Remembering Classic Movie Child Star, Ted Donaldson
I am so sad to report that Ted Donaldson passed away a few days ago, on March 1st. I typically don’t publish blog posts when someone passes, but this time I felt I must — as I had the honor of meeting and interviewing Ted a few years ago, and it is something that I will never forget. He was such a charming gentleman, and it was such a pleasure to be able to sit down and chat with him, and hear so many wonderful stories.
Here is a wonderful Hollywood Reporter article that was published yesterday, chronicling Ted’s career through Broadway, radio and film, including his big screen debut in Once Upon a Time with Cary Grant and, of course, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
As mentioned in the Hollywood Reporter article, Ted’s friends, Thomas and Heidi Bruno, have set up a GoFundMe page to help pay for Ted’s burial expenses, as Ted passed with very little cash and few possessions. I am sure that any donation, no matter how small, would be greatly appreciated by Thomas and Heidi — as they would like to provide Ted with a proper burial in Hollywood Forever Cemetery near many of his co-stars.
You can visit the Ted Donaldson Go Fund Me Page by clicking on this image
Again, I am so glad that I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with Ted. That was indeed a special moment for me.
Lastly, if you’d like to see my video interview with Ted, here is a link to it on YouTube.
“The Way We Were: The Making of a Romantic Classic” Exclusive Interview with author Tom Santopietro
I am happy to say that a new book about the film, The Way We Were was released in January — AND I am even happier to say that author Tom Santopietro has honored CMH with an exclusive interview about it!
Hard to believe, but the film was released 50 years ago, in Oct 1973. Wow. So, what better way to celebrate, than with The Way We Were: The Making of a Romantic Classic, a book that tells the story behind the film — the challenges, disputes and creative passions of those involved — complete with location anecdotes and first-hand accounts.
A big Thank You to Tom Santopietro for taking the time to do this interview!
CMH: Why did you decide to write a book about The Way We Were?
Tom Santopietro:I started thinking about The Way We Were as the subject of a possible book when I happened to hear two women quoting the entire last scene of the film by heart, re-enacting Barbra Streisand’s Katie Morosky murmuring “Hubbell, your girl is lovely” to the aging but still golden Robert Redford. This behavior wasn’t just liking the film- this was quasi-obsession. When I then happened to catch a re-run of “Sex and the City” where the four best friends decide that the entire world is divided into “Katie girls” and others, followed by Sarah Jessica Parker’s Carrie Bradshaw re-enacting The Way We Were’s finale in front of the Plaza Hotel, I was intrigued. Hooked. Why does this decidedly flawed film carry such romantic heft? After all, if the best movies form parts of our world views and shape our dreams, what did this hyper fandom for a fifty year old film say about the way we are today?
My first book, The Importance of Being Barbra, was published seventeen years ago and I thought it would be interesting to look at Barbra again, through the lens of what is arguably her most popular film. As I started to research the history of the film, my “possibly writing” became a definite “yes”; accelerating the decision was realizing that by writing about The Way We Were I was actually, if unconsciously completing my trilogy of books centering on films that people don’t just like, but actually obsess over: The Godfather Effect– drama, The Sound of Music Story–https://amzn.to/3IYPJRC musical, and now The Way We Were- romance.
CMH: Did you interview Barbra Streisand? Any others?
Tom Santopietro: I had a number of great interviews for the book – Lois Chiles, lyricist Alan Bergman- still going strong at age 97. James Woods – it was his first movie and he told me great stories about his interactions with both Barbra and Redford. He liked both of them a great deal.
The most fascinating interview was my written exchange with Barbra. I thought a long time about what questions to ask – I didn’t want this to be ‘Did you like Robert Redford”… I submitted them in writing and weeks later I received a lengthy email response to each question – a paragraph long answer to every question. The film is very important to her, she possessed total recall of the events, and it gave me a real sense of who she is – every word matters to her. No wonder she has been one of Sondheim’s foremost interpreters – she’s the embodiment of his dictum: “God is in the details.”
Redford and Streisand (Hubbell and Katie)
CMH: What most surprised you in your research?
Tom Santopietro: I spent several days at the Library of Congress reading through screenwriter Arthur Laurents’s papers, including a scorching eight page memo to producer Ray Stark that he wrote after seeing a rough cut – a memo in which he enumerated the film’s perceived flaws, flaws which he felt – and I’m translating politely here – were so egregious that they made him feel sick. Eleven different screenwriters had a hand in the script – no wonder Laurents was perpetually angry. His own life had inspired several key incidents in the screenplay and his life was now being re-written by eleven other people.
I was also intrigued by the fact that in the early going this now iconic film’s success was far from assured; as one studio executive only half kiddingly said to director Sydney Pollack: “Barbra Streisand doesn’t sing and she plays a communist — are you trying to kill me?!” The fact that no one expected a romantic classic made its now half century of success all the more intriguing. The film had received decidedly mixed reviews upon its initial release, although the stars were highly praised, and Streisand received an Academy Award nomination. (She lost to Glenda Jackson for A Touch of Class, and when was the last time anyone decided that they just had to watch A Touch of Class again…)
CMH: Why does the film have such a romantic pull that we’re still talking about it 50 years later?
Tom Santopietro: I think that there are four reasons for the film’s extraordinary 50 year hold on audiences around the world:
Star chemistry in spades. Redford and Streisand at their early 70s peak, looking great and throwing off sparks together, proving that opposites really do attract. Everything about them reads as a contrast – looks, acting styles, manner of speech – and it all blends beautifully.
Ill fated love affairs are universal. Like Katie and Hubbell, everyone in the viewing audience has loved the wrong person at one time. Or at several times. Everyone has loved passionately if not wisely. As film historian Jeanine Basinger put it: “Yes- everyone really has loved the wrong person at one point or another. Except for maybe 10 people- and who wants to know them…”
The uber romantic score by the then unknown Marvin Hamlisch, who composed the title song on spec, in hopes of scoring the entire movie. His reward? Two Oscars.
That killer ending in front of the Plaza Hotel. For the three people over 50 in the United States who haven’t seen the film, I won’t describe it- except to say that even critics who didn’t like the film fell for the ending – it’s an all time keeper.
It seems like critics had a hard time acknowledging the appeal of The Way We Were and other films like it. Why is that?
I think the best answer to that came from Robert Redford
himself: “Critics had trouble with The Way We Were because they won’t
own up to their own emotions. They figure that it’s got to be off center or
bold before they can accept it… Intellectually you know Katie and Hubbell
shouldn’t be together, but on a gut level you want them to make it because you
like them and because they like each other. That’s a fair emotion.”
CMH: Why wasn’t there a sequel?
As audiences clamored to know if Katie and Hubbell would ever get back together, the clamor for a sequel grew in volume. Talks were held. Screenplays were written. So what happened?
Well, to find that out you have to read the book. Besides, I have my own idea for a sequel!
…..
Thanks again to Tom Santopietro for this fascinating book and interview.
“Russian Roulette’s a very different amusement which I can only wish your father had played continuously before he had you!”
Preston Sturges’ career ran in conjunction with classic film noir. Both made their presence known in the early 1940s, and would go on to dominate the decade with their blend of acid-tongued banter and confusing stories. The big difference, of course, was tone. While film noir shined a light on human nature’s dark side, Sturges comedies like The Lady Eve (1941) and The Palm Beach Story (1942) were charming and upbeat. It would be difficult to imagine tones that were further apart, and yet, they crashed, spectacularly, into one another with Unfaithfully Yours (1948).
Sturges had actually penned the script for Unfaithfully Yours in 1932, but struggled to get it financed and eventually shelved it for more accessible material. By the late 40s, though, bleak stories were all the rage, and he saw an opportunity to make a full-fledged parody of the film noir while maintaining the absurdity of his original vision.
The film’s original lobby poster.
Unfaithfully Yours, for the uninitiated, is about a symphony conductor named Sir Alfred de Carter (Rex Harrison). He has it all: fame, fortune, and a doting wife named Daphne (Linda Darnell). Or so he thinks. Through a series of misunderstandings, Alfred comes to suspect that Daphne may be having an affair with his assistant, Anthony (Kurt Krueger). His paranoia reaches a fever pitch the night of an important concert, and he spends most of it contemplating the different ways he can confront Daphne. The film then plays out these different ways to disastrous effect.
The first scenario is the darkest, and arguably the best. Alfred returns home, masterminds a plan, then proceeds to slash his wife’s throat with a straight razor and frame his assistant for the murder. There’s a perverse glee in watching every single aspect of the plan go accordingly, and Sturges knows it too. He hits each beat as though we were watching a hero achieve a worthwhile goal, and the incongruity of the execution with the actions depicted make it just as shocking now as it was seven decades ago. The shock is elevated further when you consider that the film presents these actions as reality. The whole scenario is edited as though it occurs after the concert, therefore making the viewer think Alfred really did get away with murder.
Alfred (Rex Harrison) ponders his next move…
The dissolve back to the concert is both reassuring and structurally limiting. We’re shown that Alfred is still conducting and no such murder has taken place, which means there’s still time for him to change his mind. It also means the element of surprise has been removed. Part of what makes the first scenario such a mind-boggler is the aforementioned leap of faith the viewer had to take in believing it was legit. Once the gambit of a multiple choice outcome is introduced, “Unfaithfully Yours” settles into a safer, albeit entertaining groove.
The other scenarios are similarly macabre, though they take on more of the broad comedy appeal that Sturges is known for. The second one sees Alfred confront Daphne and Anthony by challenging them to a game of Russian Roulette. He proudly goes first, and promptly shoots himself in the head. The third one is longer and packed with more laughs, with Alfred looking for a recorder to fabricate his wife’s “last words.” The seemingly easy task becomes a tall order, as Alfred falls over, breaks furniture, and pesters phone operators in an attempt to be covert. What scenario does Alfred ultimately choose in the end? In an effort to draw more eyes to the film, that is the one thing I won’t spoil.
The slapstick is top of the line, which anyone familiar with Sturges can attest to. The dialogue is sharp as Alfred’s straight razor, with so many puns, references, and double meanings baked in that a single viewing won’t do them justice. A private detective crosses paths with Alfred at one point, and his musical fandom results in gems like “You handle Handel like nobody handles Handel. And your Delius – delirious!”
Daphne (Linda Darnell) sense a shift in behavior.
Of course, the manipulation that Unfaithfully Yours attempts would fail were it not for the talent of the cast. Rex Harrison is refinement personified in so many of his famous roles, but here, he drops the niceties and delivers a blisteringly funny performance. He does some absolutely heinous things in the film, as was previously stated, and yet, we feel for him and the predicament that he’s imagined for himself. A less charismatic actor would have crumbled. The supporting cast has less to do, but Rudy Vallee, Edgar Kennedy and Barbara Lawrence all serve as credible foils. Linda Darnell is given a particularly tricky assignment here, as she has to convince the audience she could be a saint and an adulterer at the same time. She nails it in every scenario, proving she had more range than she was often given the chance to explore.
Unfaithfully Yours was released to positive reviews and nonexistent box office in 1948. The subject matter was always going to be a tough sell, but the timing could not have been worse due to the personal life of its star. Harrison was reportedly having an affair with actress Carole Landis at the time, and her suicide was believed by many to be a result of his refusing to get a divorce. Harrison discovered Landis’ body, which made the notion of him as a snickering wife killer a little too grim for the general public. The failure of Unfaithfully Yours also signaled the end of Sturges’ career; he made only one more film in Hollywood before retreating to Europe.
Alfred’s entourage fawn over his seemingly perfect romance.
While not as famous as, say, Sullivan’s Travels (1941), Unfaithfully Yours has become something of a cult favorite among Sturges fans. It’s a deep cut, but those who have seen it can attest to its bold narrative shifts and how forward-thinking it was in terms of noir comedy. Quentin Tarantino has cited it as one of his favorite films, and given his penchant for genre fusion, I can’t think of a better endorsement.
TRIVIA: Carole Landis was briefly considered for the role of Daphne. Her volatile relationship with Harrison led Sturges to go with Linda Darnell instead.
Danilo Castro is the managing editor of NOIR CITY Magazine and a Contributing Writer for Classic Movie Hub. You can follow Danilo on Twitter @DaniloSCastro.
Silents are Golden: A Closer Look At – Our Hospitality (1923)
Buster Keaton
Buster Keaton’s classic feature The General(1926) has been rightfully hailed as a masterpiece, with its intelligent gags and exquisitely-rendered Civil War setting. Its authentic look has often been compared to Matthew Brady photographs. Keaton’s confident use of period settings can probably be traced back to his 1923 film Our Hospitality. Set in the early 19th century American south, it also had plenty of authentic period charm and is one of his most admired features today.
Keaton’s first foray into historical periods technically began with his first feature, Three Ages(1923). Inspired by the four interweaving storylines in D.W. Griffith’s epic Intolerance(1916), he told three tales set in the Stone Age, Roman Age, and modern day. The Stone Age and Roman periods were played more for laughs, however. Keaton’s followup Our Hospitality would be an opportunity to prove himself not just as a comedian, but as a mature, skilled filmmaker.
Francis X. Bushman Jr., Jack Duffy, Joe Roberts, Buster Keaton, Craig Ward, and Natalie Talmadge in Our Hospitality (1923)
Keaton and his team based the story of Our Hospitality on the famous feud
between the Hatfields and the McCoys. The original working title was Headin’ South, and the plot revolved
around two families (christened the Canfields and the McKays) who had been
feuding for generations. Keaton played Willie McKay, whose father dies after a
shootout with rival James Canfield while Willie is still a baby. Wanting her
son to grow up free of the bitter feud, Willie’s mother raises him in New York.
Once Willie comes of age, however, he learns that he’s inherited his father’s
southern estate.
While traveling by train to claim the estate, Willie meets the attractive southern belle Virginia (Natalie Talmadge). Unbeknownst to him, she’s a member of the Canfield clan. When they arrive at their destination Virginia’s greeted by her father and brothers. Willie asks one of the brothers for directions to the estate, alerting him to the fact that he’s a McKay. The estate turns out to be a rundown wreck, and Willie’s invited to dinner by Virginia–both of them have no idea that the Canfield men are now determined to kill him. While at her house Willie finally realizes his life is in danger. When he overhears the father telling his sons that southern hospitality prevents them from shooting a guest in their home, Willie quickly invites himself to spend the night. His subsequent attempts at escape result in a game of cat-and-mouse.
Keaton on a bench with Francis X. Bushman Jr. and Craig Ward
The decision to set Our Hospitality in the 1830s was based on the primitive train
recreated for a key early sequence. Once Keaton and his team decided to have
Willie travel by rail, they started researching the earliest trains and came up
with the rickety, eccentric-looking 1830 Stephenson Rocket. Although it was an
English train it was very funny looking, and they used available drawings to
make a full-size, five-car replica. Another early invention replicated for the
film was a “dandy horse,” a wooden bicycle propelled by foot instead of pedals,
which Willie gravely coasts around town.
The making of Our Hospitality was very much a family affair. Buster’s wife Natalie (they had been married two years) agreed to play Virginia, and they decided to have their baby Joseph appear in a scene as the infant Willie McKay. Buster’s father Joe would play the engineer of the Stephenson Rocket, and close family friend “Big Joe” Roberts was brought on board to play the Canfield patriarch. The Canfield sons were played by stage star Craig Ward and Ralph Bushman, the son of 1910s screen idol Francis X. Bushman. Many scenes would be shot in Truckee, a mountain town in the Tahoe National Forest, where the cast and crew spent their off time playing baseball or fishing in the Truckee River.
a picnic on set
They clearly had fun with the sequence where Willie travels by train, draping its little tracks over rocks and tree trunks and showing how it moves so slow that Willie’s loyal dog can trot along easily underneath it. The spectacular waterfall scene was filmed at Keaton’s studio, where the thundering fall was constructed over the pool he once used for his short Hard Luck(1921). Some shots also showed a surprisingly convincing miniature landscape.
Keaton hangs on a limb in the waterfall scene
Keaton was no stranger to risking life and
limb in the service of filmmaking, and had some harrowing experiences while
making Our Hospitality. While filming
the highlight of the waterfall scene, where Willie catches Virginia (rather, a
lifelike dummy of Virginia) as she’s about to go over the falls, hewas dangling upside down and was hit
with the roaring water right in the face. He had to be taken to the doctor to
drain out his sinuses and ear canals. But most dangerous of all was the
sequence leading up to the waterfall, where Willie falls into a rushing river
(the Truckee River). Three men held onto the end of a sixty-foot wire attached
to Keaton as he clung to a log drifting through the rapids. Suddenly the wire
broke and Keaton was swept away, crashing into boulders and fighting to keep
his head above the foam. Finally he managed to grab a dangling branch and
hauled himself onto the bank, exhausted. When his crew found him his first
question was, “Did Nat see it?”
Midway through filming, Big Joe Roberts
suffered a stroke. A doctor discovered he had late-onset neurosyphilis,
contracted decades earlier, and had only a short time to live. Keaton kept
filming while Joe spent some time resting, but was concerned enough for his
friend to consider shelving the picture. However, Joe insisted on returning to
the Keaton studio to finish his scenes, a professional to the end. After
attending a preview of the finished film, Joe had a second stroke at home and
passed away. He was 52 years old, and had deliveredsome of Our Hospitality’s
most touching dramatic scenes.
Big Joe Roberts as Joseph Canfield
Our
Hospitality was widely praised by critics and
audiences alike, and did very well at the box office, grossing even more than
Keaton’s anticipated Three Ages. It
was declared one of the funniest pictures ever made and admired for its
thrilling stunt work. Today, the opinion of this lovingly-shot period piece
remains unchanged. It’s a favorite of many Keaton fans, and is certainly one of
the greatest classics of silent comedy.
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.
Silver Screen Standards: The “Rough Magic” of Forbidden Planet (1956)
The Tempest has always been my favorite Shakespeare play, so my love for the science fiction classic, Forbidden Planet (1956), shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows how much this iconic film owes to the Bard’s romantic tale of island castaways, magic, and romance. In spite of its futuristic trappings and CinemaScope imagery, Forbidden Planet remains, at its heart, a very old-fashioned story, from its depictions of patriarchy and gender to its vision of a spaceship crew. Those traits don’t make for very compelling speculative fiction, especially for a modern viewer of progressive sci-fi like the current crop of Star Trek shows, but they do help to bind Forbidden Planet to its Shakespearean source. The Tempest is really the story of Prospero, a powerful man facing the consequences of his past actions and his changing status as both ruler and father. In Forbidden Planet, Prospero is reimagined as Dr. Morbius (Walter Pidgeon), but the psychological and moral concerns of the protagonist remain the same.
As Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) reimagines Prospero, so Robby the Robot serves as a science fiction version of the bound spirit, Ariel.
Morbius doesn’t actually appear until the movie is well underway, but, he’s the central figure of the story, even if the spaceship crew don’t know whom they’re about to encounter when they arrive at Altair IV. The crew, led by Commander Adams (Leslie Nielsen), have come looking for a group of colonists who settled on the planet almost twenty years earlier, but only Dr. Morbius and his daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis), are still alive. Everyone else perished in attacks by a powerful, mysterious creature, who once again rampages after Adams and his men land on the planet. As Morbius repeatedly warns Adams to depart, the Commander and his officers begin to suspect that Morbius himself might be responsible for the deadly, invisible being.
Like Prospero, Morbius has a daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis), who has grown up isolated from all other human beings.
We might be tempted to view Leslie Nielsen’s handsome
young officer as the hero of this story, but, like Prince Ferdinand in The
Tempest, Commander Adams is just here to get the girl and deprive the aging
father of the total devotion he has previously enjoyed from his only child.
Both Prospero and Morbius have to adjust to the idea that their little girls
have grown up. In both cases, their total isolation means too many
daddy-daughter dances and not nearly enough opportunity for each of them to
build other relationships. Prospero’s daughter, Miranda, has known only the
monstrous Caliban as a playmate, while Altaira has made do with the company of
Robby the Robot, who functionally resembles Prospero’s spirit servant, Ariel, but
still lacks the necessary parts to be a potential mate. It’s little wonder that
both young women delight in the arrival of a ship full of actual men. “O brave
new world, that has such people in it!” Miranda exclaims, while Altaira
promptly begins a frank assessment of the physical charms of the trio of men
she first meets. They’re both primed to fall for the first handsome guy who
shows up, and Commander Adams doesn’t have to demonstrate much personality or
skill at romance to win Altaira’s heart.
Ripe for romance, Altaira quickly falls for the charms of the handsome Commander Adams (Leslie Nielsen).
Morbius, however, is a far more complex character, a
man accustomed to absolute obedience and authority in his castaway kingdom,
where he hasn’t had to consider the moral implications of his own choices.
After the deaths of the other Bellerophon colonists, Morbius has had no
one to challenge his rule or his motives. He considers himself a good man, a
benevolent ruler and father, and a singularly qualified controller of the
powerful alien technology of the long extinct Krell. Morbius is a man of
science, not magic, but Prospero’s magic and Morbius’ science are
interchangeable as powers too great for any imperfect man to wield without
danger to himself and others. Shakespeare didn’t have Freudian psychology to
articulate the idea of the id, but both Prospero and Morbius harbor destructive
darkness in their remote idylls; Morbius’ shadow monster is a bigger, scarier,
more relentless version of the laughable but still scheming Caliban, a “thing
of darkness” that Prospero acknowledges as belonging to him near the play’s
end. As Prospero abjures his “rough magic,” so Morbius must recognize and
reject his “evil self” in order to be reintegrated into humanity, whether
literally or symbolically. Prospero, having already paid a price for his
obsession by losing his title and home, voluntarily relinquishes his power as
his final act, destroying his staff and books so that others cannot be tempted
by them. Morbius must pay a steeper cost for his hubris in order to save
Altaira, but the final destruction of Altair IV accomplishes the same end as
Prospero’s drowning of his book. Neither man is a god, and both have seen
enough to recognize their acquired power as more dangerous than benign.
Morbius, of course, has many cinematic and literary brethren among the ranks
of overreaching scientists, but his deep
connection to Prospero reminds us how old and often repeated this story is,
even as each new generation fails to heed it.
Morbius finds that his power has come at a terrible cost; like Prospero, he must destroy the source of his superhuman abilities.
If you enjoy the marriage of Shakespeare and science fiction demonstrated in Forbidden Planet, be sure to check out other classic movies with strong Shakespearean roots, including Strange Illusion (1945), A Double Life (1947), Joe MacBeth (1955), and, of course, West Side Story (1961). Maurice Evans, Richard Burton, and Roddy McDowall starred in a film adaptation of The Tempest in 1960, and Sir John Gielgud played Prospero in a 1991 version called Prospero’s Books. For a delightful comedy treatment of Forbidden Planet and The Tempest, track down a recording of the 1983 jukebox musical Return to the Forbidden Planet. It’s delightfully silly and well worth it if you’re ever lucky enough to be able to catch a live performance.
Classic horror fans are forever grateful to the 1950s, a decade that birthed one of the greatest of all film genres: the big-bug movie.
Multitudes of giant ants, spiders, grasshoppers, shrews and scorpions all treated moviegoers to oversized terrors. Toward the end of the decade, there was a tweak to this formula when the big bug came in the body of a man/bug in the great 1958 film The Fly.
While The Fly deservedly remains in high regard today,
there were other films that explored the idea of a human turned killer bug that
aren’t as well remembered. These were true B-movies with very low budgets, very
fast production schedules and a feminine touch.
Susan Cabot is The Wasp Woman.
In Roger Corman’s The Wasp Woman (1959), a businesswoman goes to extremes to save her beauty empire. In Universal’s The Leech Woman(1960), a depressed wife yearns for her youth to win back her cruel husband’s love. The Snake Woman (1961) was born because snake venom was injected into her pregnant mother. The poor lass who becameThe Reptile (1966) was the product of a curse, courtesy of Hammer films.
While the age-old search for the fountain of youth is a
theme in two of these films, it’s not the driving force in all four. It is, however,
the unmistakable theme of The Leech Woman, and it is somberly put into
words for viewers in a soliloquy spoken by a 152-year-old character during a secret
tribal ceremony:
“For a man, old age has rewards. If he is wise his gray
hairs bring dignity and he’s treated with honor and respect. But for the aged
woman, there is nothing. At best, she’s pitied. More often her lot is of
contempt and neglect. What woman lives who is past the prime of life that would
not give her remaining years to reclaim even a few moments of joy and happiness
and know the worship of men.”
June (Coleen Gray) listens as Malla (Estelle Hemsley) explains her tribe’s secret to regaining youthful beauty in The Leech Woman. Soon, both women will look much different.
That’s heavy for viewers who sat down to watch a monster movie and there are a few other moments of unexpected depth in the script by David Duncan, who had a nice run writing the screenplays for such genre films as The Black Scorpion, Monster on the Campus, The Time Machine and Fantastic Voyage. I went into The Leech Woman expecting schlock – which I got – but I also left thinking about how society continues to put an unfair emphasis on youth and beauty even today.
The Leech Woman
Middle-aged June Talbot (played by Coleen Gray) is in a loveless marriage to her cruel husband Dr. Paul Talbot (Phillip Terry). He’s 10 years younger and takes delight in ripping her apart. The more he does, the more she drinks and falls into depression.
While he’s disgusted by his wife (he’s a super mean guy),
he’s also researching ways to stop the aging process for his own fame and
fortune. He seeks old women for his experiments and finds the perfect one in
Malla (played by Estelle Helmsley) who arrives looking like a “mummy” and tells
fantastic stories of a potion and secret ceremony that can slow death and –
with ingredients found only in her homeland – reverse aging.
She convinces Dr. Talbot to fund her trip to her Nando tribe in Africa where she’ll share the potion that can return her youth for one night before she dies. The doctor sees dollar signs and convinces his wife that he suddenly loves her again. Poor June is overjoyed, but her lying husband only wants to experiment on her. Joining them in Africa is a handsome jungle guide who comes in handy later.
June (Coleen Gray), left, tells the newly youthful Malla (Kim Hamilton) the name of man she has chosen to be sacrificed so she can regain her youth. Hint: That’s June’s cruel husband Paul (Phillip Terry) standing between the two women in The Leech Woman.
Now we know what happens to outsiders who watch a secret
ceremony – they will be killed to preserve the secret. But Malla isn’t
heartless as you can tell by that poignant speech she delivers and she offers
June the chance to undergo the same process and experience her youthful beauty
one more time.
In a wonderful twist, the magic elixir needs a man to be
sacrificed and Malla tells June to pick one guy – any guy. Yes, we’re all
thinking of the same guy to be sacrificed, aren’t we?
The transformations for Malla and June are breathtaking. It’s
joyful watching them as they see their younger faces in a mirror. Sadly, the
effect is only temporary and while Malla is at peace with that, June wants more
time.
That feeling grows after she spends a few romantic hours with the handsome jungle guide – enough time for the potion to wear off. The enticing lure of youth turns beautiful June into a murderous beast. Au revoir handsome jungle guide.
June (Coleen Gray) finds happiness where she can during her short bursts of youth in The Leech Woman. Will Grant Williams be her next victim?
June returns to the states posing as her beautiful young niece, leaving a trail of dead men along the way. When she falls for the handsome fiancé (Grant Williams, The Incredible Shrinking Man) of her husband’s nurse (Gloria Talbott, I Married A Monster From Outer Space), she has difficulty fending off her killer urges.
Because so much of the film built up to getting to Africa and back, the end comes much too fast and we don’t get enough of the monster (something these four films have in common). But there’s plenty of scary stuff in Africa, including some of my strange phobias like man-eating lions, killer crocodiles, suffocating quicksand and other gruesome ways to die.
In 1995, Corman would produce a very different – and much sexier – remake of The Leech Woman for his Roger Corman Presents TV series.
Let’s look at the other three films.
The poster image from The Wasp Woman.
The Wasp Woman
Janice Starlin (played by Susan Cabot) is a successful businesswoman whose company bears her name and likeness. For 16 years, her face has been the sole image of her beauty empire, Janice Starlin Enterprises, propelling it into a multimillion-dollar corporation.
She is smart, savvy and attractive. She’s also soft-spoken
yet firm when it comes to her company as we see in a board meeting called to
learn why her namesake business has lost 14 ½ percent in the last quarter. Only
one will tell her truth: profits have plummeted since she retreated into the
background, switching to an unfamiliar model in the company’s advertisements.
Loyal customers don’t know or trust this new, younger person.
Why did the formerly confident Starlin back away from the public? “Not even Janice Starlin can remain a glamour girl forever,” she says.
But she still needs to save her company and will do so at any
cost, even if it means becoming the title monster in Roger Corman’s The Wasp
Woman.
With impeccable timing, Dr. Eric
Zinthrop (Michael Mark), a chemist fired from a bee farm for experimenting on
wasps, is waiting in the reception room.
“I don’t have much time,” she tells him.
“It is I who give you the time … 10, maybe 15 years I give
you,” he tells her in a halting accent.
Susan Cabot plays a businesswoman will stop at nothing to save her company – including injecting herself with an extract from a queen wasp’s royal jelly in The Wasp Woman.
His anti-aging experiments have had limited success with enzymes from the royal jelly
of a queen wasp. When he injects two rabbits who turn into babies, Janice
practically yells “Sold!”
The doctor’s proposal: Help him complete his research and
the component can be added to Janice Starlin cosmetics if he gets full credit.
Her demand: She will be the guinea pig for the human trials
so she can save her company – and herself.
There will be secrecy over what he’s doing, her employees
will start skulking about for answers and Janice will be so impatient that she injects
herself without the doctor’s knowledge. She’ll get great results – her
secretary tells her she looks 22 – but the side effects are disastrous, even
tragic. As they get worse, the doctor can’t help because he’s conveniently been
hit by a car and has lost his memory.
From there, we remember the words from earlier in the film
when the company chemist tells Janice not to mess around with the dangerous queen
wasp, a lethal and carnivorous insect that stings, paralyzes and slowly devours
its victims. Janice does the typical queen wasp one better: She may have the
oversized head and furry claws of an insect, but otherwise sports a killer
fashion vibe with her high heels and stylish outfit.
The Snake Woman
This film suffers the most from a low budget. At times, it does pull you in with talk of a curse, terrified villagers, mysterious deaths and a voodoo doll but it’s too dark to see much. (This is an early film from Sidney J. Furie who directed a varied slate of films including The Ipcress File, The Entity, The Boys in Company C.)
It’s 1890 Northumberland and a doctor has been injecting his wife for years with snake venom to cure her insanity. About to give birth, she’s screaming for him to stop the injections, but he won’t listen. (Another doctor with delusions of grandeur.)
The wife dies after the baby is born ice cold and without
eyelids – just like a reptile. The midwife/local witch is shouting about the
“devil’s offspring” and rallies a torch-wielding mob to kill the baby. The
little one is temporarily hidden, but the mob kills dad and the child
disappears. Fast forward 20 years when the village is terrorized by deadly
snake attacks blamed on the curse of the serpent child.
A chance encounter on the moors introduces a Scotland Yard inspector (John McCarthy) to a mysterious young woman (Susan Travers) who likes snakes in The Snake Woman.
A respected villager contacts his friend at Scotland Yard who
sends a smug young investigator (John McCarthy) to find a scientific reason for
the attacks. On the moors while playing a snake charmer’s flute, he meets a lovely
young lady (Susan Travers) in a tattered dress named Atheris (the name for bush
vipers). He’s smitten, she’s oddly protective of lethal snakes. This relationship
clearly has no future.
Unlike the other films here, we are never treated to the image of a “snake woman.” There are snakes, there is a woman but there isn’t the snake woman of the title. However, there is a moment where we see that a “snake” has shed its skin – what it leaves behind doesn’t look like any snake we’ve ever seen. That image alone is worth watching this brief 68-minute film.
The Reptile lobby card
The Reptile
It’s a curse, not vanity, that turns a pretty young woman
into the killer title character of Hammer’s The Reptile.
Hammer fans will relax into the studio’s familiar washed-out color, gloomy 19th century setting and a small town in the British countryside with mysterious deaths. The “Black Death” has come to Cornwall where bodies are found with black faces and white lips. It’s so commonplace that at a burial, someone asks, “Who is it this time?”
Harry Spalding (played by Ray Barrett) and his wife, Valerie
(Jennifer Daniel), arrive after the unexplained death of his otherwise healthy
brother. Townsfolk aren’t happy and even the friendly barkeep Tom (Michael
Rippers) warns them off about moving into a quaint cottage owned by Charles.
(“He died there,” the barkeep says.)
The title character in The Reptile tries to take a bite out of a visitor.
The cottage is across the moors from a large estate owned by
Dr. Franklyn (Noel Willman) where strange happenings are occurring.
The Reptile moves at a leisurely pace, stringing us along with mysterious characters and lurking figures. (Love the atmospheric shots of a servant who is shown in shadow except for a light around his eyes!). It will be a while before we meet the stern doctor’s sad daughter, Anna (Jacqueline Pierce), and even longer before we see the title creature for far too little time. There is an underground cavern with bubbling sulfur springs, but even that is too little, too late.
One lesson I learned from watching these four films is that if you make a movie about women who become killer bugs, go for it. Make them strong and powerful and give us more – even if the she-bug is in high heels and jewelry.
If you want to learn more about big-bug movies of the 1950s, read my previous column for Classic Movie Hub and Monsters & Matinees, “All Bug-Eyed Over Big-Bug Movies.
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
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.
We’ve invested in a new wall calendar around these parts,
and you know what that means – time for a look at some great films noirs that
are celebrating their 75th anniversary this year! I know that 1947 gets a lot
of love when it comes to noir, but I’m here to tell you that 1948 is no slouch
in the shadowy classics department.
This month’s Noir Nook takes a look at four of my favorite noirs
released 75 years ago. Let me know what you think of them!
Claire Trevor, Marsha Hunt and Dennis O’Keefe in Raw Deal (1948)
Dennis O’Keefe stars as Joe Sullivan, a convict who has been cooling his heels in the hoosegow for five years for a crime that was committed by his underworld boss, Rick Coyle (Raymond Burr, in a decidedly un-Perry Mason-like role). During his prison stint, Joe is visited by his caseworker, Ann Martin (Marsha Hunt); despite her sage advice to await his parole, Joe breaks out of prison with the help of his loyal girlfriend, Pat Regan (Claire Trevor). Joe’s plans to collect a $50,000 payoff from Rick and flee the country are waylaid when he abducts Ann from her home and an underling of Rick’s tries to kill him. And things are complicated even further by the growing feelings between Joe and Ann.
Favorite quote: “Chiseling little doll face. What is she to you that I’m not? She’s got her hooks into you good. She’s wormed her way into you so that you don’t know what you’re saying, where you’re going.”
Robert Newton in Kiss the Blood Off My Hands (1948)
Set in London, this feature centers on Bill Saunders (Burt Lancaster), a luckless former prisoner of war who accidentally kills a bartender with a single punch. Fleeing from the authorities, he hides out in the apartment of Jane Wharton (Joan Fontaine), and a relationship develops between the two, fostered by their mutual loneliness and alienation. Jane exerts a positive influence on Bill, but the upward spiral of his life is stymied with the entrance of Harry Carter (Robert Newton), who witnessed the killing in the pub and is looking to convert his knowledge into a hefty payday.
This film, based on a radio play, tells the tension-filled story of Leona Stevenson (Barbara Stanwyck), a self-absorbed heiress whose heart condition keeps her confined to her bed, where she communicates with the world via telephone. When, one evening, she overhears two men plotting a murder, she desperately endeavors to intervene, but through a series of phone calls, she not only learns that her husband, Henry (Burt Lancaster), is involved in the scheme, but that she is the intended victim.
Favorite quote: “You can’t live on dreams forever. Waiting only weakens you and your dream. My motto is: ‘If you want something, get it now!’”
Dick Powell stars as Johnny Forbes, an insurance agent and family man who is bored with his mundane existence and gets more than he bargained for when he’s tasked with retrieving stolen merchandise from an attractive model, Mona Stevens (Lizabeth Scott). When he allows himself to engage in a brief affair with Mona, he discovers that he’s part of a deadly quadrangle that includes Mona’s imprisoned boyfriend (Byron Barr) and a psychotic insurance investigator (Raymond Burr), who wants Mona all to himself.
Trivia tidbit:Pitfall was based on a novel by Jay Dratler, who wrote or contributed to the screenplays for numerous noirs, including Laura (1944), The Dark Corner (1946), Call Northside 777 (1948), and Impact (1949).
What are some of your favorite films from 75 years ago?
…
– 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 the Western RoundUp column will pay a
return visit to Lone Pine, California, to look at some interesting Western
movie locations.
The present-day photos seen in this column were
mostly taken when I was in town last fall for the 32nd Lone Pine Film Festival.
My husband and I visited numerous movie locations that week, both on our own
and as part of festival tour groups.
The Alabama Hills National Scenic Area sign at Lone Pine
This year we took a tour of a new-to-us area
along the Owens River, where The Round-Up filmed a number of
scenes. What’s amazing is that some of the same wooden fences seen in the movie
are still standing, over a century later.
Here’s a screen shot of actress Mabel Scott
provided by our guide, Greg Parker:
Mabel Scott in The Round-Up (1920)
And here’s the exact same fence today:
The fence as it stands today
A cabin seen in the film was right here:
Location of where the cabin once stood
Here’s the cabin as it looked in the movie,
again thanks to Greg’s screen shot booklet:
Here’s how it looked in a shot from The
Man From Utah:
Owens River Bridge featured in The Man from Utah (1934)
The Round-Up also stars Wallace Beery and features Buster Keaton in a small role as an Indian, Sagebrush Charlie. Last year Kit Parker Films released The Round-Up on Blu-ray, with the print from the Library of Congress 35mm archival master.
John Wayne often worked in Lone Pine while making “B” Westerns in the ’30s. The New Frontier (1935) was one such film:
John Wayne in The New Frontier (1935)
The above scene was filmed on a dry lake bed very close to the other locations seen above. Additional movies which filmed scenes on the lake bed include Army Girl (1938), Three Faces West (1940), and the Hopalong Cassidy film Secret of the Wastelands (1941).
Here’s how the lake bed looks today:
The lake bed location today
Here’s another screen shot, this time seen as William “Hopalong Cassidy” Boyd rode through the area in Secret of the Wastelands:
Hopalong Cassidy in Secret of the Wastelands (1941)
And as it looked facing that direction last
fall:
The lake bed today
Speaking of Hopalong Cassidy, one of the famous rocks in the Alabama Hills is “Hoppy Rock,” which takes its name from the Hopalong Cassidy film Silent Conflict (1948). Here it is as seen in the movie:
Hopalong Cassidy in Silent Conflict (1948)
And Hoppy Rock photographed from that side
today, accompanied by a shot from another angle:
Hoppy Rock
Hoppy Rock
Some of the other “named” rocks in the Alabama Hills include Gary Cooper Rock and Gene Autry Rock.
I wrote about one of the locations for the Randolph Scott-Budd Boetticher film The Tall T (1957) here in 2021. This time around we’ll look at Anchor Ranch in Lone Pine, where some of the movie’s opening scenes were filmed.
Sign for Anchor Ranch
Early in the film Scott’s character visits a
friend’s ranch. Here’s a shot with a barn in the background:
Randolph Scott in The Tall T (1957)
Here’s the barn again, still standing today:
The barn still stands today
Scott’s character, Pat Brennan, leans on an iron
fence at one point:
Scott leaning on an iron fence in The Tall T (1957)
Amazingly the fence pole still exists today as
well, albeit now on the ground; my husband (at left) and some other members of
the tour picked it up for a photo:
Remnants of the fence today
An incredible number of Westerns were filmed in
the areas around Lone Pine; look for more location shots here in the future!
For additional Western RoundUp columns on Lone Pine film locations, please visit my past articles from 2021 and 2018. There are even more Lone Pine locations pictured in my articles on the films Hop-a-Long Cassidy (1935) and The Violent Men (1955).
The photographs of the Alabama Hills and most of the screen shots accompanying this article are from the author’s personal collection.
…
– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub
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.
Silents are Golden: Silent Directors – The Adventurous Nell Shipman
Nell Shipman
It’s fascinating how many silent era directors
were more than willing to risk life and limb in pursuit of authentic filming
locations. Nell Shipman is a prominent example. Known mainly to silent film
buffs today, she was an actress, producer and director who made
adventure-themed films in her native Canada, at times in the most frigid and
remote locations.
Shipman on location.
Shipman was born Helen Barham in 1892, to a
middle-class family in Victoria, British Columbia. After spending her childhood
in Canada her family decided to move to Seattle. In 1905, at only thirteen
years old, she decided to become an actress and joined Paul Gilmore’s traveling
stage company. During the next few years she grew accustomed to staying in
cheap boarding houses and carefully tracking her pennies as the company toured
the U.S.
a young Nell Shipman
While Shipman largely took the difficulties of
stock company work in stride, one traumatic experience would have a large
impact on her. In her autobiography The
Silent Screen & My Talking Heart she described how she was followed
back to her room one night and threatened with a knife. She never detailed
precisely what followed, but in later years she thought her near-obsessive love
of animals became a way of coping with that horrible event.
When she was 18 she married Ernest Shipman,
the manager of a stage company in New York. In a couple years they would have a
son, Barry, and would move to Hollywood to try their luck in the
rapidly-growing film industry. Nell began working as a screenwriter while
Ernest became a publicity man. Her acting debut was in the short The Ball of Yarn (1913), and after a
couple more years of screenwriting she produced, directed and acted in God’s Country and the Woman (1915) for
Vitagraph. This was the first of her films to revolve around capable women and
wilderness settings, and she would often be referred to as “The Girl From God’s
Country.”
With one of her beloved bears.
Having snowy adventure-themed films in mind and wanting them set in her native Canada, Nell would partner with James Oliver Curwood to create the Shipman-Curwood Producing Company. Curwood was a prominent author famed for his novels set in the wilds of Alaska and the Yukon, and Nell wanted to adapt his story “Wapi the Walrus” for the big screen. Ernest created Canadian Photoplays Ltd. and found investors for the project, and soon Nell’s studio trekked to Alberta, Canada to film what would become Back to God’s Country (1919).
Their location was a tiny settlement by Lesser
Slave Lake, 150 miles north of Edmonton, composed mainly of fishermen’s cabins
with dirt floors and a dining hall. The winter temps would drop to as low as a
bone-chilling 50 below zero, and they had to keep their cameras outdoors so
temperature changes wouldn’t cause static. The cold made the two-week shoot not
only a grueling experience, but a dangerous one. Director Bert Van Tuyle
suffered a bad case of frostbite on his right foot, and actor Ronald Byran
developed what turned out to be a fatal case of pneumonia.
Shipman and the Trail of the North Wind (1923) crew, including her son Barry.
The completed Back to God’s Country did become a box office hit–in Canada it was
the highest-grossing silent film of the entire era. It followed the story of
Dolores, an attractive young woman living with her father in the Canadian
wilderness. She marries Peter, a visitor from the city. Tragedy strikes when an
outlaw sets his eye on her and ends up killing her father. When Peter is
transferred to a remote northern location, the couple intends to journey there
by ship. To Dolores’s horror, the captain is none other than the murderous
outlaw. Peter gets injured, the ship gets trapped in ice, and Dolores must make
a daring journey by dogsled to find the nearest doctor. A heroic dog named Wapi
also helps to save the day. The film was not only exciting, but there was also
a (tasteful) nude scene where Dolores is shown frolicking in a river–which was
exploited by Ernest quite blatantly.
Back to God’s Country (1919)
The success of Back to God’s Country enabled Nell to keep making other adventurous
films, such as Trail of the Arrow (1920)
and the aptly-named The Girl from God’s
Country (1921). By this time she had split from her husband Ernest, thanks
to her long-time affair with Bert Van Tuyle. In 1922 she decided to move her
company to Priest Lake in northern Idaho, a rustic location that wasn’t too far
from Spokane. By this time she also had an impressive zoo of around 200
animals, including wolves, bears, cougars, porcupines, dogs, elk, and eagles,
which were frequently featured in her films. To the amusement of the locals,
her menagerie was also carted over to Priest Lake on a series of barges.
Another of Nell’s bears
It was during their first winter in Idaho that
a frightening event took place that seemed to come straight from one of Nell’s
films. Van Tuyle’s foot, which was still bothering him, developed gangrene and
the pain and fever made him go quite literally insane. Nell found him outside
hitching up the dog sled and then followed him as he impulsively drove across
the frozen lake, refusing to stop. For hours she pursued him by snowshoe, and
then with the dogsled when he abandoned it and kept feverishly trudging along,
dragging his infected foot. When he finally collapsed they were found by two
loggers, and with their help Nell managed to reach the nearest village. Van
Tuyle was taken to a hospital and had three toes amputated.
Sadly, Nell’s filmmaking days would be
numbered. An angry confrontation at a New Year’s Eve party ended her
relationship with Van Tuyle, and her films were having increasingly high production
costs. There were also rumors in the Priest Lake community that her animals
were beginning to starve–whether from lack of funds, neglect, or the harsh
winters seems unclear. She would declare bankruptcy in 1925 and her beloved
animals would be taken away–some ended up at the San Diego zoo.
Shipman has been credited as a writer, actress, director and producer
Nell and her son Barry would move to New York City, where Nell would marry painter Charles Ayres. They had two children, Charles and Daphne, but got divorced in 1934. Nell would keep busy with various writing projects, including her thoughtful autobiography, but never quite achieved a hoped-for comeback as an actress and director. She passed away in 1970, at the age of 77.
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.
Darla Jean Hood was born on November 8, 1931, in Leedey,
Oklahoma. She was born to James and Elizabeth Hood. James worked as a bank
teller, while Elizabeth was a housewife. Elizabeth was instrumental in
introducing Hood to song and dance, regularly taking her to music lessons in
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. By her third birthday, Hood was scouted by Hal Roach
Studios casting director Joe Rivkin. After a successful screen test, she and
her family traveled to Culver City, California, so that she could appear in the
Our Gang shorts.
Initially, she appeared in Our Gang as a character named Cookie. For all her other Our Gang appearances, she carried out the role of Darla. Her character was well-known for being the love interest of Alfalfa, as well as other characters on occasion. Among many screen appearances, she could be seen in Our Gang Follies of 1936(1935) and The Bohemian Girl (1936) with Laurel and Hardy. Her final Our Gang appearance was in Wedding Worries (1941).
a young Darla
As she grew, she pursued more mature roles while attending
Fairfax High School. Continuing to exhibit her vocal abilities, she organized a
vocal group at Fairfax called the Enchanters, which featured her vocals and the
back-up vocals provided by four male students. Upon graduation, the group was
booked to partake in a variety show, remaining with Ken Murray’s Blackouts
variety show throughout its run in New York City and Hollywood.
Hood married singer and insurance salesman Robert W. Decker
in 1949. They divorced in 1957.
Later, Hood appeared solo in nightclubs and as a guest on television shows. She worked with ventriloquist Edgar Bergen as a leading actress in his sketches and performed regularly on The Merv Griffin Show. She also recorded several singles for Ray Note and Acama labels. Rivkin, who discovered her, saw the cover to one of her albums and eventually cast her in what would be her final film role and first adult role in a film—portraying a secretary in The Bat (1959) with Vincent Price.
Darla Hood as Judy Hollander in The Bat (1959)
Hood continued to appear as a guest on many television
shows, including You Bet Your Life, The Jack Benny Show, and The
Little Rascals Christmas Special. She sang and offered voiceovers on
commercials for Campbell’s Soup and Chicken of the Sea tuna. Additionally, she
carried out a nightclub act at the Coconut Grove in Los Angeles, California;
Copacabana in New York, New York; as well as the Sahara Hotel and Casino in Las
Vegas, Nevada.
Hood married for the second time to record company executive
Jose Granson in 1957, with whom she had three children and remained married
until her passing.
Hood was working on organizing a 1989 Little Rascals reunion
when she needed to undergo an appendectomy at Canoga Park Hospital. She passed
away from heart failure on June 13, 1979. She was 47 years old. Hood is
interred at Hollywood Forever Cemetery in Hollywood, California.
There are some locations of relevance to Hood that remain
today. In 1940, Hood and her parents lived at 911 N. Alfred St., Los Angeles,
California. This location no longer stands.
In 1956, she lived at 13802 Runnymede St., Van Nuys,
California. The home still stands today.
Darla’s 1956 residence at 13802 Runnymede St., Van Nuys, California
Hollywood Forever Cemetery is located at 6000 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles, 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.
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