Day 15 & 16 - Groucho Marx & Jimmy Durante

Today I decided I needed some humor, so I'm going to write about two legendary comedians both born before 1900 - the old time, vaudeville and Broadway veterans, Groucho Marx and Jimmy Durante.  Maybe these two don't have too much in common, but they both made America laugh for decades, often playing the older, wise-cracking hams.  Even moreso, each one entertained on stage, on screen and on television, and used their unusual looks to set themselves apart.

Groucho Marx

Groucho and  his brothers broke into the entertainment business through vaudeville and early Broadway (then 5 brothers, Groucho and Harpo, Chico, Zeppo and Gummo).  While Gummo left the act, the other four went into film and became one of the most successful comedy teams of all time.  But it was Groucho who was the clear leader of the group, the guy with the huge eyebrows, greased mustache and big glasses.  Even off-stage, Groucho was known to always have that attitude of one-liners.  Arguably an intelligent man, Groucho's comedic timing is legendary and the basis of many other comics that came after him.  Whether as the President of Freedonia (Duck Soup, 1933) or wagging his eyebrows over the secret word in his game show You Bet Your Life (1950 - 1961), Groucho could make just about anyone guffaw.  Often his jokes were so rapid-fire and wrapped up in their own wit that if you didn't listen carefully, you'd miss the punch line, like this one:  "Time flies like an arrow.  Fruit flies like a banana."

Groucho in between wisecracks in Double Dynamite (1951, RKO)

Born in 1890, Groucho was as much a writer as an actor, but he could also think on his feet and ad-lib unlike anyone else.  His age only added to his presence, joining the ranks of folks like George Burns (ironically enough, both comics actually played God in different films) and my next person - Jimmy Durante.

Jimmy Durante

Jimmy Durante also made his mark both on radio, on screen and on television.  He wasn't as razor-sharp tongued as Groucho; instead he was more that funny old gent you'd always talk to in the butcher shop or down at the Legion Hall.  He's much more the guy next door, but much much funnier.  And Jimmy could laugh at himself too, calling himself "Schnozzola" for his very large nose.  Jimmy also sang too, and recorded several hits.  I think his characteristically scratchy but warm and familiar voice seemed a lot like a grandfather you would always love to see.  Part of that was probably portrayed through his famous recording of "Young at Heart."   

Jimmy Durante teaches Frank Sinatra that the "Song's Gotta Come from the Heart" in It Happened in Brooklyn (MGM 1947)

I think Jimmy Durante could also make anyone laugh.  If Groucho was all about wit, Jimmy was all about heart.  In his real life, Jimmy lost his first wife Jeanne in 1943 and married his second wife, Marjorie, after a 16 year courtship.  Unable to have children, they adopted a baby girl, Cecilia, on Christmas Day in 1961, when Jimmy was 68 years old.  Jimmy needed to go to court for the adoption, as he was past the age limit required by law.  But despite the regulations, the judge looked at Jimmy and said "how can I tell the man who recorded "Young at Heart" that he's too old?"  And no one could have loved a child more, as Jimmy's affection for his family was evident in every interview and appearance.  It makes you wish you could have had him as part of your family too, big nose and all.

What I love about these two timeless comedians is the laughter they brought to so many for so long.  Groucho never wanted to be a dirty comic and as such, never used a word of profanity in his act.  And Jimmy Durante, well, how could you not love the guy who popularized such a cute song as "Inka, Dinka Doo"?  Very different styles of comedy, but both titans of talent, both Groucho and Jimmy deserve much longer posts, and I encourage you to go and watch some of their old material.  Your stomach will ache from laughter afterwards!

Day 13 & Day 14 - Bob Hope and Bing Crosby

I know I've been running a bit behind this month with my posts, so I hope you'll forgive another joint entry.  This time, in keeping with the crooner-comedian theme started by my post on Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis, I thought I'd turn to the old pros (that's on and off the golf course) - Bob Hope and Bing Crosby.  Judging from what I've heard and talked about with my friends, everyone in my generation still knows who both these guys were, though not many knew about their series of films together, known generally as "the Road" pictures.  What worked so well in these films (aside from the fabulous Dorothy Lamour) was the great timing between these two guys.  Bob naturally took on the role of the comic, often playing characters that appeared unintelligent, but that cutting wit belied his role.  Bing played the smooth-operating (and smooth-crooning!) partner who had all the ideas and usually got the girl.  These real life best friends brought so much of their humor and amazing talent to their films that it is no wonder they are classics today.  The Road to Morocco (1942) is my favorite and the one with the very best theme song.  What's great about it is the interplay between the film and breaking that fourth wall - Bob and Bing step out of character regularly to talk directly to those "people out there in the dark" and we love it.  Here's what I mean:

Bob Hope: A fine thing. First, you sell me for two hundred bucks. Then I'm gonna marry the Princess; then you cut in on me. Then we're carried off by a desert sheik. Now, we're gonna have our heads chopped off.
Bing Crosby: I know all that.
Bob Hope: Yeah, but the people who came in the middle of the picture don't.
Bing Crosby: You mean they missed my song?

Publicity still from TCM - Bob, Dorothy and Bing from Road to Morocco (Paramount 1942)

Bob Hope

Bob Hope became a household name early in his career, not just because of his time on the radio or early movies like his first, The Big Broadcast of 1938, where he sang "Thanks for the Memory," which became his theme song.  Bob Hope was also known for his personal appearances and for  hosting the Oscars 18 times.  More than that, was his unwavering dedication to supporting America's Armed Forces, touring with the USO from WWII all the way through the Gulf War to entertain and bring joy to those serving our country.  He holds the Guinness Record for the Most Honored Person, and it's not a surprise.  Among his honors are a Navy ship and an Air Force plane both named after him, not to mention that he is the only person that Congress ever named an honorary veteran.  And another great record?  At the time of his death in 2003 (at age 100!!), he and his wife Dolores held a record for the longest Hollywood marriage, at 69 years.

Bing Crosby

Bing Crosby would've been a millionaire on his voice alone.  His recordings and time on the radio made his first career as a crooner, there even before a young kid from Hoboken arrived on the scene, though not by much.  Back in the 40's, there was even a "Battle of the Baritones" between Crosby, Sinatra and Rudy Vallee.  You could probably argue all day and night over who was the best singer, but Crosby didn't stop there on his list of talents.  He broke into films in the thirties and, fun fact, as the singing cowboy craze took off with Gene Autry, his studio put him into a Western too - Rhythm on the Range (1936).  Bing strikes me as a lot of things, but certainly not a cowboy.  He could best pull off that high society type of role, which he perfected in the remake of The Philadelphia Story called High Society (1956).  He played Cary Grant's role of C. K. Dexter Haven, while being teamed up with fellow crooner and competitor, Frank Sinatra (who played Jimmy Stewart's role of Macauley Connor).  Bing also shined in more serious roles, most notably as a priest in Going My Way (1944) or an alcoholic actor in a sinking marriage in The Country Girl (1954).  His Christmas specials were well-watched and his song, "White Christmas" (yes, it will always be his song), was the #1 bestselling single for over 50 years.  As much of an easy-going guy as he was, he did have a reputation for being a difficult father, even earning him the name "Daddy Dearest."  But personal life aside, Bing's contribution to the entertainment world was just as monumental as Bob's and I'm sure years down the line, we'll still be listening to his recordings.    

Keeping up with all these stars has been a challenge, and while I could write an awful lot more about both of these guys, I'm sure their own legends are already well known.  So I'm signing off now, so good night and thanks for the memories!

Day 12 - Jimmy Stewart

Last year I took on the challenge to watch and review 100 films.  I succeeded by only a few hours, but made it (you can see my full list of films on the right column of this blog).  The last one was It's a Wonderful Life, which I know is a staple for most families around the holidays.  I think the major appeal of the film is that everyone can empathize with George Bailey, so wonderfully played by Jimmy Stewart. 

Jimmy Stewart was a very talented actor despite his distinctive, not always so charming, voice.  He couldn't pull off the high society or incredibly debonair roles like Cary Grant, nor could he always play the rough and hard-bitten cowboy loners like John Wayne.  Jimmy was too likable and too much like the guy you know next door.  He embodied the everyman unlike any other actor, with Tom Hanks being his only true successor.  What I love about Jimmy Stewart is this exact quality - when he gets beaten down, we feel it because we've been there.  When he comes back up on top, we cheer because we can see ourselves rising to the occasion with him.

Jimmy Stewart's enormous talent allowed him to explore many different types of roles with one major exception - he never played a bad guy.  Well, except for once in a very early film (After the Thin Man, 1936), but we won't discuss that.  Stewart teamed up with Frank Capra in 1938 and started on his big-time success with You Can't Take it with You.  From then on, Stewart became one of the biggest stars of all time.  And I bet you didn't know this, but when America entered into WWII, Jimmy Stewart was one of the first actors to join the Armed Services.  Well, he would have been one of the first, but his lanky frame put him into the "underweight" category a few times.  He kept trying and eventually joined the Army Air Corps.  He remained active within the Corps even after the war, putting in enough flying time to keep his certification and eventually rising to the rank of Brigadier General.  I think Stewart's dedication to the Armed Forces helped bolster his image as the American Everyman Hero.  During the war, your sons and daughters could have been flying right alongside of him.  Now that's someone to admire.

A drunken Connor (Stewart) carries an even drunker Tracy (Hepburn) back from a late-night swim in The Philadelphia Story (MGM 1940)

 Stewart brought a sense of honesty and wholesomeness to all of his characters, even to the tough and onery ones he played in later Westerns.  I could probably list all of his best roles, but this post would be too long, so here are a few highlights (I've already reviewed The Shop Around the Corner and It's a Wonderful Life - please check those out too!)

1. The Philadelphia Story (1940)  Jimmy Stewart plays cynical reporter Macaulay Connor, who is sent to spy on society gal Tracy Lord's (Katharine Hepburn) wedding.  As much as he hates the high and mighty, he winds up falling in love with her and causing all sorts of inebriated trouble.  I love how he can get that jaded side down pat while still finding hope in the end.
2. Harvey (1950) What can you say about a man who co-stars with a giant white rabbit that only he can see?  Darned good acting, that's what.
3. Rear Window (1954) Arguably one of Hitchcock's best films, I think this may be my favorite Jimmy Stewart/Hitchcock film.  The entire film rests on how Stewart creates his character - as Jeff, we only see what he sees and witness what he witnesses.  It's an amazing film and extra wonderful because Grace Kelly is at the height of her career.
4. Vertigo (1958)  Just love it.  Jimmy manages to go from a pretty normal guy to one completely obsessed with a woman.  Kind of like how he plays Harvey - that slip into madness isn't hard to believe.
5. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) is a fantastic tribute to the dying art of the classic Western.  It's full of the old mythic types and the underlying sadness that the true heroes are often those who remain nameless and unknown to history.  Interesting fact - John Wayne is arguably in one of his most perfect roles, but director John Ford did not want to cast an unknown or any actor of lesser legendary status to be Wayne's character's adversary (in the role of bright and hopeful young tenderfoot lawyer, Ransom Stoddard).  So the role went to the only other actor at the time that was just as well loved and well known as Wayne - Jimmy Stewart.  Yes, he looks a bit too old for the part, but as a fan of both actors, it's difficult for me to pick a side, so I can't imagine how it was received back in 1962.         

Sadly there are some films of Jimmy's I have yet to see, most embarrasingly, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), which I've seen most of, just not in its entirety.  Not only can he play the idealistic young congressman, but he can pull off all the classic roles too.  I mean, who else could have played Charles Lindbergh (The Spirit of St. Louis, 1957) and Glenn Miller (The Glenn Miller Story, 1954)?  Who else could be as great in a Western as in a comedy or a Hitchcock thriller?  Jimmy Stewart strikes me as an easygoing boy next door who turned into the all-American hero.  He had a natural talent and simple charm, not to mention a great sense of humor (no, really, you should look up some of his appearances on the Dean Martin Variety Show - his impression of Bette Davis still kills me!).  But no matter what, he will always be our beloved George Bailey.       

Day 9 - Maureen O'Hara (Found the draft!)

I've been a fan of Westerns since high-school, when I started watching movies featuring Dean Martin (yes, the Italian crooner made an excellent cowboy).  While I could write a book about the Westerns of the 30's, 40's and 50's, I won't bore you to death talking about them here.  Westerns have come and gone out of fashion, but it interests me when they are popular and what they reflect about the time in which they were made.  One of the common complaints I hear about older Westerns is the portrayal of women - that they aren't strong and have no depth.  That is true, unfortunately, in many Westerns, but really it's also true in films of certain periods regardless of genre.  One of the reasons Westerns get so much of a bad reputation is because in many ways, the characters are just stand-ins for mythic types.  It goes deeper than male-female, it extends to individual-society and wilderness-civilization.  The other point I'd argue is that there are some strong female characters out there if you know where to look.  I've already written about Westward the Women, and some of the women in the old Gene Autry films.  But if I had to pick one actress who really nailed it, that would be Maureen O'Hara.

Ms. O'Hara's flaming red hair not only added to her individual beauty, but matched her fiery personality too.  She met Charles Laughton in London while just a fledgling actress, and he was quite taken with her talent.  He brought her to Hollywood with him, where they made The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939) and no one has been a better Esmeralda since.  She soon made a huge success of her role in How Green was My Valley (1941), her first picture with notoriously demanding director John Ford.  The two would team up for several films, and O'Hara would become known for her on-screen chemistry with Ford favorite, John Wayne.  I really admire the grit with which O'Hara acted - no one could have pulled off her tough act and hold her own against such a macho leading man.  What comes to mind especially is her role in Rio Grande (1950) - the estranged wife of Kirby Yorke, Kathleen (O'Hara) is the only force which can tame her husband - not to mention put him in his place.

Maureen O'Hara giving someone the look (The Quiet Man, Republic Pictures 1952)

O'Hara stayed true to her Irish roots (she was born in Ranelagh, in County Dublin, Ireland) when she and fellow Irish-Americans Ford and Wayne finally got the funding together to film The Quiet Man (1952).  It's probably her most well-remembered role, that of spinster turned wife Mary Kate, who refuses to obey her husband until he forces her brother to pay her dowry.  If you haven't seen this film yet, you definitely should for the following reasons:

1. John Wayne makes a convincing romantic lead (surprise!)
2. Maureen O'Hara is AMAZING.  Both demure and proud all at once, she can curse a blue streak but remains a perfect lady.  AND she speaks in Gaelic! 
3. Many Ford stock company actors and actresses appear here - the difference is that most of them actually are Irish, so they seem very much at home.  When he made Westerns, it's a bit odd to see them all just conveniently all at the same fort.  But in a small town in Ireland, not a big surprise.
4. Did I mention it was almost entirely shot ON LOCATION?  
5. Ward Bond plays a priest.  Yes, I'm giggling at the thought.
6. At the time of release, the film boasted the longest continuous fist-fight on screen at something like 16 or 17 minutes.  
7. Um, did I mention Maureen O'Hara is amazing?

Maureen O'Hara is so great in so many films that you really should try to see at least one.  In fact, you may have already seen her and not even realized it, though with that unmistakable red hair and iron will, she'd be pretty hard to forget.  A true leading lady who could stand shoulder to shoulder with some of the toughest men in the business, Maureen O'Hara always brought a sense of self-reliance and strength to her roles, along with a timeless beauty and old-world charm.

Day 11 - Ben Johnson

I haven't been aligning my entries with the actual stars chosen for the Turner Classic Movies program this month, but today I am breaking that because my absolute favorite cowboy finally got his own day of programming - Ben Johnson.  Now, I know most of you are probably thinking, "who the heck is Ben Johnson?!" but I tell you, he is a treasure in film history.  Ben (yes, I refer to him as Ben) is that guy, that third cowboy on the right in all those old Westerns you knew and loved as a kid.  His voice is always his dead giveaway because of his pronounced Oklahoma cowboy drawl.  You might even think he's putting it on, but once you watch him, you know he isn't even acting.  That's just him.

Ben as Tyree talking to his horse, Laddie, in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (RKO 1949)

Ben is often described as a "genuine" cowboy and I think this adjective is the perfect one for him.  Ben started out as a cowboy and died a cowboy.  But he got into Hollywood when Howard Hughes came through and hired him to help lead a herd of horses through Arizona to Hughes' movie location.  I've heard lots of stories of how it really happened, but the one I read from an interview with Ben was that Hughes had a prize stallion that he didn't want to get hurt.  Well, one day during shooting, all the horses started to stampede together, including the stallion.  Ben hopped up on his pony and went after the horse, lassoed him and got him out of the rush so fast, Hughes knew he had to put Ben in a Western.  Pretty soon others started noticing how Ben added a natural presence to create a more "believable" Western.  What could make a cowboy more convincing than to cast one that had actual, hard-earned saddle sores?  Ben was also a stuntman, as his background made a lot of that work easy for him.  That didn't mean he didn't have his limits - he and Harry Carey Jr. both had to learn how to ride "Roman style" (standing up with feet on separate horses's backs) for the film Rio Grande.  They worked hard at it and fell an awful lot.  Battered and bruised, the team finally succeeded only to be met with something like "their stunt doubles did a great job!"  Nope, that was really them!

Since I can't really contain myself, here are some of my favorite Ben Johnson films and why I love each one:

She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1948): Ben was only supposed to have a minor role in this film, but he manages, with his drawl and his good humor, to steal every single scene he's in.  Here he plays Cpl. Tyree, a rider in the US Calvary post Civil War, who has a reputation for being the best point rider because of his super sharp eyesight.  His repeated (and hilarious!) line, "that ain't in my department" is always delivered with that deadpan attitude that makes even John Wayne, his commanding officer, smirk.  What's more, Ben also did the most dangerous stunt in the film - on the run from the renegade Indians, he jumps his horse over a narrow canyon (see below).  According to Ben, what you couldn't tell from the film was that the canyon was 70 feet deep and a heck of a lot scarier than it looks!

Ben and his horse are just a blur!

Rio Grande (1950): Ben has a bit of a larger part, still playing a guy in the US Calvary named Tyree, but this time he's wanted for murder (self-defense!) and is only running in order to give his sister (the girl at the center of the feud-turned-murder) time to get out of town so her name wouldn't be run through the mud.  It's a pretty noble thing to do, so Tyree gets help from the other members of the Army unit, including straight-laced rule follower Lt. Col. Kirby York (again, John Wayne).  You can't help but root for Tyree, who coined the phrase, "Get it done, Johnny Reb!"**  Seriously, though, Rio Grande is one of the best Westerns of all time and you should definitely see it!  Fun fact too - the song that Ben, Harry Carey Jr., and Claude Jarman (who plays York's son) sing in this film was actually written by Dale Evans!

Wagonmaster (1950) I've already mentioned, but I have to say again, Ben finally got to play the lead!!  He makes a great hero in this movie, very convincing as the reluctant but tried-and-true cowboy.  He doesn't want to get involved, but knows it's the right thing so he does.  And does again.  It's this dual desire to be the individual, off from society while also wanting to protect society (women, children, Mormons who need a guide) and be a part of it.  Ben does a great job bringing both of these conflicting desires together; maybe it's his very nature of being in films without wanting to be an actor.  Ford often referred to this as his favorite Western and sadly people just don't watch it enough today.  (Except miracle of miracles - TCM is finally showing it tonight!!!!!!!!!)   

Chisum (1970)  An aging cowboy, Ben plays James Pepper, the foreman of the massive cattle ranch owned by John Chisum (John Wayne) during the Lincoln County Land War.  It's an entertaining enough movie, featuring Billy the Kid and Pat Garrett as well, but I have to tell you, when you watch, make sure you turn up the volume for all of Ben's lines.  Pepper mumbles to himself a lot, so you'll probably miss most of his lines, but I guarantee you they are worth hearing.  Ben fits this profile so well you can almost see his old roles in Rio Grande having turned into this one.  Plus he gets to be the only person to tell John Wayne exactly what's what: "Way I see it, all this speechifyin', store-keepin', prayer-meetin' don't amount to spit in the river.  There's only one thing that's going to make this territory know who's bull of the woods.  And you know it."     

Ben was also great in The Train Robbers (1973), Junior Bonner (1972), The Sugarland Express (1974), and My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys (1991).  He was also in The Wild Bunch (1969), but I'm not a big fan of that movie and I hate that Ben plays a bad guy with no redeeming value (and not enough screen time).  I've also been meaning to see him in Hang 'Em High (1968) and a few others.  And thanks to TCM today, I've got several lined up on my DVR!  I also need to re-watch Angels in the Outfield (1994) because Ben got to play the team's owner, Hank Murphy, who was very much based on real-life founder and first owner of the Angels - the one and only Gene Autry.

 Left: Ben in his Oscar-winning role!!  (Columbia Pictures, 1971)


I think what sets Ben Johnson apart for me is his honesty.  He never considered himself a movie star, or even an actor.  He just read the lines like he'd normally do and that was about it.  But over the years the parts became scarcer, until Ben was finally offered a role in Peter Bogdanovich's The Last Picture Show (1971).  The only problem was that Ben hated all of the foul language in the script - to him, that kind of cussing wasn't necessary and he sure wasn't going to use it.  So he and Bogdanovich struck a deal - Ben was allowed to rewrite his lines to remove the language and he in turn gave one heck of a great performance.  So good, in fact, that he won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, despite the fact that his character, Sam the Lion, only appears in about 20 minutes of screen time.  Ben did such an amazing job creating this character that sort of acts as a father or grandfather for everyone in this small, dying town in 1951 Texas.  He's the town's moral compass and he affects the lives of everyone there.  Fun fact too - Sam the Lion owns the town's movie theater and in several scenes you can see the film posters out front.  The first one you see is a little in-joke - it's Wagonmaster, Ben's first (and only real) starring role.  

But you know what, that Oscar didn't mean half as much to him as the one award he worked so hard to earn - the title of World Rodeo Champion in Roping.  There's even a charity rodeo tournament that Ben helped set up in his name.  Really I could just go on all night about this guy, but I'll try to wrap this up.  Ben Johnson captured the spirit of the American West because he was the last of the true cowboys.  His own honesty and humility may never have brought him much fame on the big screen, but it kept him true to his roots as a hard-working horse wrangler.  I think that to watch Ben is about the closest most of us will ever get to seeing a "genuine article" of a figure so ingrained in the mythos of America.  I could build Ben up to be the embodiment of so many ideals and a legend on screen, but I know he would hate that, so I'll just end by saying that in everything he did, he was a top hand and the world is an emptier place now that he's no longer out riding the range.          

**P.S. Catherine, when I say "Let's go, Alamo!", it's actually one of Ben's lines to his best friend in this movie.

Day 10 - Shirley MacLaine

I am still trying to recover my notes from yesterday's post, but as today is Shirley MacLaine day on TCM, I decided to just go ahead and plunge into the next entry.  What's ironic is that I don't even like Shirley MacLaine, but I'm not sure why.  Maybe it was the kind of ditzy, mettling sorts of roles she sometimes played or the rumors of her trying to break up Dean Martin's marriage, but who knows if that was even true.  Even if you don't know Shirley MacLaine from some of her roles on film, you probably recognize her name from all of the air-time she logged talking about her past lives.

Right now I'm watching Some Came Running (1958), which I've always liked for Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin's acting.  What I didn't know is that Shirley MacLaine received her first (of six) Oscar nominations for her role as a not-so-bright, loose woman who follows Dave (Sinatra) from Chicago to his hometown of Parkman, Indiana after a one-night stand.  Even though he tries to get rid of her, she keeps showing up, and her ties to the Chicago mob eventually bring all sorts of trouble and eventual tragedy.  Shirley MacLaine acts as a counter to Dave's other love interest: intelligent, conservative school teacher Gwen French (Martha Hyer).  The two women, both in love with Dave, have the most touching conversation in the film about love.

The kooky Shirley MacLaine in Steel Magnolias (MGM 1958)

The more I think about her, the more I start to admire Shirley's roles.  Not only did she break out in Some Came Running, but she went on to shine in films like Billy Wilder's The Apartment (1960), The Children's Hour (1961), Irma la Douce (1963), Two Mules for Sister Sara (1970) and Steel Magnolias (1989).  She also starred in one of my guilty-pleasure comedies, What a Way to Go! (1964), where she played Louisa May Foster, a woman who married Dick Van Dyke, Paul Newman, Robert Mitchum and Gene Kelly.  Maybe what keeps Shirley MacLaine so interesting in these films is her ability to play a kook or an annoying neighbor (like Steel Magnolias) and still manage to portray a sense of vulnerability.  You don't know if you should take care of her or write her off as a nutcase.

So not all movie stars are ones we all love, but they each have their own followings.  And while I don't like MacLaine in some films, I do enjoy watching her in others.  Are there any stars that you both like and dislike?

Day 9 - Maureen O'Hara

Due to some computer issues, my entire post for today was erased.  Please check back again tomorrow. :(

Day 8 - Eli Wallach

After a Sunday afternoon of frantically writing about three amazing actresses, I'm now facing this blank screen a bit too warn out to type.  And I thought, maybe there's an actor who played a writer that could inspire me to throw some words together.  My first thought was of William Holden sitting in his white terry-cloth bathrobe, pencil clenched in his teeth, hands hammering out short stories on a typewriter in that amazing opening sequence of Sunset Boulevard.  But let's face it, my post about Holden would take far too long to type.  Then I thought of another writer I loved on screen - the octogenarian screenwriter Arthur Abbott, played charmingly by Eli Wallach in the 2006 romantic comedy The Holiday.

Eli Wallach as Arthur Abbott listening to Kate Winslet's troubles (The Holiday, Columbia Pictures 2006)

Eli Wallach is one of those guys who seems to have been around in Hollywood since the very beginning, but the truth is he didn't make his first film until 1956, when he played Silva in Baby Doll.  He actually started in television and then made his way to film, much like his later co-star Clint Eastwood (yup, that's Rowdy Yates in Rawhide).  Wallach is one of those character actors that you always see and go "oh, that's the GUY!"  Instant recognition (much like how Ben Johnson's voice is a dead giveaway).  But I digress.  Wallach is a fine actor in his own right and if his name doesn't really bring any films to your mind, here's a list you might enjoy: The Magnificent Seven (1960), The Misfits (1962), How the West was Won (1962), How to Save a Marriage and Ruin Your Life (1968), The Godfather Part III (1990).  And of course there's his most famous role - he played Tuco in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966).  He's considered a legend of the film industry and someone that everyone wants to talk to about the old days. 

Now I love the film The Holiday for Kate Winslet's character's storyline - a newspaperwoman trying to get away from an unrequited love turned broken heart by going to L.A.  There she meets Abbott, who tells her all about the glory days of old Hollywood.  He's a lonely old widower, but has parts of his life he doesn't talk about, like the neglected Oscar statuettes in his house.  Their friendship is wonderful and makes me wish I had someone like Arthur to consul me when I get my heart broken.  He adds a great deal of charm to the film and a sense of timelessness - Arthur's own life story is proof that there is such a thing as true love.  He also manages to give Iris (Kate Winslet) the best advice ever - "there are two kinds of women.  There are the best friends and the leading ladies.  Now you, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason, you're acting like the best friend."  Which lets Iris realize, "I have to be the leading lady of my own life!"  Ah, the power of films to help us deal with all of life's heartaches.

Which brings me back to the beginning.  All these classic film stars - even the lesser known character actors - all have a great story to tell.  I just read a line in a book by Robert Randisi about an elderly man who gets referred to as a legend.  He says he only got that title because he's been around so damned long.  Maybe part of Eli Wallach's longevity has aided his status in the film industry the same way that those who've died young (like James Dean) have their early deaths to build their iconic status.  It leaves me to close with this questions to you, you people out there in the dark - just what does it take to make someone a legend?

Day 6 and Day 7 - Lucille Ball and Ginger Rogers

Today must be bombshell day, and I'm not talking about the stereotypical blond-haired sexpots.  I'm talking about bombshell actresses in the sense that they took the stage (and the set) by storm.  Following on my post about the tough-talking Jane Russell who reminds me of a female Robert Mitchum, I move on to two of the hardest working actresses of their time - Lucille Ball and Ginger Rogers.  Now, while this combination might seem a bit odd for a film post, I should preface it with the fact that yesterday, August 6, 2011, was Lucille Ball's 100th birthday.  To celebrate, TCM named her their star of the day (in their month long Summer Under the Stars program) and showed a wonderful classic called Stage Door, which also features the amazingly talented Ginger Rogers AND also incredible Katharine Hepburn (about whom I could write so much, she'll have to wait until I have the time to dedicate an entire post to her).  So to try and make some sense of this combination (read as: Amanda is way too busy to post every day!) blog update, here's how it'll go - first, I'll talk about Stage Door, then Lucy, then Ginger.  Got it?  Let's go!

Stage Door

Now, I've never seen the play Stage Door, which I've heard is vastly different from the film.  However, I can't imagine it any different - or any better - than it is in this sizzling 1937 movie.  It revolves around the lives of struggling actresses all living together in a boarding house.  The main leads, wise-cracking Jean (Ginger Rogers) and newly arrived actress Terry (Katharine Hepburn), at first hit it off, but their gentle ribs turn brutal once Jean's producer-boyfriend ditches her for Terry, to whom he gives the lead in his new play.  Jean isn't the only one crushed by it - soft-spoken actress Kay also feels the blow as she's been without work and lobbying for that role for a year.  The banter between the boarding house girls, including familiar faces Lucille Ball and Ann Miller, is fast-paced and funny, but it's all just a cover for the suffering of broken-hearts and between-jobs hunger.  It gets so bad, severely depressed Kay commits suicide on Terry's premiere opening-night.  All in all, the girls carry on in the tradition of the theater and find friendship in an industry fraught with enemies.  What I love about Stage Door is the chemistry between the girls.  At the time, Katharine Hepburn and Ginger Rogers were both the queen bee at RKO Pictures, so putting them into a film together was a guaranteed hit.  They are both such fine actresses on their own, but add in the great comedic and musical talents of Ball and Miller and it's a show-stopper.  Even relatively unknown actress Andrea Leeds gives a heart-rending performance as Kay.  It's an almost exclusively female cast, but these are independent women - witty, smart, talented and a please to watch over and over again.

Lucille Ball

Lucille Ball has been called one of the hardest working women in the entertainment field.  Off camera she was known to be all business, and judging from her massive contributions to film and television, it's not hard to believe.  I was happy to hear of the big celebrations for her 100th birthday yesterday and I wish I had been able to take part in the festivities.  Lucy was an icon even in her own time.      

Lucille Ball (left), Eve Arden (I think?) and Andrea Leeds waiting hopefully for a meeting with a producer.  Stage Door (RKO Pictures, 1937)

I think it's that can-do, all-business attitude that really makes Lucy such a force to be reckoned with.  It was hard enough in Hollywood to break into the movies as a leading lady and perhaps even harder in comedy, since no one could take you seriously.  But Lucy proved them wrong and went from the supporting cast (in films like Stage Door) to leading roles.  Soon she was in films like Du Barry Was a Lady (a favorite film in the TCM crossword puzzles), where she held her own with (and probably out-witted!) comedic great Red Skelton.  With the development of television in the fifties, Lucy, unlike some stars of her time, wanted in on it and from 1951 to 1957 created one of the most well-loved and often-imitated characters - Lucy Ricardo.  She was a pioneer in many senses of the word, being the first woman to show her pregnant figure on television and the first woman to own her own film production company and studio.  Although she and Desi Arnaz split in 1960, I've read that they had trouble during the the fifties, which may have been part of the reason they ventured into both I Love Lucy and Desilu Productions together.  Whatever their personal lives, you couldn't tell when you watched the show - that's called good acting.  Lucy's gifts on screen were her sense of presence and amazing comedic delivery.  Her timing and her willingness to take risks along the lines of slapstick are legendary.  I doubt there is any comedian today who has not learned something from her.  I also doubt anyone today hasn't laughed at her and with her.  She is a true legend.    

Ginger Rogers

I've often heard the saying "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, only backwards and in high heels."  It's usually a slogan taken up by feminist groups and advocates of women's rights.  What most people don't know is how much Ginger Rogers sizzled even when she wasn't dancing.  She had the right amount of sass to keep Fred Astaire in line on all their films and enough for the other leading men in her life too (she was also married and divorced five times!).  After making her films with Fred, the studio wanted her to branch out on her own.  Her first real foray was Kitty Foyle (1940), for which she won an Oscar.  Before that though, she popped in Vivacious Lady, a film I previously reviewed (and liked!).  

Ginger Rogers (right) looks less than pleased that a producer is watching she and excited Ann Miller (left) in their rehearsal.  Stage Door (RKO Pictures, 1937)

I loved Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday (1940), but had no idea Ginger Rogers had been an earlier choice.  She turned the part down, but I think of all the actresses at that time, she would've been the only one able to fill that role and dish it back to sharp-tongued newspaperman Walter (Cary Grant).  Luckily we still got to see her and Grant together, though in a not-as-memorable comedy, Monkey Business (1952).  Ginger Rogers continues to delight and surprise me whenever I see her.  She is so much more than just half of a dancing team - she was a powerhouse performer on her own.  A woman of many talents, she and her mother (to whom she was very close), designed most of her gowns for her dancing films and later in her life, Ginger acted as a fashion consultant to J.C. Penny.  She even had her own lingerie business based in Tennessee called FormFit Rogers (though sadly the company is either defunct or moved to a Spanish speaking country, because all the internet hits come up in Spanish).  Anyway, the point is that Ginger has a lot of spunk and reading through her biography, that applied to her both on and off screen.  When asked in an interview what it takes to be a movie star, she replied, "Intelligence, adaptability and talent. And by talent I mean the capacity for hard work. Lots of girls come here with little but good looks. Beauty is a valuable asset, but it is not the whole cheese."  And Ginger had all of the above in spades.

What a great weekend for female empowerment!  I'm not sure how often I'll be posting here, but I'm determined to write about 31 stars in 31 days, so stay tuned!

P.S. Fun fact?  According to IMDb and Lucille Ball's daughter, Lucie, Ginger Rogers and Lucille Ball were distant cousins.  Who knew?

Day 5 - Jane Russell

Lately I've been approaching life with the attitude of What Would Jane Russell Do? or more precisely, What Would Dorothy Shaw Do?, referring to one of my favorite characters in film - her role in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.  Dorothy, and in many ways, Jane Russell too, was confident, sexy, smart, a good friend and knew how to handle herself.  She has a good line for any situation and could outwit any guy in the room.  

I've been feeling less than confident lately, and that led to me to think more about this tough-talking leading lady.  Her role as Dorothy might not have fit with the title of the film, but she's more grounded than Loralei (Marilyn Monroe) and winds up with the better guy in the end.  I wish I could just have a thimble-full of her confidence.  Or her glamor.  Or her beauty.  Or her unabashed talent.     

Jane asks "Anyone Here for Love?" in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes ( Twentieth Century Fox, 1953)

Jane Russell was originally known more for her status as a pin-up girl.  Her film Double Dynamite (1951) (which is hilarious, by the way!) wasn't named after the combination of her two male stars, Sinatra and Groucho Marx, but by her well-known, ahem, assets.  What I love about her though is her gumption - she could hold her own on screen in comedies with Bob Hope, film noirs with Robert Mitchum, and in musicals with Marilyn Monroe.  I've seen her in five films: The Paleface, Macao, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, His Kind of Woman and Double Dynamite, and while Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is my favorite, all of them have been very entertaining.  It's nice to see a woman with that kind of simmering coolness; she could probably out-leer Mitchum, since they both hold the market on that "don't give a damn" attitude.  Recently I've been reading up on her life off-screen and it turns out she was just as much of a fireball as her character Calamity Jane.  She spent her life as a pro-life advocate after a traumatic and dangerous abortion as a teenager.  An independent, strong-willed and opinionated woman, even if you don't agree with her politics, you can still admire her grit. 

When I mentioned to Catherine that Jane Russell would be my Friday post (oops!), she nodded and asked if I'd also be writing about big stars too.  I'm not sure why Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas don't count as "big" but I asked her what she meant.  "Someone like Judy Garland" she said.  While I like Judy Garland as much as the next person, I don't really have much I want to write about her right now.  The point of movies and of blogging about film stars is to write about which films and which actors/actresses inspire you.  Maybe Jane Russell isn't as big as Judy, but it doesn't dim her legacy or her influence.  Like I said, stars depend on the people that never leave them, and as long as there are fans, there will always be fame.  Maybe we could all look to Ms. Russell for some of her conviction and character which seems to be sadly lacking in stars today. As for me, the next time I meet a guy, I'm going to pretend I'm Jane Russell and see if I can channel some of her wit and self-possession.

Days 3 and 4 - Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis

I've had an unusually busy week so far, and my belated blogging is evidence of that.  So I decided to do two posts at once today. 

I first started watching the old Martin & Lewis comedies back in high school.  I had been a long time fan of Frank Sinatra by that point, and from Frank I started listening to the Rat Pack, which led to Dean Martin, which led to Martin & Lewis.  Most people today do not know about this comedy team, as I mentioned in an earlier post.  However, Martin and Lewis left their mark on the entertainment world - first as a team and then as individuals.   

"Side by Side"
Dean Martin was playing the nightclub scene as a crooner when he crossed paths with new comic Jerry Lewis.  The two hit it off and soon started performing together, hoping to get the best of both worlds - fans of crooners and fans of stand-ups.  They went on to perform for larger and larger audiences, scored some radio appearances and broke into film in 1949 with My Friend Irma.  They would go on to make 15 films together and ended a ten-year partnership with a much-publicized break-up in 1956.  These were the guys who stopped traffic in Times Square - one of the biggest and most successful partnerships in entertainment history.

But let me tell you the truth - they were just as good apart as they were together.  I often describe their teamwork skills by describing how each of them worked.  In their act, Dean was the smooth crooner and ladies' man who also stood as Jerry's straight man.  Jerry, in contrast, was the bumbling, zany comedian.  I don't know who actually wrote the jokes of if they worked on them together, but their sense of timing is impeccable.  I'm watching their appearances on the old Colgate Comedy Hour (1950 - 1955) right now, and in the era of live television, their timing is even more impressive.  However, when they flub a line, they are both quick enough on their feet to just go with it - something I fear a lot of actors today can't do. 

I've already written about The Caddy in my other Martin and Lewis post, so here are some of their other movies: My Friend Irma (1949) is a wonderful old-fashioned comedy of romance.  Dean has some of his best songs on film in this picture, including "Here's to Love."  I also really enjoyed their movie Scared Stiff (1953).  It has some of the best lines from Dean, like "Don't give me away, please!  Someday you may have a little boy and he'll grow up and commit an innocent murder too!" and "I'm just dropping a few eaves." Hollywood or Bust (1956) is fun too, but the last one that the team made and the relationship isn't as easygoing as in the earlier films. 

Martin and Lewis are part of the many successful comedy teams in entertainment history and one of the best of the crooner-comedian acts.  But in 1956 artistic (and probably personality) reasons caused the guys to go through a sort of divorce and cut all ties.  It was highly publicized and caused a lot of uproar, but the guys pretty much kept their opinions mostly to themselves.   

Dean & Jerry appearing on the Colgate Comedy Hour singing their famous duet "Side by Side"

Dean Martin

Dean's career had launched before Jerry because of his great voice, and after the split, that kept him employed.  Dean managed to score some more film roles where he took a turn for more serious acting.  Watch how great he is in the character study Some Came Running (1958) and his dead-on performance as a recovering alcoholic in Rio Bravo (1959).  Some people would say Frank Sinatra helped revive his pal's career, but when you watch how good his acting is in these pictures, you realize he didn't need any help.  In 1960, he teamed up with Judy Holliday in Bells Are Ringing, one of my favorite musicals.  His character, Jeffrey Moss, is part of a writing team that recently broke up and now he's too afraid to go out on his own for fear that everyone will say his partner was the one with all the talent.  It hits a bit close to home at first glance, but knowing Dean's cool demeanor and enormous amount of talent, I seriously doubt he ever struggled so much with his confidence.

What I love about Dean Martin is that he always came off as the star who never cared if he was a star.  He certainly didn't crave all the attention that Jerry did.  In his time with the Rat Pack in Vegas, Dean was the one who drank apple juice on stage and read comic books in his hotel room instead of staying up partying.  One of my favorite Dean Martin stories is when he and his wife threw a party at their Beverly Hills home one night.  It was getting late and Dean disappeared from the group.  A while later the police showed up, saying they had gotten a call about disturbing the peace and broke up the party.  Frank Sinatra, a guest, went looking for Dean and said "Dean, the cops are here breaking up the party!  Who could have called - the whole neighborhood's here!"  To which Dean said calmly, "I called.  I'm tired and want to go to bed."  That's the Dean Martin I adore. 

Dean's career would expand when he began hosting the weekly Dean Martin Variety Show in 1965.  It was a great, great show and set the standard for all the ones that followed.  Dean's likeability and friendliness allowed him to invite all his Hollywood buddies to make appearances.  Can you really imagine anyone else in Hollywood getting John Wayne to lip-sync a song on your show or coaxing Jimmy Stewart to do an impression of Bette Davis?  Heck, even Governor Ronald Reagan wanted in on the act.  I think what speaks volumes about Dean Martin though is his enduring presence and ability to entertain legions of fans across generations.  Even though he is gone, so many people today are finding out who he was and falling in love with that Italian crooner's charm.  You know, when the Beatles came to America and everyone thought that the old crooners would be finished in the wake of rock and roll, there was a great moment.  After a few years of holding the #1 record on all the charts in America, the Beatles were ousted - not by Elvis, not by a young rock star, but by a tried and true saloon singer.  Dean Martin came back to wow everyone with his new version of "Everybody Loves Somebody."  It's true, everybody does love somebody sometime, and all the world loved Dean Martin.

Jerry Lewis

There has been a lot written about Jerry Lewis' contributions to film and television after his split with Dean.  He went on to become very famous in his own crazy comedies, becoming a box office draw in the late fifties.  But his popularity really took off overseas, particularly in France, where his brand of humor seemed to strike home.  He was even given the Legion of Honor despite not speaking a word of French.  Jerry's antics are quite painful to watch and his falsetto voice often grates on the ears.  Personally I had trouble watching him when he didn't have Dean to temper his insanity.  But Jerry went on to direct and set up his own film company.  He even taught a film class where Steven Spielberg was his student (who knew?).

Another turnoff about Jerry is his intolerable grabs for attention and downright thoughtless remarks (like saying a woman can't be believed once a month because her period makes her stop thinking).  However - and I say this very strongly - for all that he has said and done, Jerry was one of the first advocates for research into muscular dystrophy and went on to become the spokesman and national chair of the MDA.  His efforts are so well known through his Labor Day telethon, where he has helped raise over $2 billion.  Today I read that for the first time in something like 40 years, Jerry will not be a part of the MDA's telethon.  I don't know if it is his health or other factors, but he will be missed.  One of my good friends in college, Ian, had a form of muscular dystrophy and had been helped a lot by MDA and enjoyed their summer camp program.  Not long after we had first met, I mentioned I was a fan of the old Martin & Lewis films and lamented the fact that no one of our generation knew who they were.  Ian smiled and said "I know who they are.  I'm one of Jerry's Kids."  We bonded right then and there.  To this day I can't watch anything of Jerry's without missing Ian, and for all of Jerry's faults and outrageously tact-less comments (to put it kindly), he will always have the thanks and admiration of millions.      

I could write a lot more about each of these guys and about their work together.  They separated in 1956, but were reunited on the national MDA telethon in 1976 as a surprise arranged by Frank Sinatra.  And as they managed to bring smiles to not only their fans, but to children like Ian, I'll end with another Martin and Lewis song, "We hope to get you merry-like / Get Dean-and-Jerry-like / We hope we'll get your long face lost!"

Day 2 - Kirk Douglas (A bit late!)

Yesterday morning I was talking to my friend Catherine and I had mentioned watching Out of the Past.  "Not bad," I had said.  "I had no idea it was only Kirk Douglas's second film."

"You know," she said.  "I don't know that I've ever seen a Kirk Douglas film."

I started listing the ones I knew and realized I couldn't list that many either.  Spartacus, of course, defined his whole career.  Who hasn't seen at least the image of Kirk Douglas the gladiator?  Looking at the list I had and the list on IMDb, I started to think about Kirk Douglas's status as a classic film star.  How many standout, essential classics does an actor or actress need to star in in order to qualify as one of the greats?  Do they need to have won an Oscar?  What makes a star a timeless star?

Let me start with the Kirk Douglas films I've seen.  Aside from Spartacus, there's of course Out of the Past.  Now, I don't know about anyone else, but I've always associated him with this role.  I talked to Catherine about how putting Mitchum vs. Douglas in this movie really made it believable - Douglas's character may have all the money and power, but he can't get the girl (Mitchum does).  There's an interesting play on masculinity here too.  Douglas as Whit Sterling represents finance and the upper class - he is often seen in his house with deer heads mounted on the wall.  Mitchum as Jeff Markum/Bailey is always seen actively in nature - fishing, usually - and represents more blue-collar values (he's found in the beginning as the owner and operator of a gas station).  Douglas fits this upper-class villain role rather well, carrying some of it over into his later role of Jonathan Shields in The Bad and the Beautiful.  I think if I had to pick a type for him, it would be something along these lines - a guy who's made it to the top, though not always by innocent means.  He reminds me a bit of Jay Gatsby in that sense, even in real life where he went from being the poor son of Russian-Jewish immigrants with the name Issur Danielovitch Demsky.     

 

Kirk Douglas in Out of the Past and up to no good. (RKO 1947)

I've also seen Douglas play some awful characters too, in films like The War Wagon (1967).  And then there are somewhat annoying characters, perhaps only because they seemed to always be needling John Wayne's character in films like In Harm's Way (1965) and Cast a Giant Shadow (1967), though I don't remember either of those films well because they just didn't click with me.  There is something to be said about not wanting to play a good guy through and through - as Kirk Douglas said, "Virtue is not photogenic."  Perhaps that's why he stuck out as such a great actor - his willingness to take on challenging and not always sympathetic roles.  That might also have something to do with the rights to another film he bought and held, hoping he could make the film himself - it was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and eventually he turned it over to his son Michael, who continued the great acting tradition of the family. 

To follow up to the earlier question of what makes a person not only a star, but a star for all time, I will revert to Norma Desmond - "No one ever leaves a star.  That's what makes one a star!"  I think Kirk Douglas (among others) has remained a big star because he's always found a following - when I was in college, a lot of the guys used to watch and chant lines from Spartacus in the dorms.  Plus Kirk passed on more than his cleft chin to his son and grandson - he passed on his talent.  I could talk more about the films of his that I should see, but haven't yet found time to watch (like Lust for Life and Mourning Becomes Electra), but those just add to the point I'm struggling to make: Douglas is a star.  Whether we've seen one of his films or not, we probably know the lines or roles.  I mean, who here hasn't once yelled "I Am Spartacus!!!"?  That's the stuff of legends.

Day 1 - Robert Mitchum

After a long absence, I realized how much I missed the movies.  It's so easy to get lost in the stress and day-to-day responsibilities of life that you forget about the things that you once loved.  For me, I've gotten away from movies.  Lately I've been stressed to the point of breaking.  To take time for myself and to help get back to writing every day, I've decided to mirror the current festival on Turner Classic Movies - their August long program "Summer Under the Stars."  I won't write on every star that's being featured this month, but I will try very hard to post once a day about a different star I admire.  Sound good?  Then thanks for checking up on my blog and let's go!

Day 1 - Robert Mitchum

I think I've mentioned before on this blog that Robert Mitchum is my movie star boyfriend.  That is, he's my guy, my dreamboat, my Robert Pattinson, if you will.  I'm crazy about him.  I'm not sure if it's the low, rumbling voice or the essence of complete coolness that seems to seep out of him like tea left on a hot summer porch.  There's something easy and calm about his demeanor too, just like a warm summer night.
I feel like I'm babbling on like a true fangirl.  Let me start over.

Robert Mitchum began his career in his words, because he needed to eat.  His life seemed tragic and the perfect setting for a film noir, the style he would later define.  He did everything as a teenage runaway - hitching rides on trains and boxing (which, on a side note, a lot of guys did back in the day, including Dean Martin).  I read somewhere that he also did time on a chain gang.  At any rate, he wound up in California and a lot of his early roles in the mid-forties were killers, bad guys and mobsters (like his predecessor tough guy, Humphrey Bogart).  He didn't have the same stellar looks or charisma as say, Cary Grant, but Mitchum had an easy, don't-give-a-damn attitude that worked perfectly for the new genre of film noir.  He made Out of the Past (see still above) in 1947 and I doubt anyone involved would know what an impact that film would make.  It's been reference and quoted in almost every film history article I've read on film noir.  It's such an interesting movie that uses flashback and narration very, very well.  One of the things I love most about Robert Mitchum is his voice, so hearing him tell his story in this way adds to the tone and overall feel - that low rumble is smooth enough, but you can hear the history in it, along with all the cigarettes and long nights.

Mitchum's voice, in fact, is something that sets him apart in the film industry.  I'm sad when he doesn't sing in one of his films, which is part of the reason I adore the B-Western romance Rachel and the Stranger (well, that and William Holden takes his shirt off).  Mitchum has a fine, powerful singing voice and it seems a big shame we never heard more of it.  He did go on to record two albums, but his best triumph was probably the ballad he wrote for the film he wrote, directed, produced and starred in - Thunder Road (1958).  It was a story he had wanted to do for a long time, but couldn't get anyone to back.  So after he left the studio and started to take on his own career, he put his efforts towards this film about a bootlegger outracing the law in Tennessee and trying to come to terms with what he really wants out of life.  In many ways you could say that Mitchum was like his character, Lucas Doolin, just standing behind the clock waiting for the race to start, not at one end or the other but stuck somewhere racing around in the middle. 

I think what appeals to me the most about Robert Mitchum is his versatility as an actor.  He's best known for roles as a bad guy in films like Night of the Hunter (1955) and Cape Fear (1962).  But before that he was the private eye in a sticky situation in films like Out of the Past.  I mentioned his time in prison in an earlier review; when he returned to the screen, directors didn't know how to handle him in light of this new publicity.  They tried a lot of fluff roles to make him seem like a good guy again, like Holiday Affair (1949), and even in some Westerns like The Red Pony (1949).  Mitchum just did well in any genre, always with that same laid-back attitude.  Later on he'd show off his sense of humor and good timing in films like El Dorado (1966) and an often forgotten comedy, The Grass is Greener (1960).  The latter is about an English noble couple played by Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr.  She winds up having an affair with a dapper American tourist, played by Mitchum.  The men decide the fair thing to do is fight over her, but it doesn't really go as planned.  It's a scream, mainly because you know, having to choose between Grant and Mitchum would be nearly impossible!  Then came older, more mature roles like Ryan's Daughter (1970) or Home from the Hill (1960) and just like good wine, Mitchum just got better with age.  Sure he lost his good looks (well, I think he was quite handsome) and some of his energy, but he turned into one of those fine old gentlemen you could tell had really seen it all.  For me, I will always remember him in the first role I remember seeing of his - that of Brigadere General Norman Cota in The Longest Day (1962).  I think that moment when he sees his men that have made it to the beach and the carnage behind them, you can watch the emotions rolling through him.  His barrel chest sticks out, he chomps his cigar and tells them all: "I don't have to tell you the story. You all know it. Only two kinds of people are gonna stay on this beach: those that are already dead and those that are gonna die. Now get off your butts. You guys are the Fighting 29th."  I cannot even capture the pride or the sadness you feel when watching.  It's just one of those truly amazing moments captured on film.

Mitchum not only could act, but he could direct too.  It might surprise you to know that even though he came off as a bad guy or a really tough guy, Mitchum was the one in Night of the Hunter who directed the childrens' scenes, as the film's director couldn't work with them.  I guess I could probably write a book about why I love this secretly kind, decent guy with the bad-boy persona.  Mitchum's  attitude is one that is typically American - the rugged individual, often a man surviving in nature or alone in the wild city (I can't even count the number of times he's been put into a natural setting with something like fishing or hunting to keep him occupied).  He captures part of that old myth of the cowboy at the same time as hiding a simmering, jaded rebellion.  He's a frontiersman in a fedora.  He's that bad-ass everyone kind of fears and yet admires at the same time, but off screen it's even more compelling to know what a gentleman he was.  If I had one word to describe him, it would simply be cool.  

A Fine Bromance - Part III (Last one!)

At long, long last - the final installment!

Recently I took up salsa dancing.  It’s a lot of fun, but also a lot to remember, especially for someone like me who is far from being graceful on her feet.  After a particularly long night of dancing, on a new pair of high heels too, I complained to my friend that I felt a lot more sympathy towards Debbie Reynolds.  Having a dance teacher like Gene Kelly, who literally made you dance till your feet bled, couldn’t have been easy.  Now my feet weren’t bleeding, but I couldn’t help thinking of the comparison – simply put, some films are a part of our lives because they are timeless.  Some movies age better than others, but there are a few rare gems that still maintain their initial charm and beauty that transcends the ages.  Now the first two Sinatra-Kelly films don’t quite make this level (although Gene’s dance with Jerry the mouse is a timeless cinema treasure), but I think their third and final film, On the Town, easily earns the title of “true classic.”

On the Town (1949)– Gabey and Chip

It truly is the dancing that makes On the Town a stand-out.  The film starts with three sailors on a 24-hour leave in New York City.  Gabey (Gene Kelly) spots a poster of the monthly Miss Turnstiles and decides that she’s the girl he’s after.  He meets her for a moment by chance in the subway, but loses her and recruits his two buddies Chip (Frank Sinatra) and Ozzie (Jules Munshin) to help him find her.  They’re aided by Hilde, a lady cab driver (Betty Garrett) and Claire, a woman studying anthropology to avoid chasing men (Ann Miller).  But Hilde is clearly more interested in Chip than in finding Miss Turnstiles, just as Claire is far more interested in Ozzie than her studies.  The group splits up to look for the mystery woman, Ivy Smith (Vera-Ellen).  Gabey finds her, and thinks that as Miss Turnstiles, she must be very important.  She’s really just a nobody, working hard to study dancing and music, but she lets him think she’s a somebody.  She agrees to go out with him that night, and all six friends reunite at the top of the Empire State Building (where else?) for the classic title song and dance number.  The three couples start painting the town, but Gabey’s good spirits sink when Ivy must leave him at midnight (she has to go to work as a cooch dancer in Coney Island and doesn’t want him to know).  The others try to cheer him up, even getting Hilde’s obnoxiously-voiced roommate Lucy (Alice Pearce) to stand in as a replacement date.  With a stroke of luck, they run into Ivy’s dance teacher, who tells them the truth about her and where she is working.  The gang race to Coney Island, determined to reunite Gabey and Ivy before his 24 hour pass expires.  A lot of reckless driving and cross-dressing later, they find Ivy, who breaks down and tells Gabey the truth – that’s she’s not the celebrity he’s made her out to be, but just a girl from the same small hometown as him.  But before a final kiss is allowed, the boys are dragged away by the shore patrol for all the fuss they’ve made.  So it’s up to an impassioned speech from Hilde and the good folks of Brooklyn to reunite the guys and the gals for a goodbye kiss.

As I said before, dancing is the highlight of the film.  Sinatra’s learned a lot since his first appearance with Kelly, and the trio of sailors makes some great music together.  Their opening number is still considered a classic in its own right – “New York, New York, It’s a Wonderful Town” is catchy enough, but it also follows the guys through some of the best sites in the city.  I mean, they even get a carriage ride around Central Park.  Funny story: apparently the song was originally worded “New York, New York, it’s a helluva town,” but code regulations (and probably someone who wanted to draw in a younger audience) had it changed to Wonderful.  One of the strengths of the film comes from the talents of the women too.  Ann Miller is an amazing dancer, and delivers with her solo routine in “Modern Man”.  Vera-Ellen is also a knock-out because she’s such a great match for Kelly.  Their duet and dance routine in “Main Street” is endearing and earned the song an Oscar nomination.  But perhaps the most mesmerizing dance is during Gabey’s dream sequence.  In the dream he’s dancing with Ivy on a set of parallel ballet bars.  Everything is dark with just a white hot, tightly closed spotlight on them.  The light hits the backdrop to the right, which is a deep, sensuous pick.  And because of the lighting and the amazing dance, you barely watch the two dancers – you watch instead their shadows, which blend and move into one another.  If you ever thought dancing in musicals didn’t code for sex, this may very well change your mind.  The whole sequence is hypnotizing and very dream-like.  In fact, in years later, Gene Kelly’s daughter said that at a time in Hollywood when it was considered in good taste to go to psychoanalysts and such, her father never did – he dealt with his own psyche through dance.  And it shows. 

The dancing emphasizes the relationships between the characters, and that is truly what carries the film.  It’s a straightforward plot, so the characters especially have to be engaging enough to hold your interest.  While Ivy and Gabey are central to the story, and Ozzie and Claire add to the comic relief, I think the third couple, Chip and Hilde, are my absolute favorite (and one of my all time favorite film couples).  Hilde, as a character, is a lot stronger than most women in musicals – she’s not only witty and charming, but independent and not afraid of declaring (and going after!) exactly what she wants.  She’s Barbara Stanwyck in tap shoes.  She and Chip have some great songs together, like “Come Up to My Place” (ahem, that’s Hilde doing the inviting!) and one of the best in the film, “You’re Awful”.      

Not only do the romantic relationships develop and give the film depth, but we also see a great relationship between the guys, particularly Chip and Gabey.  Perhaps the most touching scene is when Gabey leaves the group, distraught that Ivy left him.  He’s outside coming out of a daydream when Chip comes to get him. 

            Chip: I know you’re taking it hard, Gabe.

            Gabe: I know you know.  That’s why I love you.

There’s something very poignant about that simple exchange.  It not only speaks to their characters (enhancing the male-buddy theme), but to some extent their off screen friendship, which would continue the rest of their lives.  Why did they make such a good team?  Because they were so alike in personality and both geniuses in their respective musical fields, I think they had a mutual respect for one another as well as a fierce dedication to the work.  They were supposed to team up again in 1955 for It’s Always Fair Weather, a film about three soldiers who reunite 10 years after coming home only to find that they no longer have anything in common.  It would have been a great follow up for the Gabey-Ozzie-Chip set, but it wasn’t meant to be.  Instead, Sinatra and Kelly would reunite on the small screen, appearing in numerous television specials and shows.  In 1977, on one such program, Kelly was toasting Sinatra and closed by talking about a song they had done called “Nice and Easy,” to which Frank had sung while Gene had danced.  “As I try to sum up our relationship over the years,” Kelly said that night to Frank, “that seems to say it.  Nice and Easy.  And for that, this battered old Irish hoofer says thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

It’s hard not to love the Kelly-Sinatra films if only to watch them work together.  On the Town represents not only their greatest collaboration, but a true classic in the world of musicals.  It’s aged the best of their three films and should be a required film on everyone’s list.  I mentioned earlier how timelessness sets apart the great films and allows audiences of any generation to love them.  A few years ago, I watched the film Sleepy Hollow with some of my friends.  At the end, Johnny Depp is walking down a street in turn-of-the-century New York City.  He says to his companion, “You'll soon find your bearings, young Masbeth. The Bronx is up, the Battery is down, and home is this way.”  I’m not sure if it was the phrasing or the delivery, but something made me want to stand up and cheer.  I was half expecting him to say “it’s a helluva town,” but even though he didn’t, I know that Gene and Frank would have approved.