Five Things I Love About New York Confidential (1955)
I can’t recall
how or when I first came across New York Confidential (1955), but I
clearly remember being sucked into the film from practically the opening scene
and counting it among my noir favorites by the last.
Directed by
Russell Rouse, the film centers on Charlie Lupo (Broderick Crawford), the hard-nosed
head of a New York crime syndicate; his loyal and efficient enforcer, Nick
Magellan (Richard Conte); and his beautiful daughter, Kathy (Anne Bancroft),
whose life is a misery because of the way her father makes a living. Others in
the Lupo sphere include his right-hand man, Ben Dagajanian (J. Carroll Naish),
who exists primarily as Charlie’s combination sounding board and nerve soother;
his fretful mother (Celia Lovsky); his high-society girlfriend, Iris Palmer
(Marilyn Maxwell), whose roving eye lands on Nick; and Arnie Wendler (the
always great Mike Mazurki), a member of Charlie’s crew who ultimately has his
own best interests at heart.
Broderick Crawford
The plot stirs
this divergent cast of characters into an action-packed stew that depicts the
struggle of the high-powered syndicate leaders to maintain the status quo, and
the circumstances that converge to bring it to them to their proverbial knees. This
month’s Noir Nook serves up five reasons why I love this first-rate feature.
(Incidentally, it’s currently available for free on several streaming
platforms, including YouTube and Tubi.)
The film is narrated by a distinctive baritone voice that makes you sit up a little straighter in your chair – you have the feeling that matters of consequence are being imparted. The narration comes courtesy of Marvin Miller, who I know from his performance as the luckless sidekick of Morris Carnovsky in Dead Reckoning (1947), but his voice is familiar, too. He did tons of voice work during his lengthy career, starting with his first screen gig, a 1944 short called Hell-Bent for Election, and including such films as Forbidden Planet (1964), where he voiced Robby the Robot; children’s shows like The Famous Adventures of Mr. Magoo and Electra Woman and Dyna Girl; and, perhaps most notably, the long-running TV series, The F.B.I. In addition, Miller was the star of The Millionaire, a CBS-TV series where he played the executive secretary to a mysterious billionaire and dispensed a check for a million dollars at the start of each episode.
Richard Conte and Anne Bancroft
Little touches are sprinkled throughout the film
that humanize the otherwise ruthless gangsters. Charlie Lupo and Ben Dagajanian
were certainly no pushovers when it came to the crime game, but in a couple of
their scenes together, they manage to make the viewer briefly forget that they
are killers at heart. In the first scene, after discussing a recent hit gone
wrong, Ben shares photos of his grandchildren with Charlie. “Hey, these are
wonderful,” Charlie says admiringly. “This young one – spitting image of you,
Ben. Believe me, spitting image.” And
later, we learn that Charlie has digestive ailments when he downs a dish that
“tastes like something you put wallpaper on with.” He watches with envy as Ben washes
down his hefty meal with a cold beer and grouses, “What I wouldn’t give for a
salami on rye and a kosher pickle.”
Anne Bancroft
The scene where Nick receives an English lesson
from Kathy Lupo. After Nick admonishes her regarding an argument she’d had with
her father, Kathy informs Nick that he has “a penchant for interfering in other
people’s affairs.” Puzzled, Nick repeats, “Penchant?” And Kathy explains,
“Penchant means a strong inclination towards. And I’d appreciate it hereafter
if you’d mind your own business.”
Minutes later, when Charlie shares with Nick his plans to buy him a new
wardrobe, Nick expresses his appreciation and adds with confidence that he has
“a penchant for nice things.”
Marilyn Maxwell
Richard Conte’s performance. I’ve said it
before, and I’ll say it again: I could happily watch Richard Conte read names
out of the phone book for an hour. And his portrayal of Nick Magellan (I even
love his character’s name!) did nothing to dissuade me from this stance. He
frequently plays ice-cold dudes in his films, but Nick might just be the
ice-coldest. In just one example of Nick’s persona, late in the film, he is attacked
by a couple of hoods as he enters his apartment. In the next scene, the two men
are in an office, congratulating themselves over the beating they gave Nick,
and one crows, “He might have been a pretty boy once. I wonder what he looks
like now.” A split second after this braggadocious musing, the office door
flies open and Nick is standing in the doorway, gun drawn. He slowly,
deliberately walks into the room, then says, “Take a good look.”
The film’s end. I’m not going to spoil the movie
for you but let me just say that the ending is absolute perfection. The last
few minutes build to a crescendo that will leave you on the edge of your seat,
and Marvin Miller’s narrator gets the last word, telling us, “The circle of
self-destruction has claimed new victims. It has stilled the lips that might
have revealed the secrets of the syndicate. . . . The syndicate still exists.
The rules still hold. This is how the cartel works. This is New York
Confidential.”
You gotta love it! I sure do.
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
I am counting the seconds until this Thursday when TCM’s Classic Film Festival begins in Hollywood. The annual festival is sheer nirvana for classic movie fans. Over the years we’ve gotten to see so many amazing movies and people at the four-day festival. The list of special guests who have regaled us with firsthand accounts of making our favorite movies includes Angela Lansbury, Kirk Douglas, Jane Powell, Julie Andrews, Christopher Plummer, Maureen O’Hara, Debbie Reynolds, Liza Minnelli, Tony Curtis, Pam Grier, Faye Dunaway, Kim Novak, Luise Rainer, Dustin Hoffman, Sophia Loren, Mickey Rooney, Nancy Kwan, Warren Beatty, Tippi Hedren, Burt Reynolds, Leslie Caron, and so many others including directors Stanley Donen, Martin Scorsese, and William Friedkin. Fans come from all over the world to attend this spectacular event which this year begins with a special screening of Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction with stars John Travolta, Uma Thurman, and Samuel L. Jackson in attendance. As I furiously work on my schedule (many of the presentations run concurrently at different theaters so festivalgoers have to make some really tough choices), I talked to festival director Genevieve McGillicuddy to see what she is most excited about.
Danny Miller: Genevieve, it’s so good to talk to you! I’ve been to every festival since they began in 2010 and for a moment we were very worried that there wouldn’t be one this year. I don’t mind telling you that after all the corporate layoffs last year, I burst into tears when it was announced that you and Charlie Tabesh were being brought back to produce this year’s festival!
Genevieve McGillucuddy: Oh my goodness, thanks for sharing that, that’s so sweet!
I’m sure you’re well aware of how much this festival means to so many people around the country and the world. I’m part of the very active Going to the TCM Classic Film Festival group on Facebook and we obsess about it all year long and have a big gathering at the festival. Was this intense level of interest surprising to you in the beginning?
You know, on one hand we, we truly built the festival with the goal of bringing together the community of TCM fans that was always at our core. But I remember that we started planning that first festival about 18 months out since we were creating everything from the ground up. And I will tell you that at that first festival, I think it was the day before we opened and people started showing up and they were wearing their passes, and the Roosevelt lobby started filling up with fans who had flown in — for me it was a sort of “pinch me” moment. I thought, “Oh my gosh, this is real, it’s really happening, everyone’s here!” We just didn’t know what to expect and we could not have been more pleased.
Chatting with Robert Osborne at the 2010 festival
I remember so well at the end of that festival when Robert Osborne got up on the stage at the Chinese and announced that there would be another festival the following year to a huge whoop of cheers from the audience. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it because we had no idea if it would just be a one-off.
It was pretty dramatic for us as well! Going into the festival, we just didn’t know, and we talked during the festival about whether Robert should announce it at the end. That decision was made and it was such a dramatic punctuation to all of the amazing activities of that first year!
Those early years brought so many amazing guests who made those movies and who are sadly no longer with us. I remember interviewing Robert before one of the first festivals and he was still holding out hope that he’d get his friend Olivia de Havilland to come. I assume your strategy for getting special guests has had to change over the years, given the passage of time.
Yeah, you know, sometimes we have pursued people for years, even a decade before they’ve been able to come, we’re always putting out feelers. Our talent bookers work so hard!
Are there certain people you’ve always been hoping to get to come to the festival?
The first one I can think of on my personal list is Julie Christie, I’ve always wanted her to come, she’s amazing but it just hasn’t worked out yet.
Next year! I know another person Robert Osborne always wanted to bring to the festival was Doris Day when she was still with us. Can you imagine the ovations she would have received from our crowd?
Oh, definitely. And it’s true that it’s getting more challenging to find people who were in some of the older films.
Which is why I’m so glad you’re bringing back people like the wonderful Cora Sue Collins, who worked with Garbo as a child, as you know, and is introducing The Sin of Nora Moran this year which she made in 1933! The actress Barbara Rush, who died a few weeks ago at the age of 97, was a good friend of my wife’s family, and a close friend of Robert Osborne’s, and it was so wonderful seeing her get the attention and enthusiasm she deserved at several festivals. She was very grateful for it.
Barbara Rush and Robert Osborne
She was lovely. I remember meeting her on the red carpet in 2010, and she made a point of speaking with me about what Robert had told her about the work that I had done. She could not have been more gracious and was just beautiful woman in every sense of the word. But you’re right, it’s been so special to bring in people and see the wonderful way our audiences welcome them. One that pops into my mind is Diana Serra Cary.
Baby Peggy, I was there that day!
Yes, the last major silent film star at that point. Her interview was phenomenal, she was just incredible. In terms of our overall strategy, it hasn’t really changed that dramatically. We’ve always considered major anniversaries of films which often overlap with big restorations we’re able to premiere. And when there’s no longer anyone around who actually worked on the film, we sometimes bring well-known fans of the films. One example this year is Jeff Daniels who’s going to appear with Dog Day Afternoon because, when he first saw that film it had a direct impact on his decision to become an actor.
I always enjoy the celebrities you get to introduce films, people like Keith Carradine, Kate Flannery, Bill Hader, and Dana Delany who I think are all coming back this year.
Yes, it really echoes the strategy on the network of guest programmers, people who come in and talk about their favorite films, how a particular film may have impacted the work that they do in various ways, it’s a nice extension of that.
I also enjoy when you bring the children or grandchildren of the stars or directors in to talk about their family members, like the daughters of Cary Grant, Fred MacMurray, Boris Karloff, and so on. I think that’s really meaningful for people and hope you do more of that! What are some of the films you’re most excited about this year?
It’s really an embarrassment of riches this year in terms of the guests and the variety of the films that we’re showing. I think that this is definitely a very special year since we’re marking both the 15th anniversary of the festival and the 30th for the network. One screening that I’m personally very excited about is the U.S. premiere of Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger. I got a sneak peek at that documentary a few weeks ago. I’m a huge fan of their work and I definitely learned a lot that I didn’t know. The documentary is really Martin Scorsese taking the viewer through how those filmmakers impacted him, but also why they’re important. It’s a combination of a master class of Scorsese talking about these filmmakers, but also a lot of information about the two men that I really haven’t been exposed to before, so that’s a real treat.
I love the Powell and Pressburger films so much and have loved when the festival shows them.
On Friday, we have an incredible lineup at the TCL Chinese Theater from Jodie Foster appearing with the The Silence of the Lambs, which dovetails nicely into this year’s Crime and Justice theme, to Steven Spielberg presenting the director’s cut of Close Encounters of the Third Kind to David Fincher presenting a world premiere restoration in IMAX of SE7EN.
Fantastic. I always love the special presentations, like this year’s Vitaphone shorts that will be seen for the first time in 90 years.
Yes, we’re collaborating with the Warner Brothers engineering department for that. They’ve build a special custom turntable to be able to play the original records with the 35mm prints of these vaudeville shorts, that’s going to be a very rare treat, something that you will probably only see at our festival.
I’m also excited about the nitrate prints which are increasingly rare to see.
Yes, speaking of past technologies and being able to see prints the way they were seen by audiences when they came out! The nitrate Technicolor print of Annie Get Your Gun will be eye-popping, I’m sure. We’re also showing a brand new restoration of Hitchcock’s North by Northwest which is always an audience favorite. That’s going to be presented by Nancy Meyers who we’re very excited to have with us.
Eva Marie Saint introducing North by Northwest at a past festival
One of Hitchcock’s best, I remember seeing it introduced by Eva Marie Saint at the festival.
We have our annual Robert Osborne Award being given to pioneering author and historian Jeanine Basinger at a screening of one of my favorite westerns, Westward the Women. And also Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins with The Shawshank Redemption.
You’re not kidding with the embarrassment of riches!
I know! On Sunday, I’m very excited about the presentation of Double Indemnity at the TCL Chinese Theater, because that’s a film you don’t often get to see in the theater of that size. Last year I watched Casablanca in that auditorium, and it was such a phenomenal experience even though, like many people, I have seen that movie dozens of times.
Same!
It’s just so different watching it on a screen of that size in that theater with a big crowd, and I think Double Indemnity will be the same thing. Then we’ve got two-70 millimeter prints at the Egyptian, Lawrence of Arabia, starring one of my all-time favorite festival guests, Peter O’Toole, followed by a world premiere restoration of The Searchers in 70-millimiter, presented by director Alexander Payne. And Mel Brooks is coming to the festival for the seventh time with Spaceballs which will be a lot of fun, and that’s opposite the 100th anniversary screening of Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr. with a live musical score played by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra.
Yeah, that’s one of my most tortured time slots! In terms of some of the “newer” films, I hear a lot of buzz among my TCM friends about Diane Lane appearing at the screening of A Little Romance, and the cast reunion for the 1994 Gillian Armstrong version of Little Women. I’m also excited about seeing the original That’s Entertainment since that was my gateway drug to classic movies when I was a kid.
Definitely. For me, I used to watch Channel 38 in Boston with my Dad. That had a big effect on me as did watching Three Stooges shorts on Sunday mornings.
Did you have certain favorite stars as a kid?
Oh, that’s always hard. I guess I’d say Fredric March, Cary Grant, obviously, and I was a huge fan of Barbara Stanwyck and Bette Davis.
The best! I’m looking forward to seeing Bette in The Little Foxes this year.
It’s funny, because we can watch most of these films at home, but it’s just not the same of watching them with big audiences in these magnificent theaters, there’s just nothing like it.
There really isn’t. Ugh, I thought I was all set on my schedule, Genevieve, but everything you’ve said has made me re-evaluate every choice. Now I’m in agony again, thanks a lot!
(Laughs.) That’s part of the fun. See you at the festival!
The 15th TCM Classic Film Festival runs from April 18 to April 21 in Hollywood. Click here for the schedule. You need a pass for the event but individual tickets are available for most films if there is any space available in the theater after the passholders are seated.
It’s such a robust title, that it deserves an exclamation
point in the hallowed tradition of Them!
Dinosaurus! Scooby Doo: Where Are You! The Hideous Sun Demon!
How great is it? An Australian band took the title as its
name without seeing the movie.
And let’s give the 1958 sci-fi B-movie props for being way
ahead of its time as a cautionary tale about the dangers of too much sun. (Always
wear your sunscreen.)
Sadly, we must admit, The Hideous Sun Demon doesn’t hold
up to the promise of its title and that’s clear from the first minute.
An accident with radioactive isotopes makes the sun deadly to a scientist played by Robert Clarke in The Hideous Sun Demon. Clarke also wrote, directed and produced the film.
The film opens in mid-sentence, so to speak, with action
already in play and without a set-up or introduction to the characters. An
alarm is going off at Atomic Research Inc. as a person is wheeled out on a
stretcher into an ambulance.
Who? Why?We don’t know.
Then a dramatic blast of music and a square image colored in dark shades with a big white circle in the middle appears. The credits roll, proclaiming The Hideous Sun Demon.
The names of the cast and crew follow, but they sit
stationary for a few seconds on that same, unmoving square until another set of
names appear … on that same unmoving square, and so it goes.
The high-tech opening credits feature the same backdrop.
Though the sound is effective with that blaring music
augmented by an ambulance siren, that darn square with the white circle is a
clear indication of the (lack of) quality of what’s to come.
Don’t judge yourself harshly if this no-budget opening credit
sequence is where you think that our much-anticipated Hideous Sun Demon
is going to be a guy in a mask wearing gloves that imitate animal hands. You
are right, but if you’re like me, you accept it as a necessary element in
low-budget B-movies.
The plot? It’s thin. A voiceover tells us that no sooner had “satellites numbers 1 and 3” gone into space than the world is worrying about the dangers of radiation from the sun. (That’s all the background we get.)
Poor Dr. Gilbert “Gil” McKenna (played by Robert Clarke, who also directed, wrote and produced the film) is proof of why people should be worried. He’s the guy on the stretcher, a researcher who is the first victim of this danger from radioactive isotopes which are often blamed for bad things in 1950s sci-fi films.
In this fun shot, the sun that is superimposed over the face of Dr. Gil McKenna (played by Robert Clarke), will transform him into the title creature in The Hideous Sun Demon.
He was exposed to radiation for nearly 6 minutes and should be dead, but he’s not and that puzzles the doctors. In fact, he appears better than OK, looking handsome right down to the curls that slightly hang over his forehead where they stay for much of the film. Kept in the hospital for observation, he’s allowed time in the solarium, which is an elegant way of saying he sits on the roof in the sun with old people. (No, really, he sits on the roof with old people.)
It only takes a few minutes before he looks uncomfortable and sweats so profusely that he opens his robe and bares his chest as the sun beats down. The elderly lady sitting next to him screams “Oh your face!” and he runs off. Then more screaming! What’s wrong?
The explanation comes in one of those obligatory mumbo-jumbo
scenes that I love where the scientists try to explain what’s going on. In the
case of poor Gil, the sun exposure has caused him to regress – or evolve backwards
– to the form humans were in prehistoric times. He has become scaly and
lizard-like – half-man, half-lizard. A return to a dark room out of the sun
brings him back to his normal attractive exterior, but each exposure to the sun
will cause this “sun sensitivity” to occur faster and last longer.
A tough guy makes the mistake of forcing Dr. Gil McKenna (Robert Clarke) into the sun which turns him into The Hideous Sun Demon.
Now Dr. Gil isn’t left to deal with this alone. He has
support from his colleagues including lab assistant Ann (Patricia Manning), a
plain but pretty woman who is clearly in (unrequited) love with him.
Compassionate scientist Dr. Buckell (Patrick Whyte) cares, too, but warns Ann
about Gil’s hard drinking which he believes led to the radioactive incident.
“Whiskey and soda mix, not whiskey and science,” Dr. Buckell
says.
Yes, booze is a problem for Gil who has a wild side that also
includes women and fast cars. Plus he’s impatient and selfish. As his friends
search for help from other scientists, all Gil must do is stay inside at least during
the day. But no. He leaves at night, driving for hours in his small sports
convertible with the top down, pushing the limits and playing games with the
sun. But it’s hard to judge him when his inner anguish comes out as he stands
on cliff ready to commit suicide. (The sounds of laughing children stop him.
Sad.)
Despite advice to stay inside and out of the sun’s rays, Dr. Gil McKenna (Robert Clarke) can’t avoid the temptation of drink and women in The Hideous Sun Demon.
He meets sexy young Trudy (Nan Peterson) at a bar where she
sings and plays piano. They make goo-goo eyes at each other, have a drink and
make more goo-goo eyes. Her gangster-like boyfriend shows up and, of
course, they’ll fight over her (not for the last time either).
Gil and Trudy head to the beach where the sun peeks out from
behind the clouds as they frolic on the sand, enjoy some hanky-panky and fall
asleep until the sun rises. Gil, ever the gentleman, runs off in his
convertible – still with the top down – as the sun bares down on him.
A little girl and her doll try to help a desperate Dr. Gil McKenna (Robert Clarke) not realizing he’s the monster everyone is searching for in The Hideous Sun Demon.
He’s in beast form by the time he arrives home, and things spiral out of control. The police go on a beast hunt, people lock themselves inside and his smart friends still try to help. On the run, Gil hides out in a shed on a large oil field where a child playing with her doll befriends him and offers to get him cookies. Mom will want to know who those cookies are for.
In a well-done and taut ending sequence, a chase sequence through the oil fields and up those large, circular natural gas tanks goes to dizzying heights. We can see the actors climbing the ladders and going higher and higher with the ground clear below. Clarke reportedly did his own stunts and it pays off as we watch Gil/the Hideous Sun Demon sadly racing closer to the sun.
The final sequence in The Hideous Sun Demon takes place from the dizzying heights of natural gas tank. That’s actor Robert Clarke doing his own stunts.
Making a monster movie
There are reasons to respect Hideous Sun Demon even
though it wears its low budget on its monster mask and doesn’t live up to the
awesome title.
Before this film, Robert Clarke had a long journeyman’s acting career with roles in such movies as Enchanted Cottage (1945) and My Man Godfrey (1957), plus a long resume of TV work on Perry Mason, Murder, She Wrote, General Hospital, 77 Sunset Strip and Dynasty. He is best known for his work in genre films like The Man From Planet X (1951), The Incredible Petrified World (1957) and Beyond the Time Barrier (1960). It was the success of the 1957 film The Astonishing She-Monster that led Clarke to direct his own low-budget film, hence TheHideous Sun Demon.
Outside of acting, Clarke was a first-time everything on The Hideous Sun Demon and it was a big undertaking. By the end, he would be among three directors and four writers who put the film together. It was shot over 12 consecutive weekends using a crew of film students from the University of Southern California. Friends and relatives filled the cast. The original budget of $10,000 “ballooned” up to $50,000 but they kept things tight. The cast did their own hair, makeup and wardrobe. Only $500 was spent on the suit created by Richard Cassarino out of a wet suit.
Clark’s original idea was inspired by Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and was different from his finished film. It was set in Guatemala where a scientist experiments with radiation on his son, who transforms into a reptile-like creature with sun exposure. The original title was “Saurus” or “Sauros” which means reptile in Latin and is a better description for the film, but not as cool of a title as The Hideous Sun Demon.
Nan Peterson made her film debut in The Hideous Sun Demon with Robert Clarke.
Notes
A film debut: It was the first film for Nan Peterson, who stars as singer Trudy in the film. Originally cast in the role was Clarke’s sister-in-law Marilyn King of the popular vocal group The King Sisters. She had to drop out of the role but wrote the song “Strange Pursuit” that is performed in the movie. There is even mention in the film on the radio of The King Sisters.
Film legacy: Robert Clarke gave his permission for the 1989 comedy What’s Up, Hideous Sun Demon that was redubbed with the voices of Jay Leno and Cam Clarke who reprised his father’s role. The unauthorized 1965 short film Wrath of the Sun Demon was a two-minute short produced by Donald F. Glut and starring Bob Burns, an archivist who owns the original mask.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at
The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a writer
and board member of the Classic
Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo
chapter of TCM Backlot and now leads the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie
Buffs. She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in
the spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You
can find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto.
Silver Screen Standards: The Ghost Goes West (1935)
Supernatural romance and comedy are unique but often
overlapping subgenres with some truly outstanding movies among their ranks,
from Topper (1937), Blithe Spirit (1945), and The Ghost and
Mrs. Muir (1947) to the more recent blockbuster, Ghost (1990). I
love a good ghost story, whether it’s spooky or silly, so of course I find The
Ghost Goes West (1935) thoroughly delightful. It’s a fairly modest British
production from producer Alexander Korda and French director René Clair, but
its tremendous charm and engaging cast help explain why this ghostly romantic
comedy was such a huge hit with British audiences in 1935. Aside from its
supernatural elements, The Ghost Goes West also offers some sharp and
very funny commentary about the way Americans – especially wealthy ones – view
and consume other cultures; most viewers, however, will come for the engaging
fairy tale romance as enacted by Robert Donat and Jean Parker.
Robert Donat plays the dual roles of Scottish ghost Murdoch Glourie and his identical descendant, Donald Glourie.
Donat plays a dual role as both the titular ghost,
Murdoch Glourie, and his identical descendant, Donald Glourie, neither of whom
has helped the family’s fortunes over the centuries. The impoverished Donald is
forced to sell his haunted ancestral castle to a rich American businessman, Mr.
Martin (Eugene Pallette), who promptly disassembles the home and has it
reconstructed in Florida, unwittingly taking the ghost along, too. Ghost mania
erupts when Murdoch makes an appearance on the transatlantic voyage, but
Murdoch also causes trouble for Donald with Martin’s daughter, Peggy (Jean
Parker), who assumes that the ghost is really just Donald playing pretend.
Both Murdoch and Donald are attracted to Peggy Martin (Jean Parker), who encourages her wealthy father to buy the Glourie family’s castle.
The setup of The Ghost Goes West has a lot in
common with The Canterville Ghost (1944), which appeared almost a decade
later but is based on an 1887 short story by Oscar Wilde. The 1935 movie is
adapted from a short story called “Sir Tristam Goes West” by Eric Keown, and if
you’re interested in reading it you’ll find it included in the 2007 anthology, The
Mammoth Book of Modern Ghost Stories. Given the changes to Wilde’s original
story in the 1944 movie, it’s entirely possible that the Charles Laughton
vehicle borrowed some of its plot elements from Keown’s story or its 1935 adaptation.
In both movies, an angry father curses his disappointing son to haunt the
family home until he can prove himself worthy, and then, centuries later,
modern Americans show up to force the ghost outside his comfort zone. In The
Ghost Goes West, however, the unhappy spirit actually gets transported to
America, which offers lots of opportunities for him to affect and be affected
by the modern American culture he finds there. Donald also goes along due to
his romantic interest in Peggy, and, like his ancestor, Donald finds a lot to
complain about in the way Martin and his compatriots treat the castle, the
ghost, and Scots heritage. The ticker tape parade, the Venetian gondola, the
omnipresent radios hidden in everything, the rival businessmen in their kilts,
and the “authentic” Scottish music are all very funny but also underscore
general American ignorance and appropriation.
Poor Murdoch finds himself transported to America along with the disassembled stones of his ancient home.
If the commentary is a bit pointed for American
viewers, that medicine goes down better with the sweet romance and comedic
performances. The fairy tale quality of the story is enhanced by the use of elaborate
miniatures for exterior shots throughout the picture, and the atmosphere of the
whole brings to mind the similar qualities of I Know Where I’m Going!
(1945), especially because both share an interest in Scottish characters and
culture. Robert Donat is, ironically, livelier as the girl crazy Murdoch but
more serious about Peggy as Donald, while Jean Parker gives Peggy playful
energy in her scenes with both of the Glourie men. It’s great fun to see Donat
switch between Murdoch and Donald and even act against himself thanks to the
usual split screen technique used for dual roles. Eugene Pallette is perfectly
cast as one of his trademark characters, the wealthy but unpolished father,
while Ralph Bunker gives Pallette plenty of pushback as Martin’s rival grocer,
Mr. Bigelow. If I have a complaint about The Ghost Goes West, it’s the
glaring underuse of the fabulous Elsa Lanchester as Miss Shepperton, a
character who only appears as a guest at the Florida party and has no apparent
purpose. If you want to see more of a performance from Lanchester in a
supernatural comedy, you’ll have to move on to Bell, Book and Candle
(1958) or Blackbeard’s Ghost (1968).
Murdoch finally finds a descendant of the hated McLaggen clan in Mr. Martin’s rival, Mr. Bigelow (Ralph Bunker).
René Clair also directed another of my favorite supernatural comedies, the wonderful I Married a Witch (1942). Robert Donat won the Oscar for Best Actor for his performance in Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939), and you can also see him in The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), The 39 Steps (1935), and The Citadel (!938). Jean Parker plays Beth in the 1933 adaptation of Little Women; she also appears in Beyond Tomorrow (1940), One Body Too Many (1944), and The Gunfighter (1950). Eugene Pallette’s other memorable fathers include those in My Man Godfrey (1936), The Lady Eve (1941), and Heaven Can Wait (1943), but you’ll also find him in the iconic ghost comedy, Topper (1937). For more haunted hijinks, try Haunted Spooks (1920), The Ghost Breakers (1940), 13 Ghosts (1960), and The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (1966). More modern ghost comedies include Ghostbusters (1984), High Spirits (1988), Beetlejuice (1988), The Frighteners (1996), and the 2023 Haunted Mansion, but I can’t close without recommending both the British and American versions of the TV series, Ghosts, and the excellent Paramount+ series, School Spirits, if you want more ghostly adventures than a single feature film allows.
Dorothy Adelle DeBorba was born on March 28, 1925, in Los
Angeles, California, to Raymond and Lillian DeBorba. Her mother had a
background as a singer, dancer, and actress, while her father played the drums
in Paul Whiteman’s orchestra. Raymond and Lillian’s relationship was
tumultuous, with the couple marrying and divorcing three times in Dorothy’s
life.
DeBorba became a beloved child star of Portuguese Azorean
descent in Hal Roach’s Our Gang series.
She was raised in Livermore, California, and at age five was already a regular
on screen. In particular, she impressed Roach with her ability to cry on cue,
securing her role as Dorothy “Echo” DeBorba in Our Gang. She made her debut in the series as Jackie Cooper’s
sister in Pups is Pups (1930). By
1931, she would essentially replace series regular Mary Ann Jackson.
DeBorba sported trademark curls and large hair bows handmade
by her mother. Each evening, DeBorba’s mother brushed and set DeBorba’s hair
into curls—a process that took roughly two hours. Despite her composed
on-screen persona, DeBorba was a tom-boy off-screen. She especially enjoyed
getting messy in Pups is Pups,
jumping in the mud and having to be cleaned and redressed over the course of
thirty-seven takes.
Dorothy DeBorba, The Little Rascals
As three years went by, DeBorba grew and was phased out of
the series. Her final Our Gang role
was in Mush and Milk (1933). DeBorba
made a brief appearance alongside Jean Harlow in Bombshell (1933), which would be her final screen credit as an
actress.
DeBorba graduated from Van Nuys High School, later working
at Republic Pictures as a secretary. She went on to be a senior clerk at the
University of California—Berkeley School of Journalism.
DeBorba married twice. Her first marriage was brief and
sadly ended with her as a widow. Her next marriage was to Max Ferdinand
Haberreiter, with whom she had two children: Richard and Janet. They settled in
Northern California until the marriage ended in divorce.
DeBorba was readily available for interviews regarding her
time in Our Gang. She became a member
of the Sons of the Desert in 1980 and frequently attended their conventions
until her health prevented her from further travel.
She passed away from emphysema on June 2, 2010, at age 85 in
Walnut Creek, California. There was no service for her.
Today, there are still some points of interest in connection
with DeBorba that exist.
In the 1930s, she lived at 1368 N. St Andrews Pl., Los
Angeles, California, with her mother. This home no longer stands. By 1940, they
lived at 2708 E. 14th Ave., in Oakland, California. At this point,
her mother was working as a florist. The home stands today.
2708 E. 14th Ave., Oakland, California
By 1941, DeBorba was attending Van Nuys High School, which
also stands.
Van Nuys High School
In 1950, DeBorba lived at 114 Coral Way, Apt. 3, in Redondo
Beach, California. She was widowed at this point and working as a salesperson
at a five-and-dime store. By 1952, she was married to Haberreiter and residing
at 129 N. Pacific Coast Hwy. 1, Redondo Beach, California. Both of these homes
have since been razed.
In the 1990s, she lived at 1810 Montecito Circle in
Livermore, California.
Annette Bochenek of Chicago, Illinois, is a PhD student at Dominican University and an independent scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the Hometowns to Hollywood blog, in which she writes about her trips exploring the legacies and hometowns of Golden Age stars. Annette also hosts the “Hometowns to Hollywood” film series throughout the Chicago area. She has been featured on Turner Classic Movies and is the president of TCM Backlot’s Chicago chapter. In addition to writing for Classic Movie Hub, she also writes for Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, and Chicago Art Deco SocietyMagazine.
You may have heard about the great actress
Lillian Gish, whose film career lasted from the early days of film in the 1910s
all the way to her final movie appearance in The Whales of August (1987). But if you haven’t seen much of her
work, you might be wondering where to start–especially in regards to her silent
era classics. Here’s a list of seven notable silents to help you get acquainted
with this exceptional artist.
7. The Mothering Heart (1913)
Lillian and her sister Dorothy were teenaged stage actresses when they joined
Biograph studio in 1912, back when most films were one or two reels long.
Working mainly with director D.W. Griffith, they quickly learned the ropes of
film acting and became two of Biograph’s most familiar faces. Dorothy had a
knack for comedy while Lillian was drawn to tragic stories, such as the
two-reeler The Mothering Heart. Playing
a tender-hearted and rather naive young wife who discovers her husband is
having an affair, Gish’s sincere performance quickly wins over the viewer. A
surprising late scene involving a burst of anger shows her range, even this
early on in her film career.
6. Broken Blossoms
Gish is sometimes identified with “tragic
waif” types of roles, and there’s no better example than her portrayal of Lucy
Burrows in this heartbreaking melodrama. Based on a short story by Thomas
Burke, it follows the gentle, idealistic Cheng Huan who leaves China in hopes
of spreading Buddhism abroad. He ends up living in a gritty London neighborhood
where he encounters Lucy, the angelic and terribly abused daughter of the
thuggish boxer Battling Burrows. While the casting of Richard Barthelmess as
Cheng seems controversial today, he plays the role with sincerity and dignity.
Gish is unforgettable as the persecuted Lucy, delivering a heartrending
performance. One claustrophobic scene involving her animal-like reaction to
being trapped in a closet would even have echoes in The Shining decades later.
5. True Heart Susie (1919)
No film could create a sweet, nostalgic portrait of rural life quite like a
silent film, and True Heart Susie is
one of the finest examples. Gish plays the shy country girl Susie, who is
“sweet on” the neighbor boy William. Dreaming of a bright future with him,
Susie decides to secretly help him go to college by selling her beloved cow and
allowing him to believe a rich benefactor is lending him a hand. Ah, but what
if William eventually falls for someone else? This film radiates a love of
youthful “days gone by,” and both it and Gish’s performance are sweetly
sentimental without getting too cloying.
4. Way
Down East (1920)
One of the box office hits of 1920, Way Down East was the result of Griffith
taking a decidedly old-fashioned Victorian play–what folks might call a “hoary
old chestnut”–and transforming it to as close to an art piece as anyone could.
Lillian played the innocent Anna who’s put through a wringer of tragic events.
She’s seduced by a manipulative cad, gets cast aside, deals quietly with the
resulting pregnancy, loses the baby, and tries to start over as a hired girl on
a farm. For its most iconic sequence, where Anna is collapsed on an ice floe
drifting closer and closer to a waterfall, Gish insisted on trailing her hand
in the real, icy river for effect, resulting in permanent nerve damage.
3. The White Sister (1923)
The words “purity” and “spirituality” were
certainly associated with Lillian Gish, and this feature was an ideal vehicle
to showcase those qualities. Gish plays a prince’s daughter who loses her noble
status, and after hearing that her lover was killed during an expedition, she
decides to become a nun. While settling into her new life, she’s shocked to
learn that her lover is alive. Filmed in Italy, it was the first film Gish
appeared in after leaving the Griffith fold (albeit on friendly terms). She was
very interested in recreating the Catholic “taking the veil” ceremony, which
apparently had never been captured on film before. She worked closely with the
clergy to ensure it was conducted with respect and authenticity.
2. The Scarlet Letter (1926)
Gish’s turn as Hester Prynne gave her one of
the few-and-far-between chances to expand beyond her innocent waif roles.
Directed by Swedish filmmaker Victor Sjöström and costarring the international
star Lars Hansen, this mid-1920s feature is considered one of the most faithful
adaptations of Hawthorne’s novel. Gish herself had insisted that MGM adapt The Scarlet Letter, despite their
concerns about the subject matter. She proved that she could step gracefully
into a “sensual” role while still giving it poignancy and dignity.
1. The Wind (1928)
One of the masterpieces of the late silent
era, this dark romantic drama was also Gish’s final silent. Gish plays Letty, a
poverty-stricken woman who goes to live on a remote Texas ranch with her cousin
and his wife Cora. The area is continually plagued by raging winds, said to
drive people mad. Letty clashes with Cora, who’s jealous of her beauty, and she
also receives unwanted attention from local men. When Cora finally turns Letty
out of the house, she reluctantly agrees to marry the rancher Lige. In the
meantime, the ever-present wind begins to drive her towards insanity.
Elegantly-directed and featuring a magnificent performance by Gish, The Wind is a must-see for any fan of
silent films.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
It’s about that time
again – awards season! My favorite time of year. As I write this, I’m in the
midst of my annual quest to see as many Oscar-nominated films and peformances
as possible. (Luckily, with streaming, I’m now able to see all of the entries
in the major categories!)
In keeping with the
Oscar theme, today’s Noir Nook will take a look at an actress who, for my
money, is one of the finest performers from the Golden Age of Hollywood – and
who never won an Oscar: Barbara Stanwyck.
I know – it makes no
sense, right? Not with films like Stella Dallas and Meet John Doe and
The Lady Eve under her belt! But, sadly, it’s true. While Stanwyck was
nominated for an Academy Award on four occasions, she never won. To the
Academy’s credit, she was given an honorary award in 1982 for being “an artist
of impeccable grace and beauty, a dedicated actress and one of the great ladies
of Hollywood”, which beats a blank, I suppose, but still. I think Stanwyck
should have at least won one competitive Oscar, if not multiple awards, for
several of her noirs. Let’s take a look at four that I believe were worthy of
the prize.
…..
Phyllis Dietrichson: Double
Indemnity (1944)
Barbara Stanwyck as Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity
In this feature – my
favorite noir, in case I hadn’t mentioned that lately – Stanywyck’s Phyllis
teams with insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) to bump off her
husband and enjoy a big insurance payday. Like the best laid plans of mice and men,
though, this scheme goes to the left, thanks in big part to Walter’s boss,
Barton Keys (Edward G. Robinson), who possesses a flawless intuition – in the
form of the “little man” inside his gut.
As Phyllis, Stanwyck
brings to life one of noir’s iconic femmes fatales – she’s at once sexy,
scheming, vulnerable, intelligent, ruthless, duplicitous, and smooth as
polished ice. So many of her scenes are standouts, like the one where she
feigns innocence while simultaneously trying to get Walter to assist in her
quest to do away with Mr. Dietrichson. Or the one where Walter kills her
husband in the car seat beside her, and her face is a blank mask until that
last moment when she allows a slight, satisfied smile to curve her lips. Or the
one in the supermarket where she frostily informs Walter that it’s “straight
down the line for both of us.”
…..
Martha Ivers: The
Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)
Barbara Stanwyck and Kirk Douglas in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers
Here, Stanwyck plays the
title role of a woman who, as a child, murdered her hated aunt (Judith
Anderson) with a blow from her own cane. (And if that doesn’t give you a clue
to Martha’s persona, I don’t know what will.) Martha grew up to run (and
expand) the industrial empire she inherited upon her aunt’s death – and to
marry Walter O’Neil (Kirk Douglas), the childhood friend who stood beside her
(literally and figuratively) during the crime. Martha’s domain is rocked when serendipity
brings the return of another pal from her youth, Sam Masterson (Van Heflin),
who was also at Martha’s house on the night of her aunt’s death and has visions
of blackmail – at least Martha and Walter believe he does.
Stanwyck’s entrance as
the adult Martha is revealing – she exits her chauffeur-driven car and sweeps
into her house in the midst of a rainstorm. She enters without a drop of water
daring to touch her and addresses her butler without granting him so much as a
glance. Stanwyck’s Martha is always in control,
always in charge, and usually a little scary; whether she’s browbeating her
weak-willed, alcoholic husband, or casting shade in the direction of the down-on-her-luck
dame (Lizabeth Scott) who has fallen in love with Sam, she’s always the center
of attention. In my favorite scene, she uses her considerable wiles to coax Sam
into killing Walter – and Stanwyck serves up a master class in silent acting as
she observes the outcome.
…..
Thelma Jordon: The
File on Thelma Jordon (1950)
Barbara Stanwyck and Wendell Corey in The File on Thelma Jordon
Once again in the title
role, Stanwyck plays a woman who kills her wealthy aunt (what is with Stanwyck
and aunts?) and is prosecuted for the crime by Cleve Marshall (Wendell Corey),
the assistant District Attorney with whom she’s been having an affair. Three
guesses as to whether Cleve pulls out all the stops to ensure a guilty verdict
– and the first two don’t count.
Stanwyck’s Thelma is an
interesting character. She’s not hard-boiled like Phyllis Dietrichson, or domineering
like Martha Ivers. You can understand why Cleve falls for her – she’s quietly sexy,
subtly elegant, sophisticated but not unreachable. Her voice is soft and smoky,
she’s easy to talk to and to listen to, especially when she says things like
this: “I only know I think of you all day and all night. What I’ll wear so
you’ll look at me with that look in your eyes like now. . . . And what I’ll do
the next time you take me in your arms.” Incidentally, she’s also an expert
liar, which she demonstrates not just with Cleve but with her other lover, Tony
(Richard Rober). But that’s a whole ‘nother story. The bottom line is, Stanwyck
is several different women in this film – and she plays them each to
perfection.
…..
Leona Stevenson: Sorry,
Wrong Number (1948)
Barbara Stanwyck as Leona Stevenson in Sorry, Wrong Number
In this feature, based
on a 1943 radio play, Stanwyck is spoiled and self-centered heiress Leona
Stevenson, whose confinement to her bed due to a heart condition has not diminished
her dominance over her weak-willed husband (Burt Lancaster) or her doting
father (Ed Begley, Sr.). When crossed telephone wires allow her to overhear two
men planning a soon-to-be murder, she tries to learn more about the plot, but
discovers more than she’d bargained for.
With the exception of
flashbacks, Stanwyck’s Leona spends the bulk of the film in bed, which makes
her performance even more impressive. From there, she emotes and emotes and
emotes, taking her character from petulance to annoyance, haughtiness to hysteria,
and anxiety to terror. After the film’s release, the reviewer for Cue
proclaimed that Stanwyck had turned in the best performance of her career. I
can’t argue with that.
…..
So, what do you think? Should Stanwyck have earned an Oscar for any of these noirs? And can you think of any other noir performances that deserved Oscar recognition? Leave a comment and let me know!
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
This
month we’ll be taking another of our unique tours through Western film history,
paying tribute to a variety of actors as we visit their final resting places.
We begin
with longtime “B” Western star Johnny Mack Brown. I was glad to
finally locate his final resting place at Forest Lawn Glendale after a couple
of unsuccessful attempts. The onetime college football star had a long film
career, beginning in silent movies; he appeared in countless “B”
films, including many playing characters named either Johnny Mack or Marshal
Nevada Jack MacKenzie. Brown also offered excellent support in the Rod Cameron
Western Stampede (1949). He’s interred along with his
daughter.
Johnny Mack Brown
Herb
Jeffries was a unusual ’30s “B” Western star; of mixed-race heritage,
he played a black singing cowboy in a quartet of Westerns released from 1937 to
1939. His movies included interestingly titled films such as Harlem on
the Prairie (1937) and Harlem Rides the Range (1939).
Jeffries’ film career was fairly short, and he focused mainly on singing from
the ’40s on, including a few years performing with Duke Ellington. Jeffries
lived to be 100, and his final resting place is at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
Herb Jeffries
Another
singing cowboy, Ken Carson, is buried at Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whitter,
California. As a member of the Sons of the Pioneers, Carson appeared onscreen
frequently in Roy Rogers films from 1943 to 1946. He also voiced the Wise Old
Owl in Disney’s lovely So Dear to My Heart (1948). Carson died
of Lou Gehrig’s disease in 1994. His gravestone features a guitar and
references his career as a singing cowboy.
Ken Carson
Oscar-winning
actress Donna Reed first appeared in Westerns early in her career, playing the
leading lady in “B” films such as Apache Trail (1942)
and Gentle Annie (1944). Throughout the ’50s she appeared in a
number of good Westerns, including Hangman’s Knot (1952) with
Randolph Scott, Gun Fury (1953) with Rock Hudson, and Backlash (1956)
opposite Richard Widmark. She then moved on to TV success starring on The
Donna Reed Show (1958-66). She’s buried at Westwood Memorial Park.
Donna Reed
Under
her birth name Laraine Johnson, Laraine Day was George O’Brien’s leading lady
in a trio of his excellent RKO “B” Westerns, released in 1938 and
1939; along with O’Brien’s “B” films with Virginia Vale, these are
great favorites of mine. Later in 1939 she moved to MGM, where as Laraine Day
she played beloved nurse Mary Lamont in the Dr. Kildare movie series. She made
one Western at MGM, The Bad Man (1941) starring Wallace Beery.
Thanks to her marriage to baseball manager Leo Durocher, which lasted from 1948
to 1960, Day was also known as “the First Lady of Baseball.” She’s at
Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.
Laraine Day
While she didn’t have an extensive career in Westerns, British actress Binnie Barnes was memorable appearing opposite Randolph Scott in one of the very first Westerns I wrote about for Classic Movie Hub, Frontier Marshal (1939). She also starred opposite John Wayne in In Old California (1942). Over the course of her career Barnes worked with actors like Laurence Olivier and Ralph Richardson, but she told an interviewer the best actor she worked with was none other than Wayne. Barnes married the adoptive son of actor Joe E. Brown and is buried in the Brown family plot at Forest Lawn Glendale.
Binnie Barnes
Oscar-winning
British character actor Donald Crisp, known for films like How Green
Was My Valley (1941) and National Velvet (1944), may
not spring to mind as a Western actor, but he added his considerable gravitas
to a number of fine Westerns, including Ramrod (1947), Whispering
Smith (1948), The Man From Laramie (1955), and Saddle
the Wind (1958). He’s buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.
Donald Crisp
Character
actor Jay C. Flippen worked steadily in Westerns throughout the ’50s, appearing
in a trio of fine Anthony Mann Westerns, Winchester ’73 (1950), Bend
of the River (1952), and The Far Country (1954). His
other Westerns films included Devil’s Canyon (1953), Man
Without a Star (1955), and Night Passage (1957). His
wife was movie and TV screenwriter Ruth Brooks Flippen. He’s at Westwood
Memorial Park
Jay C Flippen
Richard
Farnsworth had an interesting career, beginning as a stuntman in 1937.
Farnsworth was on the stunt crew for many Westerns, including favorites such
as Angel and the Badman (1947) and Red River (1948).
Farnsworth later moved into acting, receiving Oscar nominations for Comes
a Horseman (1978) and The Straight Story (1999). His
son, Diamond Farnsworth, also worked as a movie stuntman. Richard Farnsworth’s
final resting place is at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.
Richard Farnsworth
We’ll
conclude this month with a trio of actors who appeared in movie Westerns but
are best known for their TV Westerns. Clayton Moore appeared in numerous
supporting roles in “B” Westerns beginning in 1937 and running into
the 1950s, but of course he’s best known as TV’s immortal The Lone
Ranger (1949-57). He’s buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.
Clayton Moore
Chuck
Connors appeared occasionally in Western films, including The Hired Gun (1957),
before becoming a major Western TV star as The Rifleman (1958-63).
His gravestone at San Fernando Mission Cemetery in Mission Hills pays tribute
to his most famous Western role, along with his sports careers with the
Dodgers, Cubs, and Boston Celtics.
Chuck Connors
Hugh
O’Brian first appeared in movie Westerns in 1950, playing a supporting role in
Gene Autry’s Beyond the Purple Hills (1950). He appeared in
numerous Westerns throughout the ’50s, many for Universal Pictures, before
hitting it big in the title role in TV’s The Life and Legend of Wyatt
Earp (1955-61). He’s at Forest Lawn Glendale.
Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.
While you might expect a movie about the balance of a
man’s life being judged at the gates of Hell to be heavy existential stuff, Ernst
Lubitsch’s Heaven Can Wait (1943) serves it up as a sparkling romantic
comedy in the director’s quintessential style. Dapper Don Ameche makes the
protagonist appealing in spite of his peccadilloes, and even the Devil himself
seems charmed by the new arrival, but that’s just where the fun begins. There’s
so much to love about this picture: Ameche’s performance, the gorgeous Technicolor
cinematography, the delightful comedy scenes, and especially the extensive cast
of outstanding supporting players. So many of my personal favorites have great
roles, from Marjorie Main and Spring Byington to Charles Coburn, Eugene
Pallette, and Laird Cregar, but Ameche and the beautiful Gene Tierney are
perfectly cast as the leading lovers experiencing the many joys and sorrows of
a life together.
From the moment he first sees her, Henry Van Cleve (Don Ameche) is smitten with Martha (Gene Tierney).
Ameche stars as the newly deceased Henry Van Cleve,
who presents himself to the Devil (Laird Cregar) for admission to Hell because
he assumes that Heaven won’t take him. Henry then recounts his life, which he
admits has been dominated by his relationships with women, starting with his doting
mother (Spring Byington) and grandmother (Clara Blandick). Henry’s account of
himself, told through a series of long flashbacks, primarily focuses on his
marriage to Martha (Gene Tierney) and the years they spent together, although
Henry feels that his self-indulgent behavior has not merited a reunion with his
wife in Heaven.
Laird Cregar makes a very debonair Devil as “His Excellency,” to whom Henry recounts the story of his life.
Don Ameche is very much in his element as Henry, a
feckless but amiable fellow whose deep love for Martha can’t make him behave as
well as she deserves. Even in the later scenes, when he appears in increasing
layers of old-age makeup, Ameche maintains his immense charm, though he
transforms over the years from youthful rogue to geriatric playboy. His
failures as a husband are mostly understated and unspecified, the better,
perhaps, to retain our sympathy. In spite of his impulsive, careless nature,
Henry certainly looks more appealing in contrast to his priggish cousin Albert
(played in his adult form by Allyn Joslyn), to whom Martha is originally
engaged. Albert has many fine qualities, which he enumerates to Martha, but
he’s terribly dull and takes himself far too seriously to be any good as a
lover. Gene Tierney has less to do than Ameche – she’s the object of his
affection, not the subject of the story – but she is so breathlessly lovely and
good that we understand why Henry resolves to marry her the moment they meet.
Henry is doted on and spoiled by all of his relatives, but especially his mother (Spring Byington), who never stays angry at his misdeeds.
With a story that spans every decade of Henry’s life,
the picture offers ample opportunity for supporting actors to make memorable
appearances, and Heaven Can Wait ends up being a parade of fun scenes
with familiar favorites, many of them uncredited. Florence Bates drops in –
literally – as a fellow arrival in Hell. Child stars Scotty Beckett and Dickie
Moore take turns playing Henry as a child, with Moore having an especially
amusing sequence with Signe Hasso as the Van Cleves’ attractive French maid. In
addition to Spring Byington and Clara Blandick, the Van Cleve family members
are played by Louis Calhern, Tod Andrews (credited as Michael Ames), and the
great Charles Coburn, who endures into ripe old age as Henry’s delightfully
mischievous grandfather. Coburn is quite the scene stealer, but nothing beats
Eugene Pallette and Marjorie Main as Mr. and Mrs. Strabel, Martha’s
cantankerous Kansan parents. Watching the two of them fight over the funny
pages, much to the amusement of their tactful butler, Jasper (Clarence Muse),
is absolute comedy bliss. You could even call it classic movie Heaven.
Marjorie Main plays Martha’s quarrelsome but loving mother, Mrs. Strabel.
Heaven Can Wait earned three Academy Award nominations, with nods for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Color Cinematography, but it went home empty-handed. For more of Ernst Lubitsch’s signature comedy style, see Design for Living (1933), Ninotchka (1939), and To Be or Not to Be (1942). Don Ameche didn’t win an Oscar until very late in his life, when he really was an old man in Cocoon (1986), but you can catch him in his prime in Midnight (1939), The Story of Alexander Graham Bell (1939), and That Night in Rio (1941). You can see Gene Tierney, Laird Cregar, Spring Byington, and Clara Blandick in Rings on Her Fingers (1942), but Tierney is best remembered today for films like Laura (1944), Leave Her to Heaven (1945), and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947). The 1978 movie titled Heaven Can Wait has nothing to do with the 1943 one, but it’s actually a remake of the 1941 supernatural comedy, Here Comes Mr. Jordan, which stars Robert Montgomery as a dead man sent back to Earth in a different body by guardian angel Claude Rains. Both are excellent movies that make fun double features with each other or the original Heaven Can Wait.
Robert
Eugene Hutchins was born on March 29, 1925, in Tacoma, Washington, to James and
Olga Constance Hutchins. As a child, Hutchins was extremely outgoing and family
friends persuaded his parents to take him to Hollywood to be photographed. The
photographer was so impressed by Hutchins’ personality and asked to screen test
him, with the resulting footage ultimately making its way to Hal Roach Studios.
Roach thought that Hutchins would be an ideal addition to the Our Gang series and offered Hutchins a
five-year contract.
As was
typical of the Our Gang children,
Hutchins soon received a nickname: “Wheezer.” Reportedly, on his first day at
the studio, Hutchins was running around so excitedly that he began to wheeze.
The nickname would remain his throughout his tenure in the series, typically
portraying a tag-along brother in silent and sound shorts.
Hutchins’
first appearance in the series was in Baby
Brother (1927), playing Horatio. He portrayed a main character in many
other installments in the series. His character wore a trademark beanie and
corduroy vest.
Behind the
scenes, Hutchins’ father was particularly competitive and overbearing. Co-star
Jackie Cooper once shared the following in an interview:
“You’d go to play with
Wheezer, and his father would pull him away, very competitive. I didn’t get a
satisfactory answer from my mother or grandmother as to why, but he was to be
left alone. I guess his father was trying to make him a star or something.
Obviously it never happened as it did for Spanky or some of the other
kids.”
When not
filming, Hutchins’ father isolated him from the other children and malnourished
him, deliberately underfeeding him to keep him small and employable. This also
held true for Hutchins’ brother, Richard Rae “Dickie” Hutchins, who also spent
time in the series. His plan backfired; while Hutchins photographed well, he
lacked the energy and commanding screen presence of his leading co-stars.
Hutchins fulfilled the rest of his contract as a background player.
Once his
contract was up for renewal in 1933, Hutchins’ parents walked out on Roach,
demanding higher pay for Hutchins. As a result, Hutchins missed the final four
episodes of the 1932 season, with the new gang leader being portrayed by child
star Dickie Moore. Roach ultimately terminated Hutchins’ contract when Hutchins
was eight years old. His final appearance in the series was in Mush and Milk (1933).
Beyond his
time in Our Gang, Hutchins made
appearances in three other featurettes. His parents divorced and Hutchins, his
mother, stepfather, and brother moved to Tacoma, Washington. There, he enrolled
in Parkland Grade School and, later, Lincoln High School. He eventually worked
as a gas station attendant in 1942. After his high school graduation, he joined
the U.S. Army Air Forces by 1943, enrolling in the Aviation Cadet Program to
become a pilot.
Tragically,
Hutchins was killed as a result of a mid-air collision on May 17, 1945. He was
trying to land a plane during the last 30 minutes of his basic training when it
struck another plane of the same unit at Merced Army Air Field in Merced,
California, later to become Castle Air Force Base. Edward F. Hamel, the other
pilot, survived. Hutchins was close to graduating from this training program
and his mother was scheduled to travel to the airfield the following week for
the commencement ceremony. He was 20 years old.
Following
his funeral at Trinity Lutheran Church, Hutchins was laid to rest at Parkland
Lutheran Cemetery in Tacoma, Washington. His grave is honored with a flag each
Memorial Day.
In 1930, Hutchins and his parents lived at 9036 Gibson Los Angeles,
California. His father worked as an artists’ manager at this point, presumably
for Hutchins. The home stands.
9036 Gibson Los Angeles, California
In 1940, Hutchins lived with his mother, stepfather Russell Hagerson,
brother, and grandmother, in the Brookdale neighborhood of Tacoma, Washington.
The scene of his crash still exists near Castle Air Force Base and is
inaccessible to the general public.
Trinity Lutheran Church’s “Old Gray Church” no longer stands but Parkland Lutheran Cemetery is located at 510 136th St. E., Tacoma, Washington.
Annette Bochenek of Chicago, Illinois, is a PhD student at Dominican University and an independent scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the Hometowns to Hollywood blog, in which she writes about her trips exploring the legacies and hometowns of Golden Age stars. Annette also hosts the “Hometowns to Hollywood” film series throughout the Chicago area. She has been featured on Turner Classic Movies and is the president of TCM Backlot’s Chicago chapter. In addition to writing for Classic Movie Hub, she also writes for Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, and Chicago Art Deco SocietyMagazine.
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