in the face of adversity. Eleanor Parker does a good job of portraying Laura, and of showing her attempted resistance of the dastardly Count Fosco. Her Anne Catherick is a bit more mannered, and resulted in a number of jokes about "identical cousins". In the novel, Anne and Laura are probably half-sisters.
Both book and film give us a strong, capable Marian Halcombe (Alexis Smith), here described as Laura's cousin; in the novel they too are half-sisters (Mr Fairlie was a busy man!) But Ms. Smith is a beautiful woman, and Marian really should not be. Walter Hartright (Gig Young) describes her thus in the novel:
The lady is ugly. . . . [her] complexion was almost swarthy, and the dark down on her
upper lip was almost a moustache. She had a large, firm, masculine
mouth and jaw; prominent, piercing, resolute brown eyes; and thick,
coal-black hair, growing unusually low down on her forehead.
However, Walter also says that Marian appears "bright, frank, and intelligent." And while Ms. Smith certainly appears "bright, frank, and intelligent," she is NOT ugly. So, it is no surprise that at the end of the film, Walter ends up with the lovely, smart Marian, while in the novel, he weds the gorgeous, vapid, helpless Laura. Alexis. Smith is excellent in the role; she projects an intelligence and engagement that is essential for the role to be successful.
Sydney Greenstreet as Count Alesandro Fosco, stays very close to the character as written in the book. He has the same rather overpowering charm, and the same sinister demeanor. His sincere admiration for Marian is also retained. We meet him almost immediately, and, of course, are immediately suspicious of his intentions. In the novel, we are not introduced to the character until after the marriage of Laura and Sir Percival Glyde. He is not married to Anne Catherick's mother (the Countess Fosco, as played by Agnes Moorehead), and it is Walter, not Marian, who forces him to confess his intentions.
All of these changes, and others, serve to diminish some of the power of the book, and it is unfortunate. The book is quite cinematic; like Dickens, his friend and sometime collaborator, Collins was a very visual writer, and his descriptions would lend themselves well to film. We spoke at some length about Gig Young. The actor had changed his name about 6 years prior to this film, from Byron Barr to Gig Young, adopting the name of his character in The Gay Sisters. This is the second film he made after returning from WWII, where he served in the Coast Guard. He had a long and very varied career. He was a talented comedic actor (in films like That Touch of Mink and Teacher's Pet), and a powerful dramatic actor, finally winning an Oscar in 1969 for They Shoot Horses, Don't They? His death, at his own hand, at the age of 65 (he also murdered his new wife) remains a mystery to this day. We leave you with an early scene, in which we get to meet several of the main characters:
