Sunday, April 29, 2018

Laura 1944

Gene Tierney's "Laura" and her men: Vincent Price, Clifton Webb, & Dana Andrews.




What is left to say about 1944’s Laura, one of the most celebrated film noirs? So much has been written, that I can only comment that Laura is one of my all-time favorite films, regardless of genre.
When I was younger, I found dark, nightmarish film noirs fascinating and very adult. As I’ve grown older, this genre usually grates on my nerves, especially those with stories that hinge on incredible coincidences or characters who seem to be telepathic. For instance, my eyes roll routinely if I catch The Postman Always Rings Twice, where Leon Ames’ D.A. is on to John Garfield and Lana Turner’s illicit lovers from the start—before they even consider wrong-doing! The same goes for Double Indemnity, when scheming couple Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanywck can’t catch a break with Fred’s insurance company boss Edward G. Robinson around.
Dana Andrews as the detective who seems to be love with a portrait of a dead woman.

For me, what makes Laura such a great film noir is not about the plotting and double-crossing, it’s about the mood and characters. Frankly, I never thought there was much mystery regarding Laura’s killer. While every character in the film is crazy about lovely Laura, you wonder what she sees in them—they’re mostly a pit of vipers.
'Laura' and the men in her life: the columnist, the playboy, and the detective!

The much-imitated story revolves around Laura Hunt and her social circle after it is thought she has been shot to death, right in her beautiful face. No-nonsense detective Mark McPherson is on the case and while sifting through the evidence and Laura’s life, becomes infatuated with her. There’s also a stunning portrait of Laura over her fireplace to inspire him. Mooning over the dead beauty while sorting through the case, he falls asleep at her apartment, only to be awakened by Laura, who isn’t dead after all. The murdered woman turns out to be a co-worker, with everyone a suspect—even Laura herself. The fun isn’t in the mystery, but the motives of each character, and the detective sizing them all up, to determine whodunit.
Clifton Webb in the role that made him a star, as the aptly named Waldo Lydecker.

Clifton Webb is routinely cited as stealing Laura. A former Broadway performer, Clifton created a classic character as catty columnist Waldo Lydecker, who’s obsessed with Laura. While Webb’s way with cutting comedic lines gets most of the praise, he also gives a great dramatic performance as the older man drawn to an ideal young woman, who knows that he can’t truly have. With Laura, the acidic, flamboyant Webb became an unlikely but big movie star, moving on to dramas like The Razor's Edge as well as the classic Mr. Belvedere comedies and the family favorite, Cheaper by the Dozen.
One of the great beauties of '40s films, Gene Tierney in literally her signature role as 'Laura.' 

Gene Tierney is usually touted for her great beauty, and rightly so. During her heyday, critics weren’t often kind, and a few felt that Tierney wasn’t all that Laura was touted to be, by the other characters. Gene wasn't as dynamic of an actress, as say, Vivien Leigh. Yet, Tierney radiated class and intelligence, something that studios went to great pains to give the illusion of in many of their actresses. However, like Leigh, Gene’s picture perfect, placid beauty had an undercurrent of emotional tension, which gave an extra dimension to her performances. Both actresses had turbulent personal lives and struggled with emotional illness, and worked hard to keep an even keel. I think Gene’s background and persona made her perfect as Laura Hunt. Consider that Hedy Lamarr was an early choice for Laura, and it’s easy to see how well Gene Tierney works in the role.
Vincent Price as the weak charmer, Shelby, the type of role that made him a character star instead of a matinee idol.

Vincent Price became typecast after co-starring as Gene's smarmy, slightly campy second-string love interest in both Laura and the next year in Leave Her to Heaven. Yet, Price plays the type so well! Vincent is sly and self-deprecating as boy toy Shelby Carpenter. And Judith Anderson is both sympathetic and sinister as Ann Treadwell, Laura’s aunt and rival for Price’s Shelby.
Dana Andrews is effortlessly natural as the street-smart detective Mark McPherson.

However, the unsung hero of Laura is Dana Andrews as detective Mark McPherson. Andrew’s gumshoe is street smart and tough, but with a tender side, which causes him to fall for Laura's bewitching portrait. Dana Andrews is a bit like Humphrey Bogart, but without the more obvious mannerisms. Andrews is the perfect every man in which audiences can view lovely Laura and her circle of friends. Amidst the movie’s intrigue and baroque characters, Andrews is the movie's rock.
Movie composer David Raskin wrote Laura’s theme, a recurring refrain throughout the film, and became justifiably famous. Later, lyrics later added by the great Johnny Mercer, and became even more popular.
Azadia Newman, wife of the original director of 'Laura,'
was a portrait painter. This was her take on Joan Crawford;
her portrait of Gene Tierney as Laura was not used!

This film is so smooth and near flawless, that it’s hard to fathom that Laura had such a fraught production. Fox’s head honcho Darryl F. Zanuck first refused to let Otto Preminger direct, but only produce. Rouben Mamoulian was brought in, but nobody was happy with his vision of Laura. So Rouben was given the boot, along with his painter wife Azadia Newman’s portrait of Laura. Even with Preminger now on board, Zanuck, a notoriously “hands on” mogul in more ways than one, called for a change in Laura’s ending. That is, until he showed it to columnist pal Walter Winchell, who basically commented, “Great picture, except for the ending!” I’m giving you the Reader’s Digest version, as my Mom likes to say, because the behind the scenes drama is a movie in itself.
Dana Wynter as Laura in '55's 'Portrait of Murder.'

This sublime slice of cinema was hilariously remade as a TV movie in the 1955. Robert Stack, with his glowering eyes and otherwise stony face, plays Dana Andrews’ detective role. The future Untouchables star only demonstrates how subtle Andrews was, compared to Stack, who always sounds like a morose radio announcer. Since this was 20th Century Fox’s foray into television, who else but Fox contract player George Sanders would do as Waldo Lydecker, right? Sadly, Sanders is on acid-tongued autopilot here and the cartoonish script has his Lydecker getting decked by the detective. Dana Wynter, a pale substitute for Tierney as Laura, comes across like a prim secretary. And since this is ‘50s TV, there’s even a wise cracking kid, who was Laura’s smitten neighbor, and says things like, “Gee, why would anyone want to kill a swell girl like Laura?”
Robert Stack and George Sanders reprised their roles a dozen years later
in yet another TV remake with Lee Radziwill as 'Laura.'

Even stranger was another TV remake over a dozen years later, in ‘68. Aging Robert Stack and George Sanders were trotted out once again as the detective and the columnist, opposite Jackie O's sister, Lee Radziwill, as Laura. Lee was getting mentored by writer/society pal Truman Capote as an actress—I’m surprised Tru didn’t suggest himself as catty scribe Waldo Lydecker! The reviews were lethal and any copies of the production are now hard to come by.
Also, did you know there was a 1962 German TV version of Laura, with Hildegard Knef as Laura? You can watch it on YouTube.
Who remembers the Carol Burnett spoof, 'Flora?'

And TV fans, do you remember Carol Burnett’s spoof of Laura, called “Flora?” I only remember Vicki Lawrence as Bessie, the hysterical maid, and Steve Lawrence as the wisecracking detective. And I’m sure Harvey Korman played the imperious Waldo Lydecker. Does that leave Lyle Waggoner as Shelby Carpenter? I’d love to find this!
So, what do I love about Laura? That it gave Gene Tierney her signature role? That it made Clifton Webb a movie star at 55? That it makes audiences appreciate the naturalistic Dana Andrews even more today? That it has one of the loveliest movie themes ever? Laura is one of those rare films where all the elements come miraculously together, despite what was going on behind the camera, to create movie magic.



1944's 'Laura' all comes together in one lovely film noir.
FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 


Sunday, April 22, 2018

'Shane' Still a Stunner 1953

'Shane' and 'High Noon' were Hollywood's first modern westerns.
I never watched 1953’s Shane all these years because I thought it was just a typical Hollywood western. Well, George Stevens’ Shane is “just a western” about as much as his A Place in the Sun is just a romance or Giant is just another epic. Director Stevens gave depth to movie genres in his honest look at the American way of life.
I just saw Shane for the first time during a snowy spring break in Upper Michigan. My Mom couldn’t believe I’d never seen one of movie’s most famous westerns, so we watched Shane together. I was knocked out the imaginative storytelling, memorable scenes, stellar cast, authentic location shooting, and the realistic attitude about how the west was really won.
Joey: Why don't you ever wear your six-shooter, Shane?
Shane: Well, I guess I don't see as many bad men as you do.
Alan Ladd in his signature role as the reluctant gunslinger, Shane.

The simple story, but with complex storytelling, was inspired by the infamous Johnson County War in 1892, when rich ranchers tried to run off homesteaders with the help of guns for hire. Adapted from Jack Schaefer’s popular novel, Shane is a gunfighter trying to escape his past. He comes upon the Starretts, a farming family who could use a hired hand. Not only are there chores to be done, a domineering cattle rancher named Rufus Ryker wants the Starretts and other homesteaders out of his way. Joe Starrett staunchly believes that he and his fellow farmers have a right to their claims. Starrett soon admires the strong, silent Shane, as does his wife Marian, and son Joey. Shane goes out of his way not to be goaded into fighting, but as the Ryker clan escalates their efforts to drive out the farmers, this inevitably leads to the climatic gunfight.
The Starret family live up to their name, while Shane strikes a pose.

Joe Starrett: Who is Ruf Ryker or anyone else to run us away from our own homes? He only wants to grow his beef and what we want to grow up is families, to grow 'em good and grow 'em, grow 'em up strong, the way they was meant to be grown. God didn't make all this country just for one man like Ryker.
Methodical director George Stevens with his reams of film footage.

The myth that a financially fragile Paramount Pictures nearly shelved director Stevens’ Shane is absurd. Even George Stevens, Jr. has repeated this anecdote, but then, Hollywood loves these ironic anecdotes. According to Ultimate Movie Rankings, Paramount Pictures had 8 of the top 20 grossing movies of 1952, what with their comic goldmines Martin and Lewis, and the still popular Hope and Crosby. Not to mention Paramount had the #1 blockbuster of ’52, The Greatest Show on Earth. Here are Paramount’s top 20 domestic box office figures for ‘52: The Greatest Show on Earth, 32.9 million; Sailors Beware, 11.9; Jumping Jacks, 11.1; The Stooge, 9.7; Come Back Little Sheba, 9.7; Son of Paleface, 9.4; Road to Bali, 8.3; and Just for You, 8.3. Adjusted for today's dollars, this would total well over a billion dollars in grosses, not including foreign grosses. 
While Shane was shooting in the fall of ‘51, the same studio released Stevens' A Place in the Sun, a critical and commercial smash. While he was up to his elbows in pruning the fruits of his four month Shane shoot in early 1952, George Stevens won his first best director Oscar for Sun. It's highly unlikely that Paramount would then shelve their golden boy's latest movie. Stevens was famous for his long filming schedules, with footage shot from every conceivable angle, which would then take him anywhere from one to two years to edit. George Stevens Junior once said that his father’s movies were really made in the editing room.
Another hold up was when Paramount decided that Shane would be their first widescreen film, though it was filmed in the standard smaller screen ratio. Then they decided to add Stereophonic sound to complement the big screen ratio. There was no way they were going to sit on or dump Shane. “Did you know Shane was shelved at first?” makes a good Hollywood story. Just as how The Wizard of Oz and It’s a Wonderful Life were supposedly flops when first released, these stories take on a life of their own.
Alan Ladd's Shane has had just about enough of bad guy Ben Johnson!

Ed Howells: This Wilson, would you know him, Shane? If you saw him?
Shane: Maybe. If it is Wilson, he's fast on the draw, so be careful.
Howells: You seem to know a lot about this kind of business, Shane. I don't want no part of gunslinging. Murder's a better name.
Shane manages to be naturalistic and mythic at the same time—and this fits the talents of Alan Ladd perfectly. I had never seen any Ladd films prior, except for his last film, The Carpetbaggers. As world weary cowboy star Nevada Smith, Alan Ladd was the best thing about the shallow Hollywood soap opera. 
As Shane, Alan Ladd is low-key but strong, never overacting or falling back on mannerisms. The Paramount star, in his last film under contract, is totally natural and magnetic. Alan Ladd also possessed a wonderfully resonant speaking voice, like other iconic actors of the time: Gregory Peck, William Holden, Rock Hudson, etc.
Alan Ladd was a contemporary of Tyrone Power, they were a year apart. While 20th Century Fox treated Ty like a prince in comparison to Paramount and Ladd, Power also felt insecure that he was regarded as just a pretty face. While neither were Laurence Olivier, I think both Ladd and Power were underrated by critics of the era. With Shane, you see what Ladd could do, with great material and director.
Shane: Yeah, you've lived too long. Your kind of days are over.
Ryker: My days! What about yours, gunfighter?
Shane: The difference is I know it.
Shane, the gunslinger who tried to go straight.

Much has been made of the fact that Alan Ladd was short, especially opposite tall leading ladies or villains. Well, you know what? A lot of actors were short back then—and still are today! Back in Alan Ladd's era, three of the shortest male stars had larger than life personas at Warner Brothers: Bogart, Cagney and Edward G. Robinson. The difference was these guys were not your typical movie stars, yet comfortable in their own skins. Later, Dustin Hoffman and Al Pacino continued that tradition. Short action heroes Cruise and Stallone came later. When Robert Redford broke through in the ‘70s, his height was actually the basis of a magazine article! And Patrick Swayze, who plays sort of a bouncer version of Shane in Roadhouse, takes a lot of wisecracks for his short, slim appearance from the small town’s bad guys.
Ladd was 5'5", as if that made him less masculine. My Dad was also 5’5”—and he was not to be messed with. When I was in 7th grade, an older boy walked up to me one lunch hour. He asked if Dick Gould was my old man. I nodded yes.
The clean-cut kid smirked and said, “I’ve seen him around. He’s just a sawed-off cowboy, isn’t he?”
My dad and his equally short brothers’ reputations were pretty well-known in my hometown, so I boldly replied, “The next time you see him, why don’t you tell him that?”
The boy stared at me a moment, then walked away!
I guess that generalization makes Ladd a sawed-off cowboy, too. Yet, with his almost animal-like stare and stillness, Ladd’s totally believable as a bad ass in Shane.
Alan Ladd may have been slight in build, but still every inch the star!

Joe Starrett (to rancher Ryker): I'm not belittlin' what you and the others did. At the same time, you didn't find this country. There were trappers here and Indian traders long before you showed up and they tamed this country more than you did.
Ryker: They weren't ranchers.
Joe: You talk about rights. You think you've got the right to say that nobody else has got any. Well, that ain't the way the government looks at it.
Van Heflin, the perfect everyman, as the simple farmer who stands up to the cattlemen.

Van Heflin, that great star character actor, is likeable and believable as the decent farmer family man. Heflin’s Starrett is ahead of his time as a movie male who is secure with his wife’s crush on the hero. Jean Arthur was one of director Stevens favorite actresses, so he chose her as the farmer’s wife, Marion. Arthur is one of film's all-time delightful comediennes, who could also play drama. However, Arthur’s uniquely squeaky voice, especially during the film’s climatic moments, undercuts her credibility in trying to stop the impending violence. Also, Arthur at 50 and Heflin, 43, are bit long in the tooth as a pioneer couple with a small boy, and celebrating their 10th wedding anniversary. As their son, Joey, movie fans seem to either love or loathe Brandon De Wilde’s performance. I found De Wilde better than most child actors of the era, though I think his Joey is used to telegraph the film’s underlying story a bit too much.
Jean Arthur, as the farmer's wife, Marion, who hates violence and loves Shane.

Marion: Guns aren't going to be my boy's life.
Shane: A gun is a tool, Marion. No better and no worse than any other tool—an axe, a shovel, or anything. A gun is as good or as bad as the man using it. Remember that.
Marion: We'd all be much better off if there wasn't a single gun left in this valley—including yours.
Jack Palance, the man whose mug launched a 1,000 nightmares, as Wilson, the gunslinger with an evil grin.

Shane has a stellar supporting cast. Jack Palance has a small but vivid role as the ranchers' smiling gunslinger, Jack Wilson. A young Ben Johnson is intense as Chris Calloway, one of Ryker’s ranch hands. This is a rare bad guy role for Johnson—though Chris redeems himself near the film’s climax. Also, did you know that Johnson was originally a rodeo cowboy and stunt man? Emile Meyer is memorable as the firebrand ranch baron, fierce and pathetic at the same time. Elisha Cook, Jr. was born to play Stonewall, the spooked would-be tough guy.
Shane happens to feature some of TV’s future classic familiar faces, like Ellen Corby (Grandma Walton!), Nancy Kulp (Jane Hathaway!), and Edgar Buchanan (Uncle Joe!).
Alan Ladd and Van Heflin as the gunfighter and the homesteader in 'Shane.'

The extensive location shooting in Jackson Hole, Wyoming is superb, with the Grand Tetons prominent in the background. Cinematographer Loyal Griggs couldn’t have been thrilled to see his work shaved from the top and bottom to appear widescreen. Perhaps the Oscar he won for Shane helped ease the pain. Today, revivals and DVDs of Shane are rightfully shown in its original ratio.
Director Stevens didn’t want the typical backlot/soundstage western look for Shane. Stevens had the characters’ homes and makeshift town constructed on location and the characters looked more sweaty than spiffy. That same realistic attitude is true with the film’s attitude toward bar brawls and gun violence. People are left with bruises after fights and lost lives leave bereaved family members bereft.
Shane: I gotta be goin' on.
Joey: Why, Shane?
Shane: A man has to be what he is, Joey. You can't break the mold. I tried it and it didn't work for me.
Joey: We want you, Shane.
Shane: Joey, there's no living with, with a killing. There's no going back from it. Right or wrong, it's a brand, a brand that sticks. There's no going back. Now you run on home to your mother and tell her, tell her everything's alright, and there aren't any more guns in the valley.
Don't believe the bullshit stories that 'Shane' was shelved. This was director
George Stevens' follow-up to 'A Place in the Sun.' 

George Stevens, always a socially conscious movie maker, was changed by his time in WWII. Stevens’ film unit captured the landing at Normandy, the liberation of Paris, and freeing the Dachau concentration camp. Stevens didn’t come back to Hollywood, just looking for a hit to put him back on top. George Stevens made several war documentaries, some of which were used at the Nuremberg trials. And when he did return to commercial filmmaking, George Stevens was more interested in what was going on in the world than just recycling Hollywood clichés. Even when working in the western genre, Stevens’ big fight scene were punctuated by huge close ups and excruciatingly timed punches, so audiences felt beaten and weary by the fight, too. The gunfight scenes were one of the first in film to use wires to jerk the performers back, mimicking the impact of a gunshot. Stevens wanted to show the effects of violence as well as the dilemma over the use of force.
George Stevens was a masterful storyteller, using powerful imagery and truth in his films. I knew of Shane’s famous ending, but I was overwhelmed when I watched for the first time. The finale is truly memorable, and Shane is still a classic.
Shane says his goodbyes to Little Joey.

Joey: Shane, you’re hurt!
Shane: I'm alright, Joey. You go home to your mother and your father. And grow up to be strong and straight. And Joey, take care of them, both of them.
Joey: Yes, Shane. [Tears well up in Joey's eyes] He'd never have been able to shoot you - if you'd have seen him.
Shane: Bye, little Joe.
Joey: He never even would have cleared the holster, would he, Shane? [calls after him] Pa's got things for you to do, and Mother wants you. I know she does. Shane! Shane! Come back!

Shane! Shane! Come back! Better have a few tissues handy!




Wednesday, April 11, 2018

The Carpetbaggers 1964

This is about as close to swingin' as 'The Carpetbaggers' gets!

Harold Robbins’ The Carpetbaggers was a “bad” book that was made into “dirty” movie. Like Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls’ and its movie version, I always wondered as a kid how much of the “good parts” got cut when they were shown on TV.
Today, I can say there aren’t any truly “good parts” to either movie! The Carpetbaggers is all 1964 T & A tease, there’s no bad language, and the one “nude” scene filmed with Carroll Baker never made to the screen.
One of the few times George Peppard cracks a smile as ruthless tycoon Jonas Cord.
The Carpetbaggers is just a soft core cartoon of the life of Howard Hughes, the rich kid who ran with the ball—making airplanes, movies, and business deals. Hughes was famous for the women in his life, though what actually went on behind doors has been questioned over the last few decades. In real life, even the young Hughes was shy and eccentric, which made women want to mother him. However, in The Carpetbaggers, Jonas Cord is a cool, cruel stud who is catnip to the ladies and a ballsy business man and innovator. He works hard, plays hard, and drinks hard. In short, Jonas Cord is a cartoon daydream of what every man dreamed to live like back in the early 1960s. Except that this movie takes place during the ‘20s & ‘30s.
The Carpetbaggers’ plot and dialogue are cartoonish. The women always seem to be in negligees or nude under furs, the men are hard-drinking and dirty-dealing, and it all feels more like Hugh Hefner than Howard Hughes. John Michael Hayes, who started off screenwriting for Hitchcock, later became the go-to guy to “clean up” all those “dirty” books like BUtterfield 8 and that other Robbins epic, Where Love Has Gone.
Nevada Smith and Rina Marlowe goin' Hollywood in 'The Carpetbaggers.'
The Carpetbaggers abounds with amusing moments, such as the pompous opening narration that sounds more suited to a biblical epic, which aptly describes Jonas Cord, Jr. as “fabulous and fictional!”
Or the early scene that establishes Jonas’ source of pain, where he enters the room of his long-lost twin brother, who apparently went insane. His father had the other brother banished to an institution. When Jonas opens the long-sealed off room, a cloud of dust emanates that resembles a small atomic bomb going off.
To give you an idea how phony this movie is, there’s the scene where Jonas Cord reacts to the death of stepmother/sex bomb Rina Marlowe by going on a bender. He wakes up in a whorehouse a week later, worse for wear. Peppard hilariously sports shiny grey greasepaint that’s supposed to be unshaven stubble—he looks like a weary clown.
George Peppard, as Jonas, with then real-life wife Elizabeth Ashley, as long-suffering Mrs. Cord.
 Adding to the artificiality of all this is that except for the opening aerial scene, the entire movie seems to have been filmed on Paramount’s sets or back lot, and looks it.
Edith Head's hybrid creations—the costumes have just barely enough period detail to depict the ‘20s and ‘30s era, but veer toward ‘60s style—add to the unreality. This isn’t Head’s fault: Edith once spoke about getting berated by producer Hal Wallis, for trying to sneak period details into her costumes for 1965’s The Sons of Katie Elder. Authenticity was not the order of the day for ‘60s period movies.
The one true highlight of The Carpetbaggers is the swaggering Elmer Bernstein score, especially over the opening credits. Bernstein rocks, as always.
George Peppard gives a committed if one-dimensional performance as Jonas Cord, Jr. The blonde actor with the piercing blue eyes was a bit like Paul Newman, but without his sculpted face and abs, much less his empathic qualities. While Peppard played similar cynical roles as Paul, George’s sneering cads were closer to Laurence Harvey than Paul Newman. Peppard, a heavy drinker, already looks soft here. And the scenes of 35-year-old George as a college-age daredevil are a bit much.
'The Carpetbaggers' was Alan Ladd's last film, who died at 50, a decade after his greatest role as 'Shane.'
Alan Ladd, in his last performance as Nevada Smith, is a bit like watching Clark Gable in The Misfits, a welcome yet sad sight. Like other older icons playing guest starring roles in the ‘60s, Ladd is the most interesting and authentic thing about The Carpetbaggers. Laconic and weary, Ladd is the observer of the action, and is fascinating to watch. After the climactic brawl between Jonas and his mentor, Cord asks Nevada what he can do to make amends. Before walking out, Ladd, in a nod to Gable’s Rhett Butler, replies, “Junior, I haven’t the faintest idea.”  Sadly, Alan Ladd died shortly after making the film, from a mix of alcohol and sleeping pills.
Carroll Baker as Rina isn't guessing Ladd's Nevada Smith's weight, but his age! And guesses wrong.
However, the love scene that brings Nevada Smith and Rina Marlowe together—Alan Ladd and Carroll Baker—is cringe-worthy. When Rina asks how old Nevada is, Smith says 43. Ladd was only 50, but after years of cigarettes, booze, and pills, he frankly looks closer to 60. Even more eye-rolling is when Baker replies that he looks 30, as Ladd tries to button up his shirt, her pawing his chest, with a clear side view of his jowls.
Capping this ludicrous scene is when Nevada asks Rina how old she is. Baker purrs that she’s 20—and Ladd replies that she looks 30! Baker had been kicking around Hollywood nearly a decade when it was decided to give her a Marilyn Monroe-type sex symbol build up at age 33.
After a decade as a "serious" method actor, Carroll Baker got the sex symbol build up at 33.
This came courtesy of Carroll’s studio, Paramount, and producer Joseph E. Levine. Other actresses claimed they were offered the role of Rina Marlowe aka Jean Harlow, including Joan Collins and Angie Dickinson. No knock on Baker, but after starting off in Hollywood as an imported Actors Studio “serious” actress—a decade later she was getting groomed as a sex goddess? This seems a bit ass backward—which is how it came to pass, as Baker bumbled through later sexy roles Sylvia and most notoriously, Harlow. I recall acerbic critic Judith Crist saying that The Carpetbaggers’ Carroll Baker had “all the sex appeal of a whole wheat muffin.”
Carroll was no cat on a hot tin roof: "Junior! Junior! Junior!"
In this type of role, Carroll Baker’s style always came across like Elizabeth Taylor-Lite. After a failed attempt at seducing Jonas Cord, Jr., following the death of his father, Baker shrieks after him, “Junior! Junior! Junior!” Carroll sounds puny and petulant, lacking the verve in which Taylor put over the equally junky BUtterfield 8.
40-year-old Martha Hyer's Jennie Denton as the young successor to Baker's late Rina Marlowe.
The studio star system was pretty much over at this point and Hollywood had many sexy young starlets all dolled up and nowhere to go. So, why was 40-ish Martha Hyer cast as a Jane Russell kind of starlet with a Joan Crawford kind of past? Russell was tapped by Hughes at 19 as his next sex symbol. Hyer benefited as the fiancée, later wife, of super producer Hal Wallis, whose films were released through Paramount. One of the most synthetic of Hollywood's ‘50s blondes, Hyer was neither sexy enough to suggest Monroe, nor classy enough to suggest Grace Kelly. Except for Martha's plusher curves, Baker and Hyer are interchangeable, bleached blonde ‘60s Playboy bunnies, playing dress up as ‘30s starlets. Baker became more interesting later, as a character actress; Hyer didn't, and eventually retired.
Elizabeth Ashley has always grated on my nerves, especially as she grew older and hammier, in the Kathleen Turner self-aggrandizing mode. But here, Ashley is young and gamely appealing, and about the only person resembling a human being among the younger cast.
Robert Cummings oozes more camp than sleaze as the agent negotiating with Martha Hyer.
Robert Cummings is laughable as sleazy, wolfish agent Daniel Pierce. I don’t know what Bob’s deal was off-camera, but on-camera, he comes across as such a flamer that the only pants that he would be believable trying to get into are Jonas Cord’s!
There’s a great supporting cast, but they’re stuck in stock roles: Lew Ayres as the long-suffering family lawyer; ‘40s femme fatale Audrey Totter has one scene as the hooker with a heart of gold; Leif Ericson appears in the opening, as the overbearing Jonas Cord, Sr.; and Martin Balsam as the crass studio head.
The colorful cast of The Carpetbaggers.
Like Valley of the DollsThe Carpetbaggers got terrible reviews but made a fortune, from the public flocking to see if the film version was as dirty as the book. Today, The Carpetbaggers is just a mildly entertaining cartoon of a movie that milks every cliché about Hollywood. Enjoy!

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Bette Davis: Twins Times Two!

Bette Davis does twins twice: 1946's 'A Stolen Life' and in 1964's 'Dead Ringer.'


Bette Davis not only started a favorite Hollywood casting stunt, playing twins, but Davis did the sister act twice: 1946’s A Stolen Life and 1964’s Dead Ringer.
Both pictures were made by Bette’s long-time studio, Warner Brothers. The ‘46 A Stolen Life was Davis’ career peak, Bette’s biggest hit at the studio. With the ’64 edition, Davis had made a huge comeback with 1962’s Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? WB only released but didn’t make the surprise hit. This time, Warners’ bit and produced Dead Ringer. Compared to A Stolen Life, Dead Ringer wasn’t a bell ringer. Still, both films are fun, especially for Bette fans.
1964's campy 'Dead Ringer' was playing directly to those 'Baby Jane' people!

A Stolen Life is a dreamy romantic triangle set on the scenic New Bedford, Massachusetts coast versus Dead Ringer’s harsh Los Angeles is a backdrop for wrangling over money, sex, and murder. Whereas A Stolen Life has gentle Freddie as the family counselor to the rich twin sisters, Dead Ringer’s Edie goes from her true blue cop boyfriend to a snake pit of cheaters and chiselers. 
A romantic melodrama, A Stolen Life has lighthouse keeper Bill (Glenn Ford) actually refer to artist Kate as an un-frosted cake! Soon he finds a more complete confection in her man-eater twin, Pat. Bette’s sympathetic Kate is really the star of A Stolen Life. Davis’ devious twin Pat is brought in to stir up trouble before she’s dispatched in a boating accident.
Davis enlisted Glenn Ford, just back from the war, as her leading man in 'A Stolen Life.' Here's Bette as Kate.

Glenn Ford, who was borrowed from Columbia, is quietly appealing, but I’m not sure why producer Bette insisted on casting him. After artsy Kate loses Bill to crafty Pat, she becomes close to rough and rugged artist, Karnock, played by Dane Clark, a typical WB alpha male. Aside from brutally critiquing her art, Karnock takes personal jabs at Pat, all about her not being “a real woman!” Ironically, Davis would soon marry a rough and tough artist in real life!
Dane Clark, with Davis, as the brooding artist whose specialty is making sexist remarks!

Bruce Bennett, Mildred Pierce’s Bert, shows up for just one scene, as Pat’s extramarital lover. Surely Bennett’s part got cut for running time and WB didn’t force him to appear for a scene anyone could have played?
Charles Ruggles offers some reality amidst the farfetched dual/dueling sisters plotting, as family retainer Freddie. Ruggles is sympathetic and no-nonsense, a warm screen presence. There are a typical slew of great characters, including scene stealer Walter Brennan, as a crusty light house keeper. Auntie Em herself, aka Clara Blandick, shows up as the stingy antique store owner.
Romantic and lush, the script attempts to be adult and sophisticated, which it may have been in the ‘40s. Now, some of the lines are cringe-worthy. The photography is lovely, especially the light house scenes. The boating accident, for the era, is also well-done.
Bette Davis as Kate and Pat Bosworth in 'A Stolen Life.' There's an excellent biographer named Patricia Bosworth!

Most notable is that Bette gives restrained performances as the rival twins. The differences are subtle between Kate and Pat, especially in their style. But in characterization, Kate is emotionally subdued and self-doubting, whereas Pat is flirtatious and self-assured. This is again proof that Bette Davis could be subtle when playing sympathetic, as in Now, Voyager or The Great Lie.
The bad sister wears black and the modest sister wears frumpy!

However, there is absolutely nothing subtle about Dead Ringer.
Bette as bar owner Edie, who resents her rich sister. Notice Davis with her own hair,  and willing to look dowdy.
This time out, the twin dramatics cuts to the chase. Modest Edie attends the funeral of long-lost love—lost to her flamboyant twin sister Margaret. The bad sister swept good sister’s beau Frank DeLorca off his feet, and claimed pregnancy to get him to marry her. The sisters reunite after the funeral and its fireworks rather than a lovefest. On the way home, Edie finds out from the chauffeur that there was no DeLorca child born, not even a pregnancy. This sets the long suffering sister off and she demands the conniving sibling to meet at her upstairs apartment. Edie plans to get even!
Here's Davis as devious sister Margaret DeLorca. Notice the subtle original title of 'Dead Ringer.'

Pay attention to the scene where Bette Davis, as Edie, combs out her baby fine hair to resemble her glamorous twin, Margaret. With a little bit of teasing, voila! Edie’s coif now looks just like her sister's lush page boy wig.
Catch the moment when Margaret is summoned by bar owner sis Edie. When the rich bitch looks around her sister’s modest little abode, Edie asks rhetorically, "A dump?" Unlike Bette's mild mutter of “What a dump!” in Beyond the Forest, here Davis gives it that Virginia Woolf over-emphasis!
Davis was directed in 'Dead Ringer' by Paul Henreid, one of Bette's favorite co-stars.

Neither movie makes any sense as to why the "good" sister would want to take the bad sister's place. In A Stolen Life, Kate could just wait and win Bill back, once Pat has accidentally drowned. Kate, who has survived, wakes up with her sister’s wedding ring. So, she decides to go for it—and finds out that her sexy sister wasn’t exactly good wife material. In Dead Ringer, Edie's cop beau adores her and wants to marry her, and start a chicken ranch. I guess the struggling bar owner wants to be rich more? And walking in her sister’s shoes is even more troublesome than in A Stolen Life.
Bette pleads her case in plaid in 'Dead Ringer.' Designer Donfeld's lucky The Fashion Police weren't around then!

Dead Ringer's costume designer, "Donfeld," whipped up designs for Davis in Ringer are baggy, boxy, and just plain bad.
Time magazine was acidic but accurate about Bette's latter day attempt at glamour: "Exuberantly uncorseted, Davis' torso looks like a gunnysack full of galoshes. Coarsely “cosmeticked,” her face looks like a U-2 map of Utah."
George Macready: "Bette, is that gown from the Helena Cassadine collection?"

Despite the strenuous efforts of Edith Head, favorite cinematographer Ernest Haller, and Gene Hibbs' embalming glamour makeup, Bette as a glamour girl looks like drag queen Charles Pierce. I never thought Hibbs' face lift tapes and "painting" makeup were flattering. However, if you see candid shots of stars like Davis, who lived hard, this was about the only solution at the time. Plastic surgery had come in to vogue, but Bette, like some other old-school stars, held out until much later, when such procedures became common place.
Sadly, Peter Lawford didn't get the Gene Hibbs "contouring" and skin tape treatment like Bette!
Then there was the age game. Davis' characters were young adults, who came to blows over the same man 18 years ago, near the end of WWII. This puts Edie and Maggie at 40ish in '63, the time of the filming. Also odd is the painting of Frank DeLorca, the stolen deceased husband. One might assume he'd be about the same age as Edie and Margaret. But the painting looks like an old man.
This sums up Bette's glamour regime in a nutshell: cigarette in one hand, lipstick in the other!

Davis was 55 during filming, pretending to be a woman just past 40. The big problem was Davis looked a decade older. I always thought it absurd when Bette claimed to be the perfect Martha for 1966’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Imagine Davis dirty dancing with George Segal. Or flinging her boobs in his face—first Bette would have to put on a bra—or they’d be hitting Segal’s kneecaps!
The last time Davis looked great on film: 'A Stolen Life.' After that, Bette seemed to age prematurely.

Interestingly, A Stolen Life is the last time Bette Davis looked great on film. In Bette’s next movie, Deception, 38-year-old Davis was pregnant, ill, and stressed out over her violent artist husband. And her looks never recovered. Davis seldom played younger, but when she did, as in Beyond the Forest and Dead Ringer, when she couldn't pull off a facsimile of youth. This wouldn’t have stopped Crawford, who still had the bone structure and trim figure to slightly suspend disbelief. The right age actress, Lana Turner, then in her early 40s, turned this down, who was riding high in Ross Hunter glamour soaps.
Karl Malden as Edie’s Jim is a rock of reality and his Columbo-esque doggedness is delightful to watch. You keep waiting for Bette to belt him one!
Peter Lawford was only 40 when he appeared in 'Dead Ringer,' and this is a flattering picture!

More eye-opening than Bette’s aged appearance is Peter Lawford’s as Maggie’s gigolo. The ‘40s teen heartthrob was more famous in the early ‘60s as a Kennedy brother-in-law. Shockingly, Lawford was only 40 when he played Tony. Puffy, paunchy, and jowly, his heavy drinking and smoking is sorely evident here. Two years later, in The Oscar, Peter played a washed up actor, reduced to working as a restaurant host.
Jean Hagen is a long way from Singin’ in the Rain as the caricature of a shallow society pal to Margaret. Hagen’s a whirling dervish of deviled ham here. And Estelle Winwood, Cyril Delevanti, George Macready, all offer solid support.
Caption this picture! Karl Malden is solid as true blue cop in 'Dead Ringer.'

Paul Henreid, one of Bette’s favorite co-stars, directed Davis with care, and Dead Ringer as a tight, entertaining melodrama. Davis drives Dead Ringer as a star vehicle and convincingly creates two distinct characters once again. Davis uses her old vocal trick of raising her voice to suggest youth and vanity as diva Margaret DeLorca. Unlike Joan Crawford or Lana Turner, Bette Davis was more concerned about characterization than looking glamorous. So it’s admirable that as Edie—while Bette has Hibbs-lite makeup—Davis wears her own hair, frumpy clothes, and lets it all hang out. That morgue shot with the dead sister is startling, as it presents Davis cosmetically au naturale.
You can't say Bette Davis didn't have guts, allowing herself to be seen this way, as the dead sister.

As underdog Edie, Davis actually makes you care, with a real performance. As Margaret, Bette gives the “big” performance that Davis felt fans wanted. Dead Ringer gives you the best of both Bettes—good and bad.
My blogger friend Poseidon has often penned pieces on the ‘80s and ‘90s many bad TV remakes of movie classics. Well, Dead Ringer is no classic, but compared to the ridiculous Ann Jillian remake Killer in the Mirror, it’s Oscar material! Which you can watch on YouTube, if you dare. Check out Poseidon's take on TV remakes:
https://neptsdepths.blogspot.com/2017/12/sorry-wrong-movie.html
What’s your best Bette for Davis as twins? Watch A Stolen Life for romance and Bette looking her best. And see Davis work the diva routine like nobody’s business in Dead Ringer.
Love this shot of Glenn and Bette, looking great on the set of 'A Stolen Life.'