Roz's Signature Role: ‘Auntie Mame’ 1958

"I'm your Auntie Mame!" Rosalind Russell as the larger than life Mame Dennis.

 

Auntie Mame is the comic character instantly associated with Rosalind Russell, one of film’s classic comedic actresses.

First a comic “memoir” by Patrick Dennis,  free-thinking Auntie Mame was an anti-dote to the conformist ‘50s. And the timing was just right for that class act with a bit of brass, Roz Russell, to play her. Roz first won raves as the bon vivant diva on Broadway, for two years. Auntie Mame and Roz’s prior stage smash, Wonderful Town, provided a career bridge for Russell in the ‘50s, between her studio era heyday and her post-Auntie Mame ‘60s movies.

Mame's intro as Roz Russell as she romps down those stairs, and is off and running!

I grew up on the ’74 Lucille Ball musical version, Mame, and didn't see the ’58 Russell comedy, Auntie Mame, until years later. Watching Roz’s original for this review, I kept expecting the Mame songs to start. The Rosalind Russell version is so much more buoyant and lighthearted than the Lucy musical. When Russell comes running down those stairs for the first time in Auntie Mame, Roz's energetic and effervescent personality hits you like a tidal wave. During the party scene, as Mame mingles with the best of them, it's not just little nephew Patrick's head whose is spinning. 

Russell first played Auntie Mame on Broadway, to great acclaim.

Russell mixes Mame’s piss-elegant, imperious delivery with her slapstick, hoydenish side, so that Mame Dennis never becomes a one-note bore. And Roz's warmth helps offset Mame's more fanciful flaws, as well. This was reinforced after re-watching Lucy's Mame as a comparison. Lucille Ball was just as versatile as Rosalind Russell, with many of the same strengths. There was the age difference when they played Mame, though Roz was just five years older than Lucy: Russell was 50 when Auntie Mame was filmed, and Lucy was 62 and recovering from a broken leg. (Roz herself broke an ankle running down those stairs the first time.) 

Mame's motto: "Live! Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

Yet, the difference in energy and good humor is surprising. Perhaps the difference was Russell was re-recreating her Tony-winning Broadway smash, and going into filming on a high. Whereas Lucy knew everyone was depending on her, nursing a healing leg, facing ill will for taking the role from Angela Lansbury, with all eyes on her. Her grim gumption and self-consciousness over her age and ability seeps onto the screen and dissipates nearly all the fun. In fact, Lucy’s Mame feels like one of those great lady star vehicles from the ‘40s that Ball never got to play. Her pal Ginger Rogers’ leaden Lady in the Dark comes to mind. Why Lucy felt the need to scratch that itch three decades after the fact is still a mystery.

Mame needs a little Christmas, right this very minute! Patrick gives her "almost-diamonds."

It’s interesting that Roz, who was a staunch Catholic and married just once, had the raucous humor to play her polar opposite, Mame Dennis, with such ease. Lucy—whose personal life had known more than a few late nights, men, cocktails, and smokes—comes off as uptight and tough, much like her later TV appearances.

Mame & bosom buddy Vera Charles. Coral Browne is elegant & acidic as the actress.

Another surprising difference about the two versions is that the original—with Hollywood censors having their last hurrah—is more risqué than the ‘70s Mame. The one-liners from Auntie Mame are quite sly, and some of the passing characters still raise an eyebrow. In the '74 musical, once Beauregard dies, Mame becomes far less funny, and overly serious. The '58 version deftly mixes drama and humor regarding adult Patrick's conformity and Auntie Mame's misgivings. Russell, while disapproving of her intended in-laws, is up to her tricks. The uppity Epsons get funny bits of business in the ’58 film, whereas in the '70s version, they're just annoying bigots. This is certainly due to Betty Comden and Adolph Green, old pros at musical comedy and smart enough to realize that the stage play had culled the essence of the Patrick Dennis novel. In the ‘70s version, serious playwright Paul Zindel was chosen to write Mame’s screenplay. What’s strange, the most hilarious lines or bits from Auntie Mame are gone in Mame!

Rosalind Russell brings her considerable talents to the role of the free-thinking Mame.

I used to be put off that Auntie Mame is presented like a play, but now I love it. It's very stylized, yet stylish, much like the characters and performances. As Mame, Rosalind Russell gets to show off her physical comedy finesse, her rapid-speed dialogue delivery, genuine warmth, intelligence, sparkling personality, and winking sense of humor. There are so many memorable moments, as Mame gamely raises her young nephew: Life of the party Mame trying to get herself together the morning after for Mr. Babcock’s visit; novice actress Mame when she tries to upstage pal Vera Charles; Mame as a working girl, the motor mouth switchboard operator; life coach Mame conspiring to give Agnes Gooch a makeover; and the classic fox hunt scene, where Mame hangs on for dear life.

Fred Clark as trustee Mr. Babcock makes a fine comic foil for Russell's Mame.

The supporting cast is delightful, with Connie Gilchrist as Nora Muldoon, a no-nonsense delight as the Irish maid who delivers Patrick to his eccentric aunt. Fred Clark, always the comic heavy, is Mr. Babcock, the perfect foil for Auntie Mame, each with their own agenda for Patrick’s upbringing. Coral Browne is hilariously acerbic as Vera Charles, and far more elegant than later Vera, Bea Arthur, already in Maude mode. Peggy Cass gives Shelley Winters a run for her money in the nasal whine department, but here it’s done to hilarious comic effect as frumpy Agnes Gooch.

The finish to the hilarious fox hunt, where Mame wins the real prize, Beauregard!

Jan Handzlik as Patrick the boy is quite pleasant, but Roger Smith as the adult edition is a bit Ken doll-ish for my taste. Roger later found the role of a lifetime as Ann-Margret’s one and only husband. Forrest Tucker is most amiable as Mame’s southern suitor, Beauregard Burnside, he of the beaucoup bucks. Willard Waterman is hilarious, with always-reliable Lee Patrick, as Claude and Doris Upson, Patrick’s prospective in-laws. Waterman also played Mr. Babcock later in the Broadway musical Mame. Joanna Barnes is slyly funny as Patrick’s fiancee, Gloria, with her pretentious, lockjaw delivery: “It was just ghaaa-stly!”

The uppity Upsons have no idea what's in store for them, as they enter Mame's home. 

The set décor must have been a field day for George James Hopkins, who did some of the most memorable film sets for decades. Malcolm C. Bert created the production and art design. Mame’s 3 Beekman Place pad gets redecorated nearly a dozen times!

The ever-changing decor of The House of Dennis!

The stylish clothes by Orry-Kelly were over the top only when the story called for it, unlike the drag queen parade of Lucy’s Mame. Surprisingly, Orry-Kelly got zero Oscar nominations during his WB studio heyday (Now, Voyager and Mr. Skeffington are surprising shutouts) but he started getting nods from the mid-50s on—but not for his Auntie Mame fashion extravaganza.

Rosalind Russell gets beautiful cinematography, hair & makeup, and costumes.
Add Roz's high spirits & energy, and you get a memorable Mame.

While much was made of Lucy’s attempts to look younger as Mame, Roz also had help to augment her face as Auntie Mame. Russell’s beautifully photographed by Harry Stradling, who later got fired from Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for making Elizabeth Taylor look too good as drunken Martha! Roz’s makeup man was Gene Hibbs, famed for his mini-face lift strings and tape combo, and stylized makeup. She first worked with him on ‘53’s Never Wave at a WAC. At the time, the Hibbs effect was considered miraculous, but it gave later drag queens something to work with! Roz looks more naturalistic than some of his other clients like Bette Davis circa Dead Ringer, Eva Gabor on Green Acres, etc. And Roz’s multiple wigs as Mame offered camouflage for his fine work. Hibbs worked on a number of episodes of Lucille Ball’s latter day series, and notably Ann Sothern and Judy Garland on their TV series. Roz used him again in Gypsy and Five Finger Exercise.

Mame gets in the Christmas spirit when her luck begins to change!

Morton LaCosta, more famous for stage direction than film, helmed Auntie Mame competently, though I wonder what a Cukor or Minnelli might have done. LaCosta got to direct his two huge hits, Auntie Mame and The Music Man for the screen, and critics and audiences applauded. Both made a bundle for Warner Brothers.

Ultimately, it’s the irreverent Patrick Dennis story and irresistible Roz Russell that truly makes Auntie Mame memorable.

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

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"Auntie Mame" ends with her and an enchanted great-nephew, as they head off to new life adventures.

Mr. Skeffington 1944

Bette Davis' famed portrait as Fanny Skeffington, her society belle at age 20.

Bette Davis is definitely the belle of the ball in Mr. Skeffington, but Claude Rains in the title role is the heart of this 1944 film. Mr. Skeffington is remembered as one of Bette Davis’ big hits for Warner Brothers, but there were also telltale signs that Queen Bette’s rule at WB was beginning to wane.

Mr. Skeffington was one of those episodic bestsellers that Hollywood loved to turn into epic movies. The book was obliquely titled, because Mr. Skeffington never actually appears in the book, only recalled by his wife, Fanny Trellis Skeffington. Once Bette Davis got wind that WB optioned the novel and expressed her desire to play Fanny, I’m surprised the title wasn’t changed to MRS. Skeffington. 

Bette, nearly as painted up as the portrait, as Fanny at 20.

Never mind that Fanny was a beautiful belle of 20 at the book’s beginning—Davis was 36 and frankly, looked every year. While attractive, nobody ever considered Bette a great beauty, either. In fact, WB planned on borrowing MGM’s gorgeous Hedy Lamarr to play Fanny Skeffington. However, at early ‘40s WB, whatever Bette wanted, Bette got.

Another negating factor during Mr. Skeffington’s pre-production was that Bette Davis’ husband, businessman Arthur Farnsworth, collapsed on a L.A. sidewalk and died shortly after. Despite being extremely distraught, Davis insisted that the show must go on, with her. Amazingly, Bette came back to work a week later. 15 years later, when Elizabeth Taylor’s husband, Mike Todd, was killed in a plane crash, Taylor was back on the set of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof less than three weeks later. That’s how divas rolled back in Hollywood’s golden era!

Bette, in old-age makeup, putting out 
good vibes on 'The Mr. Skeffington' set.

Whereas Liz was vulnerable on Cat, Bette was venomous, and took out all her grief on the set of Mr. Skeffington. Davis herself admitted in her memoirs, The Lonely Life, that at that point, she was somebody “only a mother could love.” Between her age and Bette’s stressful life, Davis’ favorite makeup man and cinematographer, Perc Westmore and Ernest Haller, had their work cut out for them. First, these two long-time Davis collaborators had to make her look like the 20-ish toast of New York, circa 1914. Much has been made of the makeup Bette Davis wears when she plays 50-year-old Fanny. But Davis also looks heavily made up as the younger Fanny, especially in close-up. Davis once told a film writer, that on the set of Deception two years later, Bette cried when she saw Haller bring on the gauze covered lights for her. Well, Bette must have been butting in elsewhere on Mr. Skeffington, because Bette’s Fanny is swimming in a glowing soft haze that Barbara Walters would envy. That said, Davis was frank in her memoirs 15 years later, stating that she was no raving beauty, they used every trick in the book to convey the illusion, giving Bette the confidence to feel lovely as Fanny Skeffington. I agree, to a point. But buying Bette as the most beautiful woman in New York City is still a stretch, no matter how much makeup Perc painted on her and the gauzy haze that Haller employs.

Bette as Fanny, & Claude Rains, aptly named Job!

As Fanny Skeffington, Bette’s character is like Scarlett O’ Hara, but without brains: charming, vain, and shallow, but with no depth of character or survivor’s instinct. This must have been a difficult character to play, in terms of audience sympathy. Bette never worried about the audience adoring her, and like Vivien Leigh and later, Elizabeth Taylor, managed to create empathy for playing women dissatisfied with their men or lot in life.

Bette as flapper Fanny, & director Vincent Sherman.

Bette pulls out all the stops as Fanny, fluttering her long lashes and speaking in a high-pitched, girlish voice. It’s a trick Bette used play another flirty, younger character, in 1942’s In This Our Life. Later Davis used a similar tact, when she played another character that she was too old for, small-town sex bomb Rosa Moline in Beyond the Forest. Unfortunately, by mistake or design, Davis’ Fanny affects those mannerisms right up to her middle years.

What brings balance to Bette’s grand performance is the warm, wry performance by Claude Rains as the title character. Bette’s society belle is actually broke and marries the rich, Jewish Job Skeffington for his money. While Fanny is fond of him, she seeks fun elsewhere, with a succession of suitors—just like when she was single. Job goes gradually from indulgent to disappointed, and finally, fed up. Claude Rains was Bette’s favorite leading man, probably because he didn’t try to upstage her, but also because of his versatility. Here, as Job Skeffington, he is wounded by her hurtfulness, but not a wimp. Rains also worked well with Davis on Juarez, Deception, and especially, Now, Voyager. The Skeffingtons’ story spans three decades, starting just before World War l through the middle of WW ll.

Davis as Depression-era Fanny Skeffington.

Like many golden era movies, personal crises conveniently happen during the same time as historical moments. However, director Vincent Sherman keeps things moving at smooth clip and Mr. Skeffington never drags during its 2 ½ hour running time.

The script, by twins Julius and Philip Epstein, is clever and adult for its era. Mr. Skeffington manages to avoid the censorship trap that adulterous Fanny must pay for her sins. Near the end of the film, Fanny contracts diphtheria and loses her looks practically overnight. I guess this was considered punishment enough in during Hollywood’s glamour era!

Also noteworthy are costumes that Orry-Kelly, another Davis devotee, designed. They range from dramatically wow to drag queen wowza.

Backed by the studio system resources—lavish sets and costumes, a great cast, a skilled studio director and screenwriters—all help Mr. Skeffington richly recreate an era. Mr. Skeffington was a big success for Warner Bros., plus Bette Davis and Claude Rains rightly received Oscar nominations.

However, in retrospect, Mr. Skeffington shows the beginning of Bette’s decline. The film took forever to make, because of off-camera drama by Davis. It’s noteworthy that Bette never received another Academy Award nomination during her Warner years, especially for her subtle turn in The Corn is Green the next year. And it’s especially notable that the new gal at Warner Brothers, Joan Crawford, won the Oscar that year for Mildred Pierce. Don’t think that went unnoticed. Also, when Bette insisted on playing a young and beautiful character at 35, she may have prematurely planted the seed that Davis was swiftly becoming past her prime.

Fanny at 50, trying to hide the after-effects of illness.

Another huge debit was that both Jack Warner and director Vincent Sherman hated the old age makeup Bette insisted on as the withered Fanny. Since Bette’s character insists on trying to fool everybody by wearing heavy makeup to disguise illness, audiences are treated to Davis sporting gaudy glamour makeup on top of old age makeup. The look eerily predicts her look as Baby Jane Hudson. Also, Davis’ character loses most of her hair, so Bette sports a tightly curled wig. In short, Bette looks startling, especially surrounded by fellow cast members—even those in their old age makeup!

It’s a sign of how much power Davis wielded that tough studio head Warner deferred to her during this time. And while Sherman is a far more talented director than Hollywood historians give him credit for, he was no William Wyler. When Davis sported extreme makeup playing older in 1941’s The Little Foxes, Wyler and Davis came to such blows that they never worked together again. After Mr. Skeffington, Davis never worked with a strong director like Wyler again for the duration of her Warners’ contract.

Fanny at 40 looks like a young Baby Jane!

Bette insisted, saying her audience loved seeing her play roles that required “character” makeup. Hmmm, maybe… Still, nobody can accuse Bette of being afraid to go there, playing an unlikeable character, no matter how extreme. If the final result is somewhat indulgent, Bette Davis’ commitment to creating a full-bodied character and not just coasting on glamour is admirable. The fine supporting cast also balances out Davis’ diva performance.

For those Bette Davis critics who think she went too far, can you imagine if Hedy Lamarr had played Fanny Skeffington? Hedy was heavenly looking, but she seemed to mistake sedate for sedated. Lamarr was no actress, and I can’t even imagine her playing a 50ish ex-beauty.

Vivien Leigh, when 'Mr. Skeffington' was filmed.

Still, in my alternative casting universe, here’s my choice for the perfect Fanny Skeffington: Vivien Leigh. A great beauty and actress, playing a high-strung, vain vixen would have been right up Viv’s alley. Plus, Leigh was five years younger than Davis, and still gorgeous. In real life, Leigh and husband Laurence Olivier chose to tough it out in England during WW ll. Ironically, two years later, Vivien co-starred opposite Claude Rains in a British production of Caesar and Cleopatra. I can totally see Vivien as Fanny, coming down the top of those stairs, fending off suitors—and a brave enough actress to play her later, when Fanny’s looks have vanished. It was only six years later when Leigh played the ravaged Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire—coincidentally, a role that Warners’ considered Bette for. Film history checks and balances have a way of working out, I guess.

Bill Kennedy, kissing Bette's hand, as one of Fanny's suitors.

P.S.—When I was a kid, I watched Bill Kennedy at the Movies on Detroit’s superstation, TV-50. Kennedy introduced me to all these great old movies and he was once an actor himself, at Warner Brothers. Bill appears in Mr. Skeffington as one of Fanny’s many beaus. Bill Kennedy looks very handsome in a Robert Taylor way, and every time Bill showed this or other movies that he appeared in, the TV camera guy would spotlight his scenes with a halo. Now, that’s lighting Bette Davis would envy!

Claude Rains, whose warm performance as Job Skeffington is the heart of 'Mr. Skeffington.'