Red Dust (1932) is the second pairing of that remarkable screen duo of Clark Gable and Jean Harlow. Not surprisingly, they make the screen sizzle from the minute their characters, Dennis Carson and Vantine Jefferson, meet. Carson is the manager of a rubber plantation, somewhere in the jungles outside Saigon. The work is dirty and unpleasant, and Carson finds it difficult to manage the native population of workers. When Vantine arrives unbidden on his doorstep (she's avoiding the authorities in Saigon), their initial verbal battle turns to bedplay, and finally to love (on her part). But when the time for her to leave arrives, Denny slips her some money, and scoots her onto the awaiting boat, just as surveyor Gary Willis (Gene Raymond) and his bride Barbara (Mary Astor) alight. Denny thinks his only problem will be getting Willis accustomed to life in this backwater, but he is mistake, because Vantine returns (her boat broke down) and Barbara is proving even more irresistible to Denny than he ever could have imagined. Clark Gable is wonderful as Dennis Carson; he makes the character appealing, as well as somewhat disreputable. Dennis was raised on the plantation; his only absences were trips to Saigon for some R&R. It's not surprising that this man, who would probably have had very little acquaintance with any women but the native population (and whores in Saigon), would be so immediately captivated by Barbara. She, to him, is exotic. Whereas, Vantine, who is far better suited to the life he has selected, is just another hooker like those he periodically visits. Gable is able to make us ignore his rather dastardly behavior - towards Vantine, towards Barbara, and towards Gary - but never allows us to forget it.
And then there is Harlow - wise, smart, strong, resourceful. Her Vantine is capable of love, but smart enough to not let it ruin her life. She tries to protect both Barbara and Gary, and she understands Dennis better than he understands himself. Harlow's quick reaction to the payment Dennis offers her says so much about her character. And Harlow is a smart enough actress to play the reaction down. It's there - you see it, but she won't let Vantine - or the audience - dwell on it. It is enough that we all know he has wounded her deeply. The interlopers to the lives of Dennis and Vantine, the Willis', initially come off rather badly. Barbara is officious and whiny; Gary seems like a wimp. But, we eventually discover from Vantine that Gary is a rather nice guy; and is, in fact, the only person who treats her with kindness and courtesy. Gene Raymond does a good job with the character - he is often cast as a weakling, but he does make Gary someone that you feel for. You may be rooting for Gable's Dennis, but you want Dennis to realize that Gary cannot be hurt by his actions.
Astor's Barbara, never loses the officiousness. She's
constantly nasty to Vantine, as much from jealousy as anything else.
But one wonders if she resents Vantine's freedom? Whatever happens,
Barbara will never be anything but a "wife". She has created herself in
the image of her husband. It is only at the very end of the film that
Barbara finally gets a backbone, and does something neither man would
do. You can't help but admire it (as Vantine does). One scene that
rather sums up Barbara is the couple's arrival at their new digs, and
her horror on seeing the bathing area. Contrast that to Vantine's freewheeling attitude towards her toilette - it
nicely sums up both characters.
This TCM article mentions that the film did NOT run into any censorship issues - a surprise when you see the scene we are highlighting this week. When Red Dust ran on The Essentials, host Robert Osborne commented on the friendship between Gable and director Victor Fleming that arose from their work on the film. This relationship would culminate in Fleming being selected to replace George Cukor as the director of Gone With the Wind - he was Gable's choice for director of what is perhaps Gable's most famous role. Critic Mordaunt Hall, in the NewYork Times was not particularly thrilled with the film, but fellow blogger at Pre-Code.com gave it his stamp of approval. We concur.
Red Dust is unusual in that it was remade over 20 years later with the same lead actor. We'll take a look at Mogambo next week. In the meantime, we'll leave you, as promised, with Vantine's bath. Enjoy:
Lawyer Man (1933) stars William Powell as Anton "Tony" Adam, a Lower East Side lawyer who demonstrates a skill in oratory that lands him a partnership with a highbrow, uptown law firm. His secretary, Olga Michaels (Joan Blondell), accompanies him on his journey to the top, only to discover that Tony, who had professed love for her in the past, is now far more intrigued with his partner's sister, Barbara Bentley (Helen Vinson). He's also very interested in publicity and big payouts. As a result, he accepts the breach of promise case of Virginia St. John (Claire Dodd) - against the advise of his partner Granville Bentley (Alan Dinehart) and Olga. Then, Virginia's lover Dr. Gresham (Kenneth Thompson) uses his reconciliation with her to have Tony tried for unethical behavior, with significant repercussions to Tony's personal and professional life. This is a fast-paced film, sometimes too fast, as the transitions from each stage of Tony's life can feel rushed. Another problem with the film is that, though it is a film about the law, there are no courtroom sequences, something that was commented on in this Variety review and by fellow blogger, Immortal Ephemera. We keep being told what a superb lawyer Tony is, but we never get to see him in action. Perhaps because of the pace of the film, Tony feels like two different people - first he is the noble lawyer of the poor, madly in love with his secretary (though with an eye for the ladies), then he is the avaricious social climber, far more interested in a wealthy, upper-class matron. However, it also seems that, despite his desires for fame and fortune, Tony never loses his belief in the law - evidenced by the statue of blind justice that accompanies him from office to office.
William Powell was not, it seems, the first choice for the role of Tony. According to this TCM article, a news item in Film Daily noted that Edward G. Robinson was once considered for the lead. Powell is, as always, very good as the womanizing Tony. Perhaps the hardest thing he has to do is make us believe that he can pass up Joan Blondell for Helen Vinson (I mean, really - is there even a contest?), but Powell gives Tony just enough naivety that you can see him being captivated by the power and class that Barbara represents.
We've already discussed several of the 60 films that feature Claire Dodd: Our Blushing Brides (as a Mannequin
- her first screen part), This is the Night(as the real Chou-Chou), Ex-Lady (as Iris Van Hugh, the "other" woman), and Ann Carver's Profession (as Carole Rogers, the drunken singer). Her role in Lawyer Man is quite short - she really has only a few scenes, but she is memorable as the vengeful Virginia St. John. Ms. Dodd worked from 1930 til 1942 in a variety of parts. Perhaps her most famous turn was as Della Street in two Perry Mason films - The Case of the Curious Bride (1935) and The Case of the Velvet Claws (1936). In the latter film, she has the didistinction of being the only Della Street to actually MARRY Perry Mason! When she remarried in 1942 (she was 40) she retired from film. She already had one child from her first marriage - in the next 7 years, she had four more with her second husband. Claire and her husband remained together until her death from cancer in 1973. Though her part is relatively small, Joan Blondell is perfect as Olga. Deeply in love with Tony, she refuses to play second fiddle to his fly-by-night attitude towards women. It's clear that Olga will stick with him as a secretary, but her sassy attitude reminds him (and us) that she will not be second in his love-life. It's hard to image anyone but Blondell in this part. She has the vivacity, the beauty, but above all, the strength to make Olga credible. While as a whole our group did not rate this movie particularly highly, my fellow blogger at Pre-code.com and Mordaunt Hall at the New York Times gave it much more praise. I suggest you take a look at their opinions for more insight into this film. Pre-code.com also supplies some interesting perceptions into why Lawyer Man is definitely a Pre-code film (with photos!). We close with the film's trailer. Next time, another pre-code gem:
As promised, we return with a forgotten pre-code gem, starring Ronald Colman. The Devil to Pay (1930) has Colman playing Willie Hale, the ne'er-do-well (but much beloved son) of Lord Leland (Frederick Kerr). Lord Leland is an indulgent father, who has spent the last few years supporting Willie's "ventures", the latest of which ended with Willie auctioning off the contents of his Kenyan home in order to get passage money home. Willie is an engaging young man, but too much enjoys life, especially when they including cards and horses. And while Lord Leland is initially determined to disown Willie, his love for his son - who doesn't have a mean bone in his body - convinces him to welcome Willie back to the family's good graces, and even give him more money. Willie determines to spend the money with his sister, Susan (Florence Britton), and her friend Dorothy Hope (Loretta Young). Not surprisingly, this day of adventure results in Dorothy and Willie falling head over heels in love, despite the fact that she has a fiance (Paul Cavanagh as Grand Duke Paul), and he is intimately involved with an actress of some reputation (Myrna Loy as Mary Crayle). Add to the mix, Dorothy's father (David Torrence) despises Willie, and you have a formula for conflict. According to this TCM article, Ronald Colman was eager to play Willie. He was intrigued with the comic aspects of the character. Much of his silent career had involved heavy dramas like Stella Dallas (1925) and Beau Geste (1926), and he wanted to do lighter fare. He is excellent in the role; though in many senses he is far to old to play Willie (he was 39 at the time), he is irresistible as this scalawag with a heart of gold. Watch him in the scene where he resists spending £15 of the only £20 he's gotten from his father on a dog that he has already named George. (In his New York Times review, Mordaunt Hall was quite taken with George as well). Colman is adorable. He has a lovely, breezy relationship with both Loretta Young and Florence Britton in their scenes together. You never doubt that he is a young man in his mid-20s. And the auction scene that opens the film is very funny - Colman immediately sets the tone for his character for the rest of the film; you will love Willie from that moment on.
We are given another treat: Myra Loy as Mary Crayle. She's excellent - she always is, but here, while she is playing "the other woman" she gives us a woman who is a genuinely nice person. Her relationship with Willie is casual, and she sympathetic and supportive of his love for Dorothy. She is, in fact, a much nicer person than Dorothy. Ms. Loy is a blonde in this film, perhaps to contrast her to the brunette Young. We also get an almost nude scene, as Mary steps from a steam chamber. Her work in this film did not go unnoticed - Louella Parsons praised Ms. Loy's naturalness in her review of the film (Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood) Florence Britton is memorable as sister Susan. It's a small part, but she brings a lot to it. We get a real picture of the Hale family from her (and her father). Susan serves as a contrast to her carefree brother, but without being stiff or forbidding; there is a warmth to her affection for Willie that doesn't necessarily condone his actions, but still loves him without question. Ms. Britton had a brief career - she made 14 films between 1929 and 1933 (we've already seen two of her films: Merrily, We Go to Hell and Brief Moment). She would appear uncredited in Colman's Arrowsmith the following year. She died, age 77, in 1987, having retired from the screen in 1933. Loretta Young replaced Constance Cummings in the lead, according to this article in the AFI catalog. Also replaced was the director, Irving Cummings (the name similarity is just a coincidence; they were not related. Irving was born in New York City, nee Caminsky; Constance, in Seattle Washington, nee Constance Halverstadt). With the replacements, many scenes had to be refilmed, as producer Samuel Goldwyn was unsatisfied with the performance. All in all, this is a film worth your time. Next week, we'll be back with another pre-code film.
Strange Lady in Town (1955) was of particular interest to me (and to my friends), because it is the story of a female doctor. I've done some research on women physicians in film, and even presented a paper on the topic; I'd heard of this film, though never seen it before. It proved to be an interesting addition to women physicians on film. Strange Lady in Town tells the story of Dr. Julia Winslow Garth (Greer Garson), a Boston physician who has relocated to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where her brother, Lt. David Garth (Cameron Mitchell) is serving in the military. Dr. Garth is tired of the bias that has continually hobbled her medical career: male physicians in Boston routinely cut at her ability to practice. She hopes that frontier medicine will enable her to advance her career and help her to help others. But upon her arrival, she discovers from the spunky Carlotta "Spurs" O'Brien (Lois Smith) that her father, Dr. Rork O'Brien (Dana Andrews) is yet another of those bigoted physicians, and she will need to get around him in order to grow her practice. One of the major problems with this film is the side plot that involves brother David and his predilection for illegal activities. It seemed like it belonged in another movie, and that the growing list of David's crimes was artificial - merely a way for the townspeople to blame Julia for something. David's not particularly likeable; one wonders what "Spurs" sees in him. And why he is "bad" is never really explained - he has risen to a decent position in the military, and appears to be liked by his colleagues (when he isn't cheating them...). He justifies his crime spree as being just who he is - he's bad; Julia is just too fond of him to notice (apparently, the Army was too fond to notice as well). The main story: the conflict between Doctors O'Brien and Garth, the growing relationship between "Spurs" and Julia, was far more interesting and engaging.
This is not to say that Dr. O'Brien is a particularly amiable man; in fact, he's pretty hard to tolerate. He's ignorant and a bully - upon learning that Dr. Garth has studied under Lister, and subscribes to Lister's belief that sterilizing instruments and washing hands saves lives, O'Brien ridicules her. In fact, he later complements her on her "perfume", only to learn that the scent is that of carbolic acid (Lister's prescribed sterilizing agent). O'Brien's saving grace is his daughter. "Spurs" is so likeable and engaging she mitigates her father's actions merely by her love for him. Given "Spurs'" garb (she dresses like a boy), complete self-sufficiency, and genuine caring personality, combined with the free-rein she is given by her father, how much of Dr. O'Brien's bias is genuine, and how much is just male-chauvinist bluster? The film's end (bit of a spoiler here) implies that he is all bluster, but it takes awhile to get there.
Lois Smith as "Spurs" is a revelation - you cannot help but like her; and she almost steals the movie from star, Greer Garson. Smith, who is still actively working, has had a long career. She is primarily known for her television work - most recently, she appeared on True Blood as Adele Stackhouse; she also had a recurring role on ER, and was a regular on The Doctors. An inductee into the American Theatre Hall of Fame, Ms. Smith has appeared in 20 Off-Broadway and 10 Broadway plays, including James Earl Jones' The Iceman Cometh in 1973-1974. I'm not sure if Bosley Crowther's comment on her performance in this review in the New York Times does her justice, but "Spurs" is a character with dignity.
Nick Adams appears VERY briefly as Billy the Kid; if you blink, you will miss him.
And Cameron Mitchell is good in the fairly thankless part of David.
But it is Greer Garson who is the star here, and she shines. This TCM article
discusses some of Ms. Garson's travails on the picture, not the least
of which was an attack of appendicitis that ultimately required surgery
(and none too soon - her appendix was about to burst). Regardless, Ms.
Garson was fond of the picture, having finally gotten to do an "outdoor
role". Strange Lady in Town is very reminiscent of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, and we wondered if the creators of that show had ever seen this film. This 2014 overview discussion of the film is worth taking a look at for the list that they compiled of women physicians in television westerns. I'm hoping I can locate some of them.
We'll close with the scene in which Julia meets with "Spurs". Next time, we'll be looking at a Ronald Colman pre-code film.
We decided to return to the pre-code era this week, visiting Edward G. Robinson earlier in his career in the 1932 film The Hatchet Man (also called The Honourable Mr. Wong in the United Kingdom). Featuring an impressive cast of Caucasian actors all playing Asians, the film is quite politically incorrect, but has an ending that will knock your socks off. Wong Low Get (Robinson) is the titular Hatchet Man for the Lem Sing Tong in San Francisco (a Chinese brotherhood that by modern standards would be the local mobsters). The title of Hatchet Man is, as the opening crawl informs us, an honorable one that is handed down from father to son. Following the death of the Tong's leader, the new chief, Nog Hong Fah (Dudley Digges) orders Wong to murder his best friend, Sun Yat Ming (J. Carroll Naish), who was complicit in the death of the leader. Sun realizes that his death is imminent, and so makes out his will, leaving his fortune and the care of his 6 year old daughter, Sun Toya San (who will grow up to be Loretta Young), to the care of Wong. His will also expresses his desire that Toya will wed Wong when she is of age. The men talk, Sun forgives his friend for the deed he must commit, and Wong throws his hatchet. We see a doll fall from the hand of the young Toya, its head hanging by a thread. And then the story jumps forward 12 year.
We've already mentioned that this is a movie about the Chinese in
America in which not ONE Chinese (or Asian) person appears. As
politically incorrect as this is in the 21st Century, this was standard
practice in Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s. As this TCM article
points out, it was crucial to have a star name to tout, and those
stars, of course, were Caucasian. But, if you had a Caucasian done up
to look Asian, next to a person of genuine Asian ancestry, the make-up
on your white actor looked outlandish. So, the decision was to hire an
all-white cast, and everyone's make-up was the same. Only here, it
really isn't, as Edward G. Robinson is barely made up, compared to
Loretta Young or Leslie Fenton (Harry En Hai). As a result, Robinson
maintains the facial expression that is crucial to his characterization
while the other actors look as though they are wearing Halloween masks.
The other problem with the movie, from a modern perspective, is the relationship between Wong and Toya. Wong raises her as a daughter, then marries her. It is a trifle disturbing to think about, especially when you throw into the mix that Wong murdered her father. But, Robinson's skill as an actor helps to mitigate the audience discomfort. He is loving and gentle - he is even surprised when Toya consents to their marriage. It's because of Robinson that the viewer can't help but feel sympathy for Wong.
The wonderful character actor J. Carrol Naish has a VERY small part,
but as with most things Naish does, you don't forget him. Naish had a
long career, from 1925 until 1971. He made the transition to television
fairly seamlessly, and probably appeared as a member of every ethnic group on the planet.
He was nominated for two Academy Awards (for Sahara in 1943 and A Medal for Benny in 1945, for which he was awarded the Golden Globe award). Naish married his wife Gladys in 1929; they had one child and were together until his death of emphysema in 1973. In his last role, he starred as Dr. Frankenstein in the low-budget Dracula vs. Frankenstein (which also featured Lon Chaney, Jr.).
Back in 2013, when we discussed She Had to Say Yes, we talked about Loretta Young and her relationship with Clark Gable. A new article on Loretta Young was recently released, and in light of our prior conversation, we thought it important to alert you to this new information. Ms. Young's son, Chris Lewis, spoke to an interviewer about conversations he and his wife Linda had with Ms. Young. After watching an episode of Larry King Live in 1998 (a show Ms. Young watched regularly), she asked Linda what "date rape" was. Linda explained, and Ms. Young stated “That’s what happened between me and Clark.” Ms. Young asked her son and daughter-in-law to keep the secret - she didn't want daughter Judy to think that her conception was totally without love. But, with Judy's death (of lymphoma) in 2011, Chris and Linda felt it was time to confess his mother's secret, and though neither party from that night is there to confirm or deny, it is an important story to tell. We hope you will read the article above. Directed by William Wellman, the movie is fascinating to watch primarily because of the ending (which we will avoid telling you). It's interesting that, in a contemporary New York Timesreview critic Mordaunt Hall had no compunction about blowing the ending. I know my fellow blogger at Pre-code.com was not impressed with the film, and while The Hatchet Man is far from perfect, we think it is worth viewing, if for nothing more than to see the ending. We will just say that words have power, and curses aimed in the right direction can achieve as much as a weapon. We leave you with an early scene from the film - the introduction of Wong Low Get:
Thanks to TCM's Fathom Events series, we were able to view Double Indemnity (1944) in a theatre on a big screen. And what a difference it makes! The action becomes all the more intense, and you notice little things that you never saw before (like the fact that Walter Neff inexplicably wears a wedding ring). And the performances fairly sizzle! But regardless of the screen size, this is a film that has appeared on the AFI's 100 Greatest Movies list (at #38), on their list of greatest love stories (#84), greatest thrillers (#24), and greatest villains - the magnificent Barbara Stanwyck as Phyllis Dietrichson (#8).
A brief rundown of the plot is in order: We meet Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), as he literally shuffles into his office. He turns on his Dictaphone; his coat falls back, and we see a hole in his shoulder. He begins to record a message for his boss, Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson), regarding a recent insurance claim: "you said it wasn't an accident, check. You said it wasn't suicide, check. You said it was murder... check." And thus begins Walter's "confession" of the murder of his client, Dietrichson (Tom Powers) and his torrid affair with Dietrichson's wife, Phyllis.
We were treated to an introduction by Robert Osborne; this TCM article
will provide some of the information he discussed. For example, Alan
Ladd and George Raft were originally asked to play Walter Neff; both
turned the part down - Raft because he wouldn't be playing the good guy
(Brian Donlevy is another actor who allegedly passed on the role).
Fred MacMurray was the next choice. MacMurray was also not sure
that the part was for him, but director Billy Wilder thankfully
convinced him otherwise. MacMurray is a revelation as Neff; one wonders
at the reaction of audiences from 1944, who were only familiar with
MacMurray's prior work as a light comedian in romances. Two reviews
provide only the merest glimpse: this New York Times was not enthused by the film, while Variety
praised Fred MacMurray for his "considerable restraint" as Neff.
Wilder would later cast MacMurray as the philandering executive Walter
Sheldrake in The Apartment. Again, according to this AFI article, some amount of convincing was required on Wilder's part.
Edward G. Robinson was also not originally thrilled to be playing
Keyes. Robinson had spent his career since Little Caesar playing the
lead. Now, though his name was still above the title, he was third
billed, and playing a character part to MacMurray's leading man role.
However, his willingness to take on a character part paid off well. He
is outstanding as Keyes - smart and interesting. A lesser actor would
have not had the power to threaten Walter's complacency over his perfect
crime. Robinson, who had long played overpowering men (despite his
diminutive size), continues to do so with this cagey insurance
executive. His importance as an actor within the genre of film noir is
undeniable. After Double Indemnity, he would go on to impressive
performances in such noir classics as The Woman in the Window, Scarlet Street, and The Stranger (where he again chose the character part to great effect).
The current ending of the film was not the one written by co-author
Raymond Chandler. Originally, the film would have ended with Walter's
execution in the California gas chamber, but following previews the
scene was cut - over Chandler's vocal objections (A scene in which
Phyllis and Walter commit suicide was also written, but was rejected and
never filmed). The Production Code Administration's Joseph Breen found
the execution scene "unduly gruesome", and Wilder did not feel that it
matched with his vision of the film, so it was excised from the
picture. Though lost, production stills of the scene survive.
And then, there is Stanwyck. She is amazing as Phyllis - beautiful, smart, passionate, but cold and calculating. Watch her eyes as her husband dies in the car seat beside her - you can see into her soul in that scene. The Modern Times blog discusses Stanwyck's concerns with the role - her fascination with the character, and her fear that she - who had never played such a whole-hearted villain before - was not equipped to play the complex part. Luckily, Billy Wilder thought otherwise, and he again was able to get the right actor for the right part. To me, her most interesting scene is the death of her husband, but the second scene that comes to mind when talking about the film is her descent down the staircase, her leg adorned with a gold anklet. RogerEbert.com has an interesting article that discusses the anklet, which was not a part of James M. Cain's original story. The addition of the anklet provides insight into both Phyllis and Neff - Phyllis marked, in a sense as the possession of a man she despises, and Neff, who finds the anklet almost as fascinating as the woman who wears it. The anklet is a sexual bond between the two.
If you've never seen this impressive movie, by all means get hold of it (DVD, BluRay, streaming, rental, library - whatever meets your needs). I'm sure you'll be as enamored of it as we are. We'll close this with an early scene (and one which also raised a flag with the Breen office), Walter's first conversation with Phyllis (and you'll get to see the infamous anklet):
The Unholy Garden (1931), an early talkie starring Ronald Colman, was our film for this week. Barrington Hunt (Colman) is a thief, on the run from the law. He escapes to the Palais Royale, an "unholy garden", or thieves' hideout. There, he meets Camille de Jonghe (Fay Wray) and her grandfather, the Baron Louis de Jonghe (Tully Marshall), who are also in hiding from the Baron's brother, from whom the Baron stole a sizeable chunk of money. This also makes the Baron an attractive target for the criminals who inhabit the Palais. They enlist Hunt to exercise his charms on Camille, in hopes of locating the hiding place of her grandfather's money (and of getting past the Baron's rather large handgun). Hunt is attracted by the prospect of a large profit and some personal time with the lovely Camille, but the situation becomes complicated as he finds himself attracted to her. There's not a lot to praise about this film - it's really a mess. Colman is, of course, good, but he doesn't have a lot to work with. A lot of the plot is jumbled (just WHY did the Baron steal his brother's money? Why did he bring his granddaughter along? And, WHY does she stay - she, seemingly, has her own money.) Interestingly, this New York Timesreview was quite favorable. They found it a "packet of excitement and fun". Their only complaint concerned the theatre's sound levels - too loud for Mordaunt Hall, even in 1931. Despite the positive review, this TCM article says that the film did not really do well in the box office. We agreed with the general public, and wondered if Mr. Hall saw a different film.
As you can see from the poster art, Colman's name is prominent in the advertising. Yet, in the film credits, he is listed last, though clearly he is the star. Nothing about his listing suggested his starring role; we found that odd. We expected, at the very least an "AND" to separate him from his costars, but there was nary one to be found. Colman had already had an extensive career in silent films and had made several talkies, including his turn as the gentleman turned investigator Hugh Drummond in Bulldog Drummond (1929). The billing was as peculiar as the film itself.
Fay Wray rather overdoes it as Camille - a lot of crying, cowering, and screaming. She was two years away from the film in which her screams would make her a household name - King Kong. Wray's career was long - from a short in 1923 to the TV movie Gideon's Trumpet (starring Henry Fonda) in 1980, but after King Kong, she was relegated to B films. She retired - temporarily in 1942 - following her marriage to Robert Riskin, but returned to films in 1953, eventually finding a more secure home in television. She died in 2004, aged 96. We can't really recommend this one, unless you are a fan of Colman (which we are). Just have your copy of Talk of the Town available to watch afterwards.
The members of our group have all seen Talk of the Town (1942) before, but it has been some time since we visited this fantastic movie, and decided it was time to reacquaint ourselves with this splendid cast of characters. The film opens with the trial of Leopold Dilg (Cary Grant). Dilg, an ardent activist, is accused of setting file to the Lochester Mills, and in the process, killing the night watchman Clyde Bracken (Tom Tyler). The town is ripe for a lynching; in desperation, Leopold escapes from his cell, injuring his ankle in the process. He arrives at the country home of Nora Shelley (Jean Arthur), a childhood friend. Nora is in the midst of cleaning the house, which she is renting for the summer. Though she is not eager to assist Leopold, his injured ankle and the town's angry attitude convince her to give him shelter, at least until she can contact his lawyer, Sam Yates (Edgar Buchanan). However, a complication arises - Professor Michael Lightcap (Ronald Colman), a noted Harvard jurist, arrives a day early. Nora has to scramble to not only keep Leopold hidden and but also keep herself in the house, to hide him from the reclusive professor. And if that isn't a big enough problem, the following day, Professor Lightcap finds out he is being proposed for the Supreme Court, so any kind of scandal will endanger his appointment - and a murderer living in his house is not the kind of publicity he needs. In his book Five Came Back: A Story of Hollywood and the Second World War, Mark Harris discusses the previews of the film. It's widely known that Columbia decided to use audience previews to help them decide on the film's ending. Two conclusions were shot: one with Cary Grant leaving with Jean Arthur; the other with Arthur selecting Ronald Colman. That the film ends, thanks to audience reviews, with Grant is the result of those polls. But what isn't as widely known is WHY the audience selected Grant. According to Harris, the war-time audience (the film was released on August 20, 1942) felt that Arthur should marry the man of draft age because "later on, the mature men will have [the women] all to themselves." (p. 167) The idea that Nora would marry Leopold, see him off to war - and death - and ultimately end up with Michael (who is over 40 and therefore ineligible to serve) is somewhat disturbing. We wondered, had the survey been done a few years earlier, who would have won? As much as our group adores Cary Grant, the consensus here was for the more stable, more mature, and more intelligent Michael Lightcap. Leopold Dilg is just too much of a loose cannon (an unusual role for Mr. Grant) to appeal to our simpler tastes. This TCM article goes into more detail on the tension between Colman and Grant, neither of whom was used to playing second fiddle to another actor, and on Colman's reluctance to appear in a Columbia film, due to his intense dislike of Harry Cohn (Stevens promised Colman that Cohn would never be on the set - and kept his word).
Director George Stevens was well-respected for romantic comedies, like The More the Merrier (for which he received his first Academy Award nomination as best picture)and Woman of the Year, as well as for dramatic romances like Alice Adams and Penny Serenade. However, upon his return from World War II, where he was one of the first people into Dachau as the Allied forces entered Germany (his footage was used during the Nuremberg Trials), Stevens remade his career, never venturing into comedy again. Instead, he chose films that, to his mind would "tell the truth and not pat us on the back" (Harris, p. 418). The Diary of Anne Frank, Shane, Giant (Oscar-winning Director of 1956, and A Place in the Sun (Oscar-winning Director of 1951) are among his magnificent post-war efforts. Steven would continue directing until 1970. He died in 1975, aged 70.
There are some wonderful character actors in the film. Edgar Buchanan, who had already worked with Grant and Stevens on Penny Serenade,
appears as Sam Cade, Dilg's lawyer and an old school chum of
Lightcap's. Glenda Farrell has a small part as Regina Bush, the rather
crude and gabby girlfriend of the "deceased" Clyde, and Lloyd Bridges
has a brief appearance as Donald Forrester, Lochester's newspaper editor and reporter. But the performance that stands out (and even rates a mention in this New York Timesreview)
is that of Rex Ingram as Lightcap's valet, Tilney. Though playing a
servant, Tilney is a quiet, distinguished man. More than just a valet,
he serves as Lightcap's confidant and occasional adviser, for Tilney,
unlike Lightcap, has seen something at the world. He has even been
married, albeit unsuccessfully. Ingram had a relatively long career,
beginning his film work in 1918's Tarzan of the Apes, and concluding with an appearance on The Bill Cosby Show
in 1969. A graduate of Northwestern University's medical school, he
left for Hollywood, then for Broadway, where he appeared in 13 plays
from 1934 to 1962. He died in 1969, aged 73.
All in all, this is a film we highly recommend, and perhaps is close to being an essential. We'll leave you with this video, to whet your appetite - the first meeting between Professor Lightcap and Miss Shelley.
We return to the land of the pre-code with This is the Night (1932). We are introduced to Gerald Gray (Roland Young), a wealthy man-about-town who is having an affair with Claire Mathewson (Thelma Todd), seemingly under the nose of her athlete husband, Stephen (Cary Grant). When Stephen returns suddenly, and finds his wife with Gray and packing, the pair fabricate an excuse for the trip Claire is obviously planning - Claire will be accompanying Gray and his wife to Venice. Stephen decides this will be a perfect interlude with his wife, and an opportunity to meet Mrs. Gray. The very unmarried Gerald must find a wife, and fast. He hires Germaine (Lili Damita) - a young innocent who needs a job, and manages to convince Gray and his best friend Bunny West (Charlie Ruggles) that she is a woman of the world. Will Stephen be convinced that Germaine is Gray's wife, or will he decide she is a better choice for himself than Claire? Had this not been the first film of Cary Grant, it is likely it would have been forgotten long ago. It's pretty silly, in a number of ways. In fact, Grant himself loathed the film and the character of Stephen, who he considered to be a nitwit. Following the premiere of the film, he was afraid he would be typed as the cuckolded husband for the rest of his career. He got quite drunk, and decided to leave film entirely. However, several of his friends, including Orry-Kelly, persuaded him to stick it out. (Thank heavens). He would make a total of seven films in 1932, including Blonde Venus (starring Marlene Dietrich), Hot Saturday (with Nancy Carroll), and The Devil and the Deep (with Charles Laughton). The following year, he launched into the role of the male lead - a position he would never relinquish in his 34 year film career - in Mae West's She Done Him Wrong. For more on Grant and the film's background, see this TCM article.
It's also somewhat hard to envision the slight, balding, nebishy Roland Young as the love interest of not one, but two, women. Can one really imagine preferring him to Cary Grant? It is a stretch, but the films asks us to do so (without, I might add, much success). Young was far better used in movies such as Topper, Ruggles of Red Gap and especially Give Me Your Heart, where he played a successful suitor, but of a more age and temperament appropriate woman. Young was already 45 when the film was released, and frankly looks older. His career began on the London stage, continued into silent and talking films, the Broadway stage, and into television. In fact, his last appearances were in 1953 - the year he died - on the television show The Doctor and in the film That Man from Tangier. A gifted actor, This is the Night just does not show him to advantage. Lili Damita is fine as Germaine, but it's difficult to understand her attraction to Gerald, given that there is no real romance between them. Even the ending of the film has them staring into each others eyes, nary a kiss to be seen. She began her career in France, and came to America as sound burst on the scene. Her career was not especially long, and she is best remembered now for her seven year marriage to her much more renowned second husband, Errol Flynn (she was previously married to Michael Curtiz). She made her last film in 1938. Her only child, Sean Flynn disappeared in Cambodia in 1970, where he was working as a photojournalist. Damita spent several years trying to locate him, sadly to no avail. For more information on her, visit this New York Timesobituary.
With all the hanky-panky in the film, it's no wonder the Hays Office complained about it. Never mind the blatant affair between Gray and Claire. The continuing motif of Claire losing her dress in public is quite risque (And given the dresses Claire almost has on, it's apparent there is nothing much under them). The entry from the AFI catalog goes into more detail on Paramount's issues with the film's content.
The film was based on a Broadway play, Naughty Cinderella, which ran from November of 1925 to February of 1926. The part of Gray was played by English actor Henry Kendall, who also appeared in a number of films, including Hitchcock's Rich and Strange. The play was also made into a silent film, Good and Naughty, with Pola Negri as Germaine and Tom Moore as Gray. We can't really recommend the film especially, but it is fun to see Cary Grant begin his illustrious career (after all, even Shakespeare had clunkers!)
A small treat: Robert Osborne introducing the film during a month-long tribute to Mr. Grant.
Banjo on My Knee (1936) begins at the wedding of Pearl Elliott (Barbara Stanwyck) to Ernie Hollie (Joel McCrea). Ernie and his father, Newt (Walter Brennan) live and work on the Mississippi, they are, as the introduction to the story tells us, part of a community of riverboat people who live outside of towns. Pearl is an outsider (we are not told how she and Ernie met), just that she was a servant in her past life, has little education (she never got past the 4th grade, and can just barely read and write her name), and she loves Ernie dearly. She is readily embraced by her new community, with the exception of Leota Long (Katherine de Mille), and it looks like all will be well. But the arrival of Mr. Slade (Victor Kilian), a local businessman, creates a problem - he gets fresh with Pearl, Ernie decks him, and everyone thinks Mr. Slade (who fell over the side of the boat) is dead. Ernie has to get out of town immediately. Of course, Mr. Slade is fine, Ernie returns from 6 months at sea with money in his pocket. And a plan - he is going to leave again (and leave Pearl) to head to Aruba, where he will set up a home for them. Incensed, Pearl leaves him; first Ernie, then Newt go looking for her. But Ernie is a man with a temper, who doesn't have the best judgement in the world, so finding Pearl becomes very complicated.
Stanwyck's Pearl is an appealing character. Despite her lack of education, she is intelligent and self-sufficient. She didn't marry Ernie to support her - we quickly see that she is well able to take care of herself. She is also honest and forthright. When Warfield Scott (Walter Catlett) takes her to New Orleans to "work" for him, she arranges to pay back his expenses, rather than become his mistress. Her relationship with her father-in-law also demonstrates the character's virtues. In the long run, Newt is much more sympathetic to his daughter-in-law than he is to his son. A little willing suspension of disbelief is needed in the film - though Stanwyck is supposed to be a poor girl, she's got awfully nice clothing (costumes by Gwen Wakeling). We also get the added treat of seeing Stanwyck, the Broadway performer. She again is allowed to do her own singing, and dances a perky routine with Buddy Ebsen (Buddy). Joel
McCrea, on the other hand, has a fairly thankless role as Ernie. Ernie is an immature idiot, and is not very good husband material. In fact, we found Ernie to be very reminiscent of Ed, the character he plays in The Primrose Path. Given the choice of Pearl ending up with Ernie or Chick Bean (Anthony "Tony" Martin), we were rooting for Chick, a much more attractive character.
Joel McCrea very much wanted to work with Stanwyck again after they appeared in Gambling Lady (1934), and the feeling was mutual. Stanwyck requested McCrea as her leading man in Internes Can't Take Money (noted for being the first Dr. Kildare movie). And McCrea returned the favor when her requested her as is his lead in Trooper Hook (1957), their final of 6 films together. For more information on their partnership and friendship, visit these TCM articles.
The opening of the film is a bit slow, but once Pearl relocates to New Orleans, the action picks up. William Faulkner was hired to do some of the dialogue writing on the film, but none of what he wrote survived; Nunnally Johnson gets the actual screenwriting credit. The country background is always evident; even when Newt and Pearl go to the city, Newt's contraption is a constant reminder of his rural roots. His determination to play "St. Louis Blues" to his son and bride on their wedding night calls up the idea of the country shivaree. The film is full of notable character actors. Walter Brennan, the man who was never young, plays Ernie's father, Newt. Brennan, whose career would span from 1925 to 1975, with (according to the IMDB) 243 screen and television credits, is probably best known to some of us as the lead in The Real McCoys. His film career is notable, winning an Oscar (the same year as this film) for Come and Get It, and appearing in such highly regarded films as Meet John Doe (1941), To Have and Have Not (1944), My Darling Clementine (1946), and Bad Day at Black Rock (1955), to name a VERY few. He was married for 54 years to his wife, Ruth (until his death in 1974 at the age of 80). A noted conservative, he actually campaigned against Richard Nixon in 1972 for being too liberal.
Buddy
Ebsen had nearly as long a career as Brennan, though he really made his greatest mark in television, most memorably in The Beverly Hillbillies and Barnaby Jones. His gangly looks and rubbery dancing pretty much typecast him as a country guy, though in his later years, his more distinguished appearance helped him to get more interesting parts. He started his career in vaudeville,
dancing with his sister Vilma. He continued doing films throughout his career (for example, the role of Doc in Breakfast at Tiffany's), but by1951, he was devoting more and more time to television. He famousy danced with Shirley Temple in Captain January (1936), his first appearance without Vilma (she appeared with him in one film: Broadway Melody of 1936, then retired). He's also remembered for being the first choice for the role of the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz, but the aluminum-based makeup landed him in the hospital and he was replaced by Jack Haley). Like Brennan, he too was a conservative, and (though it was not in his home state), campaigned against his former colleague Nancy Kulp when she ran for a congressional seat in Pennsylvania in 1984.
In a very small part is Theresa Harris, an African-American actress who has one scene - she sings St. Louis Blues in the New Orleans club. If you've seen Baby Face, then you are familiar with her characterization of Chico in that excellent film. She shares no scenes with anyone in this film (it probable that the number was inserted with the intent of removing it in the South). But she would appear with Stanwyck one more time in The File on Thelma Jordan. This New York Timesarticle discusses the career of Ms. Harris. The Breen office was not entranced with the film, and demanded a number of changes, according to this AFI article. They were especially concerned with what they saw as a preoccupation with Ernie and Pearl's wedding night festivities (or lack thereof). Darryl Zanuck ultimately agreed to tone down the drinking and to make it more obvious that it is Newt's desire to serenade the couple (rather than his wanting a grandchild) that has him pushing them into bed.
So, while not a great movie, some excellent performances, and worth a look. We'll end this week with Stanwyck singing "Where The Lazy River Goes By"
