'American Graffiti ' Still Rocks 1973

'American Graffiti' was George Lucas' love letter to coming of age in the early '60s.

I had only seen American Graffiti once before, and that's when the comedy-drama came out the summer of '73. I saw it at our local drive-in, where Mom took us five Gould kids. And I just saw the nostalgia classic again September 4, 2026 at that same drive-in, here in my Upper Peninsula hometown of Manistique, Michigan!

Watching Cindy Williams and Ron Howard in 1973's 'American Graffiti'
at my local drive-in theater in Manistique, MI.

Francis Ford Coppola produced American Graffiti as a favor to his friend George Lucas, then an up and coming director. I was surprised to learn how much studio resistance there was to making American Graffiti. Coppola was actually the big name attached to this project, with The Godfather just completed. Except for TV'S Ron Howard, the cast was all no-name newcomers. The storytelling didn't follow the usual formula, a coming of age story, one night before high school resumes September 2, 1962. BTW, dear readers, I turned 3 that day!

Where was I in '26? Watching 'American Graffiti,' set in '62! 

Ultimately, many young stars were born with this movie: Richard Dreyfuss, Harrison Ford, Paul LeMat, Bo Hopkins, Kathleen Quinlan, Mackenzie Phillips, Charles Martin Smith, Bo Hopkins, Kay Lenz, Wolfman Jack, and Debralee Scott. Ron Howard would soon get his own hit TV series, Happy Days, a sitcom take-off of American Graffiti's era. Cindy Williams would appear on that sitcom and then get her own hit series, Laverne and Shirley. And a few years later, the blonde in the Cadillac got a smash series, Suzanne Somers in Three's Company!

Mort Drucker of Mad magazine fame did the poster for 1973's 'American Graffiti.'

Universal Studio suits also didn't like that American Graffiti used hit pop music as a wall-to-wall soundtrack, one of the first movies to do so. The execs objected to the four main characters' parallel stories. They also disliked the movie's ending, with postscripts telling the fate of the main characters, also a first, and much imitated device. Heck, they even hated the movie's title! Basically, Hollywood studios hate anything that's different, always wanting a copy of the latest trend. George Lucas held firm, with the backing of Coppola. Ironically, it's all of the above things that make American Graffiti unique. 

Ron Howard as Steve in 1973's 'American Graffiti.' Happy Days were soon ahead!

The entire cast of newcomers are empathetic and naturalistic. Ron Howard's Steve is not totally likeable but realistic, as the big man on campus. Cindy Williams as his girlfriend Laurie, is the girl next door, but not cloying as depicted in films of that era. That's the tone of the movie, they are presented realistically, not just as a movie-movie type. Richard Dreyfuss as Curt, Laurie's brother and Steve's buddy, is obsessed with a blonde in the Thunderbird, Suzanne Somers. Curt later gets mixed up with Bo Hopkins' Joe and the Pharoah gang, which leads to a comic action scene. Paul LeMat is John, the greaser gets stuck with a kid sister, Mackenzie Phillips. Terry is the likeable geek who lucks out with good-hearted bimbo Debbie, played by Candy Clark. Kathleen Quinlan shows up as Meg, Laurie's pal, at the high school dance. Harrison Ford is older tough guy Bob, who drag races with John, in the movie's fiery finale. 

Paul LeMat as John, the greaser with a heart of gold, in 1973's 'American Graffiti.'

The cinematography is striking, especially considering that it was all filmed on location and mostly at night, and not on the Universal backlot. Lucas chose Petaluma which was mostly untouched and still looked the era from a decade before. Plus, the local bigwigs were receptive to a month of night shooting. Renowned cinematographer Haskell Wexler was the visual consultant, who came up with solutions on how to light the night streets. Equally respected Verna Fields edited American Graffiti, with Marcia Lucas. 

Harrison Ford is the tough guy who meets his match in 1973's 'American Graffiti.'

The wall to wall soundtrack was curated from Lucas' collection of 45's from his teen years, and his wife Marcia winnowed them down to match the scenes.The music is often blended with the ambient noise, and sometimes sounding as if it's playing on the radio. Since there was no budget left for a score, after the cost of music rights, natural noise was amplified for dramatic effect. 

Cindy Williams played Laurie, Steve's rightfully ticked off girlfriend, in 1973's 'American Graffiti.'

Director Lucas didn't want this to play like a '60s teen movie with Sandra Dee and Troy Donahue. Or be a youth exploitation flick filled with sex and violence. This was a coming of age story from his own teen years in Modesto, and the California cruising culture, with rock and roll. This is especially bittersweet since it soon gave way to the British invasion and Vietnam, to name just a few culture shocks of the era. 

Suzanne Somers got a lot of mileage as the blonde in the Thunderbird, in 1973's 'American Graffiti.' Stardom was just around the corner!

The night-long vignettes are a slice of life from 1962. Dazed and Confused covered the next decade's '70s smokin' era. The Big Chill covered a weekend of 30-somethings reuniting for a friend's funeral in 1981, and recalling their late '60s college-age ideals. Both used American Graffiti's continuous soundtrack format to evoke their eras. 

 Among the highlights: the scene where nerdy Terry is trying to get someone to buy alcohol for him and Debbie outside the liquor store, with its hilarious payoff. Or the exuberant scene where a carload of girls lob a water balloon in LeMat's greaser's car, hitting Phillips' pre-teen Carol's face, and their sweet revenge at the stoplight. Or the comic love scene between Terry and Debbie in the backseat of Steve's treasured car. And especially, the scene where Curt goes to the radio station to request an on-air message for the blonde in a Thunderbird. Wolfman Jack, who gives some wise advice, grants Curt his request without admitting that he is the legendary disc jockey. The ending, with Curt spotting the white Thunderbird one more time as he flies off to a new life, is a sweet grace note.

American Graffiti is still great, a loving but clear-eyed look around the end of an era. 

Richard Dreyfuss as Curt, the young guy obsessed with that blonde in the Thunderbird in 1973's 'American Graffiti,'

‘Fame is the Name of the Game’ Cool or Campy '60s TV?

 

Tony Franciosa flashes a grin and his chest as randy reporter Jeff Dillon
in 1966's "Fame is the Name of the Game." 

 

Fame is the Name of the Game is one of the many TV movies that Universal Pictures cranked out in the '60s and '70s. This 1966 offering was later reworked as the much superior TV series, The Name of the Game. 

"Fame is the Name of the Game" was a Universal Pictures TV movie that
 evolved into the TV series "The Name of the Game." 

Tony Franciosa plays cocky reporter Jeff Dillon at Fame magazine. He takes up the case of a young woman’s death, a high class call girl, which results in multiple threats.  The reason why Dillon is so driven in pursuing a story that he literally stumbled upon—a gut feeling—seems weak. Especially as he's getting grief from all quarters, every person he talks to drops dead, plus a few beat downs for his troubles. Fame is the Name of the Game feels very TV hero, instead of real. That doesn't stop our star reporter, or him flirting with every woman he encounters, including a sexy artist, portrayed by Jill St. John.

Just another Casual Friday at Fame magazine! 

Franciosa was one of those actors who played sexy and sexist jerks, flying in the face of the liberated late '60s, and acting more akin to the early ‘60s Playboy era. Tony was segueing into TV at this point in his career. A little too pretty, glib, and affected to be a top movie leading man, he was more George Peppard than Paul Newman. Flashing his chest and Chiclets smile, while spouting sexist come-ons and put-downs, was Tony's stock and trade opposite sex bombs like Jill St. John, Ann-Margret, Raquel Welch, and Jacqueline Bisset. And natch, they were all a dozen years younger than Tony. While Franciosa was indeed attractive, his smarmy delivery wouldn't get him to first base today. 

Tony Franciosa as Jeff Dillon, with a souvenir from his last journalism jaunt,
 in "Fame is the Name of the Game." 

Jill St. John fared best when she spoofed her sex bomb image, whether opposite Sinatra, James Bond, or Tony's Jeff Dillon. As Leona Purdy, whose artist's pad looks like a swanky bordello, Jill's style today looks like an Austin Powers fembot. The finale's a hoot, with villain Jack Klugman shooting at Tony and Jill in a parking garage, with St. John sporting a black and white hound’s-tooth mini, a clear plastic jacket, and yes, white go-go boots!

Imagine being chased by two gun men and you have Jill St. John
in THIS get-up?! From 1966's "Fame is the Name of the Game."

From the back side!

Jill St. John had her redhead bombshell look down at this point. On the '60s bimbo bombshell scale, Jill St. John was below Raquel Welch and Ann-Margret, but above Joey Heatherton, on the ‘60s sex bomb food chain!

Jill St. John and views of her 'do! 1966's "Fame is the Name of the Game."

Yet, Jill was becoming increasingly fun in spoofing her image and is quite funny as Leona, who figures in this mystery and falls instantly for Jeff. Jill sports different hair and costumes in every scene and is outrageous in her flirting with Tony’s Jeff. Unfortunately, Game’s aging male screenwriter gives her some clinker chauvinistic lines, making her seem a husband-hunter, when she could have her pick. Thrown in for a finale twist is a nod to The Maltese Falcon, making her a femme fatale. Thankfully, St. John’s natural intelligence and humor off-set all this!

At first, I thought this jumpsuit was a Bob Mackie. Close! Ray Aghayan
 designed number, originally worn by Angie Dickinson for "The Art of Love."

Susan Saint James was just 20 when she made her film debut in 1966's
"Fame is the Name of the Game." 

Susan Saint James made her screen debut here as quirky editorial assistant Peggy—Chan here, later Maxwell in the TV series. Though she's the butt of smarmy Dillon’s barbs, Susan's Peggy is plucky and smart, if inexperienced.  Susan sports some unfortunate styles and unflattering '60s makeup. But those big brown eyes and husky voice come through. Susan went on to have a long TV career, starring in three series: The Name of the Game; McMillan and Wife; and Kate and Allie. She became a top comic actress, with warmth and charm.

Susan Saint James sporting heavy duty '60s eye makeup in 1966's
"Fame is the Name of the Game." 

Fame is the Name of the Game boasts a strong guest star lineup: Jack Klugman as the eccentric, sadistic, baddie; rat-a-tat-tat voiced George Macready as the original publisher Glenn Howard (later played by Gene Barry); Robert Duval as the grieving hubby of the dead woman; and Jack Weston as Tony's boss. Lee Bowman, and especially Jay C. Flippen, offer strong characters that Dillon encounters. Nanette Fabray has a bit as a flirty hotel phone operator—she was also married to Game’s producer/writer Ranald MacDougall.

Jack Klugman as the daylight-hating villain in 1966's
"Fame is the Name of the Game." Dr. Evil's grouchy brother?

Jack Klugman as the daylight-hating bad guy is good, but his dour demeanor had already typecast him as a comic grump. As a James Bond-esque villain, Jack barely seems mobile, much less imposing. 

Director Stuart Rosenberg became a big name shortly after this Game, due to his association with Paul Newman. Cool Hand Luke was the most successful of their collaborations. Here, Rosenberg goes in for some showy camera shots that border on the absurd.

No, Jill St. John's artist doesn't paint this way! From 1966's "Fame is the Name of the Game."

For a lunch date, Jill St. John makes yet another costume change,
from a bikini to a fur hat! 1966's "Fame is the Name of the Game."

The script is convoluted but also clichéd, given a hip surface veneer, typical of aging screenwriters like Ranald MacDougall in the increasingly permissive era. The comedic moments’ sensibilities are on par with a ‘60s Bob Hope movie.

The plot is run of the mill, convoluted, and too tedious to describe! When The Name of the Game later made its debut, the stories were more unique and stylishly presented, with younger writers, instead of dated studio writers like MacDougall. The downside was the three rotating male leads were all insufferable: smarmy Tony, pompous Gene Barry, and stiff Robert Stack. Thankfully, Susan Saint James reprised her role of Peggy Maxwell. And the series boasted excellent guest stars and up and coming directors like Steven Spielberg. 

Tony Franciosa as globetrotting reporter Jeff Dillon 

in 1966's "Fame is the Name of the Game." Tony was 38 at the time.

As for Fame is the Name of the Game, it's fun for star watching and as a '60s flashback. And Jill’s groovy fashion parade! Finally, if the story seems familiar, it’s a loose remake of Alan Ladd’s Chicago Deadline, from 1949.

Jill St. John as an artist with a checkered past! 1966's "Fame is the Name of the Game."

Watch The Name of the Game’s most famous episode, LA 2017, for the combined imagination of Steven Spielberg and the knowledge of Philip Wylie, for a look at the future that is mostly on-target—sadly. My take: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2020/09/the-name-of-game-la-2017-1971.html

When I was a grade school-age kid, The Name of the Game was one of those "grown up" TV shows that I loved. This episode, titled Ordeal, starred regular Robert Stack as hard-nosed Dan Farrell, Crime magazine reporter. Jessica Walter guest stars, in a showcase, sort of a mini-I Want to Live! My look:

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2020/05/the-name-of-game-ordeal-for-jessica.html

Redford & Newman’s Star Power: “The Sting” 1973

 

Paul Newman & Robert Redford re-team for their greatest hit, 1973's "The Sting."

I hadn't seen The Sting again since it was released, back in Christmas of ‘73. I was a young teen when the smash con man caper finally came to my Upper Michigan town’s theater later that winter. Ironically, the only thing that I remembered now about The Sting is the super sting finale.

During the first half of the '70s, the nostalgia boom was in full bloom in movies, TV, theatre, and music. I think about half of the movies from Robert Redford during the mid '60s and early '70s were period pieces! The Sting was the biggest hit for stars Paul Newman and Robert Redford, even bigger than Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Part of it was that audiences had loved their teamwork from four years before. Also, people were tired of inflation, Vietnam, and Watergate. Most of all, while The Sting is total cinematic fluff, it was also an extraordinarily well-crafted confection.

Robert Redford & Paul Newman seek elaborate $$$ revenge in 1973's "The Sting."

Deftly done on all counts, The Sting has a clever story, fine acting, stylish production and costumes, and a great score of Scott Joplin music, adapted by Marvin Hamlisch. Watching it again in the summer of '21, The Sting still has snap.

Recall this great art work? The music of Scott Joplin was rediscovered in "The Sting."

The Sting was a coup of an Oscar win for George Roy Hill as director, against a diverse group of nominees: Ingmar Bergman, Cries and Whispers; Bernardo Bertolucci, Last Tango in Paris; William Friedkin, The Exorcist; and George Lucas, American Graffiti. This was Edith Head's 8th and last Oscar win, who accepted by saying that The Sting was her dream assignment, dressing the two most handsome men in the world.

Snapshot of designer Edith Head with Robert Redford, from "The Sting."

Robert Redford has only been nominated once for Best Actor Oscar, for The Sting, which is a bit surprising in itself. And while Johnny Hooker is one of his warmest leading man performances, Redford really should have been nominated for his more in-depth performance in The Way We Were that same year. James Caan, who was shut out for one of his best performances—Cinderella Liberty—snarked at the time that Robert Redford got nominated for being cute!

Robert Redford's big year was 1973, with "The Sting" & "The Way We Were."

Paul Newman, as veteran conman Henry Gondorff, eases into his star character actor era here, and loses some of his studied cool and mannerisms from the '60s. Almost 50, Newman is also quite the silver fox here. As Henry, Newman finally seems naturalistic as an actor, and not so posturing as his previous anti-hero era. Newman’s laid-back humor also felt more organic than in past heavy-handed attempts, as in Harper. Need I really point out that Newman and Redford have a great screen rapport?

Paul Newman, moving into his star character actor era with ease, in "The Sting."

The story was based on two real-life brothers that David S. Ward was inspired by, from David Maurer’s 1940 book The Big Con. Ward claimed he used a number of sources in his research, was upset by the charges of plagiarism, and didn’t want Universal to pay out. The studio was already citing the book in its movie promotion and it didn’t help that Ward named Newman’s character after the last name of the con brothers Maurer wrote about. Universal quickly settled. TV writer/producer Roy Huggins later noted that The Sting also borrowed plot elements from a classic episode of his Maverick series: “Shady Deal at Sunny Acres.” This isn’t to take away from Ward’s tight, zingy script, but why is it so hard for Hollywood talent to give others credit where it’s due?

Robert Redford, as the con man whose biggest con is nearly complete, in "The Sting."

The Sting made a fortune and was a real feel-good picture—but an Oscar winner for Best Picture? Well, far lesser films have won and who says that Oscar winners have to be dramatic, groundbreaking, etc. Sometimes Oscar-winning films and performances can just be entertaining!

The Sting boasts a terrific supporting cast all the way down the line. With two beautiful leading men to compensate, Hill’s cast looks like an idiosyncratic cast from an old Warner Brothers movie. Robert Earl Jones (James’ father!) resonates warmly as Redford’s first partner in crime, who gets rubbed out by heavy Doyle Lonnegan, which sets in motion the elaborate plot of Hooker and Gondorff’s revenge. And as Lonnegan, with his icy blue eyes and barely controlled fury, Robert Shaw makes a masterful villain. Charles Durning, Dana Elcar, Harold Gould, and Eileen Brennan lead a marvelous supporting cast, perfectly evoking a previous movie era. A special shout out to Ray Walston, who is colorful but restrained, perfect in small doses as J.J. Singleton.

Robert Shaw makes a very good villain that gets played, in "The Sting."

George Roy Hill, who often directed period films, was meticulous in creating the movie’s style. Hill wanted it to look like a ‘30s movie. And this was one of the first films to actually do so, when ‘60s period TV shows and movies regularly mixed past and current day styles, often looking absurd. To that end, Edith Head’s costumes lent themselves to the sets and movie’s hues. Art director Henry Bumstead mussed up Universal’s back lot and made it look realistic. Robert Surtee’s cinematography is lovely, with a rosy glow to suggest a past era. Jaroslav Gebr’s beautiful title cards that preceded each vignette suggested classic magazine covers by Norman Rockwell.

At nearly 50, Paul Newman is the silver fox in 1973's "The Sting."

And though Scott Joplin’s music was no longer in vogue by the mid-30s, director Hill felt the jaunty ragtime music fit the feel of the movie’s story. Marvin Hamlisch got Oscars galore that year, for both The Sting and The Way We Were, films which were also good to Redford.

The Sting is the ultimate movie-movie. If you’re looking for fine, fun entertainment to take your mind off the woes of the current-day world, escape to the charming conmen and the creative artistry of The Sting. 

Robert Redford hit his stride as leading man in 1973's "The Sting."

For Redford’s other big hit of 1973, here’s my look at The Way We Were:

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2016/08/robert-redford-and-barbra-streisand.html

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/

The stars of "The Sting," captured in the 1973 film's beautiful title cards.

‘All That Heaven Allows’ 1955

 

Romance alternates between dreamy & nightmarish for Rock Hudson & Jane Wyman.

Magnificent Obsession made Rock Hudson a star in 1954; Giant then turned Hudson into a superstar in ‘56. All That Heaven Allows came in between, and shows Rock at his most natural. He's warm, straightforward, and his speaking voice—on which he worked hard—is soft, yet masculine, and deeply soothing.

Rock Hudson's memorable first close-up as Ron Kirby.

Ron Kirby is one of the most interesting characters that Rock Hudson ever played. His gardener turned tree farmer marches to his own drummer and doesn’t care what others think. These characteristics are not heavy-handed, just who Ron is. What a shame life couldn’t have imitated art for Rock Hudson, who was stifled by the Hollywood closet.

Rock's landscaper Ron dreams of living off the grid as a tree farmer.

With a career goal of more than the local gardener, Rock's Ron dreams of agricultural college and nurturing a tree farm. One of his last landscaping customers is Cary Scott, played by Jane Wyman. She's a well-to-do widow and pillar of the picturesque community. She’s older than Ron, as well as above his socio-economic station in life. (Wyman was actually just eight years older than Hudson.) The news of the characters’ ensuing romance runs rampant among Cary’s circle, fanned by so-called friend Mona, the malicious gossip of the group.

Jane Wyman is touching, yet restrained as Cary, a lonely widow who finds love.

I always liked Jane Wyman as an actress. Her kewpie doll looks (the snub nose, apple cheeks, and Bambi eyes) were always an intriguing contradiction to her direct acting style. I thought Jane was a bit undervalued as an actress because she didn't overact. In that respect, she reminded me a bit of Barbara Stanwyck, who was also no-nonsense in the dramatic department. But with Jane's cherub face, she usually played the wide-eyed heroine, not the gun toting villains that flinty-faced Stanwyck so often played.

Wyman's conventional matron reads up on what is essentially Ron's life philosophy.

In Heaven especially, Jane wore simple makeup, coloring within the lines, unlike other divas. Her clothes, by Bill Thomas, were chic and fit Cary’s character. Wyman never went caricature, perhaps that's why she's not as well-remembered as some of the legends. Nearly 40, Jane cuts a fine figure in a cocktail dress, still possesses an expressive, pretty face, all without bothering to try to convince audiences or herself that she's still 25.

Ron & Cary run into one another at Christmas time, after calling off their marriage. 

Wyman and Hudson have a warm, subtle rapport and both play well to the soft-spoken, gentle side of their personas. Though Magnificent Obsession is an awesome wallow, there's far more genuine romantic and social angst here in All That Heaven Allows. 

The cast is tops. Agnes Moorehead gets to play a sympathetic role as Cary’s best friend, Sara. While she’s strong-minded, Moorehead isn’t waspish, as she often was cast in later years. And Agnes, who could have easily have played vicious Mona, gets to play Cary’s one true blue friend Cary, and comes across as a complex and real. 

Agnes Moorehead is spot on as Sara, Cary's best friend who senses something's up.

William Reynolds and Gloria Talbott are perfectly obnoxious as Cary’s self-centered children. Hayden Rorke sports old-age makeup once again as the plain-spoken family doctor who tells the widow that her headaches are caused by what other people think! Virginia Grey, a favorite of Heaven producer Ross Hunter, is most appealing as Alida, from Ron’s cadre of free-spirited friends. And a special shout out to Jacqueline de Wit as Mona, the town troublemaker. She is so good, you just want to give her a swift kick in the ass!

Malicious Mona, played by Jacqueline deWit, is right in the middle of starting trouble!

Then-small studio Universal was great at creating lush production values on a modest budget. Russell Metty’s cinematography is superb, especially with the lighting. The big emotional scenes are so suffused with light that they look like dream sequences. The mix of sets, the studio back lot, and miniatures, all expertly suggest a cozy small town where life is seemingly carefree. Frank Skinner’s sound track, with inspiration from from Franz Liszt, is lovely and complements the visuals perfectly. 

Wyman's serene small town matron feels like something's missing from her life.
Hint: The Chinese Elm clippings were cut by the dreamy gardener!

Douglas Sirk’s modus operandi in a nutshell: smooth surface soap opera with an underlying subversive point of view. There were very few mainstream films questioning the post-war America way of life. Beneath this ‘50s version of a country club Lady Chatterley and her gardener with a Woody, is a woman who attempts to step out of her role in society, and a man who marches to his own beat, and the wrath they incur when they attempt to bypass convention. All this in a mid-century soap opera!

Director Douglas Sirk with the stars of "All That Heaven Allows."

The first time I watched All That Heaven Allows, I was knocked out that a mainstream '50s movie would criticize the era's bland conformity. The town gossips and selfish children are written and played as total caricatures, and Sirk enjoys skewering them. Cary’s two self-centered children, both young adults, make you wish Joan Crawford was playing Cary, so that she could give them each her trademark slap in the face. Even television takes its lumps, as Cary’s family and friends are all pestering her to buy one for companionship. She resists, but when she and Ron break up, her meddling kids console her with a TV for Christmas, with the screen reflecting Carrie's inconsolable face.

Cary's selfish brats give her a TV set as a Christmas consolation prize for breaking up her and Ron. The first time I saw this stunning scene, I wanted to throw something at MY television!

Some Douglas Sirk detractors say that he was merely a more stylish technician of cinema soaps than other studio directors. NOT true! And they totally miss what Sirk creates in his '50s films. The stylized soap is merely the surface and highly entertaining in its own right. However, nothing Douglas Sirk does is by chance or by rote. The questioning glances, such as when Agnes Moorehead's Sara takes note of Rock's Ron Kirby working in her best friend's yard. Or the scene where Cary's son Ned angrily argues with his his mother in front of a screen, that makes them look like they’re at confession. Most crucial of all, Cary's uncertainty as a woman in love again gets many subtle setups: her troubled reflection in mirrors or most touchingly, the screen of a TV set that's a sorry substitute for Ron.

One of the many strikingly lit scenes of "All That Heaven Allows."

If you don't believe me, consider the films that Ross Hunter did without Douglas Sirk: Backstreet, Portrait in Black, and especially, Madame X. They are all great fun, but with little depth or subtext. With Hunter, it’s all just suffering glamour stars. Todd Haynes tried to emulate Douglas Sirk’s stylized melodrama with subliminal social content in Far From Heaven, upping the ante by giving the unhappy heroine a BLACK gardener lover and a GAY husband! Still, this Heaven felt like an exercise in style, with little of the heartfelt style Sirk gives his lead characters in All That Heaven Allows.

Wait for my ungrateful children to call or for my outdoorsy young husband Ron to come indoors and rock my world? Tough call, Cary!

Even today, some critics and movie fans still dismiss All That Heaven Allows as a stylish but dated soap. I couldn't disagree more. This film may be my favorite of Sirk's '50s films. The message woven throughout the film is to not give in—whether to social convention, materialism, ageism, or sexism—and to thine own self be true. Heaven reminds me of Now, Voyager in its genuine uplift.

Love this movie poster for "Heaven" that looks like a juicy paperback novel cover!

All That Heaven Allows is proof that Rock Hudson could be more than a mere Hollywood heart throb. Rock was often cited as an example of the handsome hunk that was a hack. His performance in this film alone defies that stereotype. I can think of many stars, male and female, that got the big build up, and who were just glamorous mannequins. Universal's Tippi Hedren and John Gavin quickly come to mind. 

Rock & Jane flourish in Sirk's genuine romanticism of "All That Heaven Allows."

Rock was no Marlon or Monty, of course. Hudson was still more than just a pretty boy and the man had his moments during his 15 years as a top leading man. Yet, sometimes it is the stars' smaller movies, where fans can see them at their most genuine, and remind us what made them special. For me, that’s Rock Hudson as Ron Kirby in All That Heaven Allows. Rock is at his most relaxed, confident screen self, the ideal of the man Hudson might have wished to be off-screen.

Rock Hudson never forgot Jane Wyman's kindness & encouragement when he was a nervous newcomer in "Magnificent Obsession,"their first film. Thanking her, Jane told him to pass it on. Decades later, Sharon Stone landed one of her first major roles in a Hudson TV movie,
and Stone lauded his helpfulness toward her.

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

Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/