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Jill Blake. Lover of classic film, TCM, and fried okra. Write for @Filmstruck #Streamline Blog and TCM. Co-founder/senior editor of The Retro Set (www.theretroset.com).

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Toshirô Mifune: No April Fool By Jill Blake

He may have been born on April Fools’ Day, but don’t you dare call him a fool.

Toshirô Mifune was born on April 1, 1920 in Tsingtao, China (now Quingdao, Shandong), which at that time was under Japanese military rule. His parents, both Japanese citizens, were Methodist missionaries and had moved to Tsingtao as part of a largescale, coordinated effort by the Japanese government to encourage its citizens to move into the region to help maintain its military control. In addition to being a missionary, Mifune’s father was a photographer and owned his own shop where young Toshirô learned the trade. Because Mifune was a Japanese citizen, when he turned 20 years old, he was immediately drafted into the Imperial Air Force, despite never having stepped foot onto Japanese soil. (Which he did for the first time at the age of 21.) From 1940-1945, during World War II, Mifune’s photography training was put to good use with him becoming a sergeant in the Imperial Air Force’s Aerial Photography Unit. However, like many men who were forced into wartime service, Mifune was not at all cut out for a military career. When asked about his service during World War II several years later, Mifune recalled a time of great personal fear and hard, menial work saying, “These big laborer’s hands of mine are my unwanted souvenir of that time.”

After World War II, Mifune moved to Tokyo in hopes of finding a photography job. One of Mifune’s friends, who worked at Tokyo’s Toho Studios, encouraged him to apply for a position as an assistant cameraman. Instead, Mifune found himself auditioning for the studio’s “Wanted: New Faces” talent search. It was during this audition that director Akira Kurosawa discovered him. When asked about how he first met Toshirô Mifune, Kurosawa said:

“A young man was reeling around the room in a violent frenzy. It was as frightening as watching a wounded or trapped savage beast trying to break loose. I stood transfixed. But it turned out that this young man was not really in a rage, but had drawn ‘anger’ as the emotion he had to express in his screen test. He was acting. When he finished his performance, he regained his chair and with an exhausted demeanor, flopped down and began to glare menacingly at the judges. Now, I know very well that this kind of behavior was a cover for shyness, but the jury seemed to be interpreting it as disrespect.“

Akira Kurosawa saw the great potential in Mifune and convinced the studio to put him under contract. Mifune made three films for the studio in 1947, including his screen debut in Senkichi Taniguchi’s SNOW TRAIL (written by Kurosawa), followed by two for director Kajirō Yamamoto: THESE FOOLISH TIMES and THESE FOOLISH TIMES PART 2. In 1948, Mifune was cast in DRUNKEN ANGEL, his first collaboration with Kurosawa. This film was important for both men as it established Kurosawa as one of Toho Studios’ top directors and set Mifune on the path to be its biggest international star, as well as launched one of cinema’s most famous and beloved director-star collaborations, joining other legendary partnerships such as John Ford and John Wayne; Alfred Hitchcock and Cary Grant; Frank Capra and Barbara Stanwyck; William Wyler and Bette Davis; Michael Curtiz and Errol Flynn; John Huston and Humphrey Bogart; and Anthony Mann and James Stewart.

Over the next two decades, Kurosawa and Mifune’s names were intrinsically linked, perhaps even more so than their famous Hollywood counterparts. While Mifune often worked with other directors, including multiple collaborations with Senkichi Taniguchi, Kajirō Yamamoto and Ishirō Honda, the same could not be said of Kurosawa and his leading men. Of the seventeen films Akira Kurosawa directed from 1948-1965, all but one, 1952’s IKIRU with Takashi Shimura (another one of Kurosawa’s favorite actors), starred Mifune, who was undoubtedly his muse. 

While both Kurosawa and Mifune had success outside of their collaborations, the sixteen films they made together are widely considered to be the finest work of their respective careers and includes recognized masterpieces such as STRAY DOG (’49), RASHOMON (’50), SEVEN SAMURAI (’56), THRONE OF BLOOD (’57), THE HIDDEN FORTRESS (’59), YOJIMBO (’61) and HIGH AND LOW (’63). Unfortunately, Kurosawa and Mifune’s partnership came to an end with the production of RED BEARD (’65), during which they had a major falling out, leading to an estrangement that lasted the rest of their lives. Regardless, their work together and friendship could never be forgotten. According to actor Yu Fujiki, who worked with both men, it was clear how connected they were, saying "Mr. Kurosawa’s heart was in Mr. Mifune’s body.”

Outside of his work with Kurosawa, Mifune achieved considerable success, including starring roles in Hiroshi Inagaki’s THE SAMURAI TRILOGY (MUSASHI MIYAMOTO [‘54], DUEL AT ICHIJOJI TEMPLE [‘55] and DUEL AT GANRYU ISLAND [‘56]); Kihachi Okamoto’s THE SWORD OF DOOM (’66) and Kenji Mizoguchi’s THE LIFE OF OHARU (’52). Mifune also starred in several Hollywood films, including John Frankenheimer’s GRAND PRIX (’66), John Boorman’s HELL IN THE PACIFIC (’68) and Jack Smight’s MIDWAY (’76). Mifune also launched his own production company, Mifune Productions in 1963, which was behind the release of over a dozen films, including Kobayashi Masaki’s SAMURAI REBELLION (’67), in which Mifune also starred. By the 1970s, Mifune’s popularity with international audiences had faded, but he enjoyed a bit of a career resurgence, particularly with American audiences with his role as Lord Toranaga on the television miniseries Shōgun, based on James Clavell’s novel published in 1975. Mifune continued to work throughout the 1980s and well into the 1990s, with his final film being DEEP RIVER (’95), released two years before his death in 1997.

Mifune was not only one of the most recognizable faces in Japanese cinema, but he was also an inspiration in Western pop culture. He heavily influenced actors such as Clint Eastwood, who channeled Mifune’s rōnin character in YOJIMBO in the Sergio Leone’s Man with No Name trilogy. Filmmaker George Lucas was also heavily influenced by both Mifune and Kurosawa, which is clearly evident in STAR WARS (’77), with a storyline that is heavily borrowed from THE HIDDEN FORTRESS. Lucas even asked Mifune to star as the aging Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi or the menacing Darth Vader, but we all know how that worked out.

Of his work with Hollywood directors and actors, Toshirō Mifine was once asked, “Now [that] you’re working with foreigners. Dealing with them is easy for you?” With a smile on his face Mifune replied, “Well, people are people, regardless of nationality, so it’s no different to me.” That progressive approach to working with all kinds of people, as well his dedication to his craft and loyalty to his fellow collaborators, solidified his status as one of cinema’s most important and recognizable icons. Toshirô Mifune was an original; a unique trailblazer and the epitome of cool in a way that never has, nor will ever be replicated. His performances and characters have never been out of style, even when he played characters from a distant era – and that is why audiences still love him today.

Yeah, he’s definitely no April Fool.

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My latest for @tcm

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Image Is Everything: How Cary Grant Took Control by Jill Blake

During studio-era classic Hollywood, the lives of stars, both in private and public, were almost always on display for peering eyes. Studios controlled nearly every aspect of their contract stars’ lives, closely guarding their public images and fabricating intriguing backstories filled with fictional details worthy of their own movie. Contract stars were a valuable commodity for a studio, and the more of them you had at your disposal meant more chances at successful movies, which then meant more recognition and most importantly, higher profits. Bringing a star under contract was a huge financial cost for a studio, but like any property (and that’s exactly what these actors and actresses were), the only way to make money is to invest it. While countless stars found themselves locked in unforgiving multi-year studio contracts that stifled their creativity and presented lackluster projects, a small handful, through smart business decisions and careful strategy, were able to break free of the traditional studio contract (well, as much as they could at that time) and carve out a more varied and creatively satisfying career. One of the actors who successfully broke out was the legendary Cary Grant.

But how did he do it? How did he break free of the system that made him, while also using it to his benefit? Throughout his life, including long before he ever stepped foot on a Hollywood sound stage and even after his retirement in 1966, Grant maintained tight control on his carefully crafted public persona and image, in the same way a Hollywood star today guards the details of their private life. And while Grant guarded his private life, too, he knew that his most valuable asset was being Cary Grant. At times, the public and private Cary Grant were one in the same; his name, his look and his voice were not only his livelihood, but his reputation, his legacy. 

So many other things were out of his control: abandonment by his mother at the age of nine when she was institutionalized for mental illness (at the time he had been told that she left on holiday and eventually died; he didn’t discover the truth of her disappearance until he was in his early 30s, when he reunited with her); his father’s philandering; his difficulties in his personal and romantic relationships, including marriages to five women with all but one ending in divorce; and his desperate need to be liked by the general public. With all of those things bearing down on him, Grant made sure he had complete control of everything he possibly could. While his tenacious drive and dedication to create and maintain control of his image, regardless of the insecurities prompting it, proved to be worthwhile for Grant both personally and professionally, it was also groundbreaking for those in Hollywood who would follow him and his example, as he unintentionally set the template for career independence.

At a young age, Cary Grant (born Archibald Alexander Leach) was already showing the early signs of the great actor and performer he would later become. He naturally took to dance and the piano and was absolutely transfixed by live vaudeville shows and the one-reel comedies he saw in the movie theater. Grant wasn’t a great student in school, preferring to flaunt his acrobatic skills around his classmates and spend his free time hanging around backstage at the vaudeville theaters in his hometown of Bristol, England. After being expelled from school, Grant joined the famous Pender Troupe where he honed his acrobatic skills and learned about the importance of timing, particularly when working within an ensemble. Later, Grant’s ability to gauge how to use timing in his screwball comedies would prove to be an invaluable and unique skill, setting him apart from his fellow comedic actors. In 1920, when Grant was only 16, he left England to tour with the Pender Troupe in America. He soon realized that he longed for much more than a traveling acrobatic troupe could offer him, so he made the first of many shrewd career decisions that would pay off many times over.

When the Pender Troupe’s engagement at the New York Hippodrome came to an end, prompting their return to England, Grant elected to leave the troupe and remain in New York. For the next several years, he worked in vaudeville, touring all over the country and doing everything from singing and dancing to stand-up comedy. When he wasn’t on the stage, Grant was a street performer, including stilt-walking and juggling. And when he found himself short on work, he and friend Orry George Kelly (who would later become known as Orry-Kelly, famous in his own right for being one of Hollywood’s greatest costume designers) would set up on the sidewalks of New York City to sell neckties that Kelly had hand painted.

After a relatively successful and critically-praised performance in the Broadway play Nikki, Grant was invited to give a screen test with Paramount Studios. In his first on-screen appearance in the short film Singapore Sue (‘32), Grant was unremarkable. Sure, he was handsome, but he didn’t have that effortless style and ease that would later become synonymous with his name. Despite a rather lackluster start, Paramount signed him to a five-year contract, groomed and renamed him and cast him as tuxedo-clad arm candy for their top leading ladies, including Sylvia Sidney, Marlene Dietrich, Nancy Carroll and Mae West. However, Grant was deeply unsatisfied with the roles offered to him, most of them being the cast-offs of the studio’s more popular stars, like Gary Cooper and Fredric March.

Things changed for Grant when he was loaned out to the much smaller RKO Pictures for a chance to work with director George Cukor and star alongside Katharine Hepburn. The film was SYLVIA SCARLETT (‘35) and it finally gave Grant the opportunity to demonstrate his depth as a performer and his impeccable timing. At the end of his Paramount contract in 1936, Grant refused to sign another long-term studio contract, going freelance and opting for limited picture deals that would give him choice in his projects and the flexibility to work for several different studios. At the time, going freelance was practically unheard of and was considered career suicide. For many stars, not being tethered to a major studio contract would have certainly been the end of their careers. But Grant’s need to perform and share his unique talents would never be adequately fulfilled by a sweeping multi-year studio contract. Acting wasn’t just a job for Grant—his very life depended on it. So, in reality, this kind of risky move was really Grant’s only choice.

Grant’s instincts proved to be right, carrying him through an on-screen career that lasted over 34 years, with an image and legacy that has only endured and grown since his death in 1986. During his three decades in Hollywood, Grant worked with some of Hollywood’s best filmmakers, including multiple collaborations with key directors who would help shape the “Cary Grant persona”: Alfred Hitchcock, George Stevens, George Cukor, Howard Hawks, Leo McCarey and Stanley Donen. Grant, who was both a successful comedic and romantic leading man (as well as a fine dramatic actor, when given the chance), worked alongside incredible leading ladies, including Irene Dunne, Myrna Loy, Deborah Kerr, Grace Kelly and Ingrid Bergman. Unlike other popular romantic leading couples—such as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Myrna Loy and William Powell, and Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy—Grant was never attached to one specific actress. While he made multiple films with some, he was never typecast as the “other half” in an on-screen partnership. Those decisions, coupled with his move to retire in 1966, while he was still in demand and before he lost his romantic leading man status by growing old on screen, undoubtedly contributed to his broad appeal with audiences and his enduring legacy.

The persona of Cary Grant was most certainly a product of the Hollywood star machine. But thankfully, Grant figured out early on how to make the machine work to his advantage, allowing all of us to bask in his beautiful masculinity, his charm and charisma, his hilarious comedic timing and even his caddish, dark side. In all of his years cultivating and safeguarding his image, to the extent that some even criticized his methods, Grant ensured that he would be forever remembered, perfectly preserved in celluloid. And for that, we should all be eternally grateful.

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My latest for @tcm

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Mad About Fredric March by Jill Blake

As a self-certified Fredric March-ologist ™, you can probably imagine how pleased I was when I learned that the primary subject of my very niche interests would be the Star of the Month for March on TCM. While this isn’t March’s first time in the spotlight on TCM (he received a 24-hour salute during the network’s annual Summer Under the Stars festival in 2009 and was honored again as the Star of the Month in October 2010), this month-long tribute is certainly overdue. And why is that? Well, in the last few years, there has been renewed interest in many of the deeper cuts and hard-to-find films—not just Fredric March’s filmography, but classic film in general—as TCM, various home video distributors and streaming services have made these films available to the public—many of them for the first time in decades. For example, William Wyler’s THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (’46)—a film considered one of the greatest of all-time—was unavailable on home video and was rarely shown on TCM until a few years ago. As these films are made available to viewers, from seasoned cinephiles to a brand-new generation of movie lovers, there is ample opportunity to introduce an actor’s body of work.

While he doesn’t garner the same recognition today as his peers such as Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant or Clark Gable, March was one of the most popular stars in Hollywood, especially throughout the 1930s and 1940s. And even when his “matinee idol” status cooled a bit in the late 1930s, March was regarded as one of the finest actors of his generation, earning a total of five Academy Award nominations for Best Actor throughout his long career (which spanned an impressive five decades) and winning two for his performances in DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE (’31) and THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (’46). March was also an accomplished actor of the stage, working frequently with his wife, actress Florence Eldridge. March was in the original Broadway productions of Thornton Wilder’s The Skin of Our Teeth; Paul Osborn’s A Bell for Adano; Ruth Gordon’s Years Ago; and Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night. He won two Tony awards for Lead Actor for Years Ago and Long Day’s Journey Into Night, and he is the only actor to win two Academy Awards and two Tony awards for acting.

March is also one of the few Hollywood actors to successfully transition from leading man/matinee idol to more character-driven, supporting roles. After his work in THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES, March’s career shifted, in-part due to his choice to return to the stage after the devastating effects of the House on Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) and the resulting Hollywood blacklist. While March and his wife were never fully blacklisted, their known involvement with progressive causes—from their support of the anti-nationalist Republicans fighting in the Spanish Civil War to the Screen Actors Guild—led to the red-baiting magazine Counterattack printing a smear campaign of the couple. This prompted the Marches to file a libel suit, which they won.

But their troubles were far from over, as they were also named as being members of the Communist party by an anonymous source, creating havoc in both their personal and professional lives. And while they never completely lost out on work, their careers suffered a terrible hit. Never attracted by the flashiness of Hollywood or stardom, March persevered and proved his worth as a serious actor, regardless of the size of the role. When asked about fame, March famously quipped:

Stardom is just an uneasy seat on top of a tricky toboggan. Being a star is merely perching at the head of the downgrade. A competent featured player can last a lifetime. A star, a year or two. There’s all that agony of finding suitable stories, keeping in character, maintaining illusion. Then the undignified position of hanging on while your popularity is declining.

March knew when his time at the top was at an end, and he adjusted his expectations to find the best available outlet for his immense talent. That can’t be said for the many Hollywood stars who clambered to their fading status instead of gracefully accepting the inevitable. This is why March is considered by many to be a “true actor’s actor.”

Since Fredric March’s tribute is taking place throughout the month of March, I thought it would be fun to tie it in with another one of my loves: college basketball. I’ve created a Fredric March Insanity Tournament of Films™ bracket including all of the titles in his Star of the Month lineup, with a few additional films not airing on TCM in March to fill out 32 spots. The films are divided into two main categories: 16 films made in the 1930s and 16 from the 1940s-1970s. I’ve split those two main categories in half and “seeded” them—there are eight seed positions in each quadrant of the bracket (top left, bottom left and top right, bottom right). The seeds are based on my own personal rankings and …well, I had to make some tough decisions. Yes, that means I had to pit SEVEN DAYS IN MAY (’64) against EXECUTIVE SUITE (’54), and DESIGN FOR LIVING (’33) against NOTHING SACRED (’33). And, gulp…THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES against DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE. It killed me and yes this is my ghost writing this article. But I am happy with my decisions and I completely stand by my winner of the tournament and welcome any and all criticisms, which I assume will be legion. And, I welcome you all to fill out your own Fredric March Star of the Month tournament brackets and then show me how I’m wrong and you’re right. (Opinions only shared with love, of course.)

But most importantly, I hope you all tune-in to TCM for this incredible Star of the Month tribute to Fredric March, filled with beloved classics and rare gems. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

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My latest for @tcm.

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Happy International Hat Day: Bowlers and Fedoras and Cloches, Oh My! By Jill Blake

Hats have been a staple in fashion for centuries, with origins that date back to ancient Egypt around the year 3200 BC. Of course, hat styles have changed over time, but their purposes are pretty much the same: either functionality by providing protection from the sun and other elements, or merely serving as a fashion statement. Historically, hats also often represented an individual’s social standing, with different types of hats worn by certain social classes and for certain events or occupations, from ornate wide-brimmed hats, to high quality bowlers, to newsboy caps. Hats were also part of social convention, with men wearing hats when outside and women wearing anything from pillbox hats to fascinators to complete their outfits for church or other social functions. For International Hat day, here’s a list of some popular hat styles of the 20th century. Many of these hat styles can be found on the TCM shop.

Pork Pie Hat

The pork pie hat dates back to the early-to-mid 1800s and was quite popular with men. The hat was often made of high-quality felt, but also could be made out of cotton or straw. The pork pie, or “stingy brim”, hat has distinctive features with a low crown and narrow brim. After the Civil War in the United States, the pork pie wasn’t as popular in men’s fashion. In the 1920s, silent film star and director Buster Keaton made the pork pie an integral part of his on-screen persona, helping popularize the hat once more. And in William Friedkin’s THE FRENCH CONNECTION (’71), Gene Hackman’s character, Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle, sports a pork pie hat.

Bowler Hat

The Bowler hat originates from England and was created by Thomas and William Bowler in London during the mid-1800s. The Bowler is typically made of felt and has a rounded crown, narrow brim and is very durable. While it looks formal by today’s fashion standards, the bowler was considered a more informal hat for day-to-day wear and was mainly worn by middle and upper-class men from butlers and valets, to bankers and members of the aristocracy. Perhaps the most famous bowler in classic film belonged to Charlie Chaplin, who wore the trademark bowler for his iconic Little Tramp character in films such as MODERN TIMES (’36), CITY LIGHTS (’31), and THE KID (’21). Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy also famously wore bowler hats in many of their films, like the short ANOTHER FINE MESS (’30). Other examples include Jack Lemmon in Billy Wilder’s The Apartment (1960) and James Cagney during the “Harrigan” musical number in Michael Curtiz’s YANKEE DOODLE DANDY (’42).

Fedora

The fedora is perhaps the most iconic hat in film history, particularly throughout the 1930s up through the 1950s. It’s typically made of high-quality felt, ranging from wool to cashmere to mink. The hat also usually has a wide, soft brim and a pinched crown that is indented at the top with some kind of ribbon running around the base of the crown. The fedora dates back to the 1890s and was originally considered a ladies’ hat. By the 1920s, the fedora was popularized by male members of the British Royal family and became a staple of men’s fashion. By the 1930s, the fedora was associated with gangsters and tough guys, as well as private detectives and plain clothes police officers. Almost every modern film from the 1930s through the 1950s features a fedora, including James Stewart’s Macaulay Connor in George Cukor’s THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (’40); Dick Powell’s Philip Marlowe in Edward Dmytryk’s film noir MURDER, MY SWEET (’44); and perhaps the fedora’s most famous wearer, Humphrey Bogart as Rick Blaine in Michael Curtiz’s CASABLANCA (’42). Ingrid Bergman also wore a variation of the fedora as Alicia Huberman in Alfred Hitchcock’s NOTORIOUS (’46).

Fascinator

The fascinator is more headpiece than an actual hat, but has long been a staple of women’s fashion, particularly in Europe. Fascinators are typically decorative and are clipped or pinned into the hair. They can be made of a wide-range of materials, including silk, wool and feathers and can have netted veils. Fascinators are mainly worn in traditional or formal settings, such as during church services, weddings or funerals. There are countless examples of fascinators in classic film, but one of the most popular is the one that Rosalind Russell’s Sylvia Fowler wears with her Adrian-designed eyeball blouse in George Cukor’s THE WOMEN (’39).

Top Hat

The top hat is one of the most recognizable hats in history. It is typically associated with formal dress dating back to the 1700s all the way up to the mid-1900s and is still worn today for certain social events. The top hat is tall, with a flat top and wide brim, and is usually made of silk, beaver fur or cloth. The hat was typically associated with wealth and prestige but eventually became accessible to a wide-range of social classes. Like the fedora, the top hat is featured in countless classic movies. Fred Astaire often wore one in his RKO musicals with Ginger Rogers, such as the appropriately named TOP HAT in 1935, directed by Mark Sandrich. Then there’s Fredric March, who always wears a top hat for a night out in Victorian-era London, whether he’s Dr. Henry Jekyll or his sinister alter-ego Mr. Hyde. But the top hat wasn’t limited to men—Marlene Dietrich famously wore one in her first American film, Josef von Sternberg’s MOROCCO (’30), as did Josephine Baker—both women pushing the boundaries of gender and redefining femininity.

Cloche Hat

The cloche hat was one of the most popular hats for women in the early 20th century. The cloche dates back to 1908 and was designed by French fashion designer Caroline Reboux and named for its bell shape. The cloche was one of the most versatile hats in a woman’s wardrobe, worn with casual, everyday clothing, as well as fancier versions for evening wear. The cloche was also popular because it accentuated the shorter hairstyles that were becoming more popular at the time. Joan Crawford, Josephine Baker, Nancy Carroll, Norma Shearer and Louise Brooks all famously wore cloche hats. One of the most stunning examples is in Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s technicolor masterpiece, THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP (’43) and worn by Deborah Kerr.

Hunter/Trapper Hat

The hunter or trapper hat is sort of a variation on the deerstalker hat, typically associated with the literary character Sherlock Holmes. The trapper hat can be made of fur, leather, wool or flannel, and it has ear flaps that can be tied back. The hat is more function than style, providing warmth for a variety of outdoor activities such as hunting, fishing or selling Christmas trees, like Rock Hudson’s Ron Kirby in Douglas Sirk’s ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS (’55).

Bonus: Doris Day’s Many Hats

Doris Day has rocked some hats in her day, particularly in her three films with Rock Hudson: PILLOW TALK (’59), LOVER COME BACK (’61), and SEND ME NO FLOWERS (’64). Pillbox hats. Cloche hats. Fur hats. Straw hats. Bubble hats. Bucket hats. Sun hats. And plenty of “I-don’t-know-what-that-is-but-it’s-fabulous” hats. In the late 1950s and 1960s, Day re-popularized many of the hat styles from the 1920s and 1930s, with a funky, mid-century twist. Doris wore them all and she looked absolutely fabulous.

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My latest for @tcm.

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Jean Harlow: Five Facts by Jill Blake

Of Jean Harlow’s 22 credited feature films, FilmStruck has 15 starring the Platinum Blonde, including the steamy RED DUST (’32), alongside frequent co-star and close friend Clark Gable; the insanely funny BOMBSHELL (’33) alongside Lee Tracy; and the underrated melodrama WIFE VS. SECRETARY (’36), directed by Clarence Brown and starring Gable, Myrna Loy and James Stewart.

As you explore these and other films starring Harlow, here are five facts about Hollywood’s original Blonde Bombshell:

The Baby

Harlow was born Harlean Harlow Carpenter, on March 3, 1911 in Kansas City, Missouri to parents Mont Clair and Jean Carpenter, who were united in an arranged marriage by Mother Jean’s wealthy parents. Harlean was the couple’s only child and they called her “The Baby,” which would be her nickname amongst family and close friends for the rest of her life. The marriage between Mont Clair and Mother Jean was an unhappy one, in part due to Mother Jean’s lofty aspirations of becoming an actress. While Mother Jean and the young Harlean were very close (remaining so until Harlow’s death in 1937), Harlean adored her father. Unfortunately, after the couple divorced in 1922, Baby rarely saw her father.

Harlow’s Loves

Harlow had her share of love and loss to last several lifetimes, and yet she experienced it all within a tragically short 26 years. In 1927, at the age of 16, Harlow married the wealthy Charles McGrew, who was heir to a vast fortune. A year later, the couple moved to Los Angeles and fell into the socialite scene of Beverly Hills. On a bet from a friend, Harlow took a stab at acting, working as an extra in movies—just for fun, mind you. But when her marriage to McGrew disintegrated, Harlow moved in with Mother Jean and her new husband, Marino Bello. She then turned to acting as means of support. In 1932, Harlow married MGM producer Paul Bern, who convinced head producer Irving Thalberg to put Harlow under contract for the studio. However, just a couple months after they married, Bern was found dead under mysterious circumstances (and still debated today), although his death was ultimately ruled a suicide. Bern’s death was a monumental scandal for both Harlow and MGM, as well as the source of numerous theories as to the cause of his bizarre death. In the wake of Bern’s death, Harlow married cinematographer Harold Rosson in 1933, divorcing a few months later. Harlow would not marry again, but did find love with fellow MGM star William Powell, who remained with her until her death in 1937.

Hal Roach and Howard Hughes

Before Harlow signed on with MGM in 1932, she was under a five-year contract with Hal Roach Studios. Initially working as an extra, Harlow was cast in three short films alongside Roach’s top comedic talents, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. In these shorts, DOUBLE WHOOPEE, LIBERTY and BACON GRABBERS, all released in 1929, Harlow had larger, credited roles. Just as her career was starting to take off, her marriage to McGrew was ending and Harlow walked away from her contract with Roach. Several months later, Howard Hughes signed Harlow to another five-year contract, casting her in HELL’S ANGELS (’30), which catapulted her to stardom. While audiences loved her, critics were not kind in their assessments of her acting talents. Hughes put Harlow on numerous publicity tours to bolster her image, but it wasn’t until Thalberg and MGM bought out her contract with Hughes (at the insistence of Paul Bern) that Harlow was taken seriously as an actress.

No, It Wasn’t the Hair Dye or Her Christian Scientist Mother

Jean Harlow died on June 7, 1937 at the age of 26 of uremia as caused by chronic renal failure. At the time of her death and decades after, rumors circulated as to the cause. Two of the main theories pointed to the harsh dye routine she maintained early in her career to achieve her trademark platinum locks, and also the influence of Mother Jean’s Christian Scientist beliefs. While the dye routine did damage her hair, it was not the cause of her kidney failure. As for Mother Jean, she was no doubt an overbearing and oftentimes negative influence on her daughter, but her religious beliefs in the Christian Scientist faith (which questions the need for medical intervention) did not kill Harlow either. The most likely explanation of Harlow’s death is due to the severe case of scarlet fever that she contracted as a child, which can cause lasting damage to the kidneys. In the immediate years before her death, Harlow experienced poor health and fatigue which was often misdiagnosed as influenza or other curable ailments. The sad truth of the matter is that even with an accurate diagnosis, there really was no treatment for kidney failure at that time.

Harlow is Ageless (and yes, that is a fact)

Part of Jean Harlow’s lasting appeal is no doubt due in part to her tragic and untimely death. She was at the height of her stardom and was just coming into her own as a serious actress. It’s terribly sad that we didn’t get to see the truly great things that she was destined for in her career, but we still have the image of her as she was. We never saw her grow old. Her youth is forever preserved in celluloid where she will always be beautiful and mesmerizing and alive.

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My last piece for @filmstruck. 

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Four Reasons to Love George Cukor’s THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (’40) by Jill Blake

Most of you probably know the story, as it has become part of the history and legend of Hollywood: just as her career was reaching new heights, Katharine Hepburn had unexpectedly stumbled upon a string of very bad luck. After securing a Best Actress Oscar for her role in MORNING GLORY (‘33), a nomination for ALICE ADAMS (’35) and starring roles in prestige pictures like LITTLE WOMEN (‘33) and STAGE DOOR (‘37), Hepburn had positioned herself as one of Hollywood’s best talents. But then Hepburn appeared in series of flops, including John Ford’s MARY OF SCOTLAND (‘36), BRINGING UP BABY (‘38) and HOLIDAY (‘38) – the latter two of which have been reevaluated and are now considered by many to be masterpieces. Hepburn’s popularity took a nosedive and she received the unwelcome moniker of “box office poison.”

With her top position precariously teetering on the edge, Hepburn eagerly clambered for something that would not only showcase her vast range as an accomplished actress, but would reassert her position as one of Hollywood’s best. To do this, Hepburn briefly left Hollywood for New York to star in Philip Barry’s stage play The Philadelphia Story, a story about a socialite faced with a series of difficult decisions and personal reflection on the eve of the wedding to her second husband. The play was a huge hit and a perfect role for Hepburn, giving her the opportunity to explore a range of emotions through the strong, deeply-flawed and complicated personality of her character Tracy Lord (not all that unlike her own). As such, Hepburn and her romantic partner at the time, the reclusive billionaire Howard Hughes, secured the film rights to Barry’s story and plotted out her silver screen comeback. Their plan worked. THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (’40), directed by George Cukor and starring Cary Grant and James Stewart, was a huge hit that restored the faith of studio heads and audiences alike in Hepburn’s talents and star power.

Besides acting as a career-saver for Hepburn, THE PHILADELPHIA STORY is the ultimate example of the “comedy of remarriage” – a common theme within the comedy genre when the Production Code wouldn’t allow for infidelity or sexual experimentation without serious repercussions. It’s also serves as the perfect showcase for not just Hepburn’s talents but Grant and Stewart’s, as well as an all-star supporting cast including Ruth Hussey, John Howard, Virginia Weidler, Roland Young and John Halliday.

Here are four reasons to love THE PHILADEPHIA STORY:

“Oh, C.K. Dexter Haaaaaaaven!”

The only thing more ridiculous than the name C.K. Dexter Haven is having a drunken Jimmy Stewart shouting it at the top of his lungs in the wee hours of the morning. Stewart’s lovesick, struggling writer, Macaulay Connor, has found himself under the spell of the seemingly impenetrable Tracy Lord (Hepburn). Like any respectable suitor, he marches up to her former lover—in this case her ex-husband, the recovering alcoholic C.K. Dexter Haven, played by Grant—to make his declarations known, and to perhaps fight Haven to assert his place in protecting Tracy’s honor and dignity. What should be a tense scene between two men enamored with the same woman (although it’s easy to see that Haven’s love for Tracy and anguish over the past sins that partially led to their divorce is far more complex than he leads on) is comedic gold with the sober Haven allowing Connor to have his little drunken outburst while striking up an unexpected friendship.

“Mother, how do you get small pox?”

Virginia Weidler is a revelation as Tracy’s young sister, Dinah. It’s hard to find a child actor who is both charming and effective, without bordering on the obnoxious. Weidler was a great talent who not only acted circles around her fellow child stars, but could steal a scene right from under her adult co-stars, such as MGM queen Norma Shearer in THE WOMEN (‘39). Weidler’s wacky Dinah Lord is a welcomed sight and she more than holds her own with Hepburn, Grant and Stewart. And her rousing performance of “Lydia the Tattooed Lady” is one of the funniest moments ever committed to film.

“Sometimes, for your own sake, Red, I think you should’ve stuck to me longer.”

Even when Tracy and Dexter are fighting, you can still see the love between them. Their relationship is a complicated mess of extreme pride, anger, sexual frustration and volatile passion. During their marriage, Tracy and Dexter weren’t equipped to handle each other’s flaws, of which there are many, resulting in hurt and blame. When Dexter returns to Tracy two years after their acrimonious divorce, he is a changed man. But that doesn’t stop their poisonous verbal sparring – although it’s clear that Dexter still loves Tracy, as he calls his ex-wife by her nickname, “Red.”

“This is the voice of doom calling.”

Stewart’s performance in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY earned him an Academy Award for Best Actor, one that many considered to be a consolation Oscar for the one he didn’t win for his performance in Frank Capra’s MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON (‘39). But that kind of thinking is nonsense. Stewart gives a hilarious and heartfelt comedic performance here, and at times carries the film on his lanky shoulders. Born out of the frustration of seeing so much wealth and detachment from what he considers reality, Stewart’s Macaulay Connor has a bit of fun at his hosts’ expense (take for instance the quote above), and it’s absolutely hilarious.

See these amazing moments in all its humorous context streaming now on FilmStruck.

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Introduction to Classic Film: Badass Women Edition by Jill Blake

At any given moment, there are hundreds of films available to stream on FilmStruck – whether tried and true favorites, rarities or new discoveries. Every week, FilmStruck updates its constantly rotating streaming catalog with new themes and collections, along with special features. FilmStruck offers an impressive lineup of foreign and indie titles, as well as the most comprehensive collection of classic Hollywood films available to stream. But with so many films to choose from, it can prove to be a pretty daunting task. So, where do you begin? Each month, I select a few titles that I think are perfect for someone new to the magic of classic film, or for those of you who would like to introduce classics to your friends and family.

Here are my classic film picks featuring badass women streaming on FilmStruck:

NATIONAL VELVET (‘44)—Directed by Clarence Brown and starring Elizabeth Taylor and Mickey Rooney

This is a favorite film of mine to show to classic film newbies or those who have negative pre-conceived notions about Mickey Rooney and Elizabeth Taylor. First of all, NATIONAL VELVET is just a great film, it’s emotional and inspiring without being maudlin. It’s the perfect film to show the kids, especially young girls. And then there’s Rooney and Taylor. Sometimes it’s hard to remember Rooney outside of the cantankerous persona he assumed in his later years. But he was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood throughout the 1930s and 1940s, and he was truly a marvelous actor when under the right direction. He is at his very best in NATIONAL VELVET. But this film is all about girl power and Taylor doesn’t disappoint as the strong, stubbornly determined Velvet Brown. Under the careful watch of her feminist mother (the incredible Ann Revere) and her old-fashioned, but well-meaning father (Donald Crisp), Velvet defies social convention and fights for what she wants.

ADAM’S RIB (‘49)—Directed by George Cukor and starring Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy

In this battle-of-the-sexes comedy directed by the great George Cukor—with a screenplay by the dynamic writing duo of Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin—Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn star as Adam and Amanda Bonner, a happily married couple who are both attorneys. Their relationship is a passionate and loving one, built on mutual respect for one another – personally and professionally. And their domestic arrangement is a fairly progressive and egalitarian one, especially for 1949, with both Adam and Amanda pursuing their career goals rather than falling into the typical gendered roles of the time. But when Adam and Amanda find themselves working on opposite sides of a case involving a woman who shot her husband because of his infidelity, their marriage and progressive ideals are tested. ADAM’S RIB is witty and scathing as it holds everyone accountable for their opinions and actions. And it proves that relationships are far more complicated than “who’s right and who’s wrong.”

LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON (‘57)—Directed by Billy Wilder and starring Gary Cooper and Audrey Hepburn

In this romantic drama directed by the great Billy Wilder, Audrey Hepburn stars as Ariane Chavasse, a young musician living in Paris with her private investigator father, Claude (Maurice Chevalier). Much of Claude’s detective work revolves around cases of adultery, helping the jilted uncover the truth about their unfaithful spouses. Wealthy American businessman Frank Flannagan (Gary Cooper)—a smooth Casanova with great taste in hotels, food, music and women…preferably married women—is at the center of many of Claude’s cases. Growing up with her father’s work has opened Ariane’s eyes and she finds herself obsessed and enamored with Mr. Flannagan. In a bold move, she embarks on a torrid affair with Flannagan, concocting tales of all her romantic conquests to both impress and make him jealous. While the young virgin Ariane gives herself over to the experienced Mr. Flannagan, she does so with confidence, taking control of her sexuality and staking her claim on a man who has yet to be tied down.

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Five Facts About Humphrey Bogart by Jill Blake

FilmStruck is currently streaming 21 films starring Humphrey Bogart, from lesser-known supporting roles in the 1930s to his legendary partnership onscreen and off with actress Lauren Bacall.

As you explore the Humphrey Bogart collection, here are five facts about the Hollywood legend:

“Here’s Looking at You, Kid”

Bogart’s mother, Maud Humphrey, was a highly successful commercial artist whose work appeared in magazines and various national advertising campaigns. She often preferred to use live models for her drawings, including her young son, Humphrey. Long before he graced the silver screen as one of the top stars in Hollywood, Baby Bogart was famous for being the face of Mellin’s Baby Food. Years later, Bogart cheekily reminisced about his time as a child print model saying, “There was a period in American history when you couldn’t pick up a goddamned magazine without seeing my kisser on it.”

Duke Mantee Jumpstarted His Career

The ruthless villain of Robert E. Sherwood’s 1935 play The Petrified Forest helped establish Bogart as an actor. Starring in the original Broadway production alongside his close friend Leslie Howard (who was a big star both in his native England and America), Bogie made his theatrical debut in Sherwood’s play at the Broadhurst Theatre in 1935. With the great success of the Broadway production, Warner Bros. purchased the rights to Sherwood’s story and intended to have Howard reprise his role as Alan Squier but wanted to recast the role of Duke Mantee with the popular Edward G. Robinson. But Howard was a shrewd negotiator and had final control over the production’s cast, so he demanded that Bogie be cast in the role. It was the breakthrough that he needed, and while for a time he was typecast as gangsters before hitting his stride in the early-to-mid 1940s, Bogie was forever grateful to Howard for his later success and for fighting for him. THE PETRIFIED FOREST (‘36) changed his life forever.

Bogie Was Typecast by Warner Bros.

While Bogie finally found success in his role as Duke Mantee in THE PETRIFIED FOREST, Jack Warner at Warner Bros. wasn’t quite sure how best to use the actor. Throughout the 1930s, Bogie mainly played gangsters and support to the more popular leads at the time, such as James Cagney and Edward G. Robinson. But in 1941, everything changed when Bogie was cast in Raoul Walsh’s HIGH SIERRA. This is the film that catapulted Bogie to star status and he never looked back. THE MALTESE FALCON (1941) and CASABLANCA (1942)—two of his most popular films—soon followed and a Hollywood legend was born.

Bogie the Chess Player

Bogie loved the game of chess, and he made it a point to play the game with his co-stars and crewmembers—such as close friend Peter Lorre, Paul Henreid (an excellent player in his own right), Charles Boyer, Katharine Hepburn and Fredric March on the set in-between breaks. Bogie excelled at the game with tournament-level skill. He also played via correspondence with American soldiers serving overseas during World War II, until the Federal government demanded he stop the practice, citing security concerns.

“You Know How to Whistle, Don’t You Steve?”

Bogie met the love of his life on the set of TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT (1944), an adaptation of Ernest Hemmingway’s novel. Lauren Bacall was a relative unknown, having just graced the cover of Harper’s Bazaar as a model dressed as a stylish Red Cross volunteer. Director Howard Hawks was immediately taken by Bacall’s striking, unique look, but it was Bogie who caught her eye and won her affections, despite their vast difference in age: Bogie was 44 and Bacall was 19. Upon first meeting on set, Bogie remarked to the newcomer about seeing her screen test, “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.” There was an undeniable chemistry between the two, and they started up a secret affair as Bogie was still married to his third wife, actress Mayo Methot. After his divorce, Bogie and Bacall were married in 1945 and they made three more pictures together: THE BIG SLEEP (’45), DARK PASSAGE (’47) and KEY LARGO (’48). The couple had two children, son Stephen and daughter Leslie (named after Leslie Howard), remaining married until Bogie’s death in 1957 at the age of 57.

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My latest for @filmstruck

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Gangsters, Brides and Dog Robbers: Great Picks for the Classic Film Newbie by Jill Blake

FilmStruck prides itself on having the most comprehensive streaming catalog of independent, cult and classic films available for streaming. While the service appeals to the most devoted and diehard cinephiles, it’s also a wonderful resource for someone who is interested in diving deeper into film. With the vast classic film catalog and the addition of the TCM Select programming, more people are exposed to great films—but they don’t always know where to begin. To help navigate the impressive and overwhelming cinematic offering on FilmStruck, each month here at Streamline, I will be making monthly recommendations of the best films to introduce to the hesitant, but curious future classic film fan.

Here are my picks currently streaming on FilmStruck.

WHITE HEAT (’49) 

Directed by Raoul Walsh and starring James Cagney, Virginia Mayo and Edmond O’Brien

Gangster films aren’t for everyone, but Raoul Walsh’s WHITE HEAT is the exception. Starring James Cagney, who helped define the genre with his terrifying performances as Tom Powers in THE PUBLIC ENEMY (’31), ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES (’38) and THE ROARING TWENTIES (’39), WHITE HEAT features an older Cagney returning to the gangster role that made him so famous after a brief departure to explore other character types—including an Oscar-winning performance as George M. Cohan in YANKEE DOODLE DANDY (’42). While Cagney was certainly at home playing a criminal mastermind, WHITE HEAT was like nothing he had made before. His character, Cody Jarrett, is the embodiment of evil. But he’s also one of the most complex characters Cagney ever played—a psychopathic killer and mama’s boy with intense migraines and an Oedipus complex. Cagney is brilliant and this is an excellent gateway film into his long, impressive career.

FATHER OF THE BRIDE (’50)

Directed by Vincente Minnelli and starring Spencer Tracy, Joan Bennett and Elizabeth Taylor

Romantic comedies are a great entry-point for the classic film newbie, especially romantic comedies starring a young Elizabeth Taylor. And the original version of FATHER OF THE BRIDE (which was remade in 1991 with Steve Martin and Diane Keaton, and is a great film in its own right) checks off both boxes. This delightful story, written by the legendary screenwriting duo of Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, features a devoted father, Stanley Banks, played by two-time Academy Award winner Spencer Tracy, reeling from the fact that his daughter, Kay, (Taylor), has grown up and is ready to start a family of her own. Stanley’s realization that he’s no longer the most important man in Kay’s life hits hard; he wants nothing but happiness for his daughter, but he has a difficult time letting go. And when Kay announces that she is to be married, Stanley and his wife Ellie (Joan Bennett) are thrust into planning and funding a wedding that becomes more and more lavish with each passing day. The chaos and circus-like atmosphere surrounding the wedding wasn’t far off from real events– this film was released just two days after Taylor’s first marriage to hotel magnate Nicky Hilton, which had engrossed the nation and was an international cover story. And of course, MGM capitalized on that real-life event for the film’s publicity campaign. FATHER OF THE BRIDE is funny, charming, sentimental and completely relatable, even with its rather dated approach to relationships. Also, the film features a dream sequence created by Salvador Dalí, which isn’t something you can say about most films.

THE AMERICANIZATION OF EMILY (’64)

Directed by Arthur Hiller and starring James Garner and Julie Andrews

THE AMERICANIZATION OF EMILY is one of my go-to films to introduce to someone interested classic film. For starters, films released in the 1960s are typically a bit more approachable for novice classic film fans. Pop culture references in these films are usually more relatable and viewers can find connections that are only a generation or two removed from their own experiences. Films released in the 1960s are also a bit edgier and usually surprise audiences expecting stuffy, conservative plotlines. THE AMERICANIZATION OF EMILY is, in my opinion, a quintessential 60s film, and one of the greatest political/military satires ever made, while making a powerful anti-war statement during a time of chaos and upheaval in the United States. It also features James Garner, playing a dog robber for the Navy, at his sexiest, and Julie Andrews playing very much against type, on the heels of her Academy Award-winning role as the title character in MARY POPPINS (’64). This film is a hysterically dark and romantic comedy, and heralded as one of the greatest anti-war films ever made. It also gets bonus points for featuring a fantastic late-career performance by Melvyn Douglas.

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Three Incredible Film Moments Written by Paddy Chayefsky (Spoilers) by Jill Blake

Paddy Chayefsky is regarded by many as one of the greatest writers of the 20th century. Chayefsky’s unique ability to write engaging and emotional stories about ordinary people left an indelible mark on cinema as well as on the stage and television. After serving in the Army during World War II, Chayefsky got his start writing scripts for various radio productions. In the early 1950s, he moved over to television—a nascent medium ripe for new, revolutionary storytelling. Chayefsky established himself as a preeminent teleplay screenwriter, creating prestigious roles for some of the best actors of the day, including Rod Steiger, Walter Matthau, Jack Warden, Eva Marie Saint and Joanne Woodward among many others. Finding success with his stage/teleplays, Chayefsky adapted several of them for the big screen, including MARTY (‘55) and MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT (‘59). While Chayefsky only wrote a dozen screenplays (either original or adapted from his own earlier original works), his is one of the most impressive filmographies, earning him a record-breaking three Academy Awards, including Best Adapted screenplay for MARTY and Best Original Screenplay for THE HOSPITAL (’71) and NETWORK (’76), the latter for which he is perhaps best known. Chayefsky created characters that normal people could relate to—and still do. His stories also helped create some of the greatest moments in film.

There are six films written by Chayefsky that are currently available on Filmstruck, including MARTY, THE CATERED AFFAIR (’56), MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, THE AMERICANIZATION OF EMILY (’64), NETWORK (’76) and ALTERED STATES (’80). Out of these six titles, I’ve selected three favorite moments that I believe not only define Chayefsky’s work, but are also some of the most incredible in all of film.

MARTY (’56) —Marty Falls in Love 

A few weeks ago, I wrote about one of my favorite moments in MARTY, when the title character, played by Ernest Borgnine, realizes that he’s finally found the love of his life in Clara (Betsy Blair). After being cruelly stood-up by her date, Clara finds herself comforted by Marty, who witnessed her embarrassment. Marty and Clara spend the next several hours talking over coffee and walking through the streets of New York until the early hours of the morning. After walking her home, Marty says goodnight and gleefully walks toward the bus stop across the street. Excited and filled with love, Marty punches the bus stop sign and runs off into the street to catch a cab. We’ve all had moments like this where we can barely contain our excitement. This isn’t a Hollywood moment. Chayefsky understood human behavior, giving us realistic moments like this one.

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT (’59) —Jerry Calls Off His Engagement to Betty

In this beautiful story of a May-December romance, featuring outstanding performances by Fredric March and Kim Novak, Chayefsky gives us a look at the very real obstacles faced in a non-traditional romantic relationship. The middle-aged Jerry Kingsley (March) is engaged to Betty Preisser (Novak), a woman half his age. His own insecurities due to his older age and her youth and beauty are justified when he discovers that she’s been unfaithful to him in a spontaneous tryst with her ex-husband. Crushed, Jerry retreats to his spacious New York apartment, mourning the loss of not just his relationship with Betty, but also the notion that he might have to face the rest of his life alone. In this moment, Jerry is completely broken, exposing his vulnerabilities and heartbroken over Betty’s betrayal.

THE AMERICANIZATION OF EMILY (’64) —Charlie and Emily Fight in the Rain 

Oh, how I love this film. THE AMERICANIZATION OF EMILY is a favorite Chayefsky story, second only to MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. In this scathing, anti-war film set during World War II, Chayefsky introduces us to the cynical dog robber, Lieutenant Commander Charlie Madison (James Garner), a master self-preservationist and all-American coward. While stationed in Britain, Madison meets the beautiful Emily Barham (Julie Andrews, playing very much against type) and they form a serious romantic relationship. Emily is a model Englishwoman and patriot, doing her best to serve her country during the war. Her attitude and behavior are in stark contrast to Charlie’s conniving ways but she’s inexplicably drawn to him. But Emily grows tired of Charlie’s cynicism, and the two lovers have a devastating fight right before Charlie boards a plane to report for battle. In the pouring rain, filmed in crisp black and white, Charlie bids farewell to Emily saying, “I want you to remember that the last time you saw me, I was unregenerately eating a Hershey bar.” It’s an incredibly powerful moment as we’re unsure if Charlie and Emily will ever see each other again.

[filmstruck]

The Romantic Gary Cooper by Jill Blake

Tall. Rugged. Approachable. Handsome. All-American. The embodiment of masculinity. Iconic: Gary Cooper was all of these things. He was a cowboy, war hero and good-natured baseball star. We usually think of him in terms of his stoic manliness and unassuming nature, particularly when considering his most popular roles in films like SERGEANT YORK (’41), THE PRIDE OF THE YANKEES (’42), TASK FORCE (’49) and FRIENDLY PERSUASION (’56). But Gary Cooper had a deeply romantic side to his persona. And while not as knee-weakening as Cary Grant, Ronald Colman, Errol Flynn and Tyrone Power, Coop had his own unique romantic style that has yet to be replicated. While there are several films where he played the romantic lead, there are two performances that stand out as his most romantic: BALL OF FIRE (’41) and LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON (’57). And what do these two films have in common other than starring Cooper? Both feature a strong, dynamic leading lady who completely upends his predictable world. And both are co-written by the great Billy Wilder.

Gary Cooper as the Girl-Shy Academic

In Howard Hawks’s screwball comedy, BALL OF FIRE, co-written by Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder, Cooper is Bertram Potts, a professor specializing in linguistics and grammar. Professor Potts lives with a group of his fellow professors as they research modern slang for an encyclopedia. Potts is the youngest in the group of professors and at by first glance appears out of place with his collaborators. He is young, handsome and has his whole life ahead of him. But Potts is laser-focused on his work and nothing—not even a woman—can detract him from his important work. That is, until he meets nightclub performer Katherine “Sugarpuss” O’Shea, played by Barbara Stanwyck. Sugarpuss is the very definition of female: she’s luminous and sensual and completely self-aware. She’s confident, street-wise and she knows she’s sexy. And she uses her intuition and sexuality to get want she wants. Professor Potts finds Sugarpuss intriguing, but at first, it’s only because he finds her masterful use of slang of great use to him and his fellow professors. He’s a bit awkward and uncomfortable around such an attractive woman, especially when he realizes he has developed romantic feelings for her.

This befuddled, girl-shy character is perfect for Cooper. In his Westerns and war films, Cooper often plays characters that have confidence in spades, but are quiet and reserved in their emotion. In BALL OF FIRE, Coop plays this same reserved character, with one difference: he gives in to his innermost feelings and shows his vulnerability. That change in attitude and behavior for the love of a woman is exceedingly romantic.

Gary Cooper as the Lothario

In Billy Wilder’s LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON, co-written by Wilder and his frequent collaborator I.A.L Diamond, Cooper is Frank Flannagan, a wealthy American businessman who is known the world over for his romantic trysts with numerous women. Mr. Flannagan is a man of hard, dedicated work, high taste and routine. And he also believes in working hard and playing even harder. As he finalizes business deals, he has affairs with beautiful women, regardless of their marital status. One of his favorite stops in his constant and impressive international travel is Paris, where through a series of complicated events he meets a young, mysterious woman, Ariane (Audrey Hepburn). Maintaining an air of secrecy and touting a romantic history that rivals Mr. Flannagan’s, Ariane proves to be a match for Flannagan. Her stories of previous lovers are both intriguing and infuriating to Flannagan, and he becomes jealous, protective and more attracted to Ariane. Feelings of infatuation give way for real love, which is a huge leap for a smooth-talking ladies’ man such as Flannagan.

Cooper received a lot of criticism for his role in LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON, even from Wilder himself. Much of that criticism stems from Cooper’s age, or rather how old he looked on film. Wilder had originally wanted Cary Grant for the role of Frank Flannagan, and while that casting would’ve worked quite well, Cooper is actually the better choice for the role. Cooper isn’t perfect here—his face is full of lines like aged leather. But Cooper brings a quiet charm and vulnerability to Frank Flannagan—a flawed and deeply romantic character who deep down craves stability and the love of one woman—so much so, that he’s willing to change everything he’s known for his entire life. And there’s nothing more romantic than that.

[filmstruck]

Remembering Fredric March by Jill Blake

Cary Grant. Humphrey Bogart. Errol Flynn. Fred Astaire. Gregory Peck. These are the stars everyone remembers today. And while these actors are, without a doubt, some of the greatest to ever grace the silver screen, devotees of classic Hollywood know there are so many more stars from The Golden Age who have been forgotten and deserve the attention of modern audiences. One of those forgotten actors is the great Fredric March.

Believe it or not, March was one of the most popular actors throughout his Hollywood career, which spanned over four decades. Starting out as a contract star for Paramount Pictures in the late 1920s, March quickly became a household name as one of Hollywood’s top matinee idols. He was handsome and sophisticated, playing romantic lead opposite the greatest female stars of the time, including: Kay Francis, Mary Astor, Claudette Colbert, Ruth Chatterton, Mary Brian, Nancy Carroll and Clara Bow in her first talkie, THE WILD PARTY (’29), directed by Dorothy Arzner. But March proved himself to be much more than eye candy. In 1930, March starred in THE ROYAL FAMILY OF BROADWAY, the film adaptation of The Royal Family , a stage play based on the Barrymore family, written by Edna Ferber and George S. Kaufman. March played Tony Cavendish, a character modeled after John Barrymore, which earned him his first Academy Award nomination for Best Actor.

A year later in 1931, March starred as the tortured Dr. Henry Jekyll in Rouben Mamoulian’s DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE, earning his second Academy Award nomination for Best Actor. He won the award in a tie with Wallace Beery for his performance in THE CHAMP (’31). (March actually earned one more vote than Beery, but Academy rules at the time dictated that anyone within three votes of the winner would also receive the award.) March would be recognized by the Academy three more times: nominated for Best Actor for his performance as Norman Maine in William A. Wellman’s A STAR IS BORN (’37); winning his second Oscar for the role of struggling war vet Al Stephenson in William Wyler’s THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (’46); and his final nomination as Willy Loman in the original film adaptation of Arthur Miller’s DEATH OF A SALESMAN in 1951.

But Fredric March wasn’t just a Hollywood star. He also was a well-respected actor of the stage, often starring alongside his actress wife, Florence Eldridge, including the original productions of Thornton Wilder’s The Skin of Our Teeth in 1942, and Tony Award-winning performances in Ruth Gordon’s Years Ago in 1946 and Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey into Night in 1956.

March wasn’t flashy or obsessed with stardom—although he certainly benefitted from it. While he was one of the top leading men of the 1930s, he wasn’t afraid to take risks throughout his career or take on a supporting role, especially if the part was good. Of stardom, March once said:

“Stardom is just an uneasy seat on top of a tricky toboggan. Being a star is merely perching at the head of the downgrade. A competent featured player can last a lifetime. A star, a year or two. There’s all that agony of finding suitable stories, keeping in character, maintaining illusion. Then the undignified position of hanging on while your popularity is declining.”

March certainly practiced what he preached, especially as he entered into the later portion of his career. He knew his position at the top as a romantic lead was fleeting—as it is with all actors— but unlike so many of his Hollywood peers, March valued the art and craft of acting over popularity. This grounded approach is what kept March very much in demand amongst Hollywood’s top filmmakers, including George Cukor, Stanley Kramer, John Frankenheimer, William Wyler, Irving Rapper, among many others. He was a true master of his craft, a true actor’s actor and an influential presence on the next generation of actors, including Burt Lancaster, Marlon Brando, William Holden and Ben Gazzara.

Currently on FilmStruck, you can find a handful of March’s lesser-known films, including the charming ONE FOOT IN HEAVEN (’41); 1942’s I MARRIED A WITCH (considered by many to be his last romantic leading role); MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT (’59); THE YOUNG DOCTORS (’61); and SEVEN DAYS IN MAY (’64). All of these films showcase his talents as a brilliant actor who could adapt to virtually any role. And two of these films—MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT and SEVEN DAYS IN MAY—feature March as we’ve never seen him before, in arguably his finest late-career performances. If you’re unfamiliar with Fredric March, take the time to introduce yourself to him and his incredible films. And if you are familiar with him, then share his films with your friends and family. Let’s keep his name and work alive for future generations.

[sittinonabackyardfence]

Freddie Forever. 

[filmstruck]

The Beauty of Black-and-White: Introducing Classics to the Modern Viewer by Jill Blake

The online film community, classic film fans in particular, love to discuss their favorite movies. Every once in a while, I like to poll folks online, especially on Twitter, about their favorite movies, actors, guilty pleasures or cinematic oversights. It always makes for a fascinating discussion and you learn more about your fellow movie obsessives. I also like to find out what films people use to introduce to their classic film newbie friends or those who are averse to them or have a confounding opposition to anything in black-and-white. In preparation for this post, which is the first in an ongoing monthly series I’m writing for Streamline Blog, I decided to ask Classic Film Twitter what their go-to films are for introducing to someone who is either a newbie or has negative preconceived notions about “old” movies. I received a huge response with a lot of fantastic suggestions for great films for first-timers and was pleased that many of my own go-to films were in line with so many of my pals.

Us diehard cinephiles and classic movie obsessives can be a bit overwhelming about our devotion, sometimes crossing the line into intimidation and arrogance—myself included. I believe that films should be accessible to everyone without pretention and that there’s always something new to be discovered, even for the most seasoned cinephile. With FilmStruck’s impressive streaming library of classic film and the TCM Select programming block, I will be making monthly recommendations of the best films to introduce to the hesitant, but curious future classic film fan. Let’s not scare these good people off with our well-intentioned fanaticism; let’s welcome them with open arms and show them the wonderful celluloid world that awaits them to be discovered. Of course, it’s up to all of you to find out what kinds of stories might appeal to your friend or family member, but my hope is that this guide might help lead you in the right direction.

Here are my picks for March 2018. All titles are currently streaming on FilmStruck.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE (’42)- Directed by Ernst Lubitsch and starring Carole Lombard and Jack Benny

I’m a firm believer that you can’t go wrong with any film directed by Ernst Lubitsch. From his early musicals such as THE LOVE PARADE (’29) and THE SMILING LIEUTENANT (‘31), to his sophisticated continental comedies such as DESIGN FOR LIVING (’33), NINOTCHKA (’39) and THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER (’40), I really believe there’s something for everyone to enjoy. But it’s his daring, revolutionary satire TO BE OR NOT TO BE (written about here) that I think will impress and win over your classic film newbie. Released in the months immediately following the attacks on Pearl Harbor, TO BE OR NOT TO BE boldly addresses the imminent Nazi threat by not only calling out Adolf Hitler by name but mocking and reducing him to an embarrassing punchline. On the surface, the premise of this film sounds distasteful and inappropriate, especially given that it was made during the height of Hitler’s reign of terror. But Ernst Lubitsch, who was Jewish and a German immigrant, carefully and masterfully tread the blurry lines of satire, proving that it can be used to arm the oppressed in their fight against evil. TO BE OR NOT TO BE is hysterical and incredibly sexy and always leaves the viewer dumbfounded as to how it was ever allowed to be made. And although the film was made and set during World War II, it still holds up today. This isn’t my favorite Lubitsch, but it’s perhaps his most accessible, especially for someone who assumes that classic films are boring and “safe.”

NOW, VOYAGER (’42)- Directed by Irving Rapper and starring Bette Davis and Paul Henreid

Most everyone knows who Bette Davis is: even if only for the campy persona from WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE? (’62) or Kim Carnes’s song “Bette Davis Eyes,” or Ryan Murphy’s controversial 2017 limited-series Feud: Bette and Joan, which provided an entertaining, semi-fictionalized account of the behind-the-scenes drama surrounding the production of BABY JANE. But despite Davis’s mark on pop culture, a lot of people aren’t familiar with her vast filmography. Davis had one of the most significant careers in Hollywood. She was a survivor, continuously fighting for her art and career, never stopping even after suffering a debilitating stroke and working up until her death in 1989. Over the course of her 50-year career, Davis made over one 100 films, with 40 of those in the 1930s alone. It’s difficult and overwhelming to know exactly which of her films to start with. And there are some, especially early on in her filmography, that are a bit unapproachable for the novice modern viewer. While my personal favorite Davis films are the three she made with director William Wyler (JEZEBEL [‘38], THE LETTER [‘40] and THE LITTLE FOXES [‘41]), I think the most accessible of her work is the romantic drama NOW, VOYAGER. Known for often playing difficult, strong-willed or “bitchy” characters (which are all mostly amazing feminist roles, but sometimes too over-the-top for the unsuspecting viewer), NOW, VOYAGER features Davis as a tenderhearted, vulnerable, likable character. We immediately sympathize with her situation and want her to find happiness. Also, this film is an iconic romance, featuring some of the most recognizable images in cinema. And although we now know that smoking is really unhealthy, Davis and Paul Henreid make lighting a cigarette a devastatingly romantic gesture. Plus, Claude Rains is always a welcomed sight.

A FACE IN THE CROWD (’57)- Directed by Elia Kazan and starring Andy Griffith and Patricia Neal

Now, this one might be a hard-sell to your classic film newbie. At least at first. We get it—it’s really hard to imagine the cheesy, folksy character we identify with Andy Griffith (whom I absolutely adore) as being the megalomaniac huckster Lonesome Rhodes in A FACE IN THE CROWD. But Griffith is so convincing in this role. This is another film—much like TO BE OR NOT TO BE— that always confounds as to how it was made at the time. The character of Lonesome Rhodes and the premise of the film was far ahead of its time and didn’t really resonate with audiences. But in recent years, especially with the advent of the 24-hour cable news cycle and its various partisan talking heads, A FACE IN THE CROWD has been rediscovered and reevaluated. Since I’ve written about this film for FilmStruck before (you can check it out here), I won’t get into the reasons why this film is so important and groundbreaking. I’ll just say that if you’re looking for familiar themes to what we’re dealing with in our world today, A FACE IN THE CROWD is an excellent choice and a bridge to classic film. An added bonus is that Andy Griffith gives one of the greatest on-screen performances of all time.

[sittinonabackyardfence]

CLASSIC MOVIES ARE GREAT. WATCH THEM. 

[filmstruck]

Four Reasons Why You Need Vincente Minnelli’s THE PIRATE (’48) in Your Life NOW by Jill Blake

At any given time, FilmStruck offers a truly embarrassment of riches: from dynamic, groundbreaking world cinema to bizarre cult films to Hollywood classics, including the new TCM Select programming, featuring a constantly rotating, curated collection by the wonderful, inventive programmers at TCM and FilmStruck. FilmStruck also offers impressive collections featuring the work of some of Hollywood’s greatest directors, from their most popular, well-known films to rare, underrated gems. Right now, FilmStruck has assembled a comprehensive line of programming honoring the great director Vincente Minnelli, who was one of the most creative directors at a time when Hollywood studios maintained tight control on their impressive stable of talent. Minnelli could really do it all: melodramas, light comedies and musicals, his first musical (and first feature-length film) being CABIN IN THE SKY (’43), featuring an all-black cast, which was virtually unheard of at the time. (It was the first all-black musical in at least 14 years and was one of only four major studio films to have a predominately black cast). Some of the greatest stars of the era worked for him: Red Skelton, Lena Horne, Spencer Tracy, Kirk Douglas, Lana Turner, Lucille Ball, Deborah Kerr, Frank Sinatra, Shirley MacLaine, Louis Jourdan, Leslie Caron, Gregory Peck, Lauren Bacall, Glenn Ford, Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Holliday, Dean Martin and of course Gene Kelly in three films and Judy Garland, who married Minnelli in 1945, giving birth to daughter Liza in 1946.

Throughout his long career, Minnelli was one of the masters of the studio musical at its peak, directing or co-directing at least a dozen, including a legendary professional partnership (for better or worse) with his wife, Judy Garland, and frequent collaborator Gene Kelly. One of those collaborations was the musical adaptation of the 1942 stage comedic play The Pirate, written by S.N. Behrman. Featuring songs written by the great Cole Porter and filmed in luscious Technicolor, THE PIRATE (’48) is a feast for the eyes and an underappreciated gem in MGM’s impressive musical canon. This was the second of three collaborations between Gene Kelly and Judy Garland, and is by far the most unique—and arguably their best. (Yes, I will fight you on this point.) So, here are four very simple reasons why THE PIRATE is amazing and needs to be a part of your life right now.

Gene Kelly Can Make Anything Move Rhythmically—Even a Cigarette

Gene Kelly’s gypsy performer Serafin knows how to work a crowd. And he really knows how to work the ladies. In the number “Niña,” Kelly sings about his healthy thirst for women and their swooning in response. In one particularly confident and sexy moment, Kelly twirls a cigarette in his mouth before kissing one of his admirers, blowing smoke afterward. This moment sets the fun, ridiculous tone for the rest of the film.

Judy and Gene Are ON FIRE!

Gene Kelly and Judy Garland had a wonderful on-screen chemistry and supportive off-screen friendship. Even through Garland’s most difficult and trying moments in her personal life, which had reached a devastating peak during the production of THE PIRATE, Kelly was a devoted friend, offering support and lifting Garland up when she needed it most. While her life was in chaos and she was in fragile health, both because of her failing marriage to Minnelli and her crippling drug addiction, Garland brought her best. Kelly and Garland bring a steamy romance to the screen, which is seductively played out in the “Mack the Black” number, which features the two stars engaged in a very sexy kiss that pushed the limits of the Production Code.

Hot Pants Explosion at the (MGM) Factory

Yes, I just made a reference to a song by The B-52’s, and yes it’s a completely appropriate description for THE PIRATE. Gene Kelly is well-known for his incredible dancing talents…but he’s also well-known for his more, um, impressive physical attributes. Being a dancer, and a confident, athletic one at that, Kelly’s muscular physique was often on display. During the “Pirate Ballet” number—a fantasy sequence—Kelly leaves little to the imagination in skin-tight black hot pants (well, it’s more like a romper, but let’s not worry about technicalities) as he loots and pillages and fights off pirates, swinging a shiny cutlass, swinging on ropes and spinning around with a large silver spear. There is fire, explosions, gold, flintlock pistols and muscles. Lots and lots of muscles. It’s a carefully choreographed sexual fantasy, conceived out of the mind of Garland’s character Manuela. Kelly’s dancing in this number is the very definition of masculinity, exuding sexual confidence and unafraid to appeal to anyone and everyone’s taste.

Be A Clown: The Original “Make ‘Em Laugh” 

I love SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (’52) and I love Donald O’Connor’s solo, vaudeville-style routine to “Make ‘Em Laugh.” But did you know that the song, written by Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown, was plagiarized from Cole Porter’s “Be a Clown” in THE PIRATE. Yep, that’s right. Porter didn’t file a complaint, though, despite the fact that “Make ‘Em Laugh” is by far the more popular song and dance routine. But the “Be A Clown” number serves as a charming close to THE PIRATE, featuring a two-part routine with Kelly dancing alongside The Nicholas Brothers, Harold and Fayard (Kelly and Garland fought to have them featured in the film) in an acrobatic number that has to be seen to be believed. The second half of the number features Kelly and Garland in full-clown make-up, which sounds like pure nightmare fuel, but it works. And it’s absolutely adorable.

[filmstruck]

Fred and Ginger’s Top Five Dances by Jill Blake

What better way to celebrate the launch of TCM Select on Filmstruck than with a marathon of musicals starring the legendary dancing duo of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers? That’s right—FilmStruck currently has all ten Astaire/Rogers collaborations, from their very first on-screen appearance in 1933’s FLYING DOWN TO RIO to their final reunion 16 years later in THE BARKLEYS OF BROADWAY (’49). If you’re like me, the storylines of all of these films run together a bit, making it difficult to keep them all straight based on plot alone. But despite their similarities, each one features masterful choreography by the legendary Hermes Pan (yes, he choreographed every single Astaire/Rogers film), beautifully carried out by two of Hollywood’s greatest and most popular on-screen couples. Instead of breaking down what makes each of these films so great, I’ve decided to list five of my favorite Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dances. It was difficult for me to narrow down five from a body of work featuring some of the greatest dancing ever captured on film, but I think I’ve chosen ones that not only demonstrate Astaire and Rogers’s talents, but how their partnership evolved throughout their heyday in the 1930s, culminating in their on-screen farewell in 1949.

TOP HAT (‘35)— Fred and Ginger Dance “The Piccolino”

Directed by Mark Sandrich and featuring songs penned by Irving Berlin, TOP HAT, Astaire and Rogers’s fourth collaboration, is often regarded as their greatest film. Nominated for an Academy Award for Best Picture, TOP HAT features some of their greatest dances, including Astaire’s outstanding solo work on “No Strings (I’m Fancy Free)” and “Top Hat, White Tie and Tails” (considered one of his best). The most famous dance number from this film is the beautifully choreographed “Cheek to Cheek,” featuring Rogers’s infamous “feathers” dress, which the actress designed herself. While I love this routine, my favorite from this film is Astaire and Rogers’s final dance to “The Piccolino.” Like most musical finales, “The Piccolino” is a long, sweeping number featuring a large ensemble of singers and dancers. For most of the number, Astaire and Rogers are not the focal point, but the audience is well-aware that the couple is ready to jump into the dance at any moment. This building of excitement and anticipation, along with the Busby Berkeley-style choreography, is what makes this dance a favorite for me. And when Fred and Ginger finally join in, our first glimpse is of their feet, elegantly tapping down the steps and across the polished floor. For roughly 15 seconds, we see only their feet, with the glittery hem of Ginger’s gown and Fred’s perfectly shined shoes. And as the camera slowly pans out, we see they have made it to the center of the dance floor. Their moves are light and graceful, making it all look effortless. This routine is the very definition of happiness, as Fred and Ginger look like they are having a blast.

SWING TIME (‘36) — Fred and Ginger Dance to “Never Gonna Dance”

In this film directed by George Stevens and featuring music by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, Astaire and Rogers’s dancing is somehow more sophisticated and mature. Throughout their films, each dance routine represents their characters’ courtship and romance, from casual flirting to estrangement to falling madly in love. This signature storytelling is perfectly executed in SWING TIME, possibly better than in any of their other films. While TOP HAT is quite possibly my favorite Astaire/Rogers film, SWING TIME features better musical numbers overall, including “Waltz in Swing Time,” “A Fine Romance,” “The Way You Look Tonight,” and the innovative Fred Astaire solo routine, “Bojangles of Harlem,” which was a tribute (albeit a problematic and misguided one) to Bill “Bojangles” Robinson. But for me, I can’t get enough of Fred and Ginger’s “Never Gonna Dance” routine. This number is at a crucial moment for their characters and the possible future they have together. We witness their deep, heart-aching love through this dance. Everything we need to know about their relationship is interpreted through their dance. It’s a stunning and deeply emotional number. I love everything about this dance, including the art deco set and Ginger’s stunning gown and hairstyle. This routine is simple and elegant and is a great number to introduce to someone unfamiliar with Astaire and Rogers.

SHALL WE DANCE (‘37) — Fred and Ginger Dance to “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off”

In this follow-up to SWING TIME, Fred and Ginger reunited with director Mark Sandrich and choreographer Hermes Pan for another fun musical. While an entertaining film, SHALL WE DANCE was not nearly successful as their previous musicals. With this film being Astaire and Rogers’s seventh collaboration in five years, it’s possible that audiences were suffering from a bit of musical fatigue. Astaire and Rogers were too, as Astaire was eager to explore new possibilities with different leading ladies, and Rogers desperately wanted to expand her range as a comedienne and dramatic actress in non-musical roles. While not as memorable as TOP HAT or SWING TIME, this film has its own charm and has the distinction of featuring music written specifically for the film by George and Ira Gershwin. My favorite dance sequence in this film features Fred and Ginger on roller skates dancing to “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off.” For starters, the song itself is delightful, and Fred and Ginger’s vocal interpretations are perfect. But what makes this number so special is that both of them are dancing on roller skates. It makes an otherwise basic dance number exceedingly complicated. And of course, Fred and Ginger make it look way too easy. Eighteen years later, Gene Kelly filmed one of his greatest tap routines on roller skates, in the MGM musical IT’S ALWAYS FAIR WEATHER, which was no doubt inspired by Fred and Ginger in SHALL WE DANCE.

CAREFREE (‘38) — Fred and Ginger Dance “The Yam”

In their fifth and final collaboration with director Mark Sandrich and featuring music by Irving Berlin, Fred and Ginger return in the underrated CAREFREE. Featuring fewer dance numbers than previous films, CAREFREE has two significant routines: the famous “Hypnotic Dance” during the “Change Partners number; and my personal favorite, “The Yam.” Now, the words to this song are pretty ridiculous and it’s far from a masterpiece. But the accompanying dance is so fun and Fred and Ginger’s enthusiasm and cheery attitude is contagious. A large portion of this number is Ginger on her own, singing to a small crowd. But when she grabs Fred from the audience and pulls him into her routine, it’s pure magic. Their syncopated movements and Ginger’s adorable head wobble as they dance their way around a party, is one of my favorite musical moments. Absolutely charming.

THE BARKLEYS OF BROADWAY (’48) — Fred and Ginger Dance to “They Can’t Take That Away from Me”

In 1948, two years after Fred Astaire had announced his retirement from Hollywood, he was lured back to star in MGM’s EASTER PARADE alongside Judy Garland, replacing his friend Gene Kelly who had suffered an injury to his foot. EASTER PARADE was a huge success, and MGM wanted a follow-up with the on-screen team of Astaire and Garland. Legendary screenwriters Betty Comden and Adolph Green, along with Sidney Sheldon, wrote the screenplay for THE BARKLEYS OF BROADWAY, with Astaire and Garland in mind for the leading roles. But Garland was in poor health and struggling to meet the demands of the studio, so MGM decided to recast her role. MGM producer Arthur Freed approached Ginger with an offer to reunite with her old dance partner for the first time in nine years. The result was a magical return to form for the pair, providing a satisfying bookend to their on-screen partnership. My absolute favorite routine from this film is their dance to George and Ira Gershwin’s “They Can’t Take That Away from Me.” Originally featured in SHALL WE DANCE, this rendition features Fred in his trademark tuxedo and Ginger in a glistening, flowy white gown similar to one she wore in SWING TIME. “They Can’t Take That Away from Me” was a personal favorite song of both Fred and Ginger, and is a beautifully sentimental and perfect way to bid farewell to their partnership.

Honorable Mention: Fred and Ginger Dance “The Carioca” in FLYING DOWN TO RIO (’33)

Fred and Ginger dance together for less than two minutes and they aren’t even the stars of the film. But their quick, fun dance to “The Carioca” is where it all began. Without that moment, there would be no Fred and Ginger as we know them today.

[sittinonabackyardfence]

I list my favorite Fred and Ginger dances over at @filmstruck. Check it out!

[filmstruck]

The Groundbreaking and Problematic SEPARATE TABLES (’58) by Jill Blake

Those of us who regularly watch classic film are pretty used to the fact that outdated concepts and questionable ideals, particularly those related to the casual racism and sexism that permeated throughout most of the 20th century, are consistently found in most films. Of course, some films are worse offenders than others, earning a branded asterisk and accompanied with a disclaimer. Even so, it’s never particularly comfortable to see and hear something that is morally repugnant by today’s more progressive standards. But those of us who appreciate classic film, or anything from the past for that matter—from literature to theatre—know that art is often reflective of the time period in which it was created. We’ve learned that to move forward as a society and improve our many flaws, we must learn from the past. But to fully understand history, it is important to understand the cultural environment of the time. For over a century, film has provided us with a window into various social and political climates of our past, giving us a glimpse—albeit sometimes glamorized—of what life was like at that time. Film, especially during studio-era Hollywood, routinely pushed boundaries by challenging social conventions and tackling taboo subjects, from sex (particularly outside of marriage) to substance abuse and other mature topics.

In the mid-to-late 1950s, as the studio system and the Production Code began to crumble, filmmakers took advantage by hitting these subjects head on. The result produced groundbreaking storytelling and filmmaking, and brought serious, taboo topics front and center into the current conversation. And it didn’t hurt that audiences wanted melodrama. They wanted to see their screen idols struggling with real life problems. But what was once groundbreaking in the 1950s, is unfortunately terribly dated by today’s standards. And without context of the era, our modern sensibilities undercut the serious themes addressed in these films, especially with audiences unfamiliar with classic movies. Delbert Mann’s SEPARATE TABLES (‘58) is a perfect example of a film that defied the conventions of the time simply for daring to discuss human nature and its many flaws, but is terribly awkward and inappropriate for an uninformed and unaware modern audience.

Stacked with an impressive cast, including Deborah Kerr, Rita Hayworth, Burt Lancaster, David Niven, Gladys Cooper, Wendy Hiller and Rod Taylor, and a spiritual cousin of sorts to GRAND HOTEL (‘32), SEPARATE TABLES revolves around the lives of long-term residents of a small British seaside hotel during the off-season. The hotel is both charming and depressed, offering clean rooms and separate tables at mealtime, clearly benefitting from its premiere spot near the beach and not much else. The owner of the hotel, Pat Cooper (Hiller), is a bit stern and attentive to the needs of her guests. She knows their peculiar habits and other than providing the services they require, she makes an effort to stay out of their personal affairs. But Pat is in a secret relationship with one of her longest residents, John Malcolm (Lancaster), an alcoholic writer who is emotionally damaged from a failed tumultuous marriage with his first wife.

Pat is in love with John, but she approaches their relationship pragmatically much in the same way she deals with the day-to-day operations at her hotel. Just as Pat and John agree to make their relationship and engagement public, John’s ex-wife, Ann (Hayworth), arrives at the hotel, throwing John into spiraling rage and casting doubt on his relationship with Pat. During one of his encounters with his ex-wife, John accuses Ann of using her beauty to manipulate men into falling for her. But despite using sex to her advantage to lure men, Ann is frigid and refused John throughout their marriage. John physically attacked Ann in a violent rage, which earned him time in prison and ended their marriage. It’s also implied that while married to Ann, John raped her, claiming that sex in marriage is a husband’s inalienable right despite the lack of consent. Ann wants John back, despite his abuses. She is emotionally ruined and abuses pills to cope.

Another resident of the hotel, Major David Pollock (Niven), is a charismatic war veteran who often regales his fellow residents with wild tales of his military service. Major Pollock is a quintessentially British gentleman in every way—courteous and respectful, particularly to the naïve and emotionally immature Sibyl Railton-Bell (Kerr), who lives under the imposing shadow of her overbearing mother, Maud Railton-Bell (Cooper). But Major Pollack is harboring a terrible secret. His stories are just that, fabricated tales to cover for his own insecurities. But more seriously, Major Pollack has been caught “nudging” women in darkened theatres. And while the specifics of his actions aren’t known, it’s clear that Pollack has been engaging in sexually deviant behavior. His fellow residents are repulsed by the news, with the exception of John, who isn’t really in a place to make any sort of moral judgement about another person’s behavior.

Themes of rape, sexual misconduct, drug abuse and domestic violence weren’t terribly common for the time and certainly weren’t always addressed in such a direct manner. Having those issues at the forefront is what makes SEPARATE TABLES such a groundbreaking film for the time. But where the film smashes taboos for its discussion of these issues, it reinforces archaic ideals. For example, the domestic abuse endured by Ann is seen as a reasonable action—that her denying John sex provoked his actions. She’s to blame for his violent behavior and his failed career and his excessive drinking. And in the case of Major Pollack, he blames his sexually inappropriate behavior on his insecurities and awkwardness around women, claiming that it’s just the way he is. Even one of the hotel guests defends Major Pollack saying that some of the women he assaulted weren’t respectable and could’ve left the theater at any time. (As an aside, there are many ways to interpret Pollack’s behavior, but it’s quite possible that he is struggling with his latent homosexuality.)

The excuses for the behaviors of John Malcolm and Major Pollack are pretty much accepted by most of the hotel’s residents, which would have been a reasonable and acceptable reaction for the time. Of course, for a modern audience, this can be a bit difficult to handle especially given our current cultural movement surrounding sexual harassment, assault and abuse. But even with its misguided approach, SEPARATE TABLES helped open a much-needed dialogue about mature issues, breaking down the puritan ideals of the time and ultimately leading us to where we are in the cultural conversation today.

[sittinonabackyardfence]

In my latest for @filmstruck, I take a look at Delbert Mann’s SEPARATE TABLES. 

[filmstruck]

Make Room (In Your Heart) for Marty (‘55) by Jill Blake

There’s an iconic moment in Delbert Mann’s MARTY (‘55) when the title character, played by Ernest Borgnine, gleefully punches a bus stop sign. Marty, a thirty-something unmarried butcher who lives with his mother, has just unexpectedly met the love of his life. Out with his friends for their usual Saturday night club-crawl, Marty meets a woman, Clara (Betsy Blair), who has just been cruelly ditched by her date for another, more attractive woman. Usually awkward around women, Marty quickly realizes Clara’s heartbreaking situation and introduces himself. He talks to Clara as if he’s known her his entire life, hardly stopping to take a breath. There’s an instant connection between Marty and Clara, as they spend the next several hours getting to know one another, talking until the wee hours of the morning.

During their long talk, Marty and Clara find they have quite a lot in common: they both live at home—Marty with his widowed mother, Clara with her retired parents; both are devout Catholics; both work hard—Clara as a schoolteacher, and Marty as a butcher; both aren’t conventionally good-looking; and both are terribly lonely. But for this one special Saturday night, Marty and Clara aren’t lonely. They feel comfortable with one another. At one point, Marty says confidently to Clara, “See, dogs like us, we ain’t such dogs as we think we are.” These two kind and love-starved souls have instantly formed a bond with something so uniquely special and intangible that neither one knows exactly what to do; they’ve never been in this situation before. Even with their inexperience and awkwardness with love and relationships, Marty and Clara know they don’t want to lose their bond. But outside forces, specifically Marty’s family and close friends, along with low self-esteem and body image issues, threaten Marty and Clara’s happiness.

In that moment when Marty punches the bus stop sign, everything he’s ever hoped and dreamed for has finally come true. After years of disappointing Saturday nights out with his friends looking for girls, Marty has finally met someone who sees him for who he is. He knows he’s not particularly attractive or sophisticated, but he has a big heart with a lot of love to give to someone willing to accept and reciprocate it. And for once, a woman has recognized that in him. After walking Clara home and saying goodnight, Marty has a spring in his step. He’s giddy and smiling. It’s the happiest night of his life and he wants to give someone a high-five or a hug, or shout at the top of his lungs, but it’s two o’clock in the morning.

Waiting for the bus, Marty paces. He can’t stand still, let alone wait for the bus to arrive. He has too much on his mind. As he walks back and forth on the sidewalk, Marty is growing more excited. He is in love. He wants to go home so he can dream about Clara and their future together—one where he doesn’t have to be alone anymore. And even though he just spent many hours with her, he can’t wait to see her again. To hear her voice. To know he needs her and that she needs him. To know there’s so much to look forward to, now that Clara is in his life. And with a phone date with Clara after Sunday Mass—less than twenty-four hours away, Marty impulsively decides he doesn’t have time for the bus. After all, tonight isn’t like all the other Saturday nights. He doesn’t have to go home dejected. He punches the bus stop sign with a huge grin on his face, and runs into the street to hail a cab. Surely this isn’t the first time Marty has punched a sign, but it’s the first time he’s done it with such happiness and sense of purpose. It’s a beautiful moment that is so relatable for anyone who has ever been in the early throes of love.

[sittinonabackyardfence]

I wrote about a favorite moment in Delbert Mann’s MARTY for @filmstruck