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.

Barbara is a Witness

Cheryl Draper (Barbara Stanwyck) awakens one night, and goes to her bedroom window. She sees her neighbor,  Albert Richter (George Sanders) murder a woman. She calls the police, but when officers Lawrence Matthews (Gary Merrill) and Eddie Vincent (Jesse White) investigate, they find nothing. Was Cheryl really a Witness to Murder (1954)?

Though this is perhaps not one of Ms. Stanwyck's best roles, she takes control of the character with both hands, and brings it up to a new level (check out this wonderful discussion from the TCM website). What could have been a weak and helpless woman, in Ms. Stanwyck's capable hands, become someone of power and sense. Sure, she's afraid, and she makes some mistakes, but she learns from them. Case in point is the scene with the psychiatrist (Lewis Martin) in the mental hospital to which Cheryl has been taken. She's terrified, but she knows the only way to get out of the hospital is to take command of the situation - which she does. The disinterested psychiatrist is forced to sit up and take notice of this thoughtful woman.

Though the plot is nowhere near as good as other films in the genre, the film is reminiscent of other movies like Rear Window (1954; released AFTER this film), Gaslight (1944), and Sorry Wrong Number (1948). There is a certain amount of voyeurism - we watch Cheryl purchase binoculars to spy on her neighbor - as well as a great deal of menace perpetrated on women by men. While our trusty police officers aren't trying to gaslight Cheryl, it's what they succeed in doing. And, like Leona trying to convince the police of a pending murder, Cheryl too is ignored as she tries to convince some really stupid men of what she has witnessed. According to Stanwyck by Axel Madsen, the producers were aware that Rear Window had a similar premise when they began production on Witness to Murder, but believed their film had the punch to compete with it. Frankly, it just didn't.

Witness to Murder is saved from true lameness not only by Ms. Stanwyck's strong performance, but also by the presence of George Sanders as the villain. Mr. Saunders is an excellent actor; he doesn't try to whitewash Richter or attempt to make the audience like him. Richter is a cad through and through, but you enjoy every minute that he is on the screen. That he is a former Nazi is merely fodder for thought. He doesn't need to be anything but what he is - a self-absorbed, hateful bully who is enjoying his cat and mouse game with Cheryl.

George Sanders started his career in the U.K. He'd been born in Russia, but the family emigrated when he was 11 (at the start of the Russian Revolution). He began appearing in films in Great Britain, like 1936's Strange Cargo (not be be confused by the 1940 Joan Crawford film of the same name). That same year, he played the despicable Lord Everett Stacy in Lloyd's of London. But the wonder of George Sanders is that he played a variety of remarkable characters, from the devious Addison DeWitt in All About Eve to the heroic Simon Templar in The Saint series. He was a weak philanderer in The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), and a dastardly pirate in The Black Swan (1943). He even did a musical (Call Me Madame 1953). There really wasn't much he couldn't do - and do it well. He married five times (including marriages to both Zsa Zsa and Magda Gabor). His marriage to Benita Hume Colman (after she was widowed) lasted 8 years, until her death in 1967. He published his autobiography (Memoirs of a Professional Cad) in 1960; in 1958, he did a record of Songs for the Lovely Lady. He continued working in film and television, but by 1970, he was ill. He committed suicide in 1972, age 65. His friend and colleague Brian Aherne published a biography, A Dreadful Man (1979) and David Niven discussed Mr. Sanders in his memoir, Bring on the Empty Horses (1975).

Where George Sanders is always memorable, the same cannot be said of Gary Merrill. While he is certainly likeable as Larry, he's also frustrating. He's smart enough to think that Cheryl is a remarkable woman, but he can't really accept that she is telling the truth. It takes him WAY too long to realize that Richter is the bad guy. By the end, you really want Cheryl to save herself and not end up as a damsel in distress. She's the only one with any real brains.

There was one small point that rather irked us as city dwellers.  Cheryl's door only has a snap lock on it, making it easy for Richter to access her apartment when she is not home. We found it hard to believe that a single woman would have such a flimsy lock and that she would not check to see that the latch had caught when she left her apartment. It works as a plot devise, but not so well as "realistic" drama. (We also found it hard to believe that Cheryl would - SPOILER ALERT - run to a high place when Richter's goal seems to be to throw her out a window. But the lock was more aggravating.)

The film was adapted for the Lux Video Theatre in 1956, with Audrey Totter in the role of Cheryl (AFI catalog). It's probably not surprising that it wasn't a huge hit at the box office, since Rear Window would open a mere three months later, with a far superior plot line.

While not a bad film, this isn't really all that good. The saving grace is the opportunity to see Ms. Stanwyck and Mr. Sanders bounce off one another in their only screen appearance together. We'll leave you with a trailer from the film.

Hayley Makes Me Glad

To celebrate National Classic Movie Day on May 16th, I'm going to break with our usual post, and contribute to the Classic Comfort Movie Blogathon, in which we'll discuss films that are sources of comfort when days are bleak. I'll be discussing Pollyanna (1960), starring Hayley Mills as the title character.

After the death of her missionary parents, Pollyanna Whittier is taken in by her Aunt Polly Harrington (Jane Wyman). Aunt Polly takes her position as the leading citizen of the town of Harrington seriously, much to the disgust of Mayor Karle Warren (Donald Crisp). The Mayor feels that Polly's domination of the town's affairs demean his role as a voted official, and eliminates citizen involvement in the workings of the town. Aunt Polly also has very decided opinions on her late sister's marriage to a man who she saw as beneath the Harrington family, and about the rearing of children. But she is not prepared for is Pollyanna, a little girl secure in her parents' love and accustomed to making lemonade out of lemons. Pollyanna brings with her a determination to be happy and to teach everyone around her "the glad game".

Over the years, the name Pollyanna has become an insult. Merriam Webster defines the word as "a person characterized by irrepressible optimism and a tendency to find good in everything".  Pollyanna has not had an easy life - her mother died when she was young, and she's recently lost her father. As missionaries, they were dirt poor, and couldn't even get their little daughter a doll. So, her father invented the glad game as a way to help his child appreciate what she had rather than bemoan what she lacked. Like all of us, Pollyanna gets angry, sad, and frustrated, but she tries to look for the good in people, for then (according to the medallion she has from her father), you will surely find it. 

Hayley Mills is perfect as Pollyanna; then again, I'm rather biased when it comes to Ms. Mills - I think everything she does is great. I recently had the opportunity to see her in an Off-Broadway play, and was thrilled (Party Face). She brings a sincerity to the character of Pollyanna. She's not perfect. She becomes furious at Mrs. Snow (Agnes Moorehead) whose obsession with death frustrates the child. She scolds Jimmy Bean (Kevin Corcoran) for his tree-climbing, but finally climbs trees herself. She loves her Aunt Polly, but lies about her maid Nancy's (Nancy Olson) relationship with George Dodds (James Drury). 

Several scenes have always stood out for me and cheer me when I'm down. After Pollyanna's encounter with Mr. Pendergast (Adolphe Menjou), she develops a fascination with the crystals that ornament his lamps - the rainbows they throw when held in the sunlight enchant her. So, in spite of his protestations, she begins hanging them from his window, to fill the house with rainbows - until finally he too is engrossed in the project. Another is her visit to the Reverend Paul Ford (Karl Malden), who has a fire and brimstone approach to religion (primarily at the urging of Aunt Polly). Though forbidden to talk about her father by Aunt Polly, Reverend Ford is intrigued by Reverend Whittier's beliefs, resulting in Rev. Ford's conversion to a more loving approach to God.

And of course, there is the relationship between Pollyanna and Aunt Polly - a woman who has rejected love (in for the form of Dr. Edmund Chilton, well played by Richard Egan), and is astonished by the instant love that Pollyanna lavishes on her. When Pollyanna runs to kiss her good night, Ms. Wyman's amazement sums up Aunt Polly in an instant. It's a marvelous moment.

Pollyanna's ability to try and see the glass as half-full is truly satisfying. She doesn't always succeed, but if she did, then she really would be the blissfully unaware creature of which she is frequently accused. But she's not. She's a wonderful, warm little girl who wants love (and a doll) and who has the magical ability to put a smile on your face. Don't believe me? Ask Tillie Lagerlof (Reta Shaw) or Angelica (Mary Grace Canfield). They will back me up! I'll leave you with one of my favorite scenes: Pollyanna discovers a rainbow:

Ronald Paints His Masterpiece

Richard Heldar (Ronald Colman) returns from the Sudan with a scar from a head injury he received saving the life of his best friend Torp Torpenhow (Walter Huston) and images from his life in the military. Dick is a painter, and gains success back home translating those images into highly successful paintings. Torp, however, is disappointed that Dick's views idealize the war; Dick pragmatically points out that idealism sells. But then Dick gets an idea for a painting of a woman - a Melancholy, which he knows will be his masterpiece. Using a local street girl, Bessie Broke (Ida Lupino), as model, Dick works steadily on his canvas. But Dick is under time constraints - due to his injury, he is going blind, and only has a few months to work. The Light That Failed (1939) is our film this week.

This film is the third based on an 1891 novel by Rudyard Kipling. The first two, silent films from 1916 and 1923, ended differently than our film. Kipling's novel originally had a very dark ending. But, under pressure, Kipling gave it a happy one. It was this ending that was used by the silent films. Director William Wellman, however, was not going to go for the whitewashed version. He used the original story, with its grim, hopeless conclusion. Bear in mind that Wellman wanted to give his pre-code film Wild Boys of the Road a bleak ending, and was prevented from doing so by the studio. We wondered if perhaps the studio should have intervened again.

Mr. Colman, who is willing to make Richard a nasty individual when called to do so, was not Mr. Wellman's first choice - he wanted Gary Cooper for the role (AFI Catalog), following their work together in Beau Geste. Mr. Colman and Mr. Wellman did NOT get along. According to this TCM article, Mr. Colman wanted Vivien Leigh (who was in the midst of filming Gone with the Wind) for the role of Bessie. Wellman refused - he had auditioned Ms. Lupino and wanted her in the part. This resulted in some on-set verbal sparring (Ida Lupino: A Biography by William Donati) and Mr. Colman finishing the scene without incident.

Despite the fact that she was unwanted by Mr. Colman, Ida Lupino nearly steals the movie in her breakout role as Bessie. Bessie is a complex and interesting character, and Ms. Lupino makes the most of it. In her able hands, Bessie is both sympathetic and unlikable at the same time. Born in England to performers, Ms. Lupino began working in British films in 1931. After several years in Hollywood in which producers did not know what to do with her, Ms. Lupino became "the poor man's Bette Davis" (her description; LA Times) picking up serious parts Ms. Davis had rejected. Her work in our film resulted in her casting in They Drive By Night (1940), as the mentally unbalanced Lana Carlsen. In 1949, she directed her first film Not Wanted, when Elmer Clifton became ill and was unable to finish the project. She would continue acting and directing, in both film and television until 1978. Ms. Lupino married and divorced three times (to Louis Hayward, Collier Young, and Howard Duff. Her only child was the result of her marriage to Mr. Duff). One of my favorite imaginary images are the reported meetings of the Directors Guild of America; the meeting opened with the words "Gentlemen, and Miss Lupino" (San Francisco Chronicle). Ms. Lupino may not have been the first female director, but she surely paved the way for women directors today.

Muriel Angelus doesn't really impress as Maisie. Where we dearly want Maisie to be an independent career woman, she comes across as a petulant brat. She invites Dick to see her work. When he provides honest criticism - which she had asked of him - she pouts, all the while pointing out that when men have previously praised her work, they had different intentions in mind. Maisie claims to love Dick, but she seems inherently selfish. You begin to wonder what exactly Dick sees in her.

Walter Huston, who is always a pleasure to see in any film, makes Torp a layered character. It is he who finds Bessie, and while we're pretty sure he has ulterior motives in bringing her to his lodging, he ends up feeding her and letting her get some sleep. He is a support to Dick, as well as his sternest critic.

Attitudes towards disability have changed since Kipling's time, making this a difficult movie to watch. But with good performances, and an interesting discussion of art it is a worthwhile film. Just be prepared that you may not like the ending.  

Ronald is Lucky

As David Grant (Ronald Colman) walks down the street, he spies Jean Newton (Ginger Rogers). David is taken with her, and as they pass each other, he wishes her luck. When her errand results in a lucky encounter, Jean seeks out David and asks him to go half on a sweepstakes ticket; they are, she believes, Lucky Partners (1940), and together they can win enough money for Jean to marry her fiance Freddie Harder (Jack Carson). David agrees, but with a caveat - Jean must go away with him on a trip if they win. He promises it will be all above-board, but he wants a few days with alone with her.

This is a cute, if slight film, that borders on being a waste of some excellent talents.  In their only film together, Ginger Rogers and Ronald Colman work well as a pair. They are an engaging couple, and it's a shame they didn't have a stronger script. Though at some point rumors arose of discontent between the two actors, Ms. Rogers firmly denied the charges. She agreed to the role (turning down His Girl Friday!) because of her eagerness to work with Mr. Colman. She professed in her autobiography to being nearly a fan girl on the set, grinning with delight every time she watched him work (TCM article).  Ms. Rogers opted for dark hair for the part, and later regretted the decision. Though she looks very different from the Ginger Rogers we are used to, we didn't think the dark hair was that bad. Her wardrobe, while simple, is totally appropriate to the character, a working girl in New York City.

 

Mr. Colman had just started his own production company; this film, and My Life with Caroline were the results. Sadly, they were the only scripts he could acquire. He plays the part of David with a twinkle in his eye, but even with the little bit of serious business at the end of the film, he really doesn't have a lot to do except be charming. It is important that we like David, and that we understand why Jean is attracted to him. With Mr. Colman, there is no question as to her reactions.

Jack Carson is such an excellent actor that he does a wonderful job playing a total oaf. This was his first big role, and he handles it quite well. Though director Lewis Milestone later recalled that Carson was in such awe of his costars that he was originally overwhelmed by his casting. Ginger Rogers was reluctant to have Carson in the role of her boyfriend - she recalled he had been an extra on one of her films. It was up to Mr. Milestone to remind her that she too gotten her start as an extra.

Mr. Carson started his professional career in vaudeville. He began getting uncredited screen roles in 1937; in 1938, he started performing on radio. His distinctive voice proved an asset, and he was soon hosting shows. The year after this film, he starred with James Cagney, Olivia de Havilland, and Rita Hayworth as the conniving Hugo Barnstead in The Strawberry Blonde. He played another loud in Mildred Pierce (1945). But he also could play leading roles, as in Roughly Speaking (1945), in which he appeared as Rosalind Russell's adoring husband. By the 1950s, Mr. Carson had segued to television, appearing in a number of shows, including The Twilight Zone and Bonanza. Married four times, he had two children with his second wife. He died in 1962, age 52, of stomach cancer.

Spring Byington has the thankless role of Jean's Aunt. While we usually love Ms. Byington, she is completely wasted in this outing. The character is more of an annoyance than a help to the film. It's a shame, because she is an engaging actress of great versatility.

One scene that was quite appealing was a small interlude with an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester, who Jean recognizes as children's book authors of whom she was a fan. Portrayed with delicacy by Brandon Tynan and Cecilia Loftus, the scene was sweet, primarily because of the performances of this lovely couple. 

Without giving too much of the plot away, the film attempts at the end to deal with a fairly serious subject - that of pornography. But the courtroom scene in which this is played out is so desperately silly, that it loses its punch. We have the wonderful Harry Davenport as the Judge, but even he can't pull the sequence out of the morass of nonsense. It's a shame, because it was fascinating to see a film trying to explain the distinction between art and pornography.

Adapted from a French film by Sacha Guitry entitled Bonne Chance (1935) (AFI catalog), Lucky Partners got a surprisingly excellent review from New York Times critic Bosley Crowther when it opened at Radio City Music Hall in New York. It also did well at the box office, earning $1.39 million.

We'll leave you with the trailer from the film. It's got some fun moments, and it IS your only chance to see Mr. Colman with Ms. Rogers.

Loretta is Alarmed

What was once a happy marriage has deteriorated into bitterness and jealousy, due to the illness of George Z. Jones (Barry Sullivan). Bedridden from a heart condition, George has decided that his wife Ellen (Loretta Young) is having an affair with his best friend, Dr. Ranney Grahame (Bruce Cowling). He concocts a plan to keep the pair apart - he writes a letter to the district attorney, accusing them of trying to murder him, and creates a body of evidence to substantiate his charge.  Ellen unknowingly mails the letter; then George outlines his plan to her - and drops dead. Ellen definitely has a Cause for Alarm! (1951).

Our plot summary is a bit misleading because it's hard to tell if the Jones marriage ever was a happy one. Ellen clearly thinks it was, but, as portrayed by Barry Sullivan, George is a bully and rather creepy. Yes, some of this is the result of his illness - Ranney mentions that the heart condition and the medication George is taking have changed him - but George relates a story in which he beat up one child and then broke a toy so that another child could not have it. Is the story a delusion? Or is he really the jealous monster he portrays?

We must admit to not being fans of Barry Sullivan. He's not a BAD actor, but he isn't all that appealing either. He was excellent in Jeopardy (1953), but not so much in this film. A more sympathetic actor might have made the change in George more apparent. But the flashback scenes reveal a man who is obviously gloating as he steals his best friend's girl.

Bruce Cowling is equally underwhelming as Ranney. He's rather dull and pedestrian, and it's no wonder that Ellen is looking elsewhere for a beau in the early scenes. Mr. Cowling didn't have an stellar career - only 39 film and television credits - however Ms. Young must have had a regard for him - he appeared on her television show 6 times. He's okay in this film, but you forget about him when he's not around. John Hodiak was to have performed the part (which was allegedly shortened after Mr. Cowling was cast), but he dropped out for some reason after filming began (AFI Catalog).

Does this mean that the film is dull? Absolutely NOT - this is a suspenseful ride, with an excellent performance by Loretta Young. In spite of Ellen's lousy taste in men, you feel for her and root for her to succeed in her simple mission - to retrieve a letter from the Post Office before it reaches its destination. That there are men in her life is secondary to the story. This is a film about Ellen Jones, and a period of about two hours in which her life is falling to pieces.

 

This is a film noir set in the suburbs on a bright and sunny day. Children play on the street; neighbors tend their garden. George is an insurance salesman and Ellen is a housewife. It all seems so middle-America. But upstairs in the Jones house is a man who has become a monster. Eventually, he is a dead man, lying on his bedroom floor with a gun in his hand. It flies in the face of film noir conventions, and yet is very much of the genre. Instead of a femme fatale, we have an homme fatal, who has lured an innocent woman into a life that becomes a hell on Earth.

Thanks to Ms. Young, we are never in doubt that the routine happenings of her day - a client visiting to see her husband, the arrival of his aunt, the postman wanting to see him - are mere contrivances. An emotionally battered woman, she keeps her strength in the face of all obstacles, and keeps trying to protect herself. That she was unable to stand up to her husband doesn't matter. She is no doormat; she keeps trying and (thanks to the character's voice-over monologue) constantly revises her plans.

Written and produced by Ms. Young's husband, Tom Lewis, the film was based on a radio play that was done in real time (TCM article).  Allegedly, Mr. Lewis wanted Judy Garland in the lead, but Ms. Young got a lawyer to appeal on her behalf to Mr. Lewis that he was discriminating against her because she was his wife (IMDB).

The New York Times review by Bosley Crowther was very positive. He was, not surprisingly very impressed with Ms. Young. According to Hollywood Madonna: Loretta Young by Bernard F. Dick,though the the film was made on a small budget and did make a profit, it was not highly regarded by MGM. Ms. Young, who was approaching 40, was finding it harder to get good film roles, so within 2 years, she had switched over to television.

We'll leave you with this trailer from the film, and a recommendation that you give it a try.

Nina's Not Herself

Julia Ross (Nina Foch), an American secretary living in London is rather at the end of her rope. She's been unable to find a job, her boyfriend is marrying someone else, and her landlady has told her to pay up her back rent or get out. Julia seeks out a new employment agency, and is delighted when Mrs. Hughes (Dame May Whitty) and her son Ralph (George Macready) offer her a job as Mrs. Hughes private secretary. There is a catch, Julia will need to move into their London house. Plus, they seem awfully pleased that Julia has absolutely no connections.  My Name is Julia Ross (1945) is our film for this week.

It took a B movie to finally get the always excellent Nina Foch a starring role, and she takes the part and runs with it. She gives Julia a strength of character that is admirable. Julia Ross is no demure damsel in distress. Despite her circumstances, she keeps trying to escape. Sure, she makes mistakes, but that doesn't stop her from trying again. Julia is fighting for her life, and she knows it. Ms. Foch makes you believe that Julia is clever enough to best these rather nasty villains.

And nasty they are indeed.  We'll start with George Macready who is truly scary as Ralph. If you've seen him in Gilda (1946), you are then familiar with his stare and the nasty scar on his cheek, which could terrorize the strongest of hearts (the scar was real - the result of an automobile accident). He uses it well here, tied to a nasty habit of playing with knives. George Macready started his career on Broadway, appearing in 17 plays including a 1927 Much Ado About Nothing (as Benedict) and Victoria Regina (1935), with Helen Hayes and Vincent Price (as Victoria and Albert). That play would result in a life-long friendship between him and Mr. Price. They shared a love of art, and would eventually open a successful gallery together (though they had to close it after two years - their film careers got in the way. For more on the The Little Gallery, see Victoria Price's biography of her father). Mr. Macready had a respectable film career, but really made his mark in television, appearing in a vast number of shows, including Perry Mason, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., Night Gallery, Peyton Place, and Bonanza. Married once (the marriage ended in 1943), Mr. Macready died of emphysema in 1973. Speaking of himself, he owned to his affection for playing maniacal killers, but admitted that "at heart, I'm really a harmless and calm person."

If you've seen Gaslight (1944) or I Met My Love Again (1938), they you've seen the OTHER side of Dame May Whitty. Be advised, she is NOT the same character here. She's an evil piece of work - this excellent article from the Film Noir Foundation compares Mrs. Hughes to such paragons of motherly virtue as Ma Jarrett in White Heat (1949) and Eleanor Iselin in The Manchurian Candidate (1962). Dame May presents a careful performance - all sweetness and light to the outside world, but actually nerves of steel and a willingness to kill if the situation call for it. It's an excellent performance, in the kind of part she was not usually called on to perform.

This is considered a breakthrough film for director Joseph H. Lewis (TCM article). He would go on to direct the penultimate film noir, Gun Crazy (1950). My Name is Julia Ross is especially notable its tightness - there is a lot packed into that 65 minute running time - and wonderful lighting that really expresses the mood of the piece from cinematographer Burnett Guffey.

 

Nina Foch continued her career, primarily as a second lead in A films, like An American in Paris (1951)  and Executive Suite (1954) (for which she was nominated for an Academy Award). Julia is an extremely attractive character mainly because of the tenacity Ms. Foch brings to the role. She is no namby-pamby waiting to be rescued - as plans are foiled, she begins to devise new ones. Sure, she's trying to get help from Dennis Bruce (Roland Varno), but in the end, it is Julia who is her own savior.

We wanted to also acknowledge the work of Doris Lloyd as Mrs. Mackie, Julia's landlady. It would have been so easy to make her the traditional evil landlady, but the script and Ms. Lloyd rise above that, making her an integral part of the solution to Julia's problems. We found it delightful.

The story was included as part of a Lux Video Theatre television broadcast in March of 1955, with Fay Bainter and Beverly Garland as the female leads (AFI Catalog). Some aspects of the story were included in Dead of Winter (1989). Take a look at the cast of characters to this film - our heroine is now Julia Rose, and another character is named Dr. Joseph Lewis!

Bosley Crowther's New York Times review is not all that great - but he was very wrong. We cordially invite you to enters the nightmare with Julia (as did Robert Osborne in his remarks).  We'll leave you with a scene from the film:

Ronald is from Boston

George Apley (Ronald Colman) is from Boston. He believes the world revolves around Boston, and that only Boston manners - as decided on by him, of course - are the proper ones. His life becomes problematic, however when his son John (Richard Ney) falls in love with a "foreigner" from Wooster, MA and his daughter Eleanor (Peggy Cummins) becomes involved with an English professor, Howard Bolder (Charles Russell) who believes that Ralph Waldo Emerson was a radical; he also has the temerity to be a Yale graduate.  Welcome to the world of The Late George Apley (1947).

In a sense, one of the biggest problems with the film is the title. The LATE George Apley? George Apley isn't dead! But in the play (which ran for a year on Broadway, and featured Leo G. Carroll as George) from which the film is taken, the story is related by Horatio Willing (here played by Richard Hayden) after George's death in 1924. As a result, you spend much of the movie waiting for George to leave this world. The action of the film instead centers around events in 1912, with George dealing with the romantic relationships of his children. Neither has chosen a potential spouse that fits George's notion of appropriate. The film looks at his ability to accept his children adults, able to make choices about their own futures. It never gets to the end of the play.

Ronald Colman is perhaps the best part of this film; he is able to make George wry and amusing. Mr. Colman had an excellent sense of comedic timing; he also understood character distance - he keeps George ever so slightly removed from the action, until such time that it is imperative that he become deeply involved.  It is something Mr. Colman used to superb effect in The Talk of the Town (1942), and it works well in this film. He and screenwriter Philip Dunne are thus able to make George sympathetic, which would not be an easy task with a a lesser actor. (AFI catalog)

Making George and company sympathetic is a tricky task. He adoration of Boston and his disregard of any other part of the world can become trying. Though we never meet Myrtle Dole (John's love), we do meet her father. And while we first accept Julian Dole (Paul Harvey) as being wiser than George, we wondered if we should have done so. Mr. Dole proposes exactly what George's father did to George, and what George wants to do to Ellie - separate her from her lover for an extended period to break up the relationship. Mr. Dole's reasoning certainly seems rational - Myrtle will never be happy in Boston, while John will never be happy outside of it. In the end, we are looking at two fathers who infantilize their children, rather than letting them decide the future for themselves.

Perhaps the most interesting character in the film is Agnes Willing (as portrayed by Vanessa Brown).  Agnes sees herself as plain and dull, primarily because John - her intended husband according to the Apley and the Willing seniors - is totally uninterested in her. However, after conversations with Catherine Apley (Edna Best) and Ellie, Agnes begins to see herself and her power differently. We are treated to the growth of this character, as she learns display herself differently and push back when others try to make her a walking mat. A late scene with Howard goes on a bit too long, but it does give Ms. Brown an opportunity to show off the new Agnes.

We were also pleased to see Mildred Natwick (as Amelia Newcombe, George's sister). Though Amelia is, quite frankly, a harridan, Ms. Natwick is always enjoyable in any part she plays. She works well with Mr. Colman, and with Percy Waram, who plays her husband Roger. And it is quite pleasurable to see the always excellent Peggy Cummins in a film. With only 26 film credits, it's a novel experience to be able to see something other than Gun Crazy (1950).

If the The New York Times review is an example of the reception the film received, it did not really wow the critics. The Late George Apley is by no means a bad movie; it's just not one of Ronald Colman's best films, even if his performance is top notch. Certainly consider it if you have a chance to see it.

Myrna on the Home Front

The war is over and three servicemen are on their way home. Sailor Homer Parrish (Harold Russell), bombadier Captain Fred Derry (Dana Andrews), and infantry Sergeant Al Stephenson (Frederic March) meet on the plane to Boone City. Each returns to family, but each has changed: Homer lost his hands when his ship was torpedoed; Fred saw his friend crash, and now has horrible nightmares, and Al is tormented by his memories of the men who didn't make it home. Are The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) behind them or still to come?

In the first year of its existence (1989), the National Film Registry  added The Best Years of Our Lives to its list of films of "enduring importance to American culture." And indeed it is. It is perhaps the best film of the post-war period, if not one of the best of all time.  Directed by William Wyler after his return from the European Theatre of Operations, it was, in fact, his first film after spending over three years in bomber planes making documentaries for the U.S. Army Air Force. As a result of the noise in the planes, he lost his hearing, and was virtually deaf for several years. Wyler understood well the life facing disabled veterans. He therefore fashioned a movie (based on Time Magazine article "The Way Home," and a treatment by MacKinlay Kantor) that dealt with disability on a variety of levels. (For more on the film and it's creation, see this Film Preservation Board essay).

The most obvious examination of disability is the casting of double amputee Harold Russell as Homer. Unlike his character, Russell was injured in a training accident, and spent the war in the hospital. Mr. Russell was included in a training film Diary of a Sargeant (1944); when Wyler saw that film, he decided to change the character of Homer from a man suffering from severe spacticity. While clearly not an actor, Russell's gives a genuine performance; his scene, late in the film, with actress Cathy O'Donnell (as Homer's fiance, Wilma Cameron) is truly moving, giving real truth to the film. 

Mr. Russell became the only actor to receive two Oscars for the same performance: he was awarded a competitive Oscar for Best Supporting Actor (the other nominees were: Charles Coburn in The Green Years, William Demarest in The Jolson Story, Claude Rains in Notorious, and Clifton Webb in The Razor's Edge), as well as a Special Oscar for "for bringing hope and courage to his fellow veterans." (TCM article). Years later, Mr. Russell sold one of the Oscars, in order to get funding for his wife's health care.

Fredric March won the Best Actor award that year, but  Myrna Loy as his wife, Milly Stephenson didn't even get nominated! If anything is a travesty of the Oscars, it is the fact that she was NEVER nominated for Oscars for any of her wonderful performances. (The Academy did try to finally rectify the oversight in 1991 by awarding her an Honorary Oscar. You can see her acceptance here). Her performance as Milly is inspired. Watch her face as she realizes that Al is in the house. Then, see if you can refrain from tearing up as she explains to daughter Peggy (Teresa Wright, who was only 12 years younger than her on-screen mother) why even her "perfect" marriage has its challenges. Her quiet dignity, as she silently, but sympathetically, observes the changes in her husband are beyond stirring.

Dana Andrews (who also was not nominated for this picture) is excellent as a man returning to a wife he finds he no longer loves (Virginia Mayo as the rather despicable Marie Derry), and who is forced back into the same dead-end job he left to serve his country. Fred Derry is still suffering the effects of the war. He has vivid nightmares of the death of his friend, he feels ill-equipped to take on a more responsible job ("I just dropped bombs" is his response to any queries about his ability to prove experience based on his war service), and his wife only wants him to wear his uniform and party. It is in the company of Peggy Stephenson that he is able to find any comfort or understanding, but his marriage is a block that he can't get around. Mr. Andrews gives us a character that shows the most growth throughout the movie - he really does go from a boy to a man.

Though they only have a few scenes, Roman Bohnen and Gladys George as Fred's father and stepmother Pat and Hortense are magnificent. Their most powerful scene occurs towards the end of the film; the scene is a simple one - Pat is reading a document aloud to Hortense which explains the citation Fred received from the military. With just Mr. Bohnen's voice and Ms. George's eyes, we see the love and pain that they feel for their son. The war, we see, impacted more than those who fought.

Equally effective is Hoagy Carmichael as Homer's uncle Butch Engle. Butch serves as the springboard to Homer's reentry into life - teaching him to "play" the piano, quietly encouraging him to open up to his parents and to Wilma, and perhaps more importantly, keeping him from slipping into alcohol as a refuge from his troubles. Another interesting casting note: Mr. Wyler used his 4 and 7 year old daughters in one of the drugstore scenes.

The film opened to enthusiastic reviews. The New York Times called it "this best film this year..." and Variety said it was "one of the best pictures of our lives." Since then, it has continued to be held in high regard, coming in at #37 in AFI's 100 Years, 100 Movies, 10th Edition (the same position as the original list) and at #11 in AFI's 100 Years, 100 Cheers. Richard Brody singled it out for a DVR alert in his New Yorker commentary. It also was financially successful, earning over $11,300,000 in its first North American release. It was even re-released in 1953 to note the return of troops for Korean, to equally favorable reviews (AFI catalog). Yet, despite this, Mr. Wyler was called before the House UnAmerican Activities Committee - certain scenes were deemed Communist propaganda!

If you have never seen The Best Years of Our Lives, we strongly urge you to get hold of a copy. It is worth your time. We'll leave you with the trailer from the film.

Ronald Goes Mad

Anthony John (Ronald Colman) is a highly regarded Broadway actor, and while there is no debate on his talent, attitudes towards him as a person differ drastically. Mr. John has a problem - he totally inhabits his current role. As his ex-wife, Brita (Signe Hasso) says "when he's doing something gay...it's wonderful to be with him, but when he gets going on one of those deep numbers... We were engaged during Oscar Wilde, broke it off during O'Neill, married during Kaufman and Hart, divorced during Chekov." Despite this, Tony's producer is encouraging him to tackle Othello, a part he longs to do, but which also terrifies him for its intensity of emotion. A Double Life (1947) is our film this week.

Ronald Colman won a well-deserved Oscar as best actor for his performance in this movie. (His competition was: John Garfield, Body And Soul; Gregory Peck, Gentleman's Agreement; William Powell Life With Father; Michael Redgrave, Mourning Becomes Electra) He was originally reluctant to play the part - the part was first intended for Laurence Olivier - but persuasion from director George Cukor and screenwriters Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin convinced Mr. Colman to take on the role and the Shakespearean text that went with it. (TCM article). They were certainly right; Colman's experience on the stage stood him in good stead, and he is an impressive Othello. You would never guess he was uncomfortable with the text; his portrayal is crisp and magisterial.

Considered a film noir, A Double Life also has moments that call to mind the horror genre. The scenes of Tony's descent into madness could rival the Hammer films of the time, with the use of unseen voices echoing from Tony's weakened mind. And is it any wonder that Tony has become unhinged - by the middle of the film, we learn that he has appeared in the play for over two years - 300 performances, of 8 performances a week?  It's amazing he didn't lose it after a year of doing what is probably considered one of Shakespeare's most intense and demanding roles (today, most actors leave their show at the end of one year). We did wonder if part of the screenwriters were (on some levels) mocking The Method, in the form of an actor who too deeply submerges himself into the character he portrays.

Both Signe Hasso and Shelley Winters (as Pat Kroll) are very good in their parts, though in many regards, the characters are there to counterpoint one another. Ms. Hasso is the dutiful wife (yes, they are divorced, but it is clear that she still considers Tony to be her husband) and Ms. Winters is the local slut. Ms. Hasso is very good as a woman torn between her love for a man, and her fear of  his increasing instability and violence.

I have to admit to a certain bias against Ms. Winters, who I consider to be an over-actor of the first order (that being said, her predilection for over-emoting worked beautifully in A Patch of Blue (1965), probably her best performance). But she is good in this role; you do find yourself sympathizing with her in what would prove to be her breakthrough role (AFI Catalog). Director Cukor badly wanted her for the part; in order to relax her, he filmed a rehearsal without her knowledge and used that as her screen test.

There is one decidedly problematic character, and that is Bill Friend (Edmund O'Brien). Bill is the publicity agent for Tony, he also has a crush on Brita and cannot understand why she does not reciprocate his feelings. Later in the film (spoiler here), Bill works with a reporter to label a killing as "the kiss of death" murder as publicity for Tony's production of Othello. He KNOWS Tony will object, that Tony will find such publicity tacky and distasteful. Yet Bill is seemingly surprised when Tony blows his stack and fires Bill. Bill's immediate reaction - Tony is involved in the murder. As Bill tries to involve the police in his newly blossomed theory, he is asked if there is any ulterior motives to his belief. He says no, though Mr. O'Brien provides a slight reaction, demonstrating that Bill is quite aware that he has a definite bias against Tony. It's really hard at this point to have any sympathy for Bill; the irony of his last name is apparent.

A very young Betsy Blair makes an appearance as The Girl in the Wig Shop, a young woman eager for a stage career - so focused that she is willing to change anything about herself to get a job impersonating Pat Kroll. The Girl presents a counterpoint to Tony - he becomes the part without choice, while she willingly subsumes herself for a chance at fame.

Though not as widely known as it should be, A Double Life has come up in recent commentaries. For example,  the New York State Writers Association at SUNY provides this fascinating examination of the picture within the tradition of Film Noir. They note the moody atmosphere created by cinematographer Milton Krasner - as well as the horror roots of production studio Universal. And this L.A. Times article released in 2014 after the premiere of Birdman finds a remarkable similarity between the two films, as they concentrate on stage actors becoming immersed in their roles.

George Cukor and Ruth Gordon/Garson Kanin formed a partnership with this film - the first of seven collaborations, including Adam's Rib, Born Yesterday, and Pat and Mike. Mr. Colman was convinced to take on the role as one that would result in an Oscar - and George Cukor kept his promise, campaigning hard to get Mr. Colman the award. Mr. Colman would only make three more films after this, turning his attention to radio and then television in The Halls of Ivy, with his wife Benita Hume. The New York Times review was glowing in its praise, not only for the film, but for Mr. Colman, saying it was "the role of his lengthy career." Despite Mr. Colman's fears, the Times was impressed by his portrayal of Othello. 

This is a fascinating film, well worth your viewing. We'll leave you with this trailer.