#jill blake

[alberichw]

[tcm]

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.

[filmstruck]

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.

[tcm]

Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner Meet in The Great Sinner by Jill Blake

Long before his most popular and Academy Award-winning role as the stoic and honorable single father and small Southern town lawyer Atticus Finch in TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (‘62), Gregory Peck had established himself as a versatile leading man. It all goes back to 1944, when Peck made his feature-film debut in Jacques Tourneur’s Days of Glory, which outside of Peck being quite young and handsome, is an otherwise forgettable film and performance. But despite a rather unimpressive start, Peck rebounded, and by 1950 had earned four Academy Award nominations for performances in THE KEYS OF THE KINGDOM (‘44), THE YEARLING (‘46), GENTLEMAN’S AGREEMENT (‘47) and TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH (‘49). While he often joked throughout his career that it always seemed like he was only offered movies passed on by his good friend Cary Grant, by the end of the 1940s Gregory Peck was considered one of Hollywood’s best and most popular leading men.

Meanwhile, Ava Gardner was also finally finding her stride in her career, just three years after her breakout performance in the film noir THE KILLERS (‘46), directed by Robert Siodmak. Prior to that role, Ava had been featured mainly in shorts and uncredited roles in feature-length films, but was unfortunately better known for her personal and romantic life, which included a brief marriage to Mickey Rooney, which was exploited for publicity by MGM and served as fodder for the tabloids. However, by the end of the 1940s, Gardner was well on her way to securing a spot amongst the top leading ladies of the day.

In 1949, the same year as his Oscar-nominated performance in Henry King’s TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH, Peck was cast in THE GREAT SINNER, directed by Robert Siodmak and featuring an all-star cast, including Gardner, Melvyn Douglas, Ethel Barrymore, Walter Huston, Frank Morgan and Agnes Moorehead. Peck is Fedja, a writer who is interested in studying and writing about the culture of gambling and gamblers in the German city of Wiesbaden. It is there where Fedja meets the beautiful Pauline Ostrovsky, who is engaged to Armand de Glasse (Melvyn Douglas), the owner of a casino. Their engagement is not one of love, but out of desperation: Pauline’s father owes a considerable amount in gambling debts to De Glasse and her arranged marriage will serve as payment. During his research of the gamblers in the casino, Fedja remains an outsider, merely observing patterns and behaviors. But once Fedja learns of Pauline’s fate, he intervenes, and begins gambling with the sole purpose of winning enough to buy her freedom from De Glasse. Of course, gambling has a stronger pull than Fedja had anticipated, and he finds himself falling victim to the thrill and desperation that often accompanies it.

Based on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s novel The Gambler, published in 1866, and with an adapted screenplay by Christopher Isherwood, THE GREAT SINNER fell short of capturing the essence of Dostoevsky’s original story. Originally a project for Warner Brothers several years prior, MGM obtained the rights to the story and hired Robert Siodmak to direct. The production was long and difficult, with the first cut of the film being three hours long. Siodmak was under immense pressure by the studio to make sure the film was high quality and prestigious—no doubt to entice Oscar voters come time for awards season. After a first round of edits that significantly reduced the runtime, MGM ordered Siodmak to helm a series of reshoots emphasizing the love story between Gregory Peck’s Fedja and Ava Gardner’s Pauline. Siodmak wanted no part of it, forcing the studio to go with another director, Mervyn LeRoy.

Many of LeRoy’s reshot scenes made it into the final movie, but he remained uncredited for his work. Ten years after the film’s release, in 1959, journalist John Russell Taylor spoke with Siodmak for Sight and Sound magazine. The director spoke about his experience making THE GREAT SINNER and expressed frustrations with the finished product saying, “When I eventually saw the finished film, I don’t believe that a single scene was left as I had made it.” THE GREAT SINNER failed to be the prestige picture MGM had hoped it would be, resulting in both a critical and commercial misfire.

While THE GREAT SINNER was a box-office failure at the time of its release, it’s not a terrible film, especially given the incredible talent involved. Actually, it’s quite a solid, second-tier studio picture. Not exactly what MGM had originally envisioned, but it’s fair to say that it has benefitted a bit from the passage of time and a reassessment by modern audiences seeking out the work of Siodmak and the all-star cast. It’s always a joy to see the likes of Peck, Gardner, Huston, Douglas, Barrymore, Morgan and Moorehead at work. While the film has largely been forgotten, even amongst those in the classic film community, it was a significant film for both Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner, and fans of both actors should definitely watch their performances in this film. Why?

While not particularly influential for Peck and Gardner’s careers individually, it kicked-off an on-screen partnership between the two that resulted in them starring together twice more in THE SNOWS OF KILIMANJARO (‘52) and ON THE BEACH (‘59). It was also the beginning of a close friendship between them that lasted until Gardner’s death in 1990. Of all his many leading ladies, which included Sophia Loren, Audrey Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, Deborah Kerr and Lauren Bacall, Peck always said that Ava Gardner was his favorite. Peck recalled his professional relationship and friendship with Gardner saying, “She was much better than she thought she was. She had no vanity about her talent, but she will stay in the minds of millions. ... She did nothing that lowered her standards as an actress or as a lady. ″

THE GREAT SINNER might have not been the film that director Robert Siodmak or MGM had originally envisioned, but it brought together two beautiful and talented actors for the first time. And while it would be of interest to see Siodmak’s uncut version of the film, one must be grateful for Mervyn LeRoy’s reshoots, incorporating more “romantic” elements, as it brought us a few steamy moments between Peck and Gardner—GIF’d for your enjoyment—Dostoevsky’s story be damned.

[tcm]

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.

[tcm]

The Story They Deserved: William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives by Jill Blake

Throughout World War II, Hollywood cranked out countless feature-length films, animated shorts, radio programs and various government-sanctioned propaganda in support of the war effort. These films ranged from serious dramas set on the frontlines of battle, to lighter romantic comedies featuring servicemen on leave, to glimpses of how families were coping on the homefront. After the war ended in September 1945, it was back to business as usual for Hollywood cranking out splashy musicals, costume dramas and comedies. Of course, there were movies that focused on the post-war experience for Americans—settling down, having children and moving from the big city to the idyllic picket-fenced suburbia—but most of these films either glossed over or completely ignored the struggles of servicemen returning to civilian life, as well as the strain placed on their families, desperate to reclaim years of lost time while remaining hopeful for the future. One Hollywood director understood the importance of telling the stories of these servicemen and their families, drawing upon his own harrowing experiences during the war and his acclimation back to civilian life: William Wyler.

In 1942, months after the United States entered World War II, William Wyler voluntarily joined the United States Army Air Forces, serving as a major in the Army Pictorial Service, which produced educational and propaganda films to promote the war effort. During his service from 1942 to 1945, Wyler and his assembled crew filmed hours of footage from the air, resulting in two documentary films. The first was THE MEMPHIS BELLE: A STORY OF A FLYING FORTRESS (1944), the story of the crew of a Boeing B-17 bomber, which Wyler accompanied on numerous dangerous missions in enemy territory; the second was THUNDERBOLT (1947), a profile of a P-47 fighter squadron. During the filming of both documentaries, Wyler and his film crew faced extremely dangerous conditions, with the director’s cinematographer Harold J. Tannenbaum killed during one perilous mission. While Wyler returned home safely at the end of his service, he did not do so unscathed. During his time with the P-47 squadron in the Mediterranean, Wyler lost consciousness and suffered severe nerve damage in one of his ears, resulting in a total loss of hearing. Eventually, Wyler was able to regain partial hearing with the help of a hearing aid, but the problem affected him for the rest of his life.

Like his fellow Hollywood filmmakers who also served during World War II—John Ford, John Huston, George Stevens and Frank Capra—Wyler wasn’t quite sure how to proceed with his directorial career upon his return. However, it wasn’t long before the perfect project landed in Wyler’s lap: an adaptation of MacKinlay Kantor’s novella Glory for Me, a story of three servicemen returning home after the war and the various struggles they face as they acclimate to civilian life. Produced by Samuel Goldwyn, with an adapted screenplay by Robert E. Sherwood, Kantor’s story became THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946)—Wyler’s most personal film and a loving tribute to the men he served alongside during his three years at war, as well as the families those servicemen left behind.

What makes THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES so unique is its unflinching look at the harsh realities faced by returning veterans. These were men whose lives and careers were upended with absolutely no warning; their plans for the future put indefinitely on hold; their jobs and very livelihoods stripped away from them with no promise of return. They were expected to fight, regardless of their civilian professions. In the case of the three servicemen portrayed in THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES, a successful banker is relegated to the frontlines of the Pacific as a sergeant (Fredric March as Al Stephenson); a high school football star finds himself in the belly of a Navy destroyer (real-life veteran Harold Russell as Homer Parrish); and a soda jerk finally finds purpose as a captain for the Army Air Force (Dana Andrews as Fred Derry).

Each man does what he must to not only serve his country, but survive, so as to return home to the lives they had before the war. However, war is cruel, and although they survived, their battles are far from over. The good will and patriotism that was worn on the sleeve of every American has faded as life returns to normal. But what is normal anymore for these men and their families? Are they really expected to pick up exactly where they left off when nothing is truly the same as it was before? Why can’t people understand what they’ve been through?

Wyler carefully explores the journey of these three servicemen as they try to find their place in this new post-war world, amidst dealing with their own personal demons, from self-medicating with alcohol; dealing with horrid PTSD flashbacks with little to no support and certainly no treatment (in an era when this was hardly taken seriously and afflicted veterans were expected to simply “snap out of it”—and is unfortunately still a problem today); and reclaiming some form of independence after serious physical injury.

But it’s not just the veterans’ stories that Wyler tells here. He also empathetically shows the struggles of their families, overjoyed yet guilt-ridden that they are the lucky ones in welcoming their heroes back home, while also silently cursing years of lost time and mourning for the simplicity of life before the war. No other film so delicately balances the patriotic call of duty, its sacrifices and the utter destruction of personal lives like THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES. It’s devastating and emotionally raw, and yet there is hope. These men and their families are strong. William Wyler knew firsthand what these servicemen were made of and he gives them the happy ending they deserve.

[tcm]

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.

[tcm]

Five Facts on James Stewart by Jill Blake

It’s that time again for TCM’s annual Summer Under the Stars festival! Each day throughout the month of August is dedicated to a single actor or actress with a 24-hour marathon of their movies. From the most recognizable Hollywood stars to lesser-known character actors, Summer Under the Stars is a can’t miss event with something for every viewer. And on August 7th, TCM will pay tribute to one of the best: the “aw-shucks” actor with that delightful, unforgettable drawl-- James Stewart. With a career that spanned over fifty years, ranging from romantic comedies, biopics, political and courtroom dramas, iconic Westerns, and Hitchcockian thrillers, there’s an embarrassment of riches to choose from for Stewart’s Summer Under the Stars tribute, which includes the following films: AFTER THE THIN MAN (1936); NO TIME FOR COMEDY (1940); THE STRATTON STORY (1949); THE NAKED SPUR (1953); THE MAN FROM LARAMIE (1955); THE MORTAL STORM (1940); THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER (1940); HARVEY (1950); ANATOMY OF A MURDER (1959); THE SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS (1957); and MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON (1939).

To prepare for James Stewart day, here are five facts about this All-American actor:

Small Town Life

James Maitland Stewart was born on May 20, 1908 in the small town of Indiana, Pennsylvania. His father, Alexander, ran the family’s hardware store, which was first opened by Stewart’s paternal grandfather and namesake in 1853. When Alexander Stewart enlisted to serve in the Ordnance Corps during World War I, he told his young son to look after his mother and sisters, which Stewart did so dutifully. However, he wanted to do more to help during the war, so young Jimmy Stewart decided to contribute to the effort, as well as satisfy his burgeoning interest in acting, by writing and performing patriotic plays for other children in his hometown. When his father returned home on a short leave, Stewart put on a special performance of one of his plays for his family. Years later, Stewart recalled that his father struggled to maintain a straight face throughout the performance saying, “He was too kind to tell me he could hardly keep from laughing.” Stewart was quite close with his father and it was through him that he learned the importance of hard work. Stewart not only worked in his father’s hardware store, but also as a handyman, performing various odd jobs around town. Several years later when Stewart was an international superstar, he never lost touch with his small-town roots, work ethic and strong moral code instilled by his father.

American Hero

James Stewart came from a long line of military men, with his grandfather serving in the Civil War and his father in the Spanish-American War and World War I. In 1935, after years of fascination with aviation, Stewart obtained his pilot’s license and within a few short years became a highly skilled aviator. Wanting to put those specialized skills to use for the greater good, Stewart enlisted in the Army Air Corps during World War II. Initially, Stewart was worried that his age and star status would keep him in domestic, behind-the-frontlines service. And his fears were confirmed when he received orders to be an instructor stateside. However, Stewart appealed to his commanding officer to allow him to use his experience and licensing as both a private and commercial pilot to serve overseas in combat. Throughout World War II, James Stewart flew on almost two dozen combat missions, returning home a decorated war hero and earning the rank of colonel. Following the end of the war, Stewart continued to serve in the Army Air Forces Reserve, which became the United States Air Force Reserve in 1947. By the time he retired in May of 1968, James Stewart had been promoted to brigadier general—the highest rank of any actor in military service. Stewart rarely discussed his military service and strived to keep it separate from his Hollywood persona.

Friendship Goals

While there are countless stories of actors getting along both on and off the set, there is perhaps no better example of true friendship between two Hollywood stars than that of James Stewart and Henry Fonda. On the surface, Stewart and Fonda couldn’t have been more different from one another. For starters, their political beliefs were on opposite ends of the spectrum, with Stewart being a staunch conservative and Fonda a liberal. When the two friends discovered that they couldn’t discuss politics without getting into incredibly heated arguments, they agreed to avoid the subject altogether rather than put a strain on their relationship. Fonda was also known to be a bit of a perfectionist, while Stewart was easy going. But according to author and historian Scott Eyman, both men were loners and rarely open and intimate with their family and friends. Director John Ford, who had worked with Stewart on three films, once said of the actor, “You don’t get to know Jimmy Stewart. Jimmy Stewart gets to know you.” Despite this difficult personality trait in both Stewart and Fonda, the two men maintained a deep and long-lasting friendship, lasting 50 years.

It’s Never Too Late for Love

James Stewart was very guarded about his private life, which can be quite difficult to maintain for a popular Hollywood star. One point of public interest was Stewart’s love life. By the time he entered World War II at the age of 33, Stewart was still one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors. In 1947, two years after he returned home from the war, Stewart began dating model Gloria Hatrick McLean. In 1949, Stewart and McLean married and he adopted her two sons from her first marriage. Two years later in 1951, the couple welcomed twin daughters. Jimmy and Gloria remained happily married for almost 45 years until her death in 1994.

James Stewart the Poet

While James Stewart considerably slowed down his acting work later in life, he vowed to keep working and did so up until 1991, just three years before his wife Gloria’s death in 1994 and his own at the age of 89 in 1997. Stewart also invested time into his various hobbies. In addition to having a love of aviation, Stewart was an experienced gardener and a talented “folksy” writer, penning countless poems and monologues. In 1981, Stewart appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson and was asked to recite Beau, a heartwarming and bittersweet poem he wrote about his pet Golden Retriever. With his charming and distinctive drawl, Stewart’s recitation of Beau has become one of the most memorable moments from The Tonight Show and added yet another layer to this popular and beloved star. In 1989, Stewart published some of his written work in the book Jimmy Stewart and His Poems, including the poem Beau.