I’ve been a fan of The Postman Always Rings Twice
(1946) for as long as I can remember – it was one of the first noirs I ever saw
as a child. (I recall that I didn’t initially understand what the title meant –
and how thrilled I was when I finally figured it out.) But when I think of it,
the first, and often only, character who comes to mind is Cora Smith, played by
the luminous Lana Turner. In the spirit of turnabout being fair play, I’m
devoting this month’s Noir Nook to John Garfield’s Frank Chambers and five
reasons why he deserves some love.
John Garfield, The Postman Always Rings Twice
That breath that Frank visibly intakes when he sees Cora for the first time. Until that moment, he’d come off like kind of a hard-shelled guy. Somebody who was completely comfortable in his skin and with his lifestyle, who didn’t take any guff, and who was up for any adventure, challenge, or obstacle. And then he gets a load of Cora and, for a couple of seconds, he’s just a blushing, thunderstruck schoolboy in the presence of the school’s most popular girl. (I like that in a man.)
Frank’s cocky side. Once he gets over his initial reaction to Cora (and, really, it takes literal seconds), we see his penchant for smartassery. First, after picking up Cora’s dropped lipstick from the floor, Frank cheekily ignores her outstretched hand and makes her cross the room to retrieve it. And in the next scene, while Cora tries to get his goat by spitting out orders and threatening to fire him, Frank sits with his feet propped on a table, reading the newspaper, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, matching her malice with nonchalant impertinence.
Frank’s ability to think fast on his feet. There was the scene where he convinced Nick (Cecil Kellaway) to replace his old diner sign with a new neon version, and then casually ensured that Nick thought it was his own idea. And when the District Attorney came snooping around after Nick’s “accident” in the bathtub, Frank quickly came up with a plausible reason for the ladder being propped against the house, using the sight of the dead cat to bolster his explanation. And, later when Kennedy (Alan Reed) showed up with blackmail on his mind, Frank quickly assessed the situation and decided on the best course of action – beating Kennedy to a pulp.
John Garfield, Lana Turner, Alan Reed
Frank’s skill in serving up the Kennedy
beatdown. I just love the way he carried it out – with a combination of punching
proficiency, cucumber-cool, and absolute control of the situation. He broke a
sweat, but he rarely raised his voice, and he was completely fearless, like he
dealt with this kind of situation every day of the week. (And that final,
unexpected jab, delivered so that Kennedy would “act right” when his partner
arrived, was the cherry on top of the sundae.)
Frank’s love for Cora. Frank was clearly
attracted by Cora’s long legs, shapely figure, and stunning face, but his
feelings were more than surface lust; it was obvious that he truly loved her.
If we weren’t sure, he proved it – like he proved it to Cora – by helping her
back to shore after that last late-night swim. And it also showed in his jail
cell conversation with the priest at the film’s end: “Father, would you send up
a prayer for me and Cora?” he plaintively requests. “And if you can find it in
your heart, make it that we’re together, wherever it is.”
So, if you can find it your heart, the next time you watch The Postman Always Rings Twice, give a little extra attention to Frank Chambers. He deserves it!
…
– 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:
Joe Dante’s Passion for Classic B-Movies is a Gift for Film Buffs
In Piranha, thousands of tiny fish – already known for their carnivorous appetites – go bonkers for human flesh after being genetically modified by the government. Among the film’s stars are Barbara Steele, Kevin McCarthy,Bradford Dillman and Dick Miller.
Matinee has a William Castle-type of showman hawking his latest film, Mant!, about a half-man, half-ant beast. Look for McCarthy, Miller and Robert O. Cornthwaite.
And the cute little creatures in Gremlinscome with the warning that you must never, ever feed them after midnight – or else.
Welcome to the sci-fi and horror B-movies of the 1950s – in spirit, that is, since Piranha was released in 1978, Gremlins in 1984 and Matinee in 1993. All are from talented filmmaker Joe Dante, whose more than 40-year career has the soul of classic sci-fi and horror, the very movies he watched as a kid.
“Those movies made us believe a tarantula was coming down the street,” Dante said, referencing the 1955 film “Tarantula” during one of his multiple appearances on the recent Turner Classic Movies Classic Cruise. On the cruise, he introduced a few of his films and sat for two insightful hour-long interviews with TCM hosts treating audiences to behind-the-scenes stories about his work, his lifelong passion for movies and his “film schooling” under Roger Corman.
Director Joe Dante, left, often had Turner Classic Movie host Ben Mankiewicz and the audience laughing during his entertaining conversations on the TCM Classic Cruise in October 2024. (Photo courtesy of Turner Classic Movies)
But what really
stuck with me was how his career was undeniably linked to those 1950s creature
films he watched as a kid, and how one of his films, above all, is the “closest
movie to me” – Matinee.
“I am the kid in
the movie,” he says about the movie-loving teen at the heart of Matinee.
“It’s very personal to me. It’s a movie about why I love movies.”
Originally about a haunted movie theater, Matinee morphed into a story about a film huckster (robustly played by John Goodman) that was set during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 – a very scary time for Dante as a teen.
“That was the
weekend we didn’t know if we were going back to school,” Dante said. “The
weekend we feared the world was going to end.”
Joe Dante’s love of 1950s B-movies can be seen in Mant!, the movie-within-a-movie in Dante’s 1993 film Matinee. That’s Cathy Moriarty with the title creature.
Dante wanted the
film to be a scrupulous re-creation of 1962 and that meant everything in the
film had to look like it was state-of-the-art in 1962, not 1993 when Matinee
was made. Nowhere is that more apparent than in the nostalgic and entertaining
movie-within-a-movie, Mant!
“It was a tribute to all ‘50s sci-fi movies I saw as a kid,” Dante said about Mant! “And I saw a lot as a kid at the Saturday matinees.”
How many? Well, if you wanted to know where Joe Dante was as a kid, he said, you would be told “Dante’s at the movies.”
“It was my church. When
the lights go down, you don’t know what you will see, but it will change your
life,” he said.
Initially, Dante went to matinees to watch the cartoons – he had dreams of being a cartoonist – and didn’t like the movies that were being shown afterward. But it took only one film to change his mind.
“One day I stayed to see It Came from Outer Space – and thought ‘hmm, these movies with grown-ups can be pretty good,’ ” he shared.
“I became enamored
with movies. I never thought I would make them,” Dante added. “But I did find
making movies was what I was supposed to do.”
We can thank Roger
Corman for helping him along the way.
The Corman effect
“If Roger Corman
hadn’t hired me, I would not be sitting here and wouldn’t have a career – and I
wasn’t the only one,” Dante said on the TCM Cruise, referring to the many filmmakers
who learned the ropes by working with Corman including Martin Scorsese, Peter
Bogdanovich, Ron Howard and James Cameron.
Corman had a talent
for finding people who “really, really wanted to make movies and they were
gonna make the best ‘Woman in Cages’ movie,” Dante laughed, referencing a
string of women behind bars films made by Corman’s New World Pictures.
“The great thing
about Roger Corman is that he would hire people with no experience in the movie
business,” Dante said. “He didn’t like to pay a lot of money. He would get
these kids and pay them nothing and I was one of those kids.”
Dante got his start creating trailers along with his friend Allan Arkush for Corman. The two made their first film when Corman took on a bet to make the cheapest film ever for New World Pictures. The film – and winner of the bet – was Hollywood Boulevard, co-directed by Dante and Arkush in 10 days for about $50,000. They used footage from previous Corman movies in their film about a B-movie studio called Miracle Pictures where “if it’s a good picture, it a miracle.” That economy was the cornerstone of Corman films.
“There are many
obstacles to making a Roger Corman film,” Dante said. “And no matter what he
would throw at you, you would find a way around it. And all of the things you
learned working with Roger were things you would use working with people who
had money, but none of them knew as much about films as Roger.”
When asked what
Corman taught him, Dante quickly said “to make decisions.”
Bradford Dillman, left, and Kevin McCarthy face carnivorous fish in Joe Dante’s Piranha.
Piranha, Jaws and Spielberg
Two years after his
co-directing work on Hollywood Boulevard, Dante made his solo
directorial debut with Piranha, which he laughingly – but affectionately
– called “another $1.98 special.”
It was also, he told
the TCM audience, a film that would not have been released except for the help
of another young filmmaker, Steven Spielberg.
Universal Studios was preparing to release Jaws 2, the sequel to Spielberg’s 1975 blockbuster Jaws, and as happens in Hollywood, the copycats had been coming fast. To protect the box office for Jaws 2, Universal was doing what it could to block competition and that would include Piranha.
Universal was “was
very, very unhappy to have an upstart Jaws” rip-off at the same time Jaws
2 was being released, Dante said.
In an early scene in Piranha, Heather Menzies plays a Jaws video game. Joe Dante said it was a way to acknowledge his film’s ties to Jaws.
Luckily for Dante, as
he later learned, Spielberg stepped in. “He said ‘you guys don’t get it – it’s
a spoof not a rip-off.’ … Well of course
it was a rip-off,” Dante laughed to the delight of the audience.
And Dante knew that
while he was making Piranha. “We had a character play a Jaws game
just to say, ‘we know it’s a Jaws rip-off,’ ” Dante said.
What set it apart
from the other Jaws rip-offs was the writing.
“The secret is to
have a great writer,” Dante said. “The characters are good, and the movie was
much better than the Jaws rip-off it was intended to be.”
More from Joe Dante
I have notebooks filled with what Dante shared during the TCM Classic Cruise and, as a classic horror fan, I couldn’t get enough. His stories were entertaining, funny, sometimes bittersweet and always genuine.
My story was how the karo syrup used for blood in Piranha created a fungus – a new life, environmental experts told the filmmakers – that had to be exterminated. Dante seemed proud as he shared that tale and I thought it would make a perfect plot for one of films.
Here are just a few
more.
Filmmaker Joe Dante is a champion of Turner Classic Movies, calling the network “a gem” on the recent TCM Classic Cruise. (Photo courtesy of Turner Classic Movies.)
On his early
days making movie trailers for Roger Corman: “I made it my crusade that if
I knew a scene was being cut out of a film, I would put it in [the trailer] for
posterity.”
Watching a movie
in theaters: “What a communal joy it is to experience that kind of
entertainment. It’s why we’re still here, why we still do this. We just love
seeing movies and seeing movies with an audience is the cream of the crop.”
On Targets, the directorial debut of Peter Bogdanovich: “It is one of the best first movies by a director.”
On Turner Classic Movies: “The gift that has been given to us by TCM …. The one place you know you can see a movie the way it’s supposed to look is TCM. It’s such a gem and people need to appreciate it.”
On the movie
theater scene when the film broke in Gremlins: “Projectionists hated
me. If you didn’t tell them right away, they thought the film really broke.”
On Gremlins:
“Warner Brothers didn’t like the project but OK’d it because he (Steven
Spielberg) wanted to do it. The script was very violent; at its heart, it was a
horror movie.
On his Trailers from Hell web series: “It’s always rewarding to me when people say I saw a trailer on your site and it led me to watch the movie and now I’m a big fan of the director. I feel like I’m giving back.”
A lobby card for Attack of the Crab Monsters shows Leslie Bradley, left, Richard Garland, Pamela Duncan and Russell Johnson.
Dante approved films
Dante has often talked about his favorite classic horror films. Here are 10:
Macabre(1958). Showman William Castle – an inspiration in Dante’s Matinee – gave moviegoers a $10,000 insurance policy in case they died while watching his film.
Die, Monster, Die!(1965). Karloff stars in loose adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft story.
This Island Earth(1955). Jack Arnold had a hand in co-directing this tale of atomic scientists unwittingly brought together to help visitors from another planet.
The Return of the Vampire (1943). Bela Lugosi stars as a vampire not named Dracula in film from Columbia Pictures.
Target Earth(1954). Richard Denning is one of a small group of survivors in a deserted city during an alien robot invasion.
Tarantula(1955). Jack Arnold directs one of the great B-movies about a giant tarantula terrorizing a desert town.
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 and board chair of the Classic Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo chapter of TCM Backlot and led 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 and on Bluesky at @Watchingforever.bsky.social.
While I’ve never had any interest in diamonds, I do
enjoy watching Marilyn Monroe sing about them in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
(1953), the Technicolor film adaptation of the 1949 stage musical based on
Anita Loos’ flapper era novel. Monroe’s big number, “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best
Friend,” is a truly iconic moment in film history that has been copied,
referenced, and parodied countless times (including, most recently, in Ryan
Gosling’s show-stopping performance of “I’m Just Ken” at the 2024 Academy
Awards ceremony). While the film’s ultimate message leaves a lot of room for
debate, Monroe’s charisma as material girl Lorelei Lee is undeniable, while
Jane Russell handily debunks the title’s claim with her appealing performance
as Lorelei’s brunette bestie.
Marilyn Monroe creates an iconic movie moment with her performance of “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend.”
Monroe and Russell play showgirls Lorelei and Dorothy,
who look out for each other above all as various men enter their lives. On the
verge of landing meek millionaire Gus Esmond (Tommy Noonan) over the objections
of his father, Lorelei embarks on a transatlantic cruise to Paris with Dorothy
as chaperone, but temptation appears in the form of smitten diamond mine mogul
Sir Francis Beekman (Charles Coburn). Lorelei tries to match Dorothy with a
millionaire of her own, but Dorothy feels more attracted to Ernie Malone
(Elliott Reid), not knowing that Ernie is really a private detective hired by
Esmond’s father to spy on Lorelei.
Lorelei’s charms have thoroughly conquered millionaire Gus (Tommy Noonan), but his father hopes to break up the match.
1953 was a big year for Monroe, which also saw her
starring in the color noir Niagara and How to Marry a Millionaire,
but Gentlemen Prefer Blondes gives her the most screen time and
opportunity to demonstrate her skills as a musical performer. Her particular
version of the comedic “dumb blonde” character is so persuasive that it obscures
the talent such a role requires, but Lorelei isn’t as dumb as everyone assumes.
While Dorothy might be considered the smart one of the pair, Lorelei has a much
better understanding of her value as a desirable commodity in a patriarchal
society where men control access to wealth. Her speech to Gus’s father at the
end of the movie points out that men don’t value intelligence in women, and
therefore Lorelei finds it prudent to hide hers from suitors who only care
about her looks. She might not know what to do with a tiara, but Lorelei
recognizes a double standard when she sees one, as she rightly observes that
men blame women for wanting rich husbands even as they forbid their own
daughters from taking poor ones. The gold digger is another classic feminine
stereotype, going at least as far back as Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair,
but Monroe invests hers with wide-eyed sweetness that never seems artificial. Like
the plucky gals in the Gold Diggers movies of the 1930s, Lorelei has
developed her mercenary marital views as a practical strategy for survival.
That’s not to say that Anita Loos intended Lorelei to be read as a heroine or
that the movie, with its emphasis on marriage as a woman’s only life goal,
really works as a coherent critique of patriarchy. Both women, after all, end
the picture at the altar and presumably give up their stage careers for
domestic life. Monroe, however, makes us like and root for Lorelei even when
her behavior is most questionable, and the women’s unwavering loyalty to one
another reminds us that their friendship always comes first.
Dorothy (Jane Russell) and Lorelei (Marilyn Monroe) are always loyal to one another, and their friendship is more interesting than any of their romances.
Of course, the film boasts considerable star power in
addition to Monroe, with Jane Russell taking top billing and commanding plenty
of screen time for herself. Her performance of “Ain’t There Anyone Here for
Love” is particularly robust, and her impersonation of Lorelei in the courtroom
scene is a hoot. Russell’s Dorothy, who is streetwise but still an idealist
about romance, is a perfect foil to Monroe’s Lorelei, and we like Dorothy even
more for making it clear to Ernie that he will only win her love by respecting
her devotion to her friend. Everyone else takes a backseat to the pair of
leading ladies, but Tommy Noonan and Elliott Reid are fun as their most ardent
admirers, while little George Winslow always cracks me up as Henry Spofford
III. Charles Coburn makes for an amusing old heel as “Piggy” Beekman, waggish scamps
of advanced years being something of a character specialty for him. Behind the
camera, director Howard Hawks keeps the action moving with help from Charles
Lederer’s energetic screenplay and Jack Cole’s choreography.
Dorothy’s impersonation of Lorelei in a Parisian courtroom is one of the picture’s comedy highlights.
The box office success of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes spawned a 1955 sequel called Gentlemen Marry Brunettes, which also adapts an Anita Loos story and stars Jane Russell, but it’s not nearly as celebrated. Russell is better remembered today for her roles in The Outlaw (1943) and His Kind of Woman (1951), but Monroe’s enduring fame towers over that of her costar. For more of Charles Coburn’s old rogues, see The Lady Eve (1941), The More the Merrier (1943), and Heaven Can Wait (1943). You can also see Monroe, Coburn, and George Winslow in Howard Hawks’ Monkey Business (1952). Tommy Noonan and Coburn both feature in How to Be Very, Very Popular (1955), which was intended as the next project for Monroe but ended up starring Betty Grable with Sheree North in Monroe’s role after Monroe refused to do the picture.
Frances “Fanny” Rose Shore was born on February 29, 1916, to
Anna and Solomon Shore in Winchester, Tennessee. She had a sister, Elizabeth,
who was eight years older. When Fanny was eighteen months old, she suffered
from polio. After extensive care, an exercise program, and therapeutic
massages, Fanny recovered but coped with a deformed foot and limp.
Fanny enjoyed singing from an early age. Anna, a contralto
who dreamed of working in the opera, encouraged her to sing. Solomon often
brought Fanny along to his store, where she performed for customers.
By 1924, the family relocated to McMinnville, Tennessee,
where Solomon opened a department store. During Fanny’s fifth-grade year, the
family moved to Nashville, Tennessee, where Fanny completed her elementary
education. She participated in sports and was a cheerleader at Hume-Fogg High
School. While attending Hume-Fogg High School, she also participated in music
club and theatrical productions.
When Fanny turned 16, her mother passed away from a heart
attack. Fanny continued her education at Vanderbilt University and graduated in
1938 with a sociology degree. She soon made her radio debut on WSM, a Nashville
radio station.
Fanny decided to pursue her interest in singing and moved to
New York City, where she auditioned for various orchestras and radio stations.
Initially, she traveled there while she was on summer break from Vanderbilt. By
the time she graduated, she intended to live in New York permanently. As part
of her audition repertoire, she performed the song “Dinah.” When Martin Block,
a disk jockey, could not recall her name, he instead introduced her as “The
Dinah Girl.” They name soon became her stage name: Dinah Shore.
Shore was hired on as a vocalist for the WNEW radio station,
singing alongside Frank Sinatra. In addition, she performed with the Xavier
Cugat Orchestra and signed a recording contract with RCA Victor Records.
In 1939, Shore debuted on national radio for CBS Radio’s Ben Bernie’s Orchestra radio program.
During the following year, she was a featured vocalist on NBC Radio, performing
Dixieland and blues songs. The Chamber
Music Society of Lower Basin Street program on which she was performing
became so popular that it was moved to a primetime slot.
Her popularity soon caught Eddie Cantor’s attention and he
signed her as a regular performer on his Time
to Smile radio program. In 1943, she appeared in her first film, Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943), starring
Cantor. Shore went on to the Paul
Whiteman Presents radio program.
Shore married actor George Montgomery in 1943. They had a
daughter named Melissa Montgomery in 1948, who became an actress. The couple
adopted a son, John Montgomery. Shore and Montgomery divorced in 1962.
Shore transitioned to other radio shows and record labels
throughout this period. Her largest commercial success of her recording career
was “Shoo-Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy” for Columbia. She also started her own
radio show, Call for Music, for CBS
and, later, NBC.
Shore appeared in additional films including Up in Arms (1944), Belle of the Yukon (1944), and Till
the Clouds Roll By (1946). She also provided vocals for two Disney films: Make Mine Music (1946) and Fun and Fancy Free (1947). Her final
starring film role was in Aaron Slik from
Punkin Crick (1952).
In the 1950s, Shore returned to recording with RCA Victor.
BY 1959, she transitioned to Capitol Records until she was dropped by them in
1962.
After numerous radio guest spots over the years, she made
her commercial television show debut on The
Ed Wynn Show in 1949. In 1951, she was the star of her own television show,
The Dinah Shore Show. In 1956, she
hosted one hour-long, full-color productions of The Chevy Show, which was renamed The Dinah Shore Chevy Show. Shore appeared in 125 hour-long
programs across the show’s 12-season run from 1951 through 1963.
In 1963, Shore married tennis player Maurice F. Smith. They
divorced the following year.
In the 1970s, Shore hosed two daytime programs: Dinah’s Place and Dinah! (renamed Dinah and
Friends). During this period, Shore had a six-year romance with actor Burt
Reynolds.
Off-screen, Shore enjoyed playing golf and supported women’s
professional golf steadfastly. She helped found the Colgate Dinah Shore Golf
Tournament in 1972, which is now the Chevron Championship and one of the major
golf tournaments of the LPGA Tour. The tournament was held annually at the
Mission Hills Country Club near Shore’s former Rancho Mirage, California, home
until 2022. The event moved to Texas the following year because of a new
sponsor. Nonetheless, Mission Hills retains the Dinah Shore Course, which now
hosts the Galleri Classic tournament. Shore was posthumously elected an
honorary member of the LPGA Hall of Fame in 1994 due to her contributions to
golf and also became a member of the World Golf Hall of Fame in 1998.
In 1993, Shore was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and passed
away from the illness in her Beverly Hills, California, home on February 24,
1994. Her remains were cremated and divided among niches at Hillside Memorial
Park Cemetery in Culver City, California, and Forest Lawn Cemetery—Cathedral
City in Cathedral City, California. Additional ashes went to her relatives.
Today, there are numerous tributes to Shore, particularly in
the Palm Springs area.
In 1920, Shore and her family resided at 8 9th
Ave., Winchester, Tennessee. In 1930, they lived at 3106 33rd Ave.
S., Nashville, Tennessee. These homes have since been razed.
Hume-Fogg High School stands at 700 Broadway, Nashville,
Tennessee.
Hume-Fogg High School, Nashville TN
Both Cathedral City, California, and Rancho Mirage,
California, have streets named after her.
Shore’s hometown, Winchester, Tennessee, also has a Dinah
Shore Boulevard.
In 1940, Shore lived at 111 Britton Ave., Queens, New York,
which no longer stands.
In 1960, Shore lived at 400 Drury Ln., Beverly Hills,
California. This home remains.
400 Drury Ln., Beverly Hills, CA
In 1964, Shore maintained an estate at 432 Hermosa Pl., Palm
Springs, California, which stands.
432 Hermosa Pl., Palm Springs, CA
In 1996, Shore received a Golden Palm Star on the Palm
Springs Walk of Stars.
Shore has three stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame,
honoring her work in radio, recording, and television. Her stars are located at
1751 Vine St., 6901 Hollywood Blvd., and 6916 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles,
California, respectively.
Mission Hills Country Club is a private country club located
at 34600 Mission Hills Dr., Rancho Mirage, California. The clubhouse has the
Dinah Shore Board Room, spotlighting information about Shore’s life and career.
On the course, the Dinah Shore Wall of Champions contains a tribute to Shore
with a sculpted golf club protruding from a depiction of Shore. Additionally,
there is a statue of Shore on the course, sculpted by George Montgomery.
Dinah Shore statue, sculpted by George Montgomery
Shore’s ashes are interred at Hillside Memorial Park, located at 6001 W. Centinela Ave., Los Angeles, California. Her ashes are also interred at Forest Lawn Cemetery—Cathedral City, located at 69855 Ramon Rd., Cathedral City, 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.
Blake, the son of character actor Larry Blake, is himself a noted movie makeup artist and film historian whose earlier works include books on Lon Chaney and Code of Honor: The Making of Three Great American Westerns. In this new book, a 292-page paperback from Rowman & Littlefield’s TwoDot Books, Blake brings together extensive new research on the making of Fort Apache (1948), She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), and Rio Grande (1950).
This
engagingly written book features numerous photos I’d never seen before, along
with an impressive three dozen pages of footnotes. Given that the second two
films in the trilogy are among my all-time favorite movies and that I’ve
visited their locations in Monument Valley and Moab, I found this “deep
dive” into the making of the movies an extremely enjoyable and informative
reading experience, filled with new-to-me stories.
Patrick Wayne, Michael Blake , Rob Word
Above,
my photo of author Blake (center) with Patrick Wayne and Rob Word at a 75th
anniversary screening of She Wore a Yellow Ribbon at the
October 2024 Lone Pine Film Festival.
While
I’m on the topic of Michael Blake, I have not yet read Code of Honor,
but I recently realized it was in the film book collection I inherited when my
father passed away last year. I look forward to reading it soon and expect
great things, given my enjoyment of The Cavalry Trilogy.
Code of
Honor is a 260-page paperback on the filming of High
Noon (1952), Shane (1953), and The Searchers (1956).
I can say it contains some remarkable photographs; my favorite is of John
Qualen, Natalie Wood, and Olive Carey filming the final scene of The
Searchers (1956). Code of Honor was published in 2003
by Taylor Trade Publishing.
Switching from books on “A” Westerns to the stars of “B” Westerns, I made a fantastic discovery in The Fabulous Holts by Buck Rainey. Rainey, who passed away in 2009, also wrote Shoot-Em-Ups, which I discussed here earlier this year, and Sweethearts of the Sage, which I discussed in a 2023 column. The Fabulous Holts covers the lives and films of Western actors Jack Holt and his children Tim and Jennifer.
I first
learned of the Holt book from the back cover of another of Rainey’s books, and
thanks to a kind friend’s assistance I found an affordable copy on eBay. It’s a
215-page book originally published in 1976 by Western Film Collector Press.
The book
has relatively small print and is packed with information, including detailed
biographies of the family and close looks at their films. The author personally
interviewed both Jennifer and Tim; Tim passed away before the book’s
publication, but his widow provided family photographs to the author. Other
photos in the book were from Jennifer’s collection.
Along with the late David Rothel’s book Tim Holt, which I discussed here in my November 2019 column, The Fabulous Holts is an absolute “must” for fans of this acting family.
I’ve been interested in Dale Evans and Roy Rogers, on and off screen, since I met Dale as a child at the Lighthouse Christian Bookstore in Long Beach, California. Dale was signing her 1971 book Dale: My Personal Picture Album, and I was in awe, as I often watched afternoon TV reruns of The Roy Rogers Show; she was one of the first celebrities I ever met in person. Her book filled with stories and photos of her large family fascinated me, and I went on to read several other books by Dale.
Queen of the West: The Life and Times of Dale Evans, was written by Theresa Kaminski and published by Rowan & Littlefield’s Lyons Press imprint in 2022. I just picked it up in a sale this year and found it a very “readable” and insightful book. It’s extensively researched, with over 50 pages of footnotes, and also had the advantage of being fact-checked by Dale’s oldest stepdaughter, Cheryl Rogers Barnett.
I’ve been fortunate to meet Cheryl on multiple occasions at
the Lone Pine Film Festival, where she’s a regular guest. Her books are
charming stories of growing up in Hollywood as part of the large Rogers family;
she’s also honest about some of the struggles she faced as a teen, loving yet
clashing with her stepmother Dale. She continues to be a wonderful historian
and ambassador for the Rogers family.
As I’ve mentioned here in the past, I’ve always had a
particular interest in actress Julie Adams as I appeared on stage with her in a
bit role in a theatrical production of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in
the late ’70s. Adams got her start in movies appearing in low-budget Lippert
Pictures Westerns, a couple of which I’ve written about in past columns. As her
career developed she starred in numerous Universal Pictures Westerns, as well
as appearing in TV Westerns such as Maverick, Cheyenne, and The
Rifleman.
Adams published the charming memoir The Lucky Southern Star: Reflections From the Black Lagoon in 2011. It was cowritten with her son Mitchell Danton, who was also the son of actor Ray Danton. It’s a marvelous book, with 263 heavy, glossy pages and dozens of photos from her personal collection.
Above, a montage of color posters for Adams’ films which
are seen inside the cover, along with a set of photos from one of my all-time
favorite Westerns, Bend of the River (1952). The book includes
many fun anecdotes, including how she learned moviemaking while shooting
several Lippert Westerns simultaneously!
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.
It’s easy to assume
that “moving pictures” burst onto the scene in the late 19th century all at
once. We often imagine that pop culture history can be neatly sliced into
“before cinema” and “after cinema,” positive that the traditional forms of
stage entertainment swiftly became passe. The truth, of course, is always more
complicated. In a 1940 interview, early filmmaker Edwin S. Porter recalled his
uncertainty over whether cinema could retain a steady audience until he saw an
exciting new film called A Trip to the
Moon–which, as we know, was released all the way back in 1902!
Even determining what films count as the “earliest” can be
tricky. Should we, for instance, count the pioneering methods of Eadweard
Muybridge, who discovered how to photograph an animal’s precise movements one
quick shot at a time? What about Étienne-Jules Marey’s similar experiments with
his chronophotographic “gun,” which created strips of crisp images of moving
animals and people?
One of Marey’s chronophotographs.
Along with the various optical illusion toys and magic
lantern shows that were common at the time, these did indeed play a hand in the
creation of motion pictures. However, it’s often agreed that the earliest
“true” films were the ones shot on light-sensitive strips of material. Thus,
French inventor Louis Le Prince may be the strongest contender for the creator
of motion pictures as they’re known today. His stubby wooden box-like structure
used strips of fragile paper film from the Eastman Kodak Company, and in Leeds,
England, he shot some brief footage of family and friends clowning in a
backyard. The surviving fragment, Roundhay
Garden Scene (1888), is considered the oldest film in the world.
Once we settle on what counts as film, there’s the equally
confusing question of credit. Who made the first motion picture camera? Who
made the first projector? In the late
19th century patents for innumerable film-related inventions flew like confetti
(indeed, patents for every type of
invention were legion). During a span of just a few years inventors around the
world–especially the U.S., U.K., France and Germany–were feverishly working on
cameras, projectors and other movie making accessories, practically stumbling
over each other in the rush to corner the market.
Auguste and Louis Lumière, Thomas Edison, William K.-L.
Dickson, Grey and Otway Latham, and Max and Emil Skladanowsky are just a few
prominent names among these pioneering inventors–and were certainly well aware
of each other’s work. Dickson even secretly went behind his boss Edison’s back
to help the Latham brothers design their “Latham loop,” a slack loop of film in
the motion picture camera that reduces tension on the filmstrip. The Lumière
brothers’ first public screening of their projected films in Paris on December
28, 1895, is justly famous, but they were technically beaten to the punch by
the Skladanowsky brothers in Germany, who held their first screening in
November 1895. They in turn were beaten by the Latham brothers, who exhibited
in May.
The Lathams demonstrate their machine.
Can we say, then, that these 1895 screenings opened the
floodgate of interest in the brand-new technology of motion pictures? We can,
and we might also say that as 1896 was the year that films really took off. The
films themselves were simple, of course–very brief and simply capturing dancers
dancing, or boxers sparring, or footage of a busy city street. But audiences
marveled at how the camera could capture details like smoke rising from a pipe,
or leaves waving in the wind–details which couldn’t be captured by still
photography. For a time, the sheer novelty of the film itself was exciting
enough for amazed audiences around the world.
Illustration of a Vitascope picture show.
But behind the scenes,
all wasn’t smooth sailing. Competitions over the various patents only grew more
fierce. Edison in particular managed to seize control of many of the motion
picture camera components and his company frequently started lawsuits with competitors.
In the meantime filmmakers themselves were constantly “borrowing” from each
other–if one film grew popular then other studios often made their own,
identical versions.
Uncle Josh at the Moving Picture Show (1902), a copy of The Countryman and the Cinematograph (1901).
By the early 1900s, films were not only familiar to the general
public (thanks mainly to traveling shows and “theaters” set up in rented
buildings), but they were so familiar
that, strange as it sounds today, the novelty was finally wearing off. The
rented “storefront theaters” were having a harder time sustaining business, the
films that were formerly a prominent part of vaudeville programs were relegated
to being “chasers” (stuck at the very end of the program), and audiences were
growing tired of seeing the same types of subjects over and over again.
Vaudeville and “legitimate” theater still dominated, and the nickelodeon
wouldn’t start popping up until 1905.
But if there was one film that helped breathe a bit of fresh
inspiration into the competitive industry, it was George Méliès’ A Trip to the Moon (1902). Running
around 15 minutes long, it was one of the lengthier early silents. With its
whimsical story of astronomers who travel to the winking, blinking moon and its
fantastical hand-colored imagery, it was a treat for both the eyes and the
imagination. When the film quickly became a hit around the world, many
filmmakers began to realize that story-centric films were the way forward.
A Trip to the Moon (1902).
By the end of the 1900s, it was clear that motion pictures would not just be a passing fad or a novelty. A fresh new kind of storytelling had emerged, with its own particular language that was evolving every week. There were still years of innovations to come, but fortunately for us, early cinema had largely overcome its growing pains.
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.
The weather is getting cooler and the leaves are continuing to turn and fall. So, what better time to pull up a chair, grab a cup o’ cider, and join me as I serve up a heaping platter of noir-related goodies that I’m thankful for? Here goes . . .
Barbara Stanwyck, Double Indemnity
The expression on Phyllis Dietrichson’s face in Double Indemnity (1944) as her hapless hubby is murdered by her lover, inches away from her. She doesn’t flinch or gasp, or look afraid or even repulsed. Her eyes are cold and emotionless – and the faintest of smiles curves her lips as the deed is done.
The crafty badassery that Myra Hudson (Joan Crawford) employs in Sudden Fear (1952) after learning that her husband (Jack Palance) and his lover (Gloria Grahame) are plotting her murder. Her initial reaction upon learning of the scheme is understandably unhinged, but once she gets a good night’s sleep, she goes on the offense, and it’s a beautiful thing to see.
Nora Prentiss (1947) and its unique plot, which centers around a man faking his own death in order to be with the woman he has fallen for.
The many, many great lines in Detour (1945). Here’s one of my favorites: “Not only don’t you have any scruples, you don’t have any brains.”
Richard Conte, The Big Combo
Richard Conte in anything, but especially in The Big Combo (1955), where he plays a mobster so ruthless that he doesn’t even need a first name – he’s simply Mr. Brown. He’s scary. He’s cruel. He’s cold-blooded. And he doesn’t care about anybody. Except Mr. Brown.
Noirs that don’t have a happy ending – I’m looking at you, Scarlet Street (1945), The Breaking Point (1950), and The Killing (1956). I love a lot of elements about film noir, but one of my favorite things is an absolutely and completely downbeat ending. The last words uttered by Sterling Hayden’s character perfectly capture this feeling: “Eh, what’s the difference?”
First-rate neo-noirs like Body Heat (1981), Blood Simple (1984), One False Move (1992), The Last Seduction (1994), and A Simple Plan (1998).
Supporting characters like Marty Waterman and Mrs. Kraft (Elisha Cook, Jr. and Esther Howard) in Born to Kill (1947). The stars of this film are the murderous and aptly named Sam Wild (Lawrence Tierney) and Helen Trent (Claire Trevor), who is Sam’s equal in the depravity department. But Marty and Mrs. Kraft are unforgettable standouts in their own right. Marty is the kind of friend anyone would want to have – loyal, understanding, and literally willing to kill for you. And Mrs. Kraft may be a beer-guzzling matron who cheats at cards, but she’s not one to cross – not as long as there’s a hatpin in the vicinity.
Percy Helton.
The fabulous ensemble cast of The Asphalt Jungle (1950). This feature has so many characters who are memorably and distinctively drawn, not to mention excellently brought to life, from the main characters like the mastermind of the heist, Doc Reidenschneider (Sam Jaffe), and Dix Handley (Sterling Hayden), the hooligan who serves as the muscle for the operation, to lesser-seen characters like the cat-loving hunchback Gus Minissi (James Whitmore) and the child-like mistress (Marilyn Monroe) of the lawyer charged with fencing the stolen diamonds. Every single character was both necessary and noteworthy.
The Asphalt Jungle
The fact that I don’t really know what’s going on in The Big Sleep (1946) half the time, but that never stops me from watching it every chance I get.
Discovering offshoots of classic noir, like western noir (The Violent Men, 1955; Man of the West, 1958), British noir (It Always Rains on Sunday, 1947; Odd Man Out, 1947), and Gaslight noir (So Evil, My Love, 1948; and Blanche Fury, 1948). There are so many excellent titles within these genres, and it’s so much fun unearthing them.
The scene in Gun Crazy (1950) where Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins) and Bart Tare (John Dall) eat a hamburger at a diner. I don’t even eat red meat, and those burgers look mouth-wateringly delectable.
Iconic moments like the scalding coffee thrown in Gloria Grahame’s face in The Big Heat (1953), Gene Tierney watching her brother-in-law drown in Leave Her to Heaven (1945), and Gloria Swanson’s film-ending close-up in Sunset Boulevard (1950) – moments that I knew and appreciated long before I ever saw the films.
Shield for Murder
Noirs that are accessible for free on streaming platforms like YouTube, Pluto, and Tubi. Here’s just a fraction of the gems you can watch right now at no cost: Leave Her to Heaven (1945), The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946), Brute Force (1947), Cry of the City (1948), Pitfall (1948), House of Strangers (1949), Shakedown (1950), Pickup on South Street (1953), Shield for Murder (1954), Private Hell 36 (1954), and Odds Against Tomorrow (1959). You can’t go wrong with a single one of these, trust me. Treat yourself!
Happy Noirvember and happy Thanksgiving!
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
I’ve shown a lot of comedies to my lifetime learners
over the years, but I’ve rarely heard an audience laugh as uproariously as they
did during a recent screening of My Favorite Wife (1940), which we
watched as part of a series featuring Cary Grant. The peals of laughter prove
that Grant and his costar, Irene Dunne, can still enchant an audience with
their screwball antics more than 80 years later, even if the original
production of the picture was marred by Leo McCarey’s unexpected absence and
problems with the preview version that required last-minute corrections. You
don’t need to know about any of that to enjoy My Favorite Wife, and you
don’t need to know about the personal histories of the major players, either,
but the knowledge does add some fascinating layers to this wacky, fast-paced
romp about a couple who get a second chance at being a family.
Nick (Cary Grant) repeatedly tries to explain to his bride, Bianca (Gail Patrick), that her predecessor has returned, but he loses his nerve.
Irene Dunne stars as Ellen Arden, whose disappearance
in a shipwreck leads her husband, Nick (Cary Grant), to have her declared
legally dead seven years later so that he can marry a new wife, Bianca (Gail
Patrick). Ironically, Ellen returns from being marooned on an island on the
same day as the declaration and wedding, which creates problems for the
confused and now bigamous Nick. Ellen pressures Nick to break the news to
Bianca but fails to mention that her companion on the island was the ruggedly
handsome Stephen (Randolph Scott), whom she refers to as “Adam.” Seething with
jealousy over his first wife, but unable to tell his second wife the truth,
Nick suffers comedic torment inflicted by Ellen, Bianca, and Stephen as they
force him to confront the situation he has inadvertently created.
Nick is deeply concerned that Ellen’s companion on the desert island for seven years was the handsome Stephen (Randolph Scott).
My Favorite Wife
is the second of three pictures starring Grant and Dunne, following their first
successful pairing in The Awful Truth (1937), which Leo McCarey had
directed. A car accident sidelined McCarey and led to Garson Kanin stepping in
as director, but the cast and crew felt the strain of worrying about McCarey
during production. McCarey was able to return for the editing process, and he
helped create a new third act to address problems with the preview cut. None of
those issues are apparent in the final version of the movie, which showcases
both the onscreen chemistry and the comedic talent of the two leads. The movie
also marks the second and final screen pairing of Grant and Randolph Scott, who
had first met when they made Hot Saturday in 1932. Grant and Scott then
moved in together and were housemates off and on for the next decade, leading
to much speculation about the nature of their relationship. You can read a
great deal more about that in David Canfield’s 2024 Vanity Fair article,
“Cary
Grant and Randolph Scott’s Hollywood Story.” Knowing about
their shared history adds another layer of interest to the movie’s depiction of
them as romantic rivals, especially when Nick obsessively imagines the swimsuit
clad Stephen turning somersaults and demonstrating his attractive physique.
Nick and Ellen also have to figure out how to tell their two children (Mary Lou Harrington and Scotty Beckett) that Ellen is actually their mother.
Because my lifetime learners and I live in Alabama, we
also find the movie’s cluster of Southern actors noteworthy, especially because
both The Awful Truth and My Favorite Wife include scenes with
Irene Dunne speaking in an exaggerated Southern drawl. In the earlier picture,
Dunne mimics the over-the-top accent of Dixie Belle Lee, played by Lexington,
Kentucky native Joyce Compton, but Dunne herself was born nearby in Louisville.
In My Favorite Wife, Ellen causes Bianca to sniff at her assumption of a
Southern accent while pretending to be an old family friend of the Ardens, but
Gail Patrick, the actress who plays Bianca, was born in Birmingham, Alabama,
and actually studied law at the University of Alabama before embarking on her
Hollywood career. Randolph Scott was born in Virginia, grew up in North
Carolina, and attended both Georgia Tech and the University of North Carolina,
making him quite the embodiment of Southern gentility, and of the three
Southern stars in My Favorite Wife he’s the only one sporting a natural
sounding regional accent. In both pictures, Dunne seems to flirt with being
Southern while also perpetuating Hollywood stereotypes about how Southerners
talk, and that’s both fascinating and frustrating to those of us whose accents
are being simultaneously erased and parodied in classic Hollywood films.
In classic screwball style, Ellen keeps Nick floundering until the very end of the picture.
My Favorite Wife earned three Oscar nominations, with nods for Original Story, Art Direction, and Original Score, but it went home empty-handed. 1940 was a big year for Cary Grant, with His Girl Friday and The Philadelphia Story also coming out that same year. Irene Dunne picked up her third Best Actress nomination for The Awful Truth, and in 1940 she earned a fourth for Love Affair (1939), but, sadly, her five career nominations never produced a win. Grant and Dunne’s third and final collaboration would be the domestic melodrama Penny Serenade (1941). Randolph Scott is, of course, best remembered as a Western star in films like 7 Men from Now (1956), The Tall T (1957), and Ride the High Country (1962), but you can find both Scott and Gail Patrick in Murders in the Zoo (1933). Patrick eventually became the executive producer of the iconic TV series, Perry Mason (1957-1966), but you’ll also find her in memorable roles in My Man Godfrey (1936) and Stage Door (1937).
As classic movie fans, we’ve all had those “wow” moments with actors we may not expect to see in a film as in “Wow! Is that (fill in the blank) …” Or “Wait – I think that’s …” This usually happens in their early films and it’s always fun to make that connection.
One of my favorite “wow” moments was in the great sci-fi film It Came from Outer Spacewhen I excitedly said out loud (to an empty room) – “Hey, that’s the Professor!”
Yes, it was Russell Johnson in a film made a decade before he would become cemented in pop-culture history as the Professor on the CBS hit comedy Gilligan’s Island. And instead of wondering aloud if it was Russell Johnson, I indeed called him Professor, the character he is most remembered for playing.
Russell Johnson is best known for playing Professor on Gilligan’s Island, but he also played roles in three great sci-fi films of the 1950s.
While the series made household names out of the seven actors playing the castaways on an uncharted island, it also made it difficult for them to separate themselves from those distinct TV characters. It was almost like the work they did before Gilligan’s Island didn’t exist; then, after the series ended, they were typecast as those characters.
For Johnson, that meant he would always be recognized as Professor Roy Hinkley – shorted simply to Professor – an amiable and intelligent man who used his skills to create all sorts of interesting gadgets.
But before he played that iconic role, he appeared in three notable sci-fi films of the 1950s and I thought the centennial of his birth – he was born Nov. 10, 1924 – is a good time to celebrate that legacy.
A lobby card for Attack of the Crab Monsters shows Leslie Bradley, left, Richard Garland, Pamela Duncan and Russell Johnson.
In It Came from Outer Space (1953), Johnson was a telephone worker whose body was borrowed by aliens to share messages with clueless humans. In This Island Earth(1955) he was a scientist chosen by an alien race to help them survive, and in Attack of the Crab Monsters(1956) he was a Navy radio specialist trapped with others on an island by the title creatures.
Those weren’t lead roles, but his characters were integral to the plot. Plus, the three films are noted for their technological advances and feature such lauded names as directors Jack Arnold and Roger Corman and producer William Alland.
Before getting to
the films, here’s a very brief look at the life of Russell Johnson.
* * * * * *
Russell Johnson was
born Nov. 10, 1924 in the small borough of Ashley, Pa. (near Wilkes-Barre). The
oldest of seven children, he took on a lot of responsibility in caring for his younger
siblings. After his father died, he was sent to a private school/orphanage with
his brothers.
Following high
school, Johnson enlisted in the U.S. Air Force where he had a decorated
military career. He flew 44 combat missions during World War II and received a
Purple Heart and Bronze Star after his B-52 was shot down and he broke both of
his ankles.
He used his G.I. Bill to study acting at the Actors Lab in Hollywood where other students included Audie Murphy, who would become a good friend, plus Marilyn Monroe, Hume Cronyn, Dorothy Dandridge and Leo J. Cobb. His first role was in the 1952 noir “For Men Only,” directed by Paul Henreid, and he followed that with four more films that year.
Johnson continued acting for nearly 40 years, starring in a healthy mix of film and television. He made three early Westerns with Audie Murphy: Tumbleweed (1953), Column South (1953) and Ride Clear of Diablo(1954); co-starred with Gilligan’s Island pal Alan Hale Jr. in the Western Many Rivers to Cross (1955) and the TV series Casey Jones (1957); and had guest spots on a large number of popular TV shows including Gunsmoke, The Californians, Wagon Train, The Real McCoys and Tales of Wells Fargo. Other guest roles were on Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Outer Limits and two episodes of The Twilight Zone (Execution and Back There).
Russell Johnson as Professor on Gilligan’s Island.
He starred for two seasons on Black Saddle and fittingly appeared multiple times on the military documentary anthology series, The Silent Service (1957), that told true stories about the U.S. Navy’s submarine fleet. Other films included the epics The Greatest Story Ever Told(1965) and MacArthur(1977).
The early 1960s brought Gilligan’s Island. The series ran only from 1964 to 1967 and if you thought – like me – that it aired much longer, that’s because it never really went away. Even today, we can watch the comedy series on MeTV and streaming services such as Tubi. Plus there are there are three Gilligan’s Island made-for-TV movies – Rescue from Gilligan’s Island (1978), The Castaways on Gilligan’s Island (1979) and The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island (1981) – and two animated series.
Johnson died Jan. 16, 2014 at age 89.
While it’s an achievement to be known 60 years later for a role as Johnson is for Gilligan’s Island, we are here to celebrate him for his performances battling aliens and giant telepathic crabs. Following are capsule looks at the three films and Johnson’s roles in them.
* * * * * *
Richard Carlson, left, and Barbara Rush are puzzled by the odd behavior of their friend played by Russell Johnson in It Came from Outer Space.
John (Richard Carlson), a writer and amateur astronomer, and his fiancée Ellen (Barbara Rush), a teacher, are first on the scene after a meteorite crash in the desert. When they discover to their shock that it’s a spaceship, they try to convince town residents of what they’ve seen. Instead, they are ridiculed for their outlandish claims.
Johnson plays George who is working the lines along the desert highway with his partner Frank (Joe Sawyer) for the Sand Rock Telephone Exchange. These two average guys have a big, and at times, creepy role to play. When we first meet them, handsome George’s mind is on his big date that night, while Frank is checking out a phone line up a pole. When John and Ellen arrive while their looking for proof of aliens, Frank lets them listen to the strange sounds he’s hearing. Though they pass it off as probably nothing, the two parties split up to investigate and that’s when George and Frank have a close encounter of the alien kind. (Note to self: If you hear high-pitched sounds and see a big creature resembling an eye, you should run in the other direction.)
Joe Sawyer, left, and Russell Johnson play telephone repair men who are under an alien influence in a very creepy scene from It Came from Outer Space.
The next time the
men meet John and Ellen they are a shadow of their former selves, speaking in
monotone with glazed eyes and slow, zombie-like movements. Something is clearly
wrong. George and Frank will provide the movie’s most chilling moment when they
appear as shadowy figures in a doorway after John chases them down an alley. He
asks questions but learns he may not like the answers.
It Came from Outer Space ultimately shows itself as a very thoughtful film that touches the surface of how we treat those who aren’t like us. When the townsfolk finally believe there are aliens, they are afraid of the “other,” and John is surprised to find himself trying to protect the aliens by fighting off the angry mob bent on destroying them.
The film is
directed by Jack Arnold and based on a Ray Bradbury story.
Three well-dressed atomic specialists (Russell Johnson, left, Faith Domergue and Rex Reason) are brought together to help another planet in This Island Earth.
Johnson has a smaller part in this film, but it’s a key role in whether the Earth’s survives or not. He is Dr. Steve Carlson, one of three exceptional (as we’re told multiple times) U.S. atomic scientists chosen by aliens to save their planet. The other two are played by Rex Reason and Faith Domergue. Jeff Morrow is the mysterious platinum-blonde Exeter, a scientist from the distant planet of Metaluna who guides them. (Morrow and Reason would co-star the following year in The Creature Walks AmongUs.)
Exeter has tested
scientists from around the world to find the ones who can create desperately
needed nuclear energy to save Metaluna from a dangerous ongoing assault. But
convincing the scientists to do that work is another thing as the characters –
and viewers – must decide whether Exeter is telling the truth or will use their
skills to turn on the people of Earth. (It doesn’t help that the aliens have a
machine called the “thought transformer” that is like mind-control for those
who don’t obey.) Just know that Johnson’s Dr. Steve is integral in learning the
answer.
Joseph Newman is
the film’s official director, but Jack Arnold directed most of the Metaluna
sequences. The film was widely hailed for its use of Technicolor and special
effects, being called “imaginative, fantastic and cleverly conceived” by
Variety at the time. The influential film pops up in various ways in films
including E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982), Explorers (1985), UHF
(1989) and Looney Tunes Back in Action (2003) as well as in song and
video. You’ll know the movie from its images of a mutant with a giant head (it
doesn’t appear until late in that film) that is said to be one of the
inspirations for the work done by artist H.R. Giger for his work with aliens
(and Alien).
Pamela Duncan is happy to see Russell Johnson making progress on fixing the radio in Attack of the Crab Monsters.
Gosh, this is a fun film with the eye-raising hypothesis that not only giant crabs exist, but that they can speak the thoughts of humans. Roger Corman produced and directed this film that finds a group of scientists and sailors – including Johnson as a radio technician – arriving on a remote Pacific Island to find members of a previous expedition that seems to have disappeared.
But there’s not a body – alive or dead – to be found. Not even bones, if we want to be gross about it. And the journal left by the lead researcher has puzzling notes about a giant worm before the entries abruptly end. (They’ll soon wish it was just a worm.)
Soon, the new group is being killed off (the seaplane explodes, a sailor is quickly decapitated after falling into the water), and there are multiple earthquakes that open cavernous holes and send parts of the island into the ocean. A core group of five must fend off those strange occurrences and be wary of voices calling to them that are of the missing or dead. (These crabs have strange powers.) Perhaps that ominous clickity-click sound – described by one unnerved character as like a “kid dragging a stick across a picket fence” – is a warning of what’s to come.
Johnson’s character, who did TV and radio repairs with the Navy during the war, becomes the only hope for those left alive. While they fend off giant, intelligent crabs and the island continues to break apart, he races against time to cobble together a radio to get a distress signal out. Can he do it? Don’t forget he was later called the Professor.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at
The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a writer
and board member of the Classic
Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo
chapter of TCM Backlot and led 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.
Valeska Suratt was born on June 28, 1882, in Owensville,
Indiana, to Ralph and Anna Suratt. When Suratt was six years old, her family
relocated to Terre Haute, Indiana. By 1899, she dropped out of school to work
at a photography studio, later moving to Indianapolis, Indiana, to work as an
assistant in a department store millinery.
Suratt had an interest in performing, and eventually began
working as an actress onstage in Chicago, Illinois. She began by working in
vaudeville and was part of a duo act with Billy Gould. The two of them had an
Apache dance number. Gould and Suratt married in 1904.
Suratt made her Broadway debut in The Belle of Mayfair, followed by additional roles. In 1908, Suratt
and her husband had separated and ultimately divorced in 1911. During this
time, she started a solo singing act, wearing intricate gowns. In 1910, she
gained notoriety for appearing in a show called The Girl with the Whooping Cough which was deemed “salacious” by
New York City mayor William Jay Gaynor and was shut down due to its suggestive
themes.
The Girl with the Whooping Cough
In the same year, she partnered with Fletcher Norton for
another duo act. She and Norton married in 1911 and remained together for eight
weeks before divorcing.
Suratt self-proclaimed herself as “Vaudeville’s Greatest
Star” but was more known for the high-fashion clothing she wore onstage. For
this reason, she was nicknamed “Empress of Fashions.” Moreover, she is
purported to be one of the models for Gibson Girl sketches.
In 1915, she turned to film roles, signing with Fox. She was
portrayed as a vamp, cast as a seductive character in her film roles. Her first
film appearance occurred in The Soul of
Broadway (1915), in which she reportedly wore more than 150 gowns. In 1916,
she traveled internationally to France for the purpose of buying costumes and
motion picture equipment; to Great Britain as a special representative of
William Fox; and to Monte Carlo to select motion picture locations. Altogether,
she performed in 11 silent films during her film career. Today, all of them are
considered lost films.
Jealousy
In 1920, her career waned due to vaudeville’s decline and
the vamp image no longer being popular among moviegoers. To complicate matters,
she and scholar Mirza Ahmad Sohrab sued Cecil B. DeMille for purportedly
stealing the scenario for The King of
Kings (1927) from them. The case was ultimately settled without publicity
and Suratt was unofficially blacklisted following the lawsuit.
In the 1930s, Suratt was living in a cheap New York City
hotel, nearly destitute. Novelist Fannie Hurst discovered her situation and
organized a benefit for her, raising $2000. Soon after receiving the funds,
Suratt spent the funds while gambling and was penniless again.
Suratt tried to restore her career and funds by selling her
life story to newspapers, but one reporter who read the manuscript noted that
Suratt was writing about herself as the mother of God. Suratt’s career was
never revived in any capacity.
Suratt died in a nursing home in Washington, D.C., on July
2, 1962. She was a member of the Bahai faith and her ashes were interred at
Highland Lawn Cemetery in Terre Haute, Indiana. She was 80 years old.
Today, few places of relevance to Suratt remain. In 1910,
she resided at 47 E. 44th St., New York, New York. This location no
longer remains.
However, her 1925 home at 306 W. 76th, New York,
New York, remains.
306 W. 76th, New York City
In addition, in 1931, she lived at 240 W. 98th
St., New York, New York, which also stands.
240 W. 98th St., New York City
For 60 years, Suratt’s grave was unmarked. A local fundraising campaign led to the grave finally being marked in 2022. In addition, Terre Haute Mayor Duke Bennett declared June 28 Valeska Suratt Day in Terre Haute during a proclamation. Presently, this is the most significant tribute to Suratt.
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.
,
