At last year’s Turner Classic Movies Film Festival, one of the special presentations was entitled “Celebrity Culture and Hollywood Love Stories.” Hosted by David Pierce, Assistant Chief of the National Audio-Visual Conservation Center at the Library of Congress, and featuring actress Diane Baker, the event focused on the movie magazines that were so popular and influential during Hollywood’s Golden Age. According to Pierce, there were more than 20 national fan magazines during the 1930s alone.
I was especially interested in this presentation because
I’ve always loved fan magazines and I’ve collected them for years. I also have
a book entitled Hollywood and the Great
Fan Magazines, which reprints numerous articles that appeared in the fan
magazines of the 1930s. Even though the classic film noir period had not yet
started, this book serves up a number of stories about the noir veterans who
were about to step into the shadows in the coming decade. The information in
the fan magazines had to be taken with a huge grain of salt (sometimes a few
cupfuls!), but the articles were nonetheless both entertaining and fascinating
– especially in retrospect! This month’s Noir Nook takes a look at some of my
favorite fan magazine stories on the future stars of noir.
Noir Pedigree: Although she’s probably best known for her Oscar-winning turn in The Farmer’s Daughter (1947), Young starred in three film noir features during the 1940s and 1950s: The Stranger (1946), where she plays a small-town wife who discovers that her husband (Orson Welles) is a Nazi war criminal; The Accused (1949), as a schoolteacher who accidentally kills a student who tries to molest her; and Cause For Alarm!(1951), where she’s once again a housewife, this time one who frantically tries to track down a letter written by her delusional spouse in which he accuses her of trying to kill him.
Fan Magazine Feature: Young is featured in a Motion Picture magazine article, “Career Comes First with Loretta,” which actually doesn’t talk about her choosing her career over her private life. Instead, it muses about her certain marriage to director Eddie Sutherland (they never married) and her unique personality traits – including the fact that she’s a “homey gal” who doesn’t even have a personal maid and makes her own bed! Author Dan Camp also shares that Young’s dominant trait is her penchant for kindness (“She cannot bear to hear of anyone’s hurt”) – and that she’s also highly disciplined, mentally acquisitive, and a huge movie fan – her favorites included Greta Garbo and Katharine Hepburn.
Noir Pedigree: Stanwyck, of course, starred in my favorite film noir, Double Indemnity (1944), as the ruthlessly murderous Phyllis Dietrichson, who teams with her lover to murder her spouse and collect a sizable insurance payout. She was also in at least eight other noirs; my favorites are The Strange Love of Martha Ivers(1946), where she plays the title role; and Crime of Passion (1956), in which she stars as a newspaper reporter-turned-bored housewife, whose effort to further her husband’s career leads to murder.
Fan Magazine Feature: In Motion Picture magazine’s “The Truth Behind the Stanwyck Court Case,” author Joan Bonner gives some pretty juicy tidbits about Stanwyck’s fight for custody of her son, Dion, whom she adopted in 1932 with then-husband Frank Fay. According to the article, she stopped allowing Dion to see Fay because each time she did, the little boy would come home “so ill that a doctor had to be called.” (With hanky-wringing pathos, the article quotes Stanwyck: “I can’t let him be a little emotional football tossed about this way and that. I can’t!”) Stanwyck wound up gaining custody of Dion but, ironically, the two were estranged when her son grew up and Dion never had anything good to say about his famous mother.
Noir Pedigree: Born into a famous acting family (her older sister was MGM star Constance Bennett), Joan Bennett started her film career as a coquettish blonde, but when she became a brunette, she was transformed into the perfect noir femme. She starred in one of the first-rate Scarlet Street (1945), as a duplicitous dame who encourages the affections of an unhappily married man, leading to a none-too-happy end for them both. She’s also memorable in Woman in the Window(1944), where she’s seen with her Scarlet Street co-stars Edward G. Robinson and Dan Duryea; Hollow Triumph (1948), where her disillusioned doctor’s secretary delivers this memorable line: “It’s a bitter little world full of sad surprises, and you don’t go around letting people hurt you.” And before taking on the role of Elizabeth Taylor’s mother in Father of the Bride and Father’s Little Dividend, she starred in The Reckless Moment(1949), as a woman who will do anything to protect her daughter.
Fan Magazine Feature: In “Joan Denounces Hollywood Gossip,” Screen Book writer Muriel Babcock spends an entire article reporting that Bennett is happily married to husband Gene Markey, in an attempt to, in Bennett’s words, “stop malicious and spiteful rumors that are disseminated by people who apparently enjoy scurrilous gossip and untruths.” The article was accompanied by an effusive retraction by the magazine which, in an earlier issue, had suggested that both Joan and her sister could be facing divorce. The retraction noted the magazine’s “exceeding regrets” and “spirit of repentance,” and goes on to gush: “We have never meant to inure of harm the great Bennetts. We have always and now have great affection and admiration for them, and wish them well in all their undertakings.” Ironically, Bennett and Markey did wind up divorcing – Markey went on to marry actress Hedy Lamarr, and Bennett married producer Walter Wanger (who was jailed after he shot Bennett’s agent, with whom she was reportedly having an affair . . . but that’s another story for another day).
If you haven’t picked up a movie magazine lately, do yourself a favor and track one down. They’re a scream!
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
With a new film inspired by the H.G. Wells story having arrived earlier this year, it seems like a great time to revisit the original movie adaptation of The Invisible Man, which made its first appearance back in 1933 and helped to build the horror canon of Universal Pictures and director James Whale. Although he’s not quite as iconic as other horror heavies like Frankenstein’s monster and Dracula, the Invisible Man has enjoyed plenty of cinematic representation over the decades, and the original movie still holds a special appeal for its darkly comedic tone, its startling effects work, and its breakout performance by an unseen Claude Rains.
The tone of The Invisible Man is one of its most striking elements, with Whale indulging a deeply perverse sense of humor even as he unfolds a tragic cautionary tale about delusional, self-destructive madness. The two moods exist simultaneously in almost every scene; we laugh at Jack Griffin’s antics and wild exultation even as we recognize that he’s quite literally a naked madman running through the streets. Whale offers us a delicious but terrible feast of irony, with Rains’ vocal performance as its most essential ingredient. Griffin rants about wealth and power, but he spends most of the movie alone and naked in the snow. He imagines himself a god but quickly sinks to the desperate existence of a rabid animal. Hunted for his crimes, he ends up sleeping in a barn instead of a palace, and the audience knows early on that the “way back” he is obsessed with finding can never exist.
Ambition and greed drove him to invent the serum, and those qualities are amplified as Griffin becomes more and more unhinged, until all that’s left is a raging malignant narcissism that destroys everything around him. The kindest interpretation of events, that is offered by his mentor Dr. Cranley (Henry Travers), is that Griffin’s madness is a side effect of the drug that made him invisible, but we see very clearly that the seeds of that madness were already growing in the man who created such a drug in the first place. It’s a particularly provocative version of the familiar plot about the overreaching scientist, the man who dares to do something that should never be done and foolishly believes he is smart enough to escape the consequences.
Another highlight of the movie is its use of special effects, many of which look better today than those seen in films made much more recently. Griffin’s unwrapping to reveal his invisible body is such fun that we get to see it several times, and it never fails to impress. Simple tricks make footprints appear in snow, bicycles take off without riders, and furniture flies across the room, but they are presented so perfectly that they seem miraculous even if you know how they’re done. John P. Fulton and his special effects team really deliver in scene after scene, and it’s no wonder that Fulton would go on to win Oscar nominations for his effects work in three Invisible Man sequels, The Invisible Man Returns (1940), The Invisible Woman (1940), and Invisible Agent (1942). Fulton couldn’t be nominated for his work on the original movie because the award didn’t exist in 1933, but the later nominations prove how remarkable and groundbreaking Fulton’s work was on the whole series of films. He’d go on to win Special Effects Oscars for Wonder Man (1945) and The Ten Commandments (1956), but he worked on hundreds of pictures over the course of his career.
The supporting cast in The Invisible Man also deserves a lot of credit for helping the effects work their magic on the audience. They look as thunderstruck or terrified as the situation requires, especially when Griffin cuts loose on the hapless villagers. Gloria Stuart and Henry Travers have the biggest supporting roles but the least interaction with the invisible Griffin, while William Harrigan has to sell his fear of Griffin in multiple scenes. Whale indulges Irish character actress Una O’Connor with plenty of memorable moments in which she shrieks in horror at the invisible invader running amok in her establishment; he apparently thought O’Connor was so funny that he cracked up when shooting her scenes, and I admit that I also laugh out loud every time she starts screaming. Classic horror fans know both O’Connor and E.E. Clive, who plays Constable Jaffers, from their roles in Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein (1935), while sharp-eyed viewers will also recognize genre regular Dwight Frye in an uncredited role as a reporter.
I haven’t seen the 2020 version of The Invisible Man to know how it compares with the original, but I’m much more a fan of classic horror than the modern entries into the genre. I can say that the later invisible protagonist movies lack Whale’s biting ironic humor and instead go for more straightforward comedy, although they still feature some fun effects and performers. The original movie earns its place in the pantheon of horror classics; it’s a must-see picture for fans of Universal monsters, James Whale, or Claude Rains. If watching The Invisible Man leaves you hungry for more than just a glimpse of Rains’ distinctive features, follow up with his turn as Sir John Talbot in The Wolf Man (1941) or as the tragic title character in Phantom of the Opera (1943).
Classic Movie Travels: Hugh Herbert – NYC and Los Angeles
Hugh Herbert
is remembered for his many appearances in a variety of Pre Code films. With his
iconic “woo-woo” laugh and eccentric characters, Herbert’s film roles delighted
audiences across the nation.
Hugh Francis Herbert was born in
Binghamton, New York, to parents who were of Scottish descent. He began
performing early on in vaudeville, typically playing odd or flustered
characters. As the film industry transitioned to sound, stage performers were
actively pursued. In the case of Herbert, his stage experiences helped prepare
him for his time in Hollywood, leading him to have a comedic film presence.
Herbert was also interested in
writing for the screen, co-writing six screenplays and contributing to others.
Among his writing credits are Lights
of New York
(1928) and Second Wife (1930). He
would also direct He Knew Women (1930).
While under contract at Warner
Bros., Herbert appeared in many successful films, including Footlight
Parade (1933),
Dames(1934), Gold
Diggers of 1935
(1935), A
Midsummer Night’s Dream
(1935), and many more. His persona would also be featured in several Looney
Tunes shorts, with depictions of him in Speaking
of the Weather (1937) and The
Hardship of Miles Standish (1940). Years later, a caricature of his persona
would appear in the Terrytoon short The
Talking Magpies (1946).
On-screen, he played characters similar to the ones he played on stage, usually in supporting roles. Nonetheless, he had a recognizable laugh that quickly became his trademark. Soon enough it would be imitated by other performers such as Curly Howard from The Three Stooges, leading Herbert to slightly alter his laugh to “hoo hoo” into the 1940s. His laugh can also be heard as the inspiration for Daffy Duck’s style of laughing.
Herbert’s brother, Tom Herbert, was
also making strides as a performer. He, too, worked as a comedian on screen,
appearing in the short Double or Nothing (1940)
as his brother’s double.
After working at Warner Bros.,
Herbert went on to work at Universal Pictures. His characters continued to be
similar to the ones he played at Warner Bros., with Herbert going on to offer a
praiseworthy performance in Hellzapoppin’
(1941) as a comedic detective. Herbert would continue to work in comedies at
Columbia Pictures, partaking in many short subject features alongside cast and
crew that had worked on the Three Stooges shorts.
Herbert would work in comedies for
the rest of his life. His final screen appearance would be in the short The Gink in the Sink (1952).
Herbert passed away on March 12,
1952, from cardiovascular disease. He was 66 years old. Herbert was buried at
Holy Cross Cemetery in Culver City, California.
Today, locations of relevance to
Herbert remain in his home state and in California.
In 1900, Herbert’s family was
living at 629 10th Ave. in Manhattan. Here is the property today:
By 1905, they were living in a home
on W. 12th Ave. in Brooklyn.
In 1917, Herbert was residing at
456 Riverside Dr. in Manhattan. He married Rose Epstein, also known as Anita
Pam, in the same year in Detroit, Michigan. They would divorce in 1949. This is
the property at present:
By 1930, Herbert had moved to Los
Angeles to work as an actor and director for motion pictures. In 1942, he
maintained a residence at 12321 Moorpark St. in Studio City, California. He
would split his time between the Studio City home and the Hotel Carlyle in New
York City.
This is the Studio City location
today:
The
Carlyle remains at 35 E. 76th St. in New York City.
Finally,
Herbert is also memorialized with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. His
star is located at 6251 Hollywood Boulevard.
Today,
Hubert is best celebrated through his many humorous film roles.
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.
Our August picks for the Classic Movie Hub Channel More than 40 Titles Streaming Free All Month Long!
As we announced in June, we are thrilled to have partnered with Best Classics Ever (BCE), a mega streaming channel dedicated to classic films and TV shows! And, we are proud to have our own Classic Movie Hub Channel there, where CMH fans can stream lots of classic movies and TV shows for free each month!
That said, here are just some of our August picks (40+ in all) available for free streaming on the CMH Channel. All you need to do is click on the movie/show of your choice, then click ‘play’ — you do not have to opt for a 7-day trial.
We really hope that you enjoy these films, and please feel free to explore the entire BCE channel. If you click to the BCE Home Page, you can watch even more free classic movies and shows. BCE is able to provide this content for free to you because it includes some commercials – so it’s kind of like watching ‘regular’ TV. There is no sign-up necessary to enjoy this free content, and there are hundreds of movies and TV episodes available with this option. If, instead, you prefer to enjoy your classic movie content ‘straight’ aka commercial-free or if you want access to LOTs more movies and shows, please feel free to check out a 7-day free trial.
You can read more about Best Classics Ever and our partnership here.
Marilyn: Behind the Icon – The Seven Year Itch Delivers Monroe’s Immortal Iconic Image
In 1955, after Marilyn Monroe left Hollywood to study at The Actor’s Studio in Manhattan, she sat in a booth in a diner facing Lowe’s State Theatre on Broadway. Friend and actor Eli Wallach sat across from her. Monroe stared out the window and gazed at the recently unveiled four-story cutout of her in a billowing skirt erected above the marquee of the marquee to promote The Seven Year Itch. “That’s all they think of me,” she said ruefully, appalled by the indelible representation of the very image she was battling to escape. Monroe’s character didn’t even have a name.
The Seven Year Itch gave Monroe an iconic image that would grant her immortality. Her character innocently stands over a subway grate as a train passes beneath, generating a gust of wind that raises her pleated skirt above her waist, revealing her lace panties. The iconic image contributed to the end of her marriage and defined her public persona for future generations.
The trailer for The Seven
Year Itch opened with a wolf whistle. “It’s coming at last!” read the
titles. “The howling stage hit that kept Broadway roaring for three great
years. It tickles! It tantalizes! Now it will sweep the nation with an epidemic
of laughs!”
George Axelrod’s 1952 adultery-themed comedy ran for 1,141 performances. The play starred Tom Ewell as Richard Sherman, a middle-aged Manhattan book editor whose wife and son depart for the country for a summer vacation, leaving him alone in their apartment with a beautiful model subletting the apartment upstairs. The model is every red-blooded heterosexual man’s fantasy — albeit an objectified woman — a character who Axelrod does not give a name. In the script, she is simply “The Girl.” After a protracted comedic internal struggle, summer-bachelor Sherman has an affair with the model.
The play’s title refers to a documented 1950s statistic regarding when a married couple is likely to divorce. Social scientists theorized that after seven years of monogamy, an average couple has raised an average of one to two children through infancy, grown apart, and feel an “itch” to seek out another sexual partner.
The role of the tempting model
in the film adaptation seemed ideal for Marilyn Monroe. Her screen persona
embodied the character. The script might well have spelled out that Monroe herself
was subletting the apartment upstairs from Richard Sherman. She was the public
figure with whom many married men fantasized about having an affair. Zanuck
recognized this, as evidenced by a memo dictated early in the production’s
development: “She is an absolute must for this story.”
Censorship threatened to reduce
The Seven Year Itch to an unrecognizable story. The strict Production
Code Administration enforced the forbiddance of adultery as the subject of a
comedy. Much of Axelrod’s funniest dialogue would be eliminated for its racy
tone, but Wilder was a master at repartee that had already passed the censors.
The play derives laughs from Sherman’s consequent guilty feelings and
farfetched imagined repercussions for having metaphorically scratched his itch.
Director and screenwriter lost
the battle with censorship but won Marilyn Monroe. Without her, the film would
simply have not made sense. Monroe’s sexy screen presence communicated visually
much of what could not be implied by plot or verbalized through lines. Her
unparalleled sizzle compensated for all dialogue and plot turns the censors had
excised.
Actor Walter Matthau was Wilder’s original choice for the role of Richard Sherman, but Zanuck agreed on casting Tom Ewell. “Marilyn was a fighter,” Ewell said of his co-star, honoring an overlooked attribute. “I was extremely fond of her. I grew to admire her because I knew she put up a terrific battle to do what she did. Oh, boy she was a street fighter. She had to be. She had a miserable, miserable early life. Everything she got, she fought for. She really was a wonderful person. There’s never been anyone like her.”
William Travilla’s sunburst-pleated ivory summer dress of rayon-acetate crepe with halter-top was aerodynamically designed to catch a gust of wind from a subway sidewalk grating and became the globally iconic and most recognizable motion picture costume in the history of cinema. Travilla created a dress to make Marilyn’s character “clean and adorable.” The dress sold for $5.6M at auction in 2011.
Whose idea was the skirt-blowing scene? Travilla’s pleated white summer frock itself was not revealing; it was the special effects crew’s manipulation of the aerodynamically designed garment that would expose Monroe’s flesh. The idea is credited to photographer Sam Shaw, based upon his image at Steeplechase Park in Coney Island, taken for a 1941 cover of Our Navy magazine. Shaw suggested that Fox include a scene like his striking shot of a sailor and his girlfriend whose skirt was raised a draft of wind.
On a hot summer night, Sherman and the Girl go to the cinema together and see The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), Universal Studio’s 3-D film featuring a menacing amphibious monster that abducts a beautiful girl. Exiting the theater, the Girl spontaneously straddles a sidewalk subway grate to feel a blast of cool air generated by a train speeding under the city, and her pleated skirt rises above her knees. With girlish delight, she holds her dress down and squeals, “Do you feel the breeze from the subway? Isn’t it delicious?” In the preceding dialogue, the Girl expresses empathy for the monster. Although “scary-looking,” it wasn’t “all bad.” The Girl theorizes the monster merely craved affection and “a sense of being loved and needed and wanted.”
The subway grate scene filmed outside the New York’s Trans-Lux Theatre on Lexington Avenue — and inside a soundstage at Fox — captures the Girl in a spontaneous, nonsexual moment of joy—at least this is how Monroe played it. Richard becomes the aroused voyeuristic male. The crowd of onlookers and the audience become voyeuristic as well. Still, what was going through Monroe’s head? She clearly knew the sexual implication. In true Monroe fashion, she played the scene like an innocent child, seemingly unaware of the sexual allure she creates.
The scene can also be argued as
both an example of objectification of a woman; exactly what Monroe battled against,
or a woman exercising her own sexual power. Monroe’s complicity is often
labeled as an act of exhibitionism or self-abasement. But was she really
colluding in her own objectification? Monroe was a hard worker who tried her
best to bring reality and art to any project in which she was involved. She
never expressed shame in portraying the Girl and may have justified the scene
as the price of working with the esteemed Billy Wilder.
Wilder admitted the spectacle could have been offensive and distasteful, but Monroe performed with naïveté. He asserted the act was “the finest instance of a Monroe’s character’s ability to suggest simultaneously both childlike pleasure and sexual delight.” In fact, her casting had been a calculated effort to include tasteful sexuality over obscenity. “She had a natural instinct for how to read a comic line and how to give it something extra, something special,” Wilder said in tribute to Monroe. “She was never vulgar in a role that could have become vulgar, and somehow you felt good when you saw her on the screen. To put it briefly, she had a quality no one else ever had on the screen except Garbo. No one.”
From every angle on Lexington
Avenue, a mob of photographers snapped what Irving Hoffman called “the shot
seen around the world,” referencing a line in Ralph Waldo Emerson’s poem about
the cannon blast that began the American Revolutionary War in 1775, the “shot heard
around the world.”
What scenes were deleted? Wilder reshot Monroe and Ewell’s entire scene when censors objected to Monroe’s “short” shorts; the costume was replaced with matador slacks. A fantasy sequence was also eliminated in which Sherman’s guilty conscience triggers suspicion that the girl is blackmailing him for his adulterous impulses.
During the production, the Monroe-DiMaggio marriage was marked by turbulence and alleged domestic violence. Fox hairdresser Gladys Rasmussen later claimed DiMaggio “beat [Marilyn] up” and left bruises on her shoulders that required extensive coverage with makeup. Before the film wrapped, the couple separated.
Delightful and effervescent
onscreen, Monroe presents no indication of the stress occurring in her personal
life. She was later bashed for requiring numerous retakes during the production.
Producer Charles
Feldman’s memo to Zanuck on Monroe’s challenges refutes this: “There have been
tough days…the 18-takes have only happened on rare occasions with the girl…for
the last two weeks this girl has worked as hard as anyone I have known in my
life.”
Monroe’s pivotal scene in the film appears close to the end, when Sherman tells the Girl no attractive woman would want him. Monroe delivers a heartfelt response. Since it was a long speech, Wilder and the crew assumed it would require multiple takes and many hours to film. Surprising to all, Monroe completed it in a single take and everyone on set applauded. “She told me later she was able to do the scene because she believed every word of what she was saying,” George Axelrod recalled. In the end, the Girl reminds Sherman of what matters, his wife and son. He rushes off to them as she waves from the window.
Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne wrote a title song for Monroe to sing over the closing titles. However, she left LA for New York shortly after production and didn’t record it. Rachmaninoff ’s dramatic Piano Concerto No. 2 was used in the seduction scene and in dream sequences of Sherman’s lustful fantasies of the Girl. This classical piece, with its low, rhythmic piano and lush strings was used in the British drama Brief Encounter (1945), with a familiar theme of a woman tempted to cheat on her husband with a stranger she meets at a railway station.
The Seven Year Itch also contains numerous inside jokes, derivatives, and parodies evoking other popular films in its various fantasy sequences. In the first, Helen tells Richard that he imagines things “in CinemaScope with stereophonic sound.” Richard kisses a blonde on the beach in a manner like swimsuit-clad Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr passionately necking in the surf in From Here to Eternity. Later, the Girl interrupts her toothpaste live-television commercial by warning the nation of Sherman’s lecherous behavior and compares him to the monster in The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Finally, after being kissed by his secretary, whose unbridled desire results in her ripping open his shirt, Sherman runs off half-dressed like William Holden in Picnic.
Axelrod and Wilder also blurred
Monroe with her nameless screen character. When the Girl recites her lines in
the Dazzledent toothpaste commercial to Sherman, Monroe strikes a pose remarkably
like her own studio publicity photos in an obvious self-parody. Near the end,
when Sherman brags about having a blonde in his kitchen, Tom McKenzie asks,
“What blonde in the kitchen?” Sherman snaps, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe
it’s Marilyn Monroe!”
In the film, Monroe looks like she arrived from the future. She is luminous. She makes co-stars seem obsolete. Her vocal delivery is unlike stagelike staccato of the era. Her comic timing is flawless. Monroe’s reviews were generally positive — with few exceptions by conservative critics seemingly jaded by the sexualized nature of her role rather than her actual performance.
“[Monroe] was
an absolute genius as a comic actress, with an extraordinary sense of comic
dialogue,” Billy Wilder asserted. “Nobody else is in that orbit; everyone is
earthbound by comparison.” Seven years after the film’s release, Monroe would
be dead.
Movie audiences going to see House on Haunted Hill in 1959 knew they were in for a treat. They didn’t know much more than that – only that it was something called “Emergo” and it had never before been seen.
The fact that it came from director William Castle set high expectations for audiences looking for a good fright. On his previous film Macabre(1958), he gave each moviegoer a $1,000 life insurance certificate from Lloyd’s of London in case they died of fright watching the movie.
Besides Emergo, his new film also had the bonus of starring Vincent Price as a millionaire who promises a group of strangers that he’ll give $10,000 to each one who stays the night in a haunted house.
Audiences must have been so excited to experience Emergo when they took their seats for the movie. But it would be more than an hour – about 69 minutes into the slim 75-minute film – before Emergo would reveal itself. It makes me wonder how they felt sitting all that time. Did the delay work by building a growing anticipation and tension? Or did people forget about Emergo and settle into the film?
With only minutes to spare before the fade to black, it finally came. As moviegoers watched a climactic scene on screen, the same image came to life in theaters as a 12-foot glow-in-the-dark skeleton with red flowing eyes flew over the audience. Emergo turned out to be a skeleton emerging from the darkness and it was over in about a minute.
Audiences
were startled. Screams (and laughter) ensued.
It was a success
– to a point. As exciting as it was for first-time watchers, word quickly
spread about the flying skeleton and ruined the Emergo surprise. Kids started
going just to pelt the skeleton with candy and marbles. Theater owners weren’t
happy.
That was it
for Emergo. And that should have been the end of the story.
But here we are, more than 60 years later and still talking about – and watching – House on Haunted Hill. The film has earned the distinction of being a classic in the classic horror genre while remaining a staple on networks like Turner Classic Movies, at repertory theaters and in classic film series, and for Halloween viewing. It’s also one of the choices on the new streaming service Best Classics Ever under the Classic Movie Hub Channel, appropriately found under the theme of “Friday Night.”
While Emergo
helped make the film a box office success, it has only been used in a handful
of screenings since the original release. So how do we explain the lasting
appeal of House on Haunted Hill?
It’s the combination of a few things. Vincent Price, of course, but also Castle. Though it’s easy for Castle the director to be overshadowed by his showmanship, he had a good eye for directing. He knew how to use camera angles to add tension and suspense, utilizing low and overhead shots to convey fear, fate and feelings of being watched. Shadows of bars on walls trapped the characters, a visualization of how they are imprisoned in the house, too.
That’s not to say he didn’t bring that Castle flair for gimmicks into the film – it’s there in a scene where guests arrive in hearses and another where little coffins are given to guests as “party favors” (they each hold a pistol).
It’s most apparent in the film’s crazy opening that borders on genius (a word I use lightly) in its simplicity and effectiveness.
It’s showtime
Imagine
sitting in a theater – not just in 1959 but in 2020, too – and you’re waiting
for the movie to start.
The studio’s
name appears without fanfare in the screen’s lower left corner – Allied Artists
Pictures Corporation Presents.
Cut to darkness.
More darkness.
Then a
piercing scream. (It’s OK if you jump – everyone does.)
Moaning.
More
screaming. Doors creaking and chains rattling through the darkness.
Finally, we see … something. It’s … a floating head?
It’s creepy and comical at the same time – and it’s vintage Castle.
That talking, floating head is Watson Pritchard (played with perfect jittery anxiety by Elisha Cook Jr.) who is latest owner of the house of the title.
“The ghosts are moving tonight, restless, hungry,” he says, before explaining how his brother was one of seven people murdered in the house he calls “the only really haunted house in the world.”
Enter floating (and talking) head No. 2, millionaire Frederick Loren (Price) who is renting the house to throw a “haunted house party” for his fourth wife, the beguiling Annabelle (Carole Ohmart). He has carefully curated the guest list, offering $10,000 to all who spend the night – 12 hours – locked in the house.
There will be “food and drink and ghosts and maybe a few murders,” he promises.
It’s a startling way to open the film and is still effective today. (I get into it no matter how many times I see the film).
Meet the guests
Like any film worth including in the “strangers in an old house” genre, House on Haunted Hill provides an eclectic array of guests.
These strangers share one trait: they’re all in need of money and that makes them capable of doing anything for $10,000.
Meet Nora Manning (Carolyn Craig), a sweet young secretary who is supporting her family; handsome pilot Lance Schroeder (Richard Long); columnist Ruth Bridgers (Julie Mitchum) who has a gambling problem; and Dr. David Trent (Alan Marshal) who specializes in hysteria.
We’ve also got Watson who, despite being terrified of the house and its “inhabitants,” can’t stay away (as long as he can fortify himself with liquid courage).
Let’s not forget Annabelle and Frederick, the not-so-loving couple. She’s in her room acting like a spoiled brat who didn’t get to invite her own party guests, but he insists she join the festivities. Calmly and quietly they exchange verbal sparring that is understated yet vicious. It is delightful to watch. (This scene is enough to make them one of my favorite movie couples.)
He offers her $1 million – tax free – to leave him, but she says she deserves his entire fortune. He’s jealous and possessive, she insists. He reminds her that she’s tried to kill him multiple times. (“Remember the fun we had when you poisoned me?”) Still, he’s no better judging by the fates of his three previous wives.
When he tells her not to be afraid of the ghosts and ghouls, she responds “Darling, the only ghoul in the house is you.”
A grim party theme
Sadly, that humorous scene ends, and Frederick joins the party where killjoy Watson is spinning his “spook talk” of horrific tales of murder and decapitated heads lost “inside” the house. To add to the party atmosphere, Watson takes the guests on a house tour. There’s the spot on the ceiling that shows blood from one grisly murder. (“Whatever got her wasn’t human,” he says of the victim.) In the basement, Watson shows them the vat of acid where a wine maker threw his wife after she criticized his vino.
The group is a mix of skeptics and believers but even as strange things start to happen – look out for that falling chandelier – the money is too good to pass up. Then it’s too late and they’re locked in the house behind a steel door and windows with bars “a jail would be proud of.” There’s no phone, no electricity, no way to call for help. And things are getting really strange now.
Doors open,
close and lock on their own. Blood drips from the ceiling. There are ghostly apparitions,
heads in boxes, secret rooms and a hairy hand. Gas lights have a habit of
flickering in sequence and burning out. Poor Nora will annoyingly scream her lungs
out from one frightful experience after another, giving the doctor something to
do by diagnosing her hysteria.
Others start to unravel as well. They gather multiple times in the drawing room, skulk around hallways, explore the creepy house and hide behind locked bedroom doors where they still aren’t safe. (How is that rope coming through the window and what does it want?) Oh, and someone will die
Let’s leave the plot there – to say more would involve spoilers. Plus, this movie is about the journey, not the destination and that fits in nicely with the cinematic world of William Castle.
From that offbeat opening – clearly inspiration for countless haunted house attractions since – to all the banging doors, hands reaching out from the darkness and crazy effects that look deliberately phony – Castle is taking us on a ride he calls House on Haunted Hill.
Laugh, scream, sigh – react any way you want. Castle – the showman and the filmmaker – would be proud.
Other tricks from William Castle
The Tingler/ “Percepto.” (1959). The title character is a large, long insect-like creature that, once activated by fright, attaches to a person’s spinal cord and can only be released by screaming. For “Percepto,” Castle had seat buzzers set to to go off just as the creature gets loose during a scene in a movie theater. “Scream, scream for your lives,” Price tells audiences. And they did.
13 Ghosts / “Illusion-O” (1960). Moviegoers were handed a ghost viewer/remover to use during the movie. In certain segments of the film, if they looked through the red cellophane they could see ghosts; but if they looked through the blue, the ghosts were hidden.
Homicidal/ “Fright Break” (1961). Before the movie’s climax involving a sadistic killer, a 45-second timer went off to give scared moviegoers time to leave. They could collect a refund, but only if they went to the “Coward’s Corner.”
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. 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.
Marilyn: Behind the Icon – Monroe is Forlorn Perfection in The Misfits
Producer Frank Taylor announced that The Misfits, an independent film, would be the “ultimate motion picture,” the joint vision of a leading American playwright and an internationally prominent actress. The concept originated as a short story, titled “The Misfits or Chicken Feed: The Last Frontier of the Quixotic Cowboy,” published in Esquire in 1957. Arthur Miller later adapted it into a screenplay — a “Valentine” for Monroe and a vehicle intended to advance her dramatic acting career. The character of Roslyn was Miller’s idealized representation of his wife. He documented elements of Monroe’s personality into monologues she had spoken and incorporated into the script personal and painful situations excised from her life; art would imitate life. Numerous obstacles delayed the couple’s film project, so by the time the production began, the marriage was disintegrating.
Miller obtained his 1956 divorce by establishing residency outside of Reno. There he met three aging cowboys who explained to him how they made a living capturing wild Mustangs and selling them to dealers who in turn sold them as riding horses; but now the dealers had begun to sell the Mustangs to companies that used them as meat in the production of dog food. The once large population of wild Mustangs dwindled to a few scattered family units. The misfit cowboys, like the misfit horses, were vanishing along with their way of life. The cowboys inspired Miller’s short story and its screenplay adaptation. In apparent western genre, the script lacks a hero, usually a staple in true westerns.
“It’s supposed to be a Western, but it’s not, is it?” leading man Clark Gable asked Miller.
“It’s sort of an Eastern Western,” Miller explained. “It’s about our lives’ meaninglessness and maybe how we got to where we are.” Despite rodeo scenes, The Misfits was not a contemporary western in the way John Wayne’s films were historic period westerns. Miller’s cowboys are metaphors for those wishing to roam free and resist societal changes. Modern urbanization had eroded their masculine roles much in the same way suburbanization had changed the role of the American male.
Roslyn (Monroe) is an interpretive jazz dancer from Chicago divorcing her estranged husband (Kevin McCarthy). She meets Guido (Eli Wallach) , a widower and pilot who dropped bombs in the war. Through Guido, Roslyn meets Gay (Clark Gable) , an aging, strong-willed cowboy coming to terms with the vanishing old frontier who avoids working for the man. He is divorced and estranged from his adult children. Gay is immediately attracted to Roslyn, but she is reticent to start a relationship so soon after her divorce. Eventually, they partner and live together in the unfinished home Guido had been building for his wife before her death. The three attend a Rodeo in Dayton along with Roslyn’s older friend and landlady, Isabelle (Thelma Ritter), a divorcee who long ago arrived in Reno when she divorced. At the rodeo, the group connects with Perce (Montgomery Clift), a sensitive cowboy estranged from his mother. The three men mount a plan to capture wild Mustangs and sell them for dog food meat.
The shallow plot only serves as a canvas for the four leading characters’ exploration of their inner conflicts and attempt to connect and relate to each other. Each exposes emotional and searches for meaning.
Roslyn is the center of film. As an outsider to their world, she impacts each of the men by questioning their long-held and unchallenged beliefs. Monroe was determined to deliver a performance that would give the role a darker side and complex backstory absent from the script. In the character, Miller referenced biographical parallels to Monroe’s life: Roslyn’s abandonment by her parents, her continuous search for security; her perceived image by others as the essence of femininity, sensitivity.
Gay represents the idealized masculine role. He is afforded freedom and independence by his trade as an itinerant cowboy but now faces revolution. “He’s the same man,” director John Huston explained, “but the world has changed. Then he was noble. Now he is ignoble.”
Widowed Guido, the most intelligent and educated of the cowboys, is also bitter and cynical. He feels alienated from others and guilty about his violent acts as a soldier in war. With a blending of masculine and feminine traits, Perce yearns for mothering and nurturing after having had experienced rejection by his mother. She remarried after the death of his father and gave her new husband the family farm. Isabelle, Roslyn’s older divorced landlady, represents survival and female resiliency. She is adaptive and thick-skinned. She accepts life as it is without trying to change it.
Throughout the film, Roslyn is a source of light and a point of reference. Whatever happens to someone in Roslyn’s life, Guido says, happens to her. She ministers to each misfit man and is herself a misfit. Gay tells Roslyn that she is the saddest girl he ever met; a line Miller uttered when he first met Monroe. “You have the gift of life, Roslyn,” Guido says. “The rest of us, we’re just looking for a place to hide and watch it all go by.” Perce wonders aloud how she retains the trust of a newly born child.
In Roslyn’s voice, we hear a new morality signaling an emerging counterculture later exemplified by the protest of the Vietnam War and Feminist Movement. She confronts the killing of the Mustangs as barbaric, something the cowboys never pondered, and identifies with the horses as victims of the men’s brutality. Ultimately, Gay—a man of an older generation—finds a way to embrace the new morality and transforms without losing himself.
Miller’s highly cerebral themes are clearly literary and akin to a book rather than to a motion picture. Monroe recognized this upon early review of the screenplay and expressed serious doubts about its cinematic merit. Her opinion mattered. After all, Marilyn Monroe Productions, although uncredited onscreen, partnered with Seven Arts Productions, a subsidiary of United Artists, to produce The Misfits and distribute it globally.
Robert Mitchum turned down the role as Monroe’s leading man based upon his assessment of the script as incomprehensible. Again, art imitated life when the Millers cast Clark Gable as Gaylord Langland. He had been Monroe’s childhood idol and fantasy father figure, and Gable (at 59) was the undisputed King of Hollywood.
Monroe urged Huston to cast her friend Montgomery Clift as man-child Perce Howland. He had recently completed Wild River, a film originally intended for Monroe as his co-star. “He’s the only person I know who’s in worse shape than I am,” Monroe said of Clift. “I look at him and see the brother I never had and feel brave and get protective.” Clift said of her: “I have the same problem as Marilyn. We attract people the way honey does bees, but they’re generally the wrong kind of people.”
Monroe also cast her friend from the Actor’s Studio, Eli Wallach, as Guido. As Isabelle, Thelma Ritter had been Monroe’s co-star in two other films. Square-jawed actor Kevin McCarthy, best-know for Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), plays Roslyn’s husband.
Designer Dorothy Jeakins suggested the use of several wigs on location due to the wind, dirt, and dryness of the desert and to reduce the time required each morning for hairdressing. The film’s hair stylist Sydney Guilaroff concurred. When Jeakins and Monroe had a falling out, Jean Louis stepped in as designer. Instead of stopping a scene to straighten or curl Monroe’s hair, the hairdresser merely removed her wig and applied another one already styled. Monroe’s appearance starkly diverged from her signature look with an emphasis on weariness over glamour.
Huston’s atypical style of production for The Misfits involved no rehearsals and filming the script in chronological sequence so that the actors developed their characters as the plot unfolded. “When she was herself, she could be marvelously effective,” Huston recalled of Monroe. “She was not pretending to an emotion. It was the real thing. She would go deep down within herself and find it and bring it up into consciousness. But maybe that’s what truly good acting consists of.”
The production moved to Quail Canon Ranch to film scenes at Guido’s ranch. Miller had spent time with the original cowboys who inspire his script in a house on the ranch. Art imitated life when the production used the same house. Necessitating more space for the cameras, the crew sawed through the corners of the house to make them removable by turning a few bolts. Miller later wrote about feeling disturbed by the fact that the walls of the same house where he had visited with the real cowboy and his girlfriend could now be unbolted and repositioned to bring in the light of the open sky.
One of the most difficult scenes in The Misfits involved lengthy dialogue between Marilyn and Clift. Huston wanted to shoot the scene in one take; the longest single take in his entire directorial career. It takes place behind the saloon, where Roslyn sits on a decayed seat from an old automobile, and Perce lays on the ground with his head resting in her lap. Surrounded symbolically by a mound of assorted trash, the characters reflect upon betrayal in their lives. When the 10,000-watt lights were switched on, the flies smarmed, and the trash emitted a vile stench. The crew sprayed fly repellent as Monroe shielded Clift’s eyes with her hand. None of the crew believed the two actors, notorious for their problems in remembering lines, could get through the scene. To everyone’s amazement, they completed the scene in a mere six takes, producing two perfect takes.
“Working with [Monroe] was fantastic…like an escalator,” Clift said. “You would meet her on one level and then she would rise higher and you would rise to that point, and then you would both go higher.”
Monroe’s triumphant climatic scene was filmed on an overcast
day. The cowboys wrestle the mare to the ground and tie its legs together.
Roslyn watches, her heart breaking as the mare’s colt stands helplessly beside
its mother. She erupts in a raw emotional outburst. “Butchers! Killers!
Murderers!” she shrieks. “You liars. All of you, liars! You’re only happy
when you can see something die! Why don’t you kill yourselves and be happy? You
and your God’s country. Freedom! I pity you. You’re three dear, sweet dead men.
Butchers! Murderers! I pity you! You’re three dead men!” Expecting Miller
to allow Roslyn to intelligently articulate her cause, Monroe resented the
speech. Nevertheless, the histrionic explosion presents a more suitable
dramatic climax.
Having captured close-ups of Monroe emoting pain while watching the roping, Huston chose to film her speech from a considerable distance. The volume of her voice and her body motions would carry the performance, as the camera would not read facial expressions. Miller disagreed with the camera set-up, but Huston argued her voice would be a cry from the wilderness. They compromised by filming the scene from both a medium shot and from fifty yards away.
When Huston yelled, “Action,” Monroe began screaming in a
voice never heard by her fans in a powerful performance unlike any of her
previous roles. In a still photograph by Inge Morath, Monroe stands with her
legs spread apart, her torso leaning forward in rage, her fists clenched at her
side. Her head is thrust forward with her mouth open. Her forehead is furrowed,
her hair hangs limp with perspiration. No longer is she the sex symbol pin-up; instead,
she is a serious, dramatic actress. This photograph evokes the impact Huston
could have achieved through a close-up. The extreme distance of Huston’s camera
minimizes Monroe’s effect by recording a fraction of her intensity; had Huston
filmed this powerful performance in a close-up or used the alternate medium
shot, Monroe arguably may have been nominated for an acting award.
Journalist W. J. Weatherby observed Monroe filming the scene
several times as she was “jumping in and out of a state of high emotion without
any preparatory passages.” He wrote that the “wear and tear” on her psyche
“must have been savage.” Between takes, Weatherby described Monroe as a boxer
in the corner of the ring, waiting to come out fighting when the bell sounded.
On a Paramount soundstage in New York, Monroe filmed a critical scene with Wallach. Believing Roslyn’s relationship with Gay has ended, Guido asks her to give him a reason to double-cross his friend and release the roped horses. Monroe’s speech is poignant as she confronts Wallach’s selfishness with disgust and acrimony:
You, a sensitive fellow…so sad for his wife.
Crying to me about the bombs you dropped and the people you killed. You have to
get something to be human? You never felt anything for anybody in your life.
All you know is the sad words. You could blow up the world and all you’d feel
is sorry for yourself.
“Gable has never done anything better on screen, nor has
Miss Monroe,” heralded the New York Daily News. “It is a poignant
conflict between a man and a woman in love, with each trying to maintain
individual characteristics and preserve a fundamental way of life.” Saturday
Review lauded The Misfits as a “powerful experience…” with
“characters at once more lifelike and larger-than life than we are ordinarily
accustomed to in American movies…[Monroe] gets pathos into the role, and a very
winning sweet charm into a great many of her scenes. She shows range, too, and
it can be plainly announced that acting has by no means spoiled Marilyn Monroe.”
“A picture that I can only call superb…” proclaimed New
York Herald Tribune. “There is evidence in the picture that much of it has
a personal relationship to Miss Monroe, but even so her performance ought to
make those dubious of her acting ability reverse their opinions. Here is a
dramatic, serious, accurate performance; and Gable’s is little less than great.
Can anyone deny that in this film these performers are at their best? You
forget they are performing and feel that they ‘are.’”
In his column for The Village Voice, Jonas Mekas penned a review in the rhythm of a Beat poem. It remains one of Monroe’s best critiques and insinuates the film’s appeal to the counterculture:
Marilyn Monroe, the Saint of Nevada Desert…A woman that has known love, has known life, has known men, has been betrayed by all three, but has retained her dream of man, and love, and life…She finds love everywhere, and she cries for everyone, when everybody is so tough, when toughness is everything. It’s MM that is the only beautiful thing in the whole ugly desert, in the whole world, in this whole dump of toughness, atom bomb, death…All the tough men of the world have become cynics, except MM. And she fights for her dream, for the beautiful, innocent, and free…It is MM that tells the truth in this movie, who accuses, judges, reveals. And it is MM who runs into the middle of the desert and in her helplessness shouts…in the most powerful image of the film.
Arguably, the film’s failure stemmed from the fact that Miller and Huston did not deliver the product audiences expected. The Misfits appeared as a Western at face value but did not follow the formula of the genre. The dialogue and theme more closely resembled the French New Wave of filmmaking exemplified by Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless (1959), Alain Resnais’ Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959), and the Italian style perfected by Federico Felini in films such as La Dolce Vita (1960). Ultimately, as iconic figures, the leading stars and their repertoire of films following the Hollywood studio formula drew an audience with a high expectation for entertainment congruent with those iconic images and their previous work.
The Misfits earned increased acclaim over time as the film industry evolved. Today it seems an outlier in 1960s cinema and representative of films made during the 1970s and 1980s. In evaluations by modern critics, the film embodies the advent of the “indie” film, now commonplace. Although Gable and Monroe’s performances did not garner award nominations, Gable’s is posthumously hailed as his best, and Monroe received the Golden Globe for Female Film Favorite of 1961.
In order to qualify to win one of these paperback books via this contest giveaway, you must complete the below entry task by Saturday, August 29, 2020 at 6PMEST. However, the sooner you enter, the better chance you have of winning, because we will pick a winner on four different days within the contest period, via random drawings, as listed below. So if you don’t win the first week that you enter, you will still be eligible to win during the following weeks until the contest is over.
Aug 8: Volume 1 (one winner)
Aug 15: Volume 1 (one winner)
Aug 22: Volume 2 (one winner)
Aug 29: Volume 2 (one winner)
We will announce each week’s winner on Twitter @ClassicMovieHub and/or right here on this Blog in the comment section below (depending on how you entered), the day after each winner is picked around 9PM EST — for example, we will announce our first week’s winner at 9PM EST on Sunday Aug 9.
…..
And now on to the contest!
ENTRY TASK (2-parts) to be completed by Saturday, Aug 29 at 6PM EST — BUT remember, the sooner you enter, the more chances you have to win…
1) Answer the below question via the comment section at the bottom of this blog post
2) *ThenTWEET (not DM) the following message (if you don’t have twitter, see below): Just entered to win the “ICON: The Life, Times and Films of Marilyn Monroe” #BookGiveaway courtesy of @BearManorMedia , you can enter too at: http://www.classicmoviehub.com/blog/icon-the-life-times-and-films-of-marilyn-monroe-book-giveaway-august/
THE QUESTION: What is one of your favorite Marilyn Monroe roles/movies and why?
NOTE: if for any reason you encounter a problem commenting here on this blog, please feel free to tweet or DM us, or send an email to clas…@gmail.com and we will be happy to create the entry for you.
*If you do not have a Twitter account, you can still enter the contest by simply answering the above question via the comment section at the bottom of this blog — BUT PLEASE ENSURE THAT YOU ADD THIS VERBIAGE TO YOUR ANSWER: “I do not have a Twitter account, so I am posting here to enter but cannot tweet the message.”
Please note that only Continental United States (excluding Alaska, Hawaii, and the territory of Puerto Rico) are eligible.
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About the books:
Volume 1: Psychotherapist & author Gary Vitacco-Robles reframes & redefines the fascinating woman behind the iconic image through an analysis of her psyche and an appreciation of her film & stage performances in Volume One of this definitive biography. After a decade of meticulous research, Vitacco-Robles offers a treasure trove of facts comprehensively documenting each year of Monroe’s inspiring life within the context of her tumultuous times & through her relationships with literary, entertainment, & political figures. Monroe is resurrected a half-century after her tragic death in this detailed & sensitive biography that intelligently explores her passionate desires: to be loved, become a serious actress, & have a family. Volume One examines the first thirty years of Monroe’s life and her impact on the culture, providing a deeper understanding of the remarkable woman and the lasting impression she left behind. Based upon interviews, diaries, & personal files-void of sensationalism-Icon: The Life, Times, & Films of Marilyn Monroe dispels many myths & reveals the ultimate truth about Hollywood’s most charismatic, beloved, & enduring star.
Volume 2: Psychotherapist & author Gary Vitacco-Robles reframes and redefines the fascinating woman behind the iconic image through an analysis of her psyche and an appreciation of her film and stage performances in Volume 2 of this definitive biography. After a decade of meticulous research, Vitacco-Robles offers a treasure trove of facts comprehensively documenting each year of Monroe’s inspiring life within the context of her tumultuous times, and through her relationships with literary, entertainment, and political figures. Monroe is resurrected a half-century after her tragic death in this detailed and sensitive biography that intelligently explores her passionate desires: to be loved, become a serious actress, and have a family. Volume 2 examines the last six years of Marilyn’s life and her impact on our culture in the five decades following her early tragic death. Its pages provide a deeper understanding of this remarkable woman and the lasting impression she left behind. Based upon interviews, diaries, and personal files-void of sensationalism-Icon: The Life, Times, & Films of Marilyn Monroe Vol. 2 dispels many myths and reveals the ultimate truth about Hollywood’s most charismatic, beloved, and enduring star.
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If you don’t want to wait to win, you can purchase the books on amazon by clicking the images below:
“THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH” ( 1956 ) ~
QUE SERA SERA
Why? Because you’re the affable, all-American James Stewart, that’s why. I’ve no real clue why Stewart’s picked, other than he’s a great foil to get pushed around by Hitchcock and international forces beyond his control.
How prescient of Hitch to give us a glimpse of North Africa and its Muslim culture as a preamble to the intrigue that follows. Could this film even be made today? (Current Middle East tensions and all…) Hitchcock also gives us a glimpse into the marriage of Stewart and Doris Day. I really like Day in this, one of the better roles of her career. My motto: It doesn’t hurt playing a Hitchcock Blonde.
And any leading man is better off being “married” to Doris Day in the movies (i.e. Rock Hudson, James Garner, David Niven and now Jimmy Stewart, to name a few.) She’s a smart gal here, picks up social cues her husband misses, as wives do. She tamps down her sophistication, but she’s no rube. Day plays an ex-singing star who has given up her career for marriage to a doctor and a nice home, little boy and life in the Mid-west. There might be just the slightest bit of tension in that trade-off. But whaddya want, it’s 1956; a girl’s gotta get married. I like Hitch giving Day’s character a moment in the spotlight as the couple’s plane lands in London and fans call out for her. Don’t worry…it’s just a plot device and not a commentary on women having had ‘ka-rears’.
The Plot: They have to stop a political assassination and find their
kidnapped son…in that order. Nothing like a little blackmail to spur
one’s civic duty. Their silence bought, Stewart’s and Day’s
teamwork has them decipher clues, leaving law enforcement pretty
much out of this so they won’t muck up finding their couple.
Usually when we hear the great film scores of the Hitchcock-Bernard Hermann collaboration (Psycho, Vertigo, North By Northwest, etc.) the music serves as a beautiful observer of events. In “The Man Who Knew Too Much” Hitchcock puts Music and Hermann front and center. What a neat touch as the movie starts, we see Hermann and his orchestra PLAY the movie’s actual score under the movie’s opening credits. Has any director done THAT before? (We’re usually not supposed to know the music’s there.) Later on in the film, Hitch intersperses Hermann and his orchestra… instruments, music sheets, close-ups of musical notes with Day and Stewart trying to figure out the last piece of the puzzle. Music is a character in this movie. Tension and suspense are as taut as a violin string as Hitch shows Day’s tear-stained face looking up at the muzzle of an assassin’s gun.
No one expresses hysteria, full-blown or repressed, like Doris Day.
In fact, my favorite scene in the movie is, perhaps, the most
disturbing, where Stewart gives Day sleeping pills just before he
tells her their son has been kidnapped. She simultaneously plays out
several emotions: anger, despair and helplessness as the pills take
effect in a scene worthy of Ingrid Bergman’s talents.
The behind-the-scene story is Hitchcock said very little to Ms. Day
during filming, having no notes of direction for her. It wasn’t that he
didn’t like her. He was pleased with her natural and “pitch perfect”
performance.
Very very few directors had the chance to remake their own movie. I can only think of Wyler. This is Hitchcock’s second time doing “The Man Who Knew Too Much.” I think he improved on his own work. But you be the judge…see ‘em both.
Theresa Brown is a native New Yorker, a Capricorn and a biker chick (rider as well as passenger). When she’s not on her motorcycle, you can find her on her couch blogging about classic films for CineMaven’s Essays from the Couch. Classic films are her passion. You can find her on Twitter at @CineMava.
Canadian-born actress Yvonne De Carlo is remembered by many classic film fans as one of Hollywood’s most glamorous women.
Born Margaret “Peggy” Yvonne Middleton in Vancouver in 1922, De Carlo began her film career in bit parts in 1941, working her way up to leading roles in the 1945 films Salome, Where She Danced and Frontier Gal, which was her first starring Western.
Many viewers associate De Carlo with desert adventures and epics such as The Desert Hawk (1950) or The Ten Commandments (1956), while others think of her film noir classics Brute Force (1947) and Criss Cross (1949). And some TV fans, of course, best remember De Carlo’s decidedly unglamorous role as Lily Munster on TV’s The Munsters (1964-66).
When I think of Yvonne De Carlo, she comes to mind first and foremost as a Western star! From the mid-’40s through the late ’60s she was the leading lady in more than a dozen Westerns.
Viewers may
not be aware that De Carlo’s roles in the Western genre were perhaps the
closest fit for what the actress described in her autobiography as “the
Peggy Middleton behind the facade of Yvonne De Carlo.”
In De Carlo’s
free time she loved nothing more than leaving Hollywood and heading up
California’s Highway 395 to spend time in the great outdoors; she frequently
stayed in Lone Pine, which she called “my haven in the High Sierra.”
She hiked, rode horses, and took her two sons fishing and camping.
It’s thus perhaps not surprising that she was so at home in Westerns. A couple of my favorite candid photos of her are on Western sets, standing in rivers laughing alongside Joel McCrea or Rory Calhoun. She looks like she’s having fun!
Here’s an overview of some of the De Carlo Westerns I’ve enjoyed. The list includes a couple of titles that might be remembered from my 2018 Western RoundUp column on “Universal Gems.”
Frontier Gal (Charles Lamont, 1945) – I think of this film from De Carlo’s breakout year of 1945 as sort of a Western Taming of the Shrew, depicting the highly tempestuous relationship between a saloon gal named Lorena (De Carlo) and Jonathan (Rod Cameron), a man on the run who was framed for murder. Lorena and Jonathan marry but are parted the next morning when the law catches up with Jonathan; when he returns six years later, he’s quite surprised to find he’s the father of little Mary Ann (Beverly Sue Simmons). De Carlo is funny and touching, desperately attracted to Jonathan but reluctant to show it, hurt she may not measure up as the “real lady” of his dreams. De Carlo also has the chance to do some musical numbers.
Black Bart (George Sherman, 1948) – This is one of my favorite De Carlo Westerns, in which she’s the love interest of rancher Charlie Boles (Dan Duryea), who has a secret life as a stagecoach robber. A friendly enemy (Jeffrey Lynn) and a Wells Fargo man (Frank Lovejoy) complicate Boles’ secret career. De Carlo and Duryea are terrific together, the year before they made Criss Cross, and the film has a fun, fast-paced story and gorgeous candy box Technicolor, not to mention a couple of dances by De Carlo. Although some filming was done in Utah, I suspect the principal actors didn’t leave California.
River Lady (George Sherman, 1948) – In this film De Carlo reunited with past costars, Rod Cameron and Dan Duryea. She plays Sequin, owner of the River Lady, a floating gambling palace. Frustrated when her love Dan (Cameron) won’t give up logging to help her build a business empire, Sequin conspires with Beauvais (Duryea) against Dan; she essentially becomes the villainess of the piece, with Dan turning to sweet Stephanie (Helena Carter) for true love. While, like Black Bart, it’s pretty obvious that second unit photography was done with stand-ins, the film’s logging scenes nonetheless give it a nice “fresh air” feel.
The Gal Who Took the West (Frederick De Cordova, 1949) – This one might be my favorite of De Carlo’s Westerns. She plays sassy, spunky Lily, an entertainer who arrives in a frontier town to perform at an opera house. A pair of handsome cousins (John Russell and Scott Brady) are soon fighting for her hand; I love the quips she trades with their grandfather (Charles Coburn). This is such a fun movie, it’s the perfect diversion for our challenging times. Hoping for a DVD release someday!
Tomahawk (George Sherman, 1951) – This is one of several films De Carlo made with director George Sherman. De Carlo once again plays a traveling frontier entertainer; she’s attracted to Jim Bridger (Van Heflin) but matters grow complicated when she mistakenly thinks an Indian girl (Susan Cabot) he’s traveling with is his wife. This film has some excellent location photography in the Black Hills and is notable for its even-handed treatment of Indians. With a terrific cast including Preston Foster, Rock Hudson, Alex Nicol, Jack Oakie, and Tom Tully, it’s a solid exemplar of what makes Universal Westerns so enjoyable.
Silver City (Byron Haskin, 1951) – This enjoyable Paramount Pictures Western costarred Edmond O’Brien as Larkin Moffatt, a man who once made a mistake and considered stealing some money; he had second thoughts and returned it, but is hounded out of jobs by resentful Charles Storrs (Richard Arlen) all over the West. Moffatt finally catches a break as a foreman working for De Carlo and Edgar Buchanan, playing her father. De Carlo is at her best when her characters have a chance to show a humorous side, and a sequence where she’s flustered when she believes O’Brien might be interested in her is delightful. There’s also some attractive location filming in Sonora, California. This film was based on a story by Luke Short, whose writing inspired many a good Western.
The San Francisco Story (Robert Parrish, 1952) – This film set during the California Gold Rush is relatively modest, including black and white cinematography, but it does have its pleasures, starting with the teaming of De Carlo and Western favorite Joel McCrea. Yvonne is exquisitely beautiful in this one — though wasn’t she always?! — gowned by Yvonne Wood. There are terrific supporting performances by Richard Erdman as McCrea’s wry sidekick and Florence Bates as the eyepatch-wearing proprietor of a waterfront dive who shanghais sailors on the side. Worth a look for anyone who likes the cast.
Border River (George Sherman, 1954) – De Carlo’s second teaming with Joel McCrea has better production values than their first film, with beautiful Technicolor filming on the Colorado River and other locations. McCrea plays a Confederate soldier attempting to purchase Army supplies in Mexico. There are some good action scenes along with romance and espionage, and all in all, it’s a likable Western. Pedro Armendariz costars.
Shotgun (Lesley Selander, 1955) – This Allied Artists Western co-starring Sterling Hayden and Zachary Scott is one of De Carlo’s best films of the genre. Hayden plays a lawman with a wild past who’s on the trail of the man who murdered his boss (Lane Chandler). He meets up on the trail with a saloon gal (De Carlo) and a bounty hunter (Scott). This is what some might call a “chamber Western,” with its main focus on the relationships among the trio of lead characters. Most of the movie was shot on location, including Sedona, and the film has a tough, gritty look, with the actors in realistically dirty clothes! Some particularly interesting background is that the film was co-written by actor Rory Calhoun. De Carlo tells a story in her memoirs of a disastrous date with Calhoun in the ’40s when he didn’t talk to her all night; despite that, in the ’50s they became good friends, to the point that he was one of the only people invited to her 1955 wedding to stuntman Bob Morgan.
Raw Edge (John Sherwood, 1956) – De Carlo worked with Calhoun in front of the camera in this oddball yet entertaining Universal Pictures film set in the 1840s Oregon territory. There’s an…unusual!…law in the area that any woman who is widowed is up for grabs by the first man who claims her. Calhoun arrives to avenge the death of his brother (John Gavin) at the hands of DeCarlo’s husband (Herbert Rudley), and he ends up also protecting her from the vultures who begin circling in anticipation of her hubby’s death. I give the story points for originality, even if it’s rather bizarre! DeCarlo and Calhoun are fun to watch together, and the filming in San Bernardino National Forest is an added plus.
Viewers who enjoy the above films will find that there are even more De Carlo Westerns to seek out, including Calamity Jane and Sam Bass (1949); her supporting role in John Wayne‘s McLintock! (Andrew V. McLaglen, 1963); and her lead roles in multiple ’60s Westerns produced by A.C. Lyles.
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– 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.