#hal b. wallis

[citizenscreen]

Producer Harold B. Wallis was #botd in 1898. He is pictured with director Michael Curtiz and Ingrid Bergman during the filming of CASABLANCA (1942).

[herrenleben]

Casablanca (Casablanca)

Kriminalfilm / Drama ; USA ; 1942 ; SW ; Regie: Michael Curtiz ; Drehbuch: Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein, Howard Koch ; Produzent: Hal B. Wallis, Jack L. Warner für Warner Bros. ; Musik: Max Steiner ; Kamera: Arthur Edeson ; Schnitt: Owen Marks ; Darsteller: Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Claude Rains, Paul Henreid, Conrad Veidt, Sydney Greenstreet, Dooley Wilson, S. Z. Sakall, Peter Lorre, Madeleine Lebeau, Leonid Kinskey, Joy Page, John Qualen, Curt Bois, Gregory Gaye, Frank Puglia, Dan Seymour, Ludwig Stössel

[jerrylewis-thekid]

A.A. Adams with Jerry Lewis and his agent Mickey Sherman

[dweemeister]

The Strawberry Blonde (1941)

During the height of the Old Hollywood Studio System – when studios themselves contracted directors, actors, writers, and other craftspersons – Warner Bros. found its niche as the “dark” studio. Warners might not have invented the gangster picture, but they codified its archetypes and tropes, becoming synonymous with the subgenre. In the early 1940s, director Raoul Walsh (a film noir pioneer; 1940’s They Drive by Night and 1941’s High Sierra) was nearing the peak of his career and actor James Cagney (1938’s Angels with Dirty Faces, 1949’s White Heat) was perhaps Warners’ most bankable star. Walsh was known for his proto-noir works and crime dramas; Cagney arguably the era’s definitive gangster actor. By 1941, both needed something different to work with.

Adapted by brothers Julius J. and Philip G. Epstein from James Hagan’s pastoral stage play One Sunday Afternoon, The Strawberry Blonde was exactly what both men sought. The Strawberry Blonde – often billed as a romantic comedy because it is a much lighter adaptation than 1933’s One Sunday Afternoon (starring Gary Cooper and Fay Wray) – is a celebration of simple, unadorned love. Though not a gag-a-minute comedy, Walsh’s uncharacteristic film shines through the performances from Cagney and especially Olivia de Havilland (three years removed from The Adventures of Robin Hood and two from Gone with the Wind). It is a joyous and nostalgic production; perhaps it should be no wonder it was a career favorite film for Walsh and a highlight for Cagney.

The Strawberry Blonde occupies two time periods. The film is set in New York City sometime in the late nineteen aughts or early 1910s, but primarily told through flashback during the late 1890s. In the flashback, Biff Grimes (James Cagney) aspires to become a dentist and yearns for a strawberry blonde socialite named Virginia Brush (Rita Hayworth; whose singing voice is, in a fleeting scene, not dubbed for the only time in her career). Along with his buddy and soon-to-be business partner, Hugo Barnstead (Jack Carson), they go on a messy double date with Virginia and her friend, the nurse and suffragist-leaning Amy Lind (Olivia de Havilland). Upon first impressions, Biff considers Amy to be the less attractive, amusing, and sociable girl. When fate – or, more precisely, Hugo’s duplicity – intervenes, Biff and Amy find love together and marry. While Biff begins studying for a dentistry diploma by mail correspondence, the two navigate financial and personal travails. Despite the marriage, Biff harbors a stewing resentment towards Hugo and a lingering covetousness towards Virginia apparent in the film’s bookends.

Among the bit players are Alan Hale as Biff’s father; George Tobias as Biff’s and Amy’s Greek immigrant friend, Nicholas Pappalas; Una O’Connor as Mrs. Mulcahey; and George Reeves (a future television Superman) as a belligerent, loudmouth, mustachioed college man who – due to his sweater – I choose to believe is from Yale. The four actors listed here, all Warner Bros. contractees at the time, each have their memorable moments.

The Strawberry Blonde serves as a memorialization to the time of Walsh and Cagney’s upbringing, similar to Vincente Minnelli’s Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) and, if one wants to draw a modern throughline, the Duffer Brothers’ Stranger Things. In many ways, the film also feels like a musical. There are numerous diegetic performances of songs – whether by our central cast or a band – popular during the turn of the century. “The Band Played On” (from which the film derives its title; “Casey would waltz with a strawberry blonde / and the band played on”), “Bill Bailey”, “The Fountain in the Park”, “Meet Me in St. Louis”, “Wait ‘Till the Sun Shines, Nellie”, and much more fill the soundtrack. Composer Heinz Roemheld’s (1942’s Yankee Doodle Dandy, 1947’s The Lady from Shanghai) work adapts many of these songs into a boisterous, energetic score. Roemheld knows when to dial his orchestra back during the film’s most intimate scenes, but this wall-to-wall score evokes the period. Ostensibly, according to the screenplay, it was a time of romantic walks and live music performances in almost all social settings. In a sense, these decisions make The Strawberry Blonde into a sort of half-musical.

With his most recent movie being the film noir High Sierra (1941) with Ida Lupino and Humphrey Bogart, the transition from a largely outdoors-set crime drama to interior-heavy romantic comedy nevertheless suited Walsh. Walsh receives immeasurable help from one of the best cinematographers ever in James Wong Howe (1941’s Abe Lincoln in Illinois, 1963’s Hud). Howe’s signature high-contrast, low key lighting – generally associated with film noir – is not present much in The Strawberry Blonde. But what Walsh and Howe accomplish is making a bygone decade contemporary again. Outside the film’s romantic scenes including Cagney and de Havilland or Cagney and Hayworth, the film’s frames overflow with activity. With masterful use of blocking and mise en scène in these moments, Walsh and Howe’s frames are always dynamic, moving – but not swooping – alongside masses of extras and supporting characters rather than staying put, as if taking still photography. A static camera during Biff’s dates out on town would immediately render The Strawberry Blonde as a dusty artifact, a creaky throwback. Stationary cinematography has its uses when there are plenty of actors on-screen, but such a decision would make this remake too much like its 1930s original. Instead, in conjunction with Orry-Kelly’s (1951’s An American in Paris, 1959’s Some Like It Hot) outstanding costume design, the past leaps out of the history books and memories to be present again.

The notable instances in which Walsh and Howe keep their camera as rigid as possible are when Biff finds himself at the park bench where he and Amy first met. The set for the park also happens to be art director Robert M. Haas’ (1941’s The Maltese Falcon, 1949’s The Inspector General) plainest craftsmanship in the entire film. These scenes are the most obviously soundstage-bound moments – the too-perfect grass, the flatness, and lack of discernible lighting – despite the extras strolling in the deep background. The Strawberry Blonde’s park scenes mark the beginning and the renewal of Biff and Amy’s relationship, rendering them arguably the romantic highlights of the film. The contrast from these scenes to places such as the beer garden, the Central Park Zoo, or the Statue of Liberty make them the least “present” of the film. Some viewers less experienced in Old Hollywood (or those who, wrongfully, dismiss the style altogether) might complain about the obvious artifice in those park bench scenes with Biff and Amy, but my goodness does the aesthetic contrast make one take notice. Not only that, but the Epstein brothers’ dialogue for Cagney and de Havilland here is gently funny, and filled with warmth.

James Cagney, with his vaudeville background, was known for his physically exaggerated performances that nevertheless maintained a raw emotional core. That works to his benefit throughout The Strawberry Blonde, in which the character of Biff often sounds calm and measured, but his words bely fearfulness and bitterness. Despite the tough-guy gangster persona he often played in Warners’ gangster pictures, there are shades of Cagney’s later performance as George M. Cohan in Yankee Doodle Dandy here. Look at the grace in his dancing at the beer garden, a seemingly spontaneous cartwheel upon learning wonderful news, and how he putters about restlessly when conversing with Amy for the first time while expecting Virginia to show up. But also notice his weariness during the film’s bookends, how he accepts – but does not despair about – his station in life.

Olivia de Havilland is Cagney’s equal in this film, and a great foil to Rita Hayworth (whose character of Virginia is depicted as more conventionally attractive, but possesses a casual cruelty and vanity that gradually reveals itself). A middle-class nurse is an unusual role for an actress known at the time for mostly playing rich women and/or Errol Flynn’s love interest in swashbucklers or Westerns. As Amy, de Havilland curiously receives two “introductory” scenes in the film – both radically different from the other in storytelling function, reflecting the rarity of a second first impression and Biff’s tendency to see only surface details. Seemingly reserved but playful when she wishes to be, de Havilland’s Amy is an absolute delight of a character from the moment she appears. One crucial moment late in the film – in which Biff is dancing around an implied truth so that he can soften the blow for Amy – is heartbreaking acting from both. De Havilland’s movement and her glance outside the window in that scene epitomizes the agony in that moment. Knowing both actors’ resumes, I initially came into The Strawberry Blonde thinking that, on paper, Cagney and de Havilland would be a romantic mismatch. What a happy surprise it is to be completely wrong.

Unlike contemporary films that might take a nostalgic trip to a decade like the 1970s, ‘80s, or ‘90s, The Strawberry Blonde feels, at times, truly transporting. The incredible attention to visual details and especially the diegetic music (too often those newer nostalgia-driven movies resort to pin drops of non-diegetic music) help immensely. Though the film suggests an immigrant experience that would have been appropriate for turn-of-the-century New York, The Strawberry Blonde declines to say more about it – most likely a result of the original source material (“pickaninny”, a derogatory term that refers to black or dark-skinned children, is casually used in a song’s lyric).

At the center of this rich period detail lies an honest love between two people flowing through life’s currents. Sometimes their love is troubled with melodramatics, but they find ways to comfort and help the other with humor and goodness. Sure, it can be sentimental stuff. But it endures an upsettingly difficult test. The Strawberry Blonde has no designs to being other than a sincere love story and a fond lookback of another time. As such, it triumphs – with just one more chorus of “The Band Played On”, if you please.

My rating: 7.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL). Half-points are always rounded down.

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[tcm]

Remembering producer Hal B. Wallis today on his birthday.

[jerseynoir]

12.26.20 Tonight’s Watch.

Again.

[fuckyeahbarbarastanwyck]

Oscar Winner Walter Huston visits Barbara Stanwyck on the set of Hal Wallis’s “Thelma Jordon” at Paramount after producer signs him for a top role in “The Furies”.

[whileiamdying]