Father’s Day Films to Watch With Dad, Cult Heroes, and More!
With
so much happening in June – school’s out, summer begins, and Father’s Day
arrives on June 19 – our friends at Best Classics Ever are gearing up to
deliver an action-packed month that the entire family can enjoy.
Up
first, a quintet of family flicks to enjoy with dad. This year’s Father’s Day
collection features classics starring Spencer Tracy and Elizabeth Taylor (Father’s
Little Dividend), Charlie Chaplin (The Kid), and Roy
Rogers (Song of Nevada), plus beloved classics Life With
Father and There Goes the Bride.
That’s
not all. Best Classics Ever is also bringing back its Get Dad Some Action collection,
starring John Wayne (Angel and
the Badman), Joe Namath (C.C. and Company), Cliff Robertson (Shaker Run), Jim Kelly (The Tattoo Connection),
and Robert Forster (Stunts).
PLUS, you can celebrate Movie Night
for Dads all month long on Best TV Ever
on PLEX, with Father’s Little Dividend, Life With
Father, C.C. and Company, The Squeeze, and Angel and the
Badman streaming FREE all month long.
Also debuting in June, the latest Best Classics Ever
Cult Heroes collection. This
one puts the spotlight on Spaghetti Western and action movie star Lee Van Cleef, whose career spanned
four decades in Hollywood, from the early 1950s to the late 1980s. Best
Classics Ever celebrates Lee Van Cleef’s career with his own collection,
featuring Death Rides a Horse, The Squeeze, Commandos, The Grand Duel, God’s Gun, Kansas City Confidential,
and The Big Combo.
…..
Streaming FREE on the
Classic Movie Hub Channel
There are plenty of classic birthdays to celebrate
in June, and you’re invited to join the party on the Classic Movie Hub channel
on Best Classics Ever. We’ll be honoring the careers and legacies of Rosiland
Russell and Ralph Bellamy (His Girl Friday),
Jane Russell (The Outlaw),
Errol Flynn (Santa Fe Trail),
Basil Rathbone (The Woman In Green),
and Gail Patrick (My Man Godfrey).
Classic Movie Hub also brings you the Fond Memories collection in
June, featuring Life With Father, Father’s Little Dividend, My Favorite Brunette, Royal Wedding, and Abbott and
Costello’s Jack and the Beanstalk.
…..
Here’s everything that’s happening at Best Classics
Ever in June 2022:
Father’s Day Collection
Father’s Little Dividend (1951)
The Kid (1921)
Life With Father (1947)
Song of Nevada (1944)
There Goes the Bride (1980)
Get Dad Some Action
C.C. and Company (1970)
Stunts (1977)
The Tattoo Connection (1978)
Angel and the Badman (1947)
Shaker Run (1985)
Cult Heroes: Lee Van Cleef
Death Rides a Horse (1967)
The Squeeze (1978)
Commandos (1968)
The Grand Duel (1972)
God’s Gun (1977)
Kansas City Confidential (1952)
The Big Combo (1955)
Classic Movie Hub Presents…
June Birthdays
His Girl Friday (1940)
The Outlaw (1943)
Santa Fe Trail (1940)
The Woman In Green (1945)
My Man Godfrey (1936)
Classic Movie Hub Presents…
Fond Memories
Life With Father (1947)
Father’s Little Dividend (1951)
My Favorite Brunette (1947)
Royal Wedding (1951)
Jack and the Beanstalk (1952)
About Best Classics Ever
Obsessed with classic cinema? So are we! At Best Classics Ever, you can stream an epic library of beloved films and television shows, including rare gems waiting to be rediscovered, from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Even better, Best Classics Ever is a community for film fans to learn more about their favorite movies and stars. Watch exclusive interviews and insight from today’s top cinema historians, hosts, and writers FREE without a subscription at our Hollywood Canteen. Best Classics Ever is available for mobile and desktop and on Roku, Amazon Fire TV, iOS, and Android devices.
Hoagy Carmichael was a beloved
American composer, songwriter, actor, and lawyer. In addition to appearing in
films and on television, he composed numerous hit songs, including “Stardust,”
“Georgia on My Mind,” “The Nearness of You,” “Heart and Soul,” “Skylark,” “Ole
Buttermilk Sky,” “In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening,” and many more.
Hoagland Howard “Hoagy” Carmichael was born in Bloomington,
Indiana, on November 22, 1899, to Howard and Lida Carmichael. He was named
after a circus troupe dubbed “The Hoaglands,” as the group boarded at the
Carmichael home during Lida’s pregnancy. Howard worked as a horse-drawn taxi
driver and electrician, while Lida was a piano accompanist at movie theaters
during the Silent Era and performed at private parties. Howard and Lida also
had two daughters named Georgia and Joanne.
As Howard pursued various job opportunities, the family
moved on many occasions. Carmichael spent his early years in Bloomington;
Indianapolis, Indiana; and Missoula, Montana. During these years, Carmichael’s
mother taught him to play the piano. Though the family lived in Indianapolis in
1916, Carmichael returned to Bloomington three years later to finish high
school. He also assisted his family by working jobs in construction, at bike
shops, and in a slaughterhouse. During these difficult years, Carmichael found
solace in enjoying ragtime music, performing duets with his mother, and a
friendship with bandleader Reginald DuValle. His professional career in music
began in 1918 when he was paid $5 to play piano at a fraternity dance.
Tragically, Carmichael’s three-year-old sister passed away
from influenza in the same year. Carmichael reflected upon her as a “victim of
poverty,” stating that his family could not afford a doctor. As a result,
Carmichael vowed to never be broke again.
Carmichael progressed as a musician, soon meeting and becoming close friends with cornetist Leon “Bix” Beiderbecke. Beiderbecke later introduced Carmichael to Louis Armstrong in Chicago, Illinois, eventually leading to collaboration. Carmichael’s first recorded song was first called “Free Wheeling” and written for Beiderbecke, but was recorded as “Riverboat Shuffle” in 1924 at Gennett Records in Richmond, Indiana. His recording of “Washboard Blues” from 1925 would mark the earliest recording in which Carmichael is featured playing his own songs, as well as an improvised piano solo.
Carmichael continued his educational career at Indiana
University in Bloomington, graduating with a Bachelor’s degree in 1925 and a
law degree one year later. He was active in the Kappa Sigma fraternity and
toured with his band, “Carmichael’s Collegians,” throughout Indiana and Ohio. Following
his graduation, Carmichael relocated to Florida and worked as a legal clerk at
a legal firm in West Palm Beach, Florida. He returned to Indiana in 1927 after
failing to pass the Florida bar exam. Instead, he joined the Bingham,
Mendenhall, and Bingham law firm in Indianapolis, passing the Indiana bar exam,
but ultimately focused more on his music. No longer interested in law, he moved
to New York City. There, he worked for a brokerage firm during the weekdays and
spent his evenings composing.
In 1927, Carmichael recorded “Stardust,” which would become
one of his most famous pieces. He recorded it at Gennett Records, while singing
and playing the piano. When Isham Jones and his orchestra recorded the song in
a slower, more sentimental style in 1930, it became a major hit and would be
recorded by many notable artists.
Throughout his career, Carmichael composed hundreds of
songs, fifty of which became major hits. Early on, he played in an
improvisational hot jazz style, ideal for the latest dances. Once he moved to
New York City in 1929, he crafted songs that stood alone, though still had a
jazz influence. His later years in California led him to compose instrumental
pieces, several of them written specifically for films.
As fate would have it, Carmichael met Duke Ellington’s
agent, Irving Mills, who was also a sheet music publisher. Mills and Carmichael
coordinated recording dates and Carmichael’s “Rockin’ Chair” was recorded by
Armstrong and Mildred Bailey. As the stock market crashed and Carmichael’s
savings declined, the success of “Rockin’ Chair” helped support Carmichael
through this period and became a jazz standard. He would go on to record
“Georgia on My Mind” and “Up a Lazy River” before joining the American Society
of Composers, Authors, and Publishers (ASCAP) in 1931.
Carmichael later worked for the Southern Music Company as
big band and swing music grew in popularity. During this period, he befriended
lyricist Johnny Mercer, with whom he would collaborate on songs such as
“Lazybones,” “Thanksgiving,” “Moon Country,” “Skylark,” and the Academy
Award-winning “In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening.”
Carmichael left the Southern Music Company to compose songs for Warner Brothers, beginning his connection to the film industry. His first song written for a film was “Moonburn,” performed by Bing Crosby in Anything Goes(1936).
In 1936, Carmichael married Ruth Mary Meinardi and the couple relocated to California. They would have two children—Hoagy Bix and Randy Bob—before divorcing in 1955. Carmichael signed a contract with Paramount Pictures as a songwriter but also worked as a character actor. His screen debut was in Topper(1937), starring Cary Grant and Constance Bennett, in which Carmichael played a pianist and performed “Old Man Moon.” This opened the door to other screen roles in which Carmichael tended to appear as a pianist and would play his own music. Carmichael appeared in 14 films, including To Have and Have Not (1944), The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and Canyon Passage (1946).
Outside of his studio obligations, Carmichael continued to
write prolifically. He wrote “Chimes of Indiana” and presented it to Indiana
University in 1937. Additionally, he collaborated with Frank Loesser to create
“Heart and Soul,” “Two Sleepy People,” and “Small Fry.”
As Carmichael’s family grew, he, Ruth, and the children
moved to the former William P. Wrigley, Jr. (of Wrigley chewing gum) home in
Los Angeles, California. The U.S. soon entered World War II and Carmichael
wrote many wartime songs, including “My Christmas Song for You,” “Cranky Old
Yank,” “Don’t Forget to Say ‘No,’ Baby,” and more.
Carmichael again paid homage to his Bloomington hometown by
composing Brown County in Autumn in
1948. The orchestral work was, unfortunately, not praised by critics.
In the 1940s, Carmichael also worked as a radio personality,
hosting variety programs such as Tonight
at Hoagy’s. Though his career slowed in the 1950s, he continued to perform
and transitioned to television, hosting Saturday
Night Review. After writing another orchestral piece—The Johnny Appleseed Suite—which was also unsuccessful, Carmichael
wrote over a dozen songs for children, such as “The Whale Song” and “Rocket
Ship.”
In his later years, Carmichael published memoirs and was
receiving over $300,000 per year in royalties. He enjoyed golf, painting, and
coin-collecting during his retirement, splitting his time between residences in
Los Angeles and Rancho Mirage, California. He made occasional television
appearances, including being the first celebrity to provide a voice on The Flintstones. He appeared as himself,
working for the fictitious Rockwell Music Publishers and playing a Stoneway
piano, and debuted a song called “Yabba-Dabba Doo!” on the show. He also
participated in the PBS television show Hoagy
Carmichael’s Music Shop, which featured jazz-rock versions of his songs, as
well as the Fred Rogers PBS show Old
Friends, New Friends. Carmichael married again in 1977, to actress Dorothy
Wanda McKay.
Carmichael received many awards in his later years,
including an induction to the Songwriters Hall of Fame, an honorary doctorate
in music from Indiana University, and a birthday tribute at the Newport Jazz
Festival. His last public appearance was in 1981 as part of Country Comes Home with country
performer Crystal Gale.
Carmichael passed away on December 27, 1981, at the Eisenhower Medical Center in Rancho Mirage from a heart attack. He was 82 years old. He was buried in his family’s plot at Rose Hill Cemetery in Bloomington, Indiana. Rose Hill Cemetery is located at 1100 W. 4th St., Bloomington, Indiana.
To this day, Carmichael’s legacy is celebrated in several
locations and is particularly beloved in Bloomington, Indiana.
In 1900, Carmichael resided at 325 E. 10th St., Bloomington,
Indiana, which no longer stands. His residence at 214 N. Dunn St., Bloomington,
Indiana, still remains.
In 1910, he lived at 706 W. Pine St., Missoula, Montana, which no longer
stands.
By 1917, Carmichael was living at 130 Neal Ave., Indianapolis, Indiana,
which stands today.
In the 1920s, Carmichael resided at 536 S. Washington St.,
Bloomington, Indiana. Parts of “Stardust” were written in this home.
Though the home sustained fire damage in 2013, it has since been restored and
is habitable again, with tributes to Carmichael adorning the entrance.
“Stardust” was also partly composed at one of
Carmichael’s favorite haunts, the Book Nook. The location is now BuffaLouie’s
and is decorated with Carmichael memorabilia. BuffaLouie’s stands at 114 S.
Indiana Ave., Bloomington, Indiana, and a historic marker honoring Carmichael
stands in front of the building.
Carmichael attended Bloomington High School South, which has
since named its school auditorium Carmichael Hall. The school stands at 1965 S.
Walnut St., Bloomington, Indiana.
The Monroe County History Center also has a small display
honoring Carmichael. Visitors can listen to samples of his music while learning
more about him and other Indiana composers. The Monroe County History Center is
located at 202 E. 6th St., Bloomington, Indiana.
Additionally, there are many tributes to Carmichael on the
Indiana University Campus. My favorite tribute to him is the statue, located in
front of IU Cinema. IU Cinema stands at 1213 E. 7th St., Bloomington, Indiana.
In 1986, Carmichael’s family donated his archives, piano,
and memorabilia to his alma mater, Indiana University. The university
established the Hoagy Carmichael Collection in its Archives of Traditional
Music and the Hoagy Carmichael Room to permanently display selections from the
collection. The room is able to be viewed by private appointment. My favorite
pieces were Carmichael’s piano, desk, and Oscar. Aside from very special
occasions, the piano is played once a year to celebrate Hoagy’s birthday. The
Hoagy Carmichael Room is located in the Archives of Traditional Music, Morrison
Hall, Room 006, Bloomington, Indiana.
Within the Indiana Memorial Union, visitors might stumble
upon a painting of the “Constitution Elm.” This painting happens to
have been painted by Carmichael himself and is on display. The Indiana Memorial
Union is located at 900 E. 7th St., Bloomington., Indiana.
Near campus, visitors can stay at the Showers Inn, which has
a Composer House. The various suites here are named after songs written by
Indiana composers, with a few named after Carmichael’s work. I happened to stay
in the “Stardust” suite. The inn is located at 430 N. Washington St.,
Bloomington, Indiana.
Outside of Bloomington, Richmond, Indiana has the Gennett
Records Walk of Fame. Carmichael is honored with artwork and a plaque. There is
also a mural in town in his honor. The Gennett Records Walk of Fame is located
at 201 S. 1st St., Richmond, Indiana.
Gennett Records comes to life at the Indiana Historical
Society, with a living history exhibit that allows visitors the opportunity to
engage with docents who are in character as the Gennett Records team. The
basement of the museum also features the Stardust Cafe, named after
Carmichael’s hit composition. The Indiana Historical Society stands at 450 W.
Ohio St., Indianapolis, Indiana.
In 1936, Carmichael resided at 121 E. 52nd St., New York, New York, which
does not remain today. Likewise, Carmichael lived at 626 N. Foothill, Beverly
Hills, California, which has since been razed.
Carmichael’s Rancho Mirage home exists today, albeit renovated, at 40267
Club View Dr., Rancho Mirage, California. Some parts of the home remain as
Carmichael would have recognized them; the wood ceiling in most of the living
room is original, as is the 1950s KitchenAid stove, river rock fireplace, and
an etched glass piece in the wine room. Carmichael purchased the glass piece on
Sunset Boulevard in the 1960s from his daughter-in-law, Mur Doherty.
Carmichael has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, located
at 1720 Vine St., 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.
“Like you said, it’s just one role of the dice, doesn’t matter what color they are.”
Robert Wise is a fascinating case study. In a medium built on radical storytellers and auteurs, Wise is the epitome of a craftsman; a filmmaker without a discernible style. Were it not for the credits, one would never guess that The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956), and West Side Story (1961) were made by the same man.
Unfortunately, Wise’s invisible touch has come to signify a lack of talent rather than an abundance of it. His name has become synonymous with slick, impersonal Hollywood fodder, while names like Hitchcock, Welles, and Wilder have become pillars of idiosyncrasy and depth.
This is a tragic oversight. It’s also untrue. Wise was a chameleon, sure, but he used his chameleonic tendencies to forge one of the greatest careers of all time. He’s one of a handful of filmmakers who can claim a masterpiece in multiple genres, and given his dizzying success with musicals, he may in fact be the only filmmaker with a masterpiece in every genre. Don’t let the lack of thematic unity or signature shots fool you. Few could elevate a film like him.
Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) is a devastating example of Wise’s talents. It’s film noir of the bleakest order, punctuated by a series of aesthetic risks and experimental choices. Its harshness is impossible to overstate, and while Orson Welles gets the credit for ending noir the year before with Touch of Evil, Wise (Welles’ former editor) proved that there was still plenty of blood to squeeze from the proverbial pulp stone.
Odds Against Tomorrow tells the story of three men on the ropes. There’s Burke (Ed Begley), an ex-cop with criminal ambitions, Johnny (Harry Belafonte) a musician with a gambling problem, and Earle (Robert Ryan), a bigot with a bad temper. They all need money, and despite their mutual contempt, they agree to come together to rob an upstate bank.
The screenplay by Nelson Gidding and the blacklisted Abraham Polonsky, tackles racism head on. Earle is curt and irrational when it comes to his dealings with Johnny, and despite wielding a more even temper, the musician makes it clear that he’d love to see Earle choke on his words. In contrast to other race-themed releases of the period (Blackboard Jungle,The Defiant Ones), which suggested hard-won but achievable solutions, Odds Against Tomorrowopted for catharsis. If Sidney Poitier was the movie star embodiment of Martin Luther King’s rhetoric, then Belafonte, who produced Odds Against Tomorrow and handpicked Polonsky, came closer to embodying Malcolm X’s perspective.
That’s not to say the film is overtly political. Odds Against Tomorrow is a noir at heart, and as such, the bitterness of the characters stems from their personal shortcomings. All three men engage in forms of degeneracy (bribery, adultery, gambling), and their inability to learn from their mistakes dooms them to criminal lifestyles. Johnny is positioned as the most virtuous of the trio, but the closer we get, the more we come to realize his charisma masks an emotional-stuntedness. After he gets shaken down by collectors at work, he boozes up and ruins a tune by one of the other performers. It’s funny, sure, but it’s also wickedly childish in ways we hadn’t previously expected.
Wise directed Robert Ryan in The Set-Up a decade earlier, and he once again finagles one of the actor’s best performances. They take a character that should be outright contemptible and make him tragic through an alternating series of outbursts and embarrassments. A chance visit to a bar leads to Earle punching a cocky soldier, and the realization that he was in the wrong leads to a brief moment of regret. There’s also Earle’s disconnected romance with Lorry (Shelley Winters), a woman he adores until she leaves and the sexy neighbor (Gloria Grahame) comes over.
Wise depiction of New York furthers the disconnectedness. It’s a wintery hellscape, with black asphalt and a bone-inducing chill that can practically be felt through the screen. The director wanted the city to feel slightly off-kilter, so he opted to shoot exterior scenes on infrared film. The results can be gleamed in the opener, when Earle walks down a street with ominous black skies and unnaturally white clouds. There’s also a slight distortion, which barely registers visually but furthers the feeling that something is wrong.
The director takes an even more radical approach when it comes to the heist. While most films build up to a show stopping set piece or spend the bulk of the final act depicting the heist itself, Odds Against Tomorrow prefers to show the little moments beforehand. The viewer is forced to sit with a pensive Johnny or a subtly anxious Burke as they wait for the right time to strike. It’s as if they know they’re doomed, and are given time to accept the idea before going into battle. Not that any of them bother.
The heist itself is shockingly anticlimactic, botched before anyone gets away. Burke is shot down by the police, and the other two attempt to recover the money from Burke’s limp body. Johnny is convinced that Earle mucked things up and vice versa, and without Burke to play peacemaker, they turn on each other and take their fight to a fuel storage. Their desire to kill each other proves to be literally explosive, as a misdirected bullet causes the whole place to blow. In the end, Johnny and Earle’s bodies are so mangled that the police are unable to tell them apart. Irony of the cruelest sort.
Odds Against Tomorrow screened at the most recent Noir City festival, and watching the film with an audience affirmed the power it still has. Wise may be most closely associated with the Technicolor musicals of the 1960s, but his talent for film noir was unimpeachable, and Odds is perhaps his greatest ever showcase. It’s ninety-five minutes of lean, mean storytelling with visual panache and a star-studded, well-utilized cast.
TRIVIA: Despite their contentious relationship onscreen, Harry Belafonte and Robert Ryan got on famously during production and remained friends.
Danilo Castro is a film noir aficionado and Contributing Writer for Classic Movie Hub. You can read more of Danilo’s articles and reviews at the Film Noir Archive, or you can follow Danilo on Twitter @DaniloSCastro.
This time around I’ll discuss a film at the other end of the spectrum, Samuel Fuller‘s Forty Guns (1957), a polished and deeply satisfying Western with so many layers that I suspect I will still be noticing new things several viewings from now.
Forty Guns grabs the viewer’s attention from the amazing opening set piece, with Jessica Drummond (Barbara Stanwyck) leading a thundering group of riders on horseback. The horses race past a lonely wagon, leaving its occupants covered in dust.
In the wagon are former gunslinger Griff Bonell (Barry Sullivan), who’s now a lawman, and his younger brothers Wes (Gene Barry) and Chico (Robert Dix).
The Bonells are headed
to Tombstone, and the Earp mythology is made clear time and again, including an
unfortunate death late in the movie. Griff and Wes stand in for Wyatt and
Morgan Earp; the genial Wes serves as his brother’s “second gun,” but
both Griff and Wes want more for their kid brother. The two older men know the
days of gunmen imposing order in the West are drawing to a close, and they want
Chico to have a nice, safe profession, like farming.
The powerful Jessica,
meanwhile, engages in shady activities and might be said to be standing in for
Ike Clanton, along with her troubled younger brother Brockie (John Ericson) and
her “forty guns.” But an erotic attraction develops between Griff and
Jessica which surely never existed between Wyatt Earp and his nemesis.
When Brockie causes
trouble early on, Griff is nice enough to knock him out with a gun, rather than
kill him. Jessica realizes that her brother is trouble, and when Griff saves
Jessica’s life in a dust storm, a long discussion leads to understanding
between two tough people who have carved out varying types of success in a hard
country.
Problems, however, will continue to rear their head, not only from Brockie but from Sheriff Logan (Dean Jagger), who harbors a crush on Jessica and is none too happy that Griff seems to be moving in on his territory, both in town and with Jessica.
Though much of the story is focused around a “law and order” theme, the movie has some of the wildness and unpredictability of Nicholas Ray‘s Johnny Guitar (1954). There is so much that’s noteworthy about this film, including excellent performances of unusual characters; a string of memorable set pieces; and the stunning black and white widescreen cinematography of Joseph Biroc. And it all happens in just 80 fast-paced minutes.
Sullivan and Stanwyck had worked together previously on Jeopardy (1953) and The Maverick Queen (1956), and they have excellent chemistry. Some of the dialogue they exchange is mind-blowingly suggestive, though it would sail right over the head of a 10-year-old. The film’s unexpected moments occur right down to the final scene, when Griff confronts Brockie, who is holding Jessica hostage; Griff’s somewhat ungallant yet necessary solution is downright startling.
I especially like the unexpected women’s roles in this film; interestingly, they contrast with the movie’s theme song about a “high-ridin’ woman” who needs a strong man. In the end, Jessica does need a strong man — not to make her less, but because no one else could measure up! A set piece with Griff interrupting a dinner where Jessica presides as queen over a very long table of two seemingly endless rows of men is another memorable moment.
Sullivan is absolutely outstanding in a charismatic, layered performance as the confident gunman whose mere walk down a street strikes fear in the hearts of his opponents. But despite loving relationships with his brothers, the life of a successful gunman is a lonely one. Jessica clearly appeals to him, but her illicit activities and no-good brother? Not so much.
Along with Stanwyck’s Jessica, who rules Cochise County, there’s another wonderful female character in Louvenia Spanger (Eve Brent), the local gunsmith’s daughter.
Louvenia meets Wes
during a shootout, when she confidently and quickly selects a rifle and tosses
it to him to use. Wes and Louvenia continue to bond when her father (Gerald
Milton) makes Wes a custom rifle, sharing their love of guns amidst more
suggestive dialogue. My only disappointment with the film was how their story
concluded, but I’ll say no more.
One might say that the younger Dix as Chico is playing the “Tim Holt role” of the youngest Earp from My Darling Clementine (1946), but Samuel Fuller, who wrote the screenplay along with directing, wisely goes a different route with the character. The development of Chico’s character into a more mature, confident gunman in his own right is another somewhat unexpected twist in a film which often “zigs” when it could “zag.”
Western staple Hank Worden is also on hand as a hapless marshal losing his sight. The cast is rounded out by Jidge Carroll, Chuck Roberson, Chuck Hayward, Albert Cavens, Paul Dubov, and Neyle Morrow.
As a final note, it’s interesting that both Sullivan and Barry had overlapping TV Western careers not long after Forty Guns, with Sullivan starring as Sheriff Pat Garrett in The Tall Man (1960-62) and Barry as Bat Masterson (1958-61).
I highly recommed the
Criterion Collection DVD of Forty Guns, which has an excellent
33-minute look at the film by Imogen Sara Smith. Her commentary made me want to
watch the movie all over again!
Forty Guns is “must see” Western viewing.
…
– 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 Superstars – The Sparkling Marion Davies
One of the most well-known actresses of the 1920s screen, Marion Davies is one of the few silent stars whose personal life was not only inseperable from her career, but in more recent decades tended to overshadow it. But nowadays, as more and more of her films are being restored and made available, it’s become clear that Davies was first and foremost a sparkling talent, and certainly one of our most important pioneering comediennes.
The youngest of five children, most of whom
would appear onstage in one way or another, Marion Cecilia Douras was born on
January 3rd, 1897 in Brooklyn. Thanks to a stutter that would persist
throughout her life, she was in and out of public schools and eventually
educated at a convent in Hastings, New York. She and her sisters (her one
brother Charles drowned when she was a baby) were encouraged to take ballet and
tap-dancing lessons by their mother Rose, who believed careers on the stage
would put them in proximity with wealthy suitors. Her stage name was settled
early on when her whole family adopted the name “Davies” after seeing it on an
advertisement, believing it less “foreign-sounding” than “Douras.”
Although very bright, Davies was bored by
school and decided to drop out and pursue the more exciting life of a showgirl.
She became part of a chorus line in the 1914 musical Chin-Chin and soon made it to Broadway revues. Her stage work was
supplemented by modelling for illustrators like Howard Chandler Christy, known
for his World War I posters and picturesque “Christy Girls.” In 1916 the
nineteen-year-old Davies became part of the famed Ziegfeld Follies, where she mainly did dancing routines due to her
stutter.
The beautiful blonde with the winning smile
was soon attracting “stage door Johnnies,” but the most persistent turned out
to be William Randolph Hearst, the powerful newspaper tycoon. She recalled him
attending numerous Follies shows,
always sitting in the front row, and sending gifts of chocolates and trinkets.
Hearst, who was in his fifties, was already married and he and his wife
Millicent had five sons. Nevertheless, he continued to pursue Davies and she
soon became his official mistress.
Just prior to the relationship with Hearst,
Davies had written and starred in the modest film Runaway Romany (1917), directed by her brother-in-law. By now she
was making a name for herself as a performer and wanted to keep pursuing films.
In 1918 Hearst decided to helm her screen career, forming the Cosmopolitan
Production Company and giving her all the big budgets and rampant publicity she
could possibly need. While it seems certain that Davies would’ve been
successful in films on her own, having both talent and show business
connections, Hearst’s backing was definitely a huge bonus.
The first film under the new arrangement was Cecilia of the Pink Roses (1918), where Davies played a spunky Irish girl from a poor family. While it’s often assumed that Hearst insisted on putting Davies in costume pictures, most of her films were the kind of dramas and light comedies that were “in” at the time. Interestingly, The Belle of New York (1919) had Davies playing a young woman who joins the Follies, and The Cinema Murder(1919) focused on a love triangle between an actress, her young lover, and a Wall Street tycoon hoping to make her his mistress–both plots surprisingly close to home. All in all, she averaged two to four pictures per year and her star rose steadily.
By the early twenties Davies was playing more flapper-esque characters in films like the big hit Enchantment (1921). The following year Hearst would pour $1.5 million into When Knighthood Was In Flower (1922), making it the most expensive film made at the time. It was one of Davies’ genuine costume pictures, some of the others being Little Old New York (1923) and Janice Meredith(1924). But Davies was starting to prefer comedy, having a knack for timing and funny impersonations. Her turning point was probably Beverly of Graustark (1926), where she plays a student who impersonates her cousin Prince Oscar in order to protect the threatened throne of Graustark. She clearly has fun with the role, and it paved the way for her beloved comedies The Patsy (1928) and Show People(1928).
While not making pictures Davies spent much
time with Hearst and lived openly with him–Millicent wouldn’t consent to a
divorce. At the time Hearst owned multiple expensive residences, including a
14-room beach house in Santa Monica and even a Welsh castle. But these were
modest in comparison to his magnum opus, the Hearst Castle in San Simeon.
Designed by Julia Morgan under Hearst’s close supervision, it was an opulent
115-room mansion set amidst acres of gardens, pools and guest houses. For 30
years Hearst and Davies would be host to countless celebrities, from movie
stars to royalty, often dozens at a time.
Offscreen, despite her undeniable privileges Davies turned out to be a rarity: a warm, humble and extremely generous woman much-loved by her Hollywood peers. She contributed a great deal to charity and also established the Marion Davies Children’s Clinic. Throughout the ‘30s she devoted herself more and more to both Hearst and her charitable efforts, although happily she had discovered her stutter didn’t bother her while making talkies. Her last film would be Ever Since Eve(1937), released the year she turned forty.
Powerful as Hearst had been, his business
started declining in the ‘30s and Davies eventually started assisting him out
of her own pocket. In the ‘40s his health also declined and he and Davies left
San Simeon for Beverly Hills. She was at his side when he passed away in 1951,
although for his family’s sake she tactfully didn’t go to the funeral.
While she eventually married a man named
Horace Brown it wasn’t a happy union and they soon separated. Davies continued to
focus on charity work, especially on funding the prevention of childhood
diseases. Her long history with alcoholism contributed to her declining health
in the late ‘50s and in 1961 she passed away from jaw cancer. Numerous stars
attended her funeral and she was laid to rest in the famed Hollywood Forever
Cemetery.
For a long time Marion Davies has been strongly associated with Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane(1941), where she was assumed to be the inspiration for the untalented singer Susan Alexander. This cast a shadow on her legacy which Welles himself tried to counter, stating “she was the precious treasure of [Hearst’s] heart for more than 30 years.” Happily, that shadow has been lifting ever since Davies’ films have been made available. Steadily, and not too slowly, she’s regaining her rightful stature as a bright star and an influential comedienne of the 1920s.
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.
So, how many versions of this movie are there, really? Well, most classic film fans would say a definite ‘four,’ end of story — which would be the 1937 film starring Janet Gaynor and Fredric March, the 1954 version starring Judy Garland and James Mason, the 1976 re-make starring Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson, and the latest version starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper in 2018. But, did you know that 1932’s What Price Hollywood? had a very similar storyline, aka the rise of an up-and-coming star and the fall of her alcoholic mentor, and that the plots were so similar that RKO almost filed a plagiarism lawsuit?
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2) Whose on first?
Janet Gaynor and Fredric March were each nominated for an Academy Awards for this film (Best Actress and Best Actor) but did not win. However, did you know that Janet Gaynor won the first-ever Academy Award for Best Actress (in 1929, for her performances in 7th Heaven, Street Angel and Sunrise), and Fredric March was the first actor to ever win an Academy Award for a horror film (in 1931, for his performance in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde)?
And, although it didn’t win, this 1937 version of the film was the first all-color film to be nominated for Best Picture.
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3) Something borrowed
The Oscar that Janet Gaynor’s character receives in the film is her own Best Actress Oscar, which, as noted above, she won in 1929.
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4) And the Grand Total is…
All told, the four versions of A Star is Born earned 25 Academy Award nominations, with three wins (1937 for Best Original Story, 1976 for Best Original Song “Evergreen” and 2018 for Best Original Song “Shallow”). The 1937 film also won an Honorary Award for W. Howard Greene for the color photography (not counted in the 25 because it wasn’t a competitive award).
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5) You are my inspiration [insert name here]…
So, what real-life movie star couple is this movie based on? Well, I don’t know if we can really say for sure, but some believe that the 1937 version drew its inspiration from the marriage of Barbara Stanwyck and Frank Fay.
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Well, those were my five facts. Would love to hear about any that you’d like to share 🙂
AND – as part of our partnership with Best Classics Ever – you can stream A Star is Born this month on the Classic Movie Hub Channel. Just click here, join for free (no obligation), scroll down and click on the CMH Channel button — and watch for free this month. Lots of other free movies to watch every month as well, so feel free to explore.
Smokestacks spew thick, dark fumes. Fires burn out of control. People wear masks to shield themselves from dangers in the air. Garbage overflows. Hunger and unemployment are rampant.
We understand all of that from the impressive two-minute opening montage for Soylent Green.
Though the film is best known for having one of the most memorable lines in movie history – which we won’t spoil here for those who don’t know it – Soylent Green is worth watching today to examine how close the 1973 film came to portraying our real world in 2022.
It’s chilling how many of the film’s predictions came true: Ecological disasters, dying oceanic ecosystems, overpopulation, the power of the 1 percent, euthanasia, misogyny and its version of plant-based “Impossible” food.
Watching director Richard Fleischer’s sci-fi film today, though, we realize Soylent Green is not really science-fiction anymore.
Based very loosely on “Make Room! Make Room!,” Harry Harrison’s 1966 novel that did not include that shocking secret that was created for the film, Soylent Green is a dour, dystopian movie set in a colorless world that is part police drama, part murder mystery and part ecological disaster film.
It is surprisingly violent and misogynist and not pleasant to watch. No one hesitates to hit women who live in a world where the best they can hope for is to become “furniture” – the term given to those who “come” with apartments for super-rich men.
People are literally treated like garbage. The dead are taken by sanitation crews to waste disposal plants without any ceremony or mourning time. If hungry crowds get unruly, the “scoops” – garbage dump trucks that scoop people from the street – are called in.
“You see characters trying to hold on to their humanity to dire results,” she said, adding the film is about what happens when “power and greed have overtaken the world.”
(Read more from Leigh Taylor-Young at the end of this story.)
* * * *
The film plot
In the year 2022, the world is suffering greatly from the greenhouse effect and overpopulation. (In New York City, the population is 40 million; compare that to the 8.4 million living there today.) Wildfires are raging. Oceans are dying, people are starving. Unemployment affects half the population causing most people to live in stairwells or on the streets; the fortunate get to share a tiny indoor living space.
NYPD Detective Frank Thorn (Charlton Heston) is lucky in that he shares what can barely be considered a room with his older friend Sol Roth (Edward G. Robinson) who is a “police book” – a researcher/academic who helps Thorn with his investigations.
Only the wealthy
live in apartments that look like exquisite penthouses but are built with high
security features.
William R. Simonson (played by Joseph Cotten in a much too short appearance) is a kindly and wealthy gentleman who lives with a young woman named Shirl (Taylor-Young). We can sense their mutual affection and wonder if they are father and daughter. No. Shirl is the “furniture” that comes with the apartment, but she is treated well by Simonson.
When Simonson is brutally murdered very early in the film (that’s Stephen Young as the homeless activist/killer who pops up a few other times), the case is given to Thorn. His initial investigation in Simonson’s apartment is not what the viewer would expect. He becomes more interested in the trappings of the wealthy that we all take for granted today: air conditioning, running water in the bathroom, the smell of a bar of soap, a taste of bourbon that brings out the reaction of a kid who has never had a drink before. (Watch Thorn’s face when he learns there is hot water in the shower.)
Clearly not the
most ethical guy around, Thorn stuffs a pillowcase with soap, pencils and
papers for Sol, drink and food – two apples, a single stalk of limp celery
and a piece of beef that brings Sol to tears. “How did we come to this?” Sol
cries as he prepares a feast out of the meager offerings.
They each savor a leaf of lettuce and an apple. Sol introduces Thorn to beef stew. The joyful look on their faces speaks volumes.
“I haven’t eaten
like this in years,” Sol says.
“I’ve never eaten
like this,” Thorn says.
There is a lovely
tenderness between the two men, who are more like father and son than friends
or co-workers.
The scene helps underscore the food problem that causes people to wait in the equivalent of a bread line for cracker-like pieces of Soylent Red and Soylent Yellow – “high-energy vegetable concentrate.” The new hope to combat world hunger is Soylent Green, a “miracle food of high-energy plankton … gathered from the oceans of the world.” It’s so popular and in such short supply that you can only get it on Tuesdays – Soylent Green Day.
* * * *
Discovering the truth
Though it looks like Simonson was killed in a burglary gone wrong, Thorn doesn’t buy it. He thinks it was an assassination, perhaps with the help of Simonson’s bodyguard Fielding (Chuck Connors) who conveniently got Shirl out of the apartment. Thorn’s suspicions are raised at Fielding’s apartment, where he sees that he “seems to do pretty well for himself,” especially after noticing a spoon with $150-a-jar strawberry jelly on it. (The man notices the details.)
In a biographical survey, Sol learns that Simonson had connections to Soylent – he became a board member after Soylent bought out his company – and to shifty Governor Santini (played by Whit Bissell).
“Your dead one was a very important man,” Sol tells Thorn. “Soylent controls the food supply for half the world.”
As they put the pieces together, powerful people – including the governor – get nervous. Thorn is taken off the case and sent in as one of the riot police (check out their silly silver football helmets). Unfortunately, it’s the same day they run out of Soylent Green and hungry people – dressed in drab, colorless clothing that makes them look like they are in a war camp – lose it. The riot police deal with them by heartlessly calling for the “scoops.”
Meanwhile, Sol has read the books Thorn took from Simonson’s apartment, “Soylent Oceanographic Survey Report, 2015-2019.” He Consults with other “Books” at “The Supreme Exchange” where he confirms a secret so horrible that it is only whispered. The Exchange asks him to find proof of this grotesque news so they can help put an end to it.
But what Sol has learned is so unimaginable that he leaves Thorn a note after deciding it’s time to “go home,” a euphemism for ending his life at a government-assisted suicide clinic. There, Sol’s life will end in a peaceful room with his favorite colors and music as he watches serene images of nature, animals and oceans. Thorn arrives just in time to say goodbye and is drawn to tears witnessing the images of the colorful, beautiful world that once was Earth.
With his last words, Sol whispers the terrible secret to Thorn who races off to expose the truth leading to the climax at the Soylent plant. There, Thorn sees the truth for himself and screams out the hideous secret that became a famous phrase now emblazoned on T-shirts, posters and internet memes as part of the film’s legacy.
* * * *
The real Soylent
Yes, there is a real Soylent plant-based food product that you can get online and at such large retailers as Walmart and Target.
It was created by four software engineers working in Silicon Valley around 2013 who were living off frozen meals and ramen noodles at the time.
They decided that they wanted to engineer better food for themselves. “Food can be simplified for the better,” the soylent.com website states.
The name did come from the original novel and the website has a funny video that’s an homage to the movie’s final scene as an animated plant gives an alternate definition to Soylent as it is in the movie.
* * * *
More from Leigh Taylor-Young
Before the screening of Soylent Green at the Turner Classic Movie Film Festival in April 2022, actress Leigh Taylor-Young spoke to fans about making the movie along with filmmaker and illustrator William Joyce.
“It’s incredible to represent the film today,” said Taylor-Young, an environmentalist, who once served as special advisor in Arts & Media for the United Nations Environment Programme which is tasked with coordinating responses to environmental issues within the United Nations system.
She was hesitant
about making the film, she said, but is “very, very glad I made it primarily
for the people I met. … Sometimes for me, the human experience has far
surpassed what I’m doing as an actor.”
That would include working on Soylent Green with actors Charlton Heston and Edward G. Robinson.
Heston was a serious person, she said, but also “lovely and very respectful” especially during their more intimate scenes. The palpable tenderness between the two characters comes from what they have each gone through, she added.
“What he’s up against, he doesn’t have (tenderness); he’s got to survive and she is surviving as well,” Taylor-Young said.
Soylent Green
was the 101st film for Edward G. Robinson and it was also his last.
Unknown to the cast and crew, Robinson was dying of cancer. That’s especially
poignant considering Robinson so beautifully plays his final scene where his
character, Sol, ends his life in a government euthanasia facility.
She spoke of that scene and her instant connection with the actor. “He was a beautiful being,” she said. His scene where he goes to a dying center is “one of the most amazing scenes of living and dying that anyone has ever shown. It is beautiful.”
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.
Spring Trivia – Joan Bennett, Robert Mitchum, Ann Blyth, Robert Ryan, Jean Hagen, and Richard Widmark
There aren’t
many things I love in life more than classic movie trivia. In celebration of
spring, this month’s Noir Nook is serving up some trivial tidbits on some of my
favorite noir actors and actresses and some of their iconic noir films. Enjoy!
Joan Bennett
Joan Bennett’s first noir was The Woman in the Window (1945), starring Edward G. Robinson and Dan Duryea, and directed by Fritz Lang. The film was a critical and box-office success, and afterward, Bennett, her husband, producer Walter Wanger, and Lang formed an independent film company, called Diana Productions after Bennett’s oldest daughter. The first film produced under the Diana Productions banner was Bennett’s second film noir, Scarlet Street (1945). Like The Woman in the Window, this film also starred Robinson and Duryea, and was helmed by Lang.
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Robert Mitchum
In 1947, Robert Mitchum appeared in two films noirs – the first of these was The Locket, where he played an artist who is tormented by an unspeakable crime committed by the woman he loved. The actor earned wildly contrasting notices from critics. The reviewer for the Los Angeles Daily News was impressed by his performance, writing that he “makes the cynical, sarcastic painter a character of some force.” The typically acerbic Bosley Crowther disagreed in The New York Times, however, insisting that Mitchum gave a “completely monotonous and inexpressive performance. There is not the slightest hint about this rigid face of the temperament of an artist, even granting that the fellow he is representing is a moody sort.”
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Ann Blyth
For her role as the venomous Veda in Mildred Pierce (1945), Ann Blyth was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress, making her, at age 17, the youngest actress up to that time to be honored. Blyth was expected to win, but the Oscar was awarded instead to Anne Revere for her performance as Elizabeth Taylor’s mother in National Velvet. Years later, Revere herself said that she was surprised to have won the Academy Award over Blyth: “My winning was such an upset, some of the papers the next day were still dazed and wrote things like: ‘Anne Revere, who played the troublesome teenager in Mildred Pierce, won the Best Supporting Actress Academy Award last night.’”
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Robert Ryan
Robert Ryan starred in 1949 in one of noir’s best offerings, The Set-Up, where he played an aging boxer who was, according to one description, “one punch away from being punch-drunk.” Ryan didn’t have to do much acting during the boxing sequences. When he was eight years old, his father arranged for him to take boxing lessons, and years later, at Dartmouth College, he became the first freshman to win the college’s heavyweight boxing championship, a title he held throughout his four years of intercollegiate competition.
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Jean Hagen
Jean Hagen is perhaps best remembered for two roles she played during her career: Doll Conovan in The Asphalt Jungle (1950) and Lina Lamont in Singin’ in the Rain (1952). In the former, she was outstanding as the would-be girlfriend of a low-level hood, infusing her portrayal with steely determination, sensitivity, and pathos. After the film’s release, director John Huston said that he cast Hagen in the role because “she has a wistful, down-to-earth quality rare on the screen. A born actress.” However, most critics failed to take notice of Hagen’s first-rate performance, overlooking her in favor of the flashier role played by Marilyn Monroe. In later years, Hagen would quip, “There were only two girl roles, and I obviously wasn’t Marilyn Monroe.”
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Richard Widmark
In his big screen debut, Richard Widmark was featured in Kiss of Death, which starred Victor Mature and Coleen Gray. Widmark played the supporting role of Tommy Udo, a psychopath with a menacing, high-pitched giggle. For his notable performance, Widmark won the Golden Globe Award for Most Promising Newcomer and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor (he lost to Edmund Gwenn in Miracle on 34th Street). “I thought, ‘Geez, this is easy.’” Widmark later said of the numerous accolades he received for his first film. “I haven’t come close since.”
Stay tuned to the Noir Nook for more trivia in future months!
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– 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:
Silver Screen Standards: The Most Dangerous Game (1932)
The Most Dangerous Game (1932) has a lot in common with King Kong(1933): the same sets, the same producers, one of the same directors, and some of the same cast, but it’s a tighter, low-budget production without the supersized special effects. The great ape movie is the more famous of the two, but this tense jungle thriller is also a true classic; it’s short, lurid, and energetic, a wild ride through the jungle that takes just over an hour to enjoy. The film and its source material, a 1924 short story of the same title by Richard Connell, have inspired quite a few other “hunting people for sport” movies, including an upcoming 2022 adaptation, but it’s hard to beat this Pre-Code version from directors Irving Pichel and Ernest B. Schoedsack, especially with stars like Joel McCrea and Fay Wray as the elusive prey.
The action begins when big game hunter Bob Rainsford (Joel McCrea) barely survives the wreck of a yacht on which he has been traveling with a group of well-heeled gentlemen; everyone else goes down with the ship or gets eaten by sharks. Bob makes it to the shore of a nearby island and there becomes a guest of the elegant but intense Count Zaroff (Leslie Banks), a fellow big game hunter who rejoices at Bob’s arrival. Zaroff has two other guests, the perpetually inebriated Martin Trowbridge (Robert Armstrong) and his sister, Eve (Fay Wray), the survivors of a previous shipwreck. Eve tries to warn Bob that their host is not what he seems, and Bob soon learns that Zaroff has given up hunting animals and now lures ships to wreck near his island so that he can hunt human beings instead. Bob and Eve are forced to run while Zaroff pursues them around the island with the help of his brutal lackeys (Noble Johnson and Steve Clemente) and bloodthirsty dogs, but this time Zaroff has chosen a victim who knows how to fight back.
While the story could be filmed as an action adventure or
thriller, this adaptation leans into the horror and the opportunity to pack the
picture with plenty of Pre-Code sex and chills. Fay Wray’s particular peril as
the lone Eve in this lethal garden is obvious; the Count and his henchmen leer
at her constantly, and the Count repeatedly suggests that his lust will be
aroused by his next successful hunt. It’s little wonder that Eve chooses to
head into the jungle with Bob rather than stay behind in the fortress, and she
keeps up remarkably well considering her completely impractical attire. Of
course, Eve and Bob have less attire as the hunt progresses, with Eve’s gown in
tatters after a few hours running through the jungle. The Count has declared
that he has no intention of killing her, as female prey are off limits to
hunters, but his trophy room is gruesome enough as it is, with severed heads from
his previous victims on display. The trophy room scenes were originally more extensive
and grotesque, but it turned out that even Pre-Code horror had its limits, and
shots of Zaroff explaining the tableaux of his preserved human trophies ended
up being cut.
The small cast gives the leads enough opportunity to deliver great performances in spite of the short run time, with Leslie Banks absolutely riveting as Count Zaroff. Although the scarred villain has long been a problematic trope, Banks brings an unusual level of realism to the role as a result of a World War I injury that damaged one side of his face. His performance launched the English stage actor into a second career in British films, including roles in The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934), Jamaica Inn (1939), and Henry V(1944). Joel McCrea, tall, muscular, and very American, makes a perfect foil to Banks’ lean Continental Count; his character is not naturally introspective, as we learn in the opening scene, but his narrative arc provides a crash course that disabuses him of his notion that prey enjoy the hunt just as much as the predator. Wray, while the object of all those heated stares from menacing males, still gets to play a sharp observer who brings more than screams to the story, while her King Kong costar Robert Armstrong is perfectly irritating as the drunken brother. The two actors playing Zaroff’s henchmen also deserve attention; both Noble Johnson and Steve Clemente appear in King Kong as native characters but play Russians here. In reality, Johnson was African-American and Clemente Mexican-American, and both of them had long careers that started in the silent era, often in uncredited roles. Neither has any lines in The Most Dangerous Game, but as silent film veterans they don’t need any in order to convey their characters’ dangerous natures.
Lives Behind the Legends: Greta Garbo – Social Butterfly
Greta Garbo’s most famous quote is undoubtedly ‘I want to be alone.’ But it wasn’t Garbo who said this, it was her character in Grand Hotel who uttered those famous words. Garbo herself made a more nuanced statement: ‘I never said, “I want to be alone.” I only said, “I want to be left alone.” There is all the difference..’ Because despite her hermit-like image, she was no recluse. Away from the public eye, Garbo had a secretive but lively social life. The elusive star combined two opposite sides of the spectrum into one mysterious personality: a homebody who loved routine and a social butterfly about town.
Though she is seen as
an enigma by many, plenty can be learned about Garbo’s personality throughout
her life. As a child in Sweden, Garbo’s childhood was spent in bleak poverty.
She later remembered being ‘sad’ as a child. Though she was shy and already had
a penchant for spending time alone, she was never without friends. Garbo had a
lively imagination and had already decided that she wanted to be an actress.
She would stage little shows telling her friends and even her two older
siblings exactly how to perform. She later admitted that even though she was
the youngest sibling, she had always felt and behaved as the eldest. So it
comes as no surprise that her childhood friends would later describe her as
‘bossy’. But she was also said to be ‘loads of fun’ and ‘always ready for
mischief’. Garbo, as she referred to be called in her adult life, would stay in
touch with some of them even as she was heading towards old age. But one
pattern had already emerged: she had no problem cutting friends off. As a
14-year old she wrote to a friend, that she did not like her trying to hang out
with Garbo’s other girlfriends. Ending the letter with: ‘If this letter offends
you, you don’t need to write to me again.’ Her friendships were always on her
terms.
After her father died when she was 14, Garbo had to work to help support her family. She became a soap girl at a barbershop. As always, she was shy at first. But when comfortable, she was fun, with a sharp sense of humor. Some customers enjoyed her company so much, they asked for her specifically. Once she was accepted into the Royal Dramatic Training Academy, she was finally surrounded by like-minded people. She could talk for hours about acting and have fun with a new group of friends. Still, she was keenly aware that she was one of the poorest students, struggling to make ends meet. Maybe that’s why, as another student later commented, Garbo could be lost in her own world. Making everybody wonder if they truly knew her.
When director Mauritz
Stiller discovered Garbo, their bond became intense. Though it reportedly
remained platonic, he was the only one who could ever boss her around. She
trusted his direction completely and he became her mentor.
So you can imagine their joy when they were both offered a contract by American studio MGM. She was nervous about leaving her family and home behind but knew that this was an amazing opportunity.
In America, she was incredibly lonely. Garbo could not speak English yet and Stiller was occupied with impressing MGM. Meanwhile, her studio gave her the usual star treatment: her hairline and teeth were straightened, eyebrows plucked and she had to lose 33lbs. Garbo also had to pose for the required starlet photos, something she would refuse as soon as she became a star. That did not take long as her first American feature Torrent catapulted her to stardom.
She co-starred with John Gilbert in her third American film The Flesh and the Devil and the two began dating. He encouraged her to join him at social events and her world opened up more. Though he even proposed to Garbo, she later said she was only with him because she was lonely and didn’t speak English. Adding, with her usual cynical sense of humor: ‘Well, at least he was pretty.’ After Gilbert, Garbo dated but steadfastly refused to get serious with anybody. ‘”Wife” is such an ugly word,’ she later quipped.
The centre of her social life in those days was Salka Viertel. The Jewish Polish screenwriter and her husband had an unofficial salon for European artists at their home. Here, Garbo socialized with people like composer Igor Stravinsky, director Max Reinhardt and actors like Charlie Chaplin and Johnny Weissmuller.
Although her social life had progressed, she still struggled in Hollywood. In letters to her friend Mimi Pollak in Sweden she described her life as: getting up early to go to set, work 12 hours and then be too exhausted to do anything else. ‘Like a machine,’ she wrote. Her sadness, loneliness and frustration are tangible in the letters she sent during her Hollywood years. When her beloved sister Alva passed away, the studio wouldn’t allow her to go back to Sweden to attend the funeral. This no doubt added to her resentment towards Hollywood.
Fame proved to be overwhelming for Garbo and she soon refused to do interviews or answer fan mail. The studio decided to capitalize on this and promoted her as a mysterious European beauty, only adding to her popularity. She was devastated when Stiller, who never made the impression on Hollywood he had hoped, moved back to Sweden and died only a few years later. Restless, she took up long night walks with a hat pulled low over head, so as not to be recognized. Long walks would be her main form of relaxation for the rest of her life.
Garbo never liked the ‘vamp’ roles the studio cast her in. ‘I cannot see any sense in dressing up and doing nothing but tempting men.’ Though she admitted to friends that she didn’t care enough to fight for better roles either. ‘I have sold myself and have to remain here,’ she wrote in another letter to Mimi Pollak.
Garbo was never truly happy with her work. ‘Oh, if once, if only I could see a preview and come home feeling satisfied,’ she remarked. Her frustration with Hollywood reached its apex in 1942. After the release of The Two Faced Woman, Garbo left Hollywood for good. People were shocked: she was only 35 and still at the height of her fame. Garbo later explained: ‘I was tired of Hollywood. I did not like my work. There were many days when I had to force myself to go to the studio. I really wanted to live another life.’
At the time of her retirement, World War II was in full swing and Garbo worried about her homeland. Salka Viertel and her European salon were of great comfort. She was introduced to millionaire George Schlee. Though he was married, he would be Garbo’s frequent companion until his death in 1964. He even bought a house in the south of France where she spent so much time, locals still refer to it as ‘Garbo’s house’.
In the early 1950’s, Greta made some major life decisions. She became a naturalized U.S. citizen and bought an apartment in New York. She would call this apartment home for the rest of her life. Though Sweden would remain close to her heart, her closest relatives now lived in the U.S. as well: her brother Sven, his wife and daughter had also settled down here.
There were rumors that Greta had become a recluse, which probably stems from Garbo’s intense dislike of her own fame. Therapist Eric Drimmer, who had treated her for six months, wrote that celebrity was the true cause of her anxiety. He compared her response to gathering crowds and fans asking autographs to ‘if a normal human being is suddenly faced with a dangerous wild animal.’ Although she had quit acting, her fame would never diminish. Crowds still gathered once she was recognized, some fans went ‘Garbo watching’ in the hopes of getting a picture of her on one of her walks and she had a stalker for twenty years. So Garbo did everything she could to keep a low profile. She dressed casually and avoided crowded places. Thankfully, there were little tricks she knew. For instance, she always insisted on getting the worst table near the kitchen door at a fancy restaurant, so nobody would realize a celebrity was dining there. She chose her friends carefully and demanded that they respected her need for privacy.
She was close to photographer Cecil Beaton, art dealer Sam Green and poet Mercedes de Acosta. The latter is rumored to have been so obsessed with her, Garbo ended the friendship in the 1960’s. Aside from the ‘creative crowd’, she hung out with famous jet setters like Aristotle Onassis and Cecile de Rothschild. These were the kind of people who knew how to handle a friend who had such fame and success. But if they did not adhere to the rules and boundaries she set within these friendships, she still had no problem cutting people off.
Though she didn’t work anymore, she had many hobbies. Garbo collected art and loved interior design. She had made sound investments over the years, allowing her to spend her money freely. She often browsed antique stores, went to auctions and even designed a rug for her apartment. She enjoyed playing tennis and swimming, remaining fit well into old age. Her appreciation for acting and storytelling never left: she was an avid theatre-goer. Travelling was a big part of her life as well. She developed a steady routine: in early June she would leave for Europe, accompanied by people like George Schlee or Cecile de Rothschild, returning early September. In fall/winter she took trips to California to visit old friends. In between trips she stayed in her beloved apartment in New York, which took up the entire fifth floor of the building. She enjoyed days to herself, in which she also stuck to somewhat of a routine: getting up early for yoga or meditation, eating toast for breakfast in front of the television, calling friends, shopping for fruits and vegetables, going for a long afternoon walk and eating dinner on a tray in front of the bedroom television. Here, her companion was Claire Koger, her loyal housekeeper for thirty years. Even when Claire couldn’t clean anymore because of arthritis, Garbo kept her on. Claire would remain her companion at home, until Garbo’s death.
Despite her need for alone time, her social life remained active. Still, the press would always refer to her as a reclusive classic Hollywood star. Her great-nephew Derek revealed: ‘If you look at her date books, she’s out and about, meeting people, going to dinner, going to people’s homes for the weekend. She was private, but for a recluse, she had a very active social life. I forget who said it, but somebody called her “the hermit about town”.’ In the 1960’s, Garbo’s beloved brother Sven passed away and she grew even closer to his wife and her niece Gray. Once Gray grew up, she became the most important person in Garbo’s life. The two went to Jamaica together every spring, Gray and her family visited Garbo weekly and they all spent the holidays together. Gray’s son Derek remembers Garbo teaching him and his siblings how to do cartwheels, giving them funny gifts and playing practical jokes on them. When he graduated, he moved to New York and lived five blocks away from her. He saw her frequently: ‘Family and friends would all assemble at 5 for cocktails at her apartment and then go out to dinner or a play or whatever we were doing. That was a weekly event.’ He describes her as ‘extremely funny’.
‘Fun’ and ‘funny’ are adjectives friends and family described her with all of her life. And yet the public perception of her is so vastly different. It is true that Garbo suffered from depressive episodes throughout her life, but as with anyone, this does not define her. In her memoirs, Mercedes de Acosta writes that Garbo ‘will always be Nordic with all its sober and introvert characteristics.’ But she rejects the notion that Garbo is morose or serious, writing : ‘she is serious when there is something to be serious about.’ Adding that Garbo could have her ‘literally rolling on the floor with her sense of comedy.’ Garbo’s great-nephew Derek, who is part of her estate, admitted that there is ‘more myth than reality’ around Garbo.
Hollywood likes to define people. Garbo was defined by words such as ‘mysterious’, ‘serious’ and ‘introverted’. But people are three-dimensional beings. Garbo was all of those things, but she could also be described as ‘funny’, ‘social’ and ‘adventurous’. It’s a testament to Garbo’s ability to keep her personal life private that people still buy into Hollywood’s definition of her. Her image as a recluse does not jive with someone who traveled extensively, had a lot of friends and acquaintances and enjoyed spending time with her family. Maybe we should retire the image of Garbo saying ‘I want to be let alone’ in Grand Hotel and replace it with an image of her teaching her grand niece and nephew cartwheels on the grass.
Arancha has been fascinated with Classic Hollywood and its stars for years. Her main area of expertise is the behind-the-scenes stories, though she’s pretty sure she could beat you at movie trivia night too. Her website, Classic Hollywood Central, is about everything Classic Hollywood, from actors’ life stories and movie facts to Classic Hollywood myths. You can follow her on Twitter at @ClassicHC.