Neglected Post Theatre: "Below the Sea," or Love and Depth
My CMBA Fabulous Films of the '50s Blogathon Entry: "Love Me or Leave Me," or Great Day
This post is part of the Fabulous Films of the '50s Blogathon, brought to you in living color by America's premier classic movie blog association, the Classic Movie Blog Association.
The 1955 film "Love Me or Leave Me" comes smack dab in the middle of Doris Day's peak performing decade -- at its beginning she was a game gamine in routine Warner Bros. musicals and by its end she would be, arguably, the biggest and most bankable female star in Hollywood.
But "Love Me or Leave Me" is much more than a marker -- to me, it's one of Day's best movies, and certainly the one where she first demonstrates her chops as a top-flight dramatic actress. She's so good, in fact, she's on a level with her co-star James Cagney -- and that's quite a level. Day might have spent the first part of the 1950s in fluff like "Tea for Two," "Lullaby of Broadway" and "Shine On, Harvest Moon," but she was learning her stuff, and in this movie she struts it like she never did before.
We are in 1920s Chicago, the city of the big overcoats. At one of the burg's lesser nightspots, the Dance-Like-No-One-Is-Watching Hall, Ruth Etting (Day) is making with the foxtrot and Charleston, spending her evenings being pawed by pathetic prancers. When she talks back to a fresh customer, she gets the boot -- but she has lassoed the attention of Moe "the Gimp" Snyder (Cagney), a small-time hood.
At first, Snyder is solely interested in Ruth because he likes the way the fringe swings on her dress, and he thinks of her as a quick pickup. But she quickly lets him know just what kind of girl she is, and he can like it or lump it:
He likes it.
So Snyder takes Ruth under his wing, although his motives aren't totally altruistic. He uses his influence to get Ruth another job, at a club that we'll call Chez Cockroach. She joins as a member of the dancing line, but she wants to sing. Snyder's eyes are on the prize, so he does anything Ruth asks him, and she gets a spot as a singer. On her opening night he's a bundle of nerves:
From there it's only a short jump to radio, records and the Ziegfeld Follies, all with Snyder calling the shots. If Ruth strains too hard at the leash, he yanks it to remind her who's boss and who helped her get to the top. And she goes along with it, figuring she has an obligation to Snyder.
But Snyder wants more than to be Ruth's manager -- he wants Ruth. And in the movie's saddest scene -- both because of Ruth's despair and because of Snyder's desperation to convince Ruth to love him -- they get married. Snyder's tries to cheer Ruth by reminding her of how he can guide her career, and her response is devastating: "You don't have to work so hard -- you don't have to sell me. I'm sold."
After playing nightclubs around the country -- and becoming an expert at drinking heavily -- Ruth ends up in Hollywood, where she once again meets Johnny (Cameron Mitchell), a pianist who helped guide her career in Chicago. Now he's the musical director on Ruth's picture, and although she loves him she knows that Snyder will kill him if he finds out, so she plays it close to the vest. Still, that doesn't keep Snyder from resorting to violence out of jealousy.
"Love Me or Leave Me" is based on a true story, but it's been cleaned up for Hollywood in several ways. For one, Day is, from all accounts, a much better all-around performer than Etting ever was. Etting's strength was singing and that was it -- during her appearances in the Ziegfeld Follies, she was instructed to exit the stage after her number so as not to interfere with the dancers. For another, the movie's Snyder was meaner and poorer in real life -- he drained Etting financially as well as emotionally.
Etting herself is said to have disliked Day's performance, expressing a preference for Jane Powell in the role. She thought Day was too tough -- to me, Day underplays the role perfectly. She's cool, but with an edge. And a movie with a female lead who didn't hold her own against Cagney would be painful to watch.
Cagney was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for "Love Me or Leave Me," but Day wasn't. Doesn't seem fair -- but in typical Day fashion, she sucked up any disappointment she might have felt and in 1956 she demonstrated her dramatic skills again in Alfred Hitchcock's "The Man Who Knew Too Much." You go, girl.
But "Love Me or Leave Me" is much more than a marker -- to me, it's one of Day's best movies, and certainly the one where she first demonstrates her chops as a top-flight dramatic actress. She's so good, in fact, she's on a level with her co-star James Cagney -- and that's quite a level. Day might have spent the first part of the 1950s in fluff like "Tea for Two," "Lullaby of Broadway" and "Shine On, Harvest Moon," but she was learning her stuff, and in this movie she struts it like she never did before.
We are in 1920s Chicago, the city of the big overcoats. At one of the burg's lesser nightspots, the Dance-Like-No-One-Is-Watching Hall, Ruth Etting (Day) is making with the foxtrot and Charleston, spending her evenings being pawed by pathetic prancers. When she talks back to a fresh customer, she gets the boot -- but she has lassoed the attention of Moe "the Gimp" Snyder (Cagney), a small-time hood.
At first, Snyder is solely interested in Ruth because he likes the way the fringe swings on her dress, and he thinks of her as a quick pickup. But she quickly lets him know just what kind of girl she is, and he can like it or lump it:
He likes it.
So Snyder takes Ruth under his wing, although his motives aren't totally altruistic. He uses his influence to get Ruth another job, at a club that we'll call Chez Cockroach. She joins as a member of the dancing line, but she wants to sing. Snyder's eyes are on the prize, so he does anything Ruth asks him, and she gets a spot as a singer. On her opening night he's a bundle of nerves:
From there it's only a short jump to radio, records and the Ziegfeld Follies, all with Snyder calling the shots. If Ruth strains too hard at the leash, he yanks it to remind her who's boss and who helped her get to the top. And she goes along with it, figuring she has an obligation to Snyder.
But Snyder wants more than to be Ruth's manager -- he wants Ruth. And in the movie's saddest scene -- both because of Ruth's despair and because of Snyder's desperation to convince Ruth to love him -- they get married. Snyder's tries to cheer Ruth by reminding her of how he can guide her career, and her response is devastating: "You don't have to work so hard -- you don't have to sell me. I'm sold."
After playing nightclubs around the country -- and becoming an expert at drinking heavily -- Ruth ends up in Hollywood, where she once again meets Johnny (Cameron Mitchell), a pianist who helped guide her career in Chicago. Now he's the musical director on Ruth's picture, and although she loves him she knows that Snyder will kill him if he finds out, so she plays it close to the vest. Still, that doesn't keep Snyder from resorting to violence out of jealousy.
"Love Me or Leave Me" is based on a true story, but it's been cleaned up for Hollywood in several ways. For one, Day is, from all accounts, a much better all-around performer than Etting ever was. Etting's strength was singing and that was it -- during her appearances in the Ziegfeld Follies, she was instructed to exit the stage after her number so as not to interfere with the dancers. For another, the movie's Snyder was meaner and poorer in real life -- he drained Etting financially as well as emotionally.
Etting herself is said to have disliked Day's performance, expressing a preference for Jane Powell in the role. She thought Day was too tough -- to me, Day underplays the role perfectly. She's cool, but with an edge. And a movie with a female lead who didn't hold her own against Cagney would be painful to watch.
Cagney was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for "Love Me or Leave Me," but Day wasn't. Doesn't seem fair -- but in typical Day fashion, she sucked up any disappointment she might have felt and in 1956 she demonstrated her dramatic skills again in Alfred Hitchcock's "The Man Who Knew Too Much." You go, girl.
The Gordon Westcott Film Festival: "The World Changes" and "Private Detective 62"
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| "Of course you can trust me, doll! Just hand me the briefcase with your life savings and the money you embezzled from the bank. I'll be right back." |
Born Myrthus Hickman (shame he changed it) in St. George, Utah, Westcott was a track and football star in high school. He married a woman after he graduated, but when she gave birth to a son he deserted her and ended up in Hollywood.
Westcott made his film debut in 1928, and was under contract to Paramount and then Warner Brothers. His specialty was a shifty, caddish character. In the wild 1933 film "Lilly Turner," he plays a carnival smoothie who marries, impregnates and abandons (sounds familiar) our heroine (Ruth Chatterton). In "Footlight Parade," released the same year, he plays the guy who steals James Cagney's ideas for movie prologues.
In "Heroes for Sale," also released the same year, Westcott is cowardly Roger Winston, who tricks neighborhood chum Tom Holmes (Richard Barthelmess) into single handedly storming a German stronghold during World War I. Tom is captured by the Huns, who nurse him back to health and
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| Bring the kids! |
In "The World Changes," also released in 1933, Westcott gets to spread his wings a bit. The movie is a ponderous multi-generational saga which stars Paul Muni as Orin Nordholm, a first-generation American who grows up on the plains and becomes a meat packing magnate in Chicago.
Beginning in the 1860s and ending with the Great Depression, "The World Changes" takes in a lot of territory and tries to emulate "Cavalcade," which won a Best Picture Oscar in 1933. But "The World Changes" falls short. Its main attribute is that it features a boatload of Warner regulars -- Muni, Aline MacMahon, Henry O'Neill, Donald Cook, Guy Kibbee, Patricia Ellis, Margaret Lindsay -- and we get to see them age based on the amount of chalk dust in their hair.
There is a standout -- Mary Astor plays Orin's wife, a snobbish sort who loves the wealth that meat packing brings but can't stand the smell and blood associated with the slaughterhouse. She finally loses her mind and becomes Scary Mary Astor:
Westcott plays John, one of Orin's ne'er-do-well sons. His big scene comes toward the end, when the daughter (Ellis) of Orin's brother (Cook) is scheduled to marry a fortune hunter (Alan Mowbray). But this is the same day that the family business is going belly up, and John can't wait to share the news:
Westcott plays truer to type in 1933's "Private Detective 62," a tasty little pre-code. Our hero is William Powell as Donald Free, a gumshoe who isn't quite as charming as Nick Charles in "The Thin Man" and a little more sober.
Free is a former secret government operative who's joined a detective agency that does lots of divorce work. Free lets partner Hogan (Arthur Hohl) do the sleazier jobs. Enter Westcott as shady casino owner Bandor. He wants Free to shadow Janet Reynolds (Margaret Lindsay in one of her "veddy veddy" performances), a society dame who's winning entirely too much at roulette.
But Bandor's real goal is to frame Janet for murder. And he thinks he gets away with it, until:
When Janet is accused of Bandor's murder, Free becomes her defender. And he resigns from the agency, much to the sorrow of office manager Amy (Ruth Donnelly being Ruth Donnelly):
Westcott's string at Warner Bros. continued into 1934 and '35, including a couple of films with Bette Davis ("Fog Over Frisco" and "Front Page Woman") and Joe E. Brown ("Six Day Bike Rider" and "Bright Lights").
"The Hindenburg," or It's Hard Out Here for a Blimp
We go once more into the breach with Motion Pictures Told Through Still Pictures with Goofy Captions and explore the 1975 film "The Hindenburg." Please fasten your seat belts and grab your sickness bags.
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| Gutentag and welcome aboard the Hindenburg, Germany's glorious lighter-than-air craft powered solely by the bottled ecstasy of Hitler youth! |
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| The Hindenburg is the ultimate in transatlantic travel, 1937-style. The amenities are so posh, you'd think you were on the Titanic! Elegant salons, cozy bedrooms, sleek observation decks -- and don't forget the Sunday Night Sauerkraut Supper! |
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| Naturally, such a majestic craft has an impressive guest list, beginning with Col. Erich Von Blowheim, the reluctant Nazi. |
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| Blowheim is on board to foil the plot of a saboteur, and to go through everyone's luggage as often as possible. |
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| Also aboard is the Countess von Mrs. Robinson, who keeps calling Blowheim "Benjamin" in honor of a lost love. |
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| And then there is LeBeau from "Hogan's Heroes" -- |
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| -- and future Gil Grissom from "CSI." |
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| Meanwhile, in America, officials are anxiously awaiting the Hindenburg's arrival. Says one: "Its like landing a crate of eggs. A boobytrapped crate of eggs. A boobytrapped crate of eggs balanced on the back of a bucking horse. A boobytrapped crate of eggs balanced on the back of a bucking horse in a windstorm. A boobytrapped ..." |
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| Meanwhile, back at the Hindenburg ... |
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| ... LeBeau is offering a one-man performance of "Fiddler on the Roof." |
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| The Nazis are so offended they clear the room. Or maybe it's just excessive flatulence from the Sunday Night Sauerkraut Supper. |
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| As the Hindenburg nears its New Jersey destination, Blowheim is getting tired of re-folding everyone's underwear. |
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| But then he finally finds the explosives that will desrroy the Hindenburg! Can he defuse the bomb in time? |
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| (Spoiler alert.) |
Neglected Post Theatre: "Mystery of the Wax Museum," or Statue of Limitations
My Romantic Comedy Blogathon Entry: "Monkey Business," or My Chemical Romance
This is part of the Romantic Comedy Blogathon co-sponsored by Backlots and Carole & Co. Visit them for more entries!
Cary Grant enters the 1952 film "Monkey Business" bespectacled and befuddled -- so much so that he is given verbal direction by Howard Hawks:
Seeing Grant like this brings to mind "Bringing Up Baby" -- also directed by Howard Hawks, also featuring Grant in glasses as an absentminded man of science, also featuring a female lead (Katharine Hepburn in "Baby," Ginger Rogers in "Business") wearing a dress without any back to it.
So can I help it if I like "Monkey Business" more than "Bringing Up Baby"? To me, it's a more consistently funny, if sometimes too silly, movie -- on the other hand, to me the charms of "Bringing Up Baby" have always been intermittent.
"Monkey Business" also has a quality that I value more as I grow older -- perspective. The married couple at the center of this romantic comedy, Barnaby (Grant) and Edwina (Ginger Rogers), have been together for a while, but are still very much in love. They tolerate each other's imperfect qualities with an easy affection and can look back fondly on a past when they were more physically romantic with each other. Considering their numerous real-life marriages, Grant and Rogers play a contented, committed couple very convincingly.
Barnaby is preoccupied because he's a chemist working on a new formula that won't come together -- a kind of youth elixir that will be marketed as B-4, with a phoenix rising from the ashes as its logo (in today's market it would be a smiling guy giving a woman a footlong hot dog). Barnaby's elderly boss, Mr. Oxley (Charles Coburn), is particularly interested in perfecting the formula for many reasons, not the least of which is his secretary, Miss Laurel (Marilyn Monroe). As Oxley explains to Barnaby, "Anybody can type."
Back in the lab, Barnaby still isn't having any luck with B-4, and to make matters worse, the test monkeys keep escaping from their cages. While the janitor is changing the bottle on the water cooler, one chimp mixes his own formula by dumping chemicals into the cooler reservoir. Going against scientific protocol, Barnaby tries his formula and then washes it down with some H2O from the cooler. Then he tries it out.
(To be able to turn cartwheels in your late 40s? Well played, Cary Grant.)
Barnaby thinks his own formula has worked, but we know the truth -- hey, the movie isn't called "Barnaby Business." Barnaby's dose of the simian solution is enough to revert him to the showoffy teenage stage, and he hooks up for a day of fun with Miss Laurel that includes driving a new MG and going swimming:
Next to try the formula is Edwina, whose energy level goes through the roof and who dances the evening away with an exhausted Barnaby:
Edwina has taken Barnaby to their honeymoon hotel. There she reverts to her wedding day, which means she locks herself in the bathroom crying and Barnaby falls down a laundry chute. It's totally nonsensical, and it brings to mind this exchange from "Bringing Up Baby," just after Grant slips on an olive dropped by Hepburn and crushes his hat.
Hepburn: Well, Joe here was just showing me a trick, and the olive got away.
Grant: First you drop an olive and then I sit on my hat. It all fits perfectly.
Finally, both Edwina and Barnaby unknowingly take larger doses of the mixture and revert to childhood. Child Barnaby smears his face with war paint and recruits the neighborhood kids in his plan of revenge against a romantic rival (Hugh Marlowe) for Edwina, and Hawks favorite George "Foghorn" Winslow adds spice:
Oh -- and Barnaby and Edwina get into a Laurel and Hardy-style paint fight:
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Oxley is convinced that Barnaby's formula is successful, and an effort is made to buy him out:
Soon enough, the origin of the formula is discovered, the chimps are put back into their cages, and Edwina and Barnaby emerge older and wiser. We end where we begin -- with the Fultons going out for the evening:
Barnaby: You're old only when you forget you're young. ... It's a word you keep in your heart, a light you have in your eyes, someone you hold in your arms.
Edwina: My, I'm glad I'm going out with you tonight.
As much as I love "Monkey Business," it disconcerts me to read about what Howard Hawks thought of it. Apparently only Grant's character drank the formula in the original script, but when Rogers saw that she was missing the fun, she wanted the script changed so that Edwina drank the formula as well. To Hawks, Rogers's desire messed up the picture.
I couldn't disagree more -- I'm not always a fan of Rogers's late-career performances, but her comic work in "Monkey Business" ranks right up there with her work in "The Major and the Minor" or "Bachelor Mother." That accomplishment is all the more impressive when you consider that Hawks reportedly badgered her on the set and let her know she wasn't his first choice for the role. For a guy who had a hand in creating some memorable feminist characters, Hawks definitely had his piggish, crotchety side -- maybe he could have used a dose of B-4.
Cary Grant enters the 1952 film "Monkey Business" bespectacled and befuddled -- so much so that he is given verbal direction by Howard Hawks:
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| Hepburn ... |
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| ... Rogers. |
So can I help it if I like "Monkey Business" more than "Bringing Up Baby"? To me, it's a more consistently funny, if sometimes too silly, movie -- on the other hand, to me the charms of "Bringing Up Baby" have always been intermittent.
"Monkey Business" also has a quality that I value more as I grow older -- perspective. The married couple at the center of this romantic comedy, Barnaby (Grant) and Edwina (Ginger Rogers), have been together for a while, but are still very much in love. They tolerate each other's imperfect qualities with an easy affection and can look back fondly on a past when they were more physically romantic with each other. Considering their numerous real-life marriages, Grant and Rogers play a contented, committed couple very convincingly.
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| Miss Laurel displays the new stockings that Barnaby helped invent. He's very interested in her acetates. |
Back in the lab, Barnaby still isn't having any luck with B-4, and to make matters worse, the test monkeys keep escaping from their cages. While the janitor is changing the bottle on the water cooler, one chimp mixes his own formula by dumping chemicals into the cooler reservoir. Going against scientific protocol, Barnaby tries his formula and then washes it down with some H2O from the cooler. Then he tries it out.
(To be able to turn cartwheels in your late 40s? Well played, Cary Grant.)
Barnaby thinks his own formula has worked, but we know the truth -- hey, the movie isn't called "Barnaby Business." Barnaby's dose of the simian solution is enough to revert him to the showoffy teenage stage, and he hooks up for a day of fun with Miss Laurel that includes driving a new MG and going swimming:
Next to try the formula is Edwina, whose energy level goes through the roof and who dances the evening away with an exhausted Barnaby:
Hepburn: Well, Joe here was just showing me a trick, and the olive got away.
Grant: First you drop an olive and then I sit on my hat. It all fits perfectly.
Finally, both Edwina and Barnaby unknowingly take larger doses of the mixture and revert to childhood. Child Barnaby smears his face with war paint and recruits the neighborhood kids in his plan of revenge against a romantic rival (Hugh Marlowe) for Edwina, and Hawks favorite George "Foghorn" Winslow adds spice:
Oh -- and Barnaby and Edwina get into a Laurel and Hardy-style paint fight:
Meanwhile, back at the lab, Oxley is convinced that Barnaby's formula is successful, and an effort is made to buy him out:
Soon enough, the origin of the formula is discovered, the chimps are put back into their cages, and Edwina and Barnaby emerge older and wiser. We end where we begin -- with the Fultons going out for the evening:
Barnaby: You're old only when you forget you're young. ... It's a word you keep in your heart, a light you have in your eyes, someone you hold in your arms.
Edwina: My, I'm glad I'm going out with you tonight.
As much as I love "Monkey Business," it disconcerts me to read about what Howard Hawks thought of it. Apparently only Grant's character drank the formula in the original script, but when Rogers saw that she was missing the fun, she wanted the script changed so that Edwina drank the formula as well. To Hawks, Rogers's desire messed up the picture.
I couldn't disagree more -- I'm not always a fan of Rogers's late-career performances, but her comic work in "Monkey Business" ranks right up there with her work in "The Major and the Minor" or "Bachelor Mother." That accomplishment is all the more impressive when you consider that Hawks reportedly badgered her on the set and let her know she wasn't his first choice for the role. For a guy who had a hand in creating some memorable feminist characters, Hawks definitely had his piggish, crotchety side -- maybe he could have used a dose of B-4.
"Bannerline" and the Keefe Brasselle Story
So why am I writing this?
Because Brasselle had a minor acting career, and, considering what came later, which we will detail below, it's kind of interesting to see him in action.
Also, to watch "Bannerline" is to watch a great movie studio -- MGM -- slowly dying, along with two of its acting stalwarts, Lewis Stone and Lionel Barrymore.
Brasselle plays Mike Perrivale, a cub reporter for the town paper, the Clarion. The paper's owner keeps assigning fluff pieces to Mike, and he's never allowed to write anything about the town's crime lord, Scarbine (J. Carrol Naish). Mike's fiancee (Sally Forrest) tips him to a story -- the town's beloved high school history teacher, Trimble (Barrymore), is on his death bed. Encouraged by the paper's wizened layout editor, Josh (Stone), Mike interviews Trimble, who expresses anger that the citizens (and the newspaper) are reluctant to take on Scarbine:
Mike gets an idea -- since Trimble is expected to die the next day, why not make up a fake edition of the Tribune that reports the end of Scarbine's corrupt reign so he can go happily? Josh helps out, and even the paper's editor chips in, with the understanding that they will produce only a few copies as souvenirs and one for Trimble.
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| Lewis Stone, twilight edition. |
"Bannerline" is MGM at its smarmiest -- full of fake sentiment (with Spring Byington as Mike's plucky mother-in-law to be), noble speeches (Barrymore is largely immobile but still bites off his lines with vigor) and cute romantic situations between Brasselle and Forrest. Both Barrymore and Stone were just a few years from death (two years hence, in 1953, Stone would collapse and die from a heart attack after -- seriously -- chasing some kids off his lawn) and they class up the joint a bit, but there's just nothing to get excited about here. There were a lot of interesting innovations happening in Hollywood movies in 1951, but "Bannerline" doesn't reflect any of them. It might just as well have been made ten years earlier.
So much for "Bannerline." Now for a little more about Brasselle.
Born in Ohio as John Brasselli, he came west and made his movie debut in 1944, playing small parts in films like "The Babe Ruth Story" and "T Men." In 1951, the same year he made "Bannerline," he also appeared in a small part in "A Place in the Sun." In 1953, he was cast in what could have been a star-making role -- as the lead in "The Eddie Cantor Story," lip synching to songs while Cantor supplied the singing. He appeared on "The Colgate Comedy Hour" to promote the film in a swaggering, charisma-free performance:
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| Really? |
Brasselle's work in the film was widely panned and it was a failure at the box office. He made only a handful of movies over the rest of the decade.
Then in 1961, Brasselle appeared in the news when the New Jersey nightclub he owned caught on fire -- with six gasoline cans found nearby. He was also dogged with rumored mob connections -- he was the godson of mobster Joe Profaci.
In the summer of 1963, Brasselle popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, on CBS as the host of a summer replacement variety show. When producer Greg Garrison yelled at Brasselle for missing an entrance, Brasselle put a hit on him. Garrison hid out at the apartment of a show regular, former prizefighter Rocky Graziano, who straightened things out.
The president of CBS at the time was James Aubrey, a mercurial fellow who was known as "the smiling cobra." Aubrey had built CBS into a ratings powerhouse by scheduling light fare that emphasized, as he stated in a memo, "broads, bosoms and fun" -- hits like "The Beverly Hillbillies," "The Dick Van Dyke Show," "The Andy Griffith Show," "Gunsmoke," "The Red Skelton Hour," "The Lucy Show" and "Candid Camera."
For whatever reason -- the mob connections or just plain greed -- Aubrey threw his lot in with Brasselle for the 1964-65 season. On CBS's fall schedule were three new shows from Brasselle's Richelieu Productions. The company had never produced a TV series, and the shows didn't even shoot pilot episodes. What's more, they all had artificially high production costs that screamed "kickback." None of the three -- "The Baileys of Balboa," "The Cara Williams Show" and "The Reporter" -- lasted more than a season, and in early 1965 a CBS shareholder charged Aubrey and Brasselle with conspiracy to defraud the network.
Aubrey resigned shortly thereafter, and Brasselle became bitter. He wrote a work of fiction, "The CanniBalS," based on the experience. In interviews he blamed everyone in Hollywood for his failure, and Hollywood reciprocated by leaving him totally alone.
Brasselle's last film, which he co-directed, was "If You Don't Stop It ... You'll Go Blind!," a R-rated drive-in quickie that was released in 1975. He died of liver cancer in 1981, at age 58.
Just one more thing -- Brasselle's "Colgate Comedy Hour" appearance reminds me of the episode of "The Dick Van Dyke Show" where Rob, Buddy and Sally are forced into writing a nightclub act for the no-talent nephew of a mobster (played by executive producer Sheldon Leonard):
My Great Villain Blogathon Entry: Otto Kruger in "Saboteur," or There Are None So Blind as Those Who Will Nazi
This is my entry in the Great Villain Blogathon sponsored by Shadows and Satin, Speakeasy and Silver Screenings. Please visit the link above and read the other entries as well, k?
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| A very pleasant and sincere greeting to all of you. My name is Charles Tobin, and as you can clearly see I am a kind, considerate, fully respectable 100% American with a nice wardrobe. I am president of one of the fascist -- I mean fastest -- growing companies in the country. |
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| Unfortunately, some troublemakers -- such as my friend Barry Kane here -- have branded me as a villain, accusing me of running a sabotage ring, of all things! With your permission, I will outline my case -- that it is Barry Kane, not I, who is the REAL villain -- and I believe you will agree. |
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| I first met Mr. Kane when he muscled his way into my palatial, well-kept desert estate on National Striped Bathrobe Day. |
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| Before he came in, if you can believe it, he relieved himself on my front stoop! |
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| Then, upon entry, he shamelessly ingratiated himself with my granddaughter as I was fetching refreshments. |
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| My housekeeper reacted as any good frau -- I mean woman -- would. By drawing a pistol. |
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| Mr. Kane reacted in the most cowardly way possible -- by using my granddaughter as cover! So he escaped, without so much as a thank you for the refreshments. |
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| By now, the word was out about Mr. Kane being a fugitive -- |
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| -- and he enticed a Miss Martin into pretending to be his "hostage." |
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| Together they went on a spree of property destruction ... |
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| ... ending at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, where Mr. Kane attacked Frank, one of my henchmen -- I mean employees -- who was minding his own business, peacefully listening to Radio Berlin. |
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| Then Miss Martin cruelly tricked Frank while they were sightseeing at the Statue of Liberty. |
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| This led to Frank being ambushed by Mr. Kane and Miss Martin, and things very quickly got, you should excuse the expression, out of hand. |
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| Do I blame Mr. Kane for Frank's death? Well, let's put it this way -- HE SOLD FRANK THAT SUIT. |
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| Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Judge the evidence for yourselves, and please take into account my friendly manner and luxurious lifestyle. I believe that the truth will triumph uber alles -- I mean, over all. Auf wiedersehen! |
My Diamonds and Gold Blogathon Entry: "Charade," or Cary Nation
This post is part of the Diamonds and Gold Blogathon, co-hosted by Wide Screen World and Caftan Woman. Please visit them and check out the other entries as well!
Telegram from Time magazine: "How old Cary Grant?"
Grant's response: "Old Cary Grant fine. How you?"
In movies like "Bringing Up Baby" and "Monkey Business," Cary Grant wears glasses for comic effect.
In the 1963 film "Charade," he wears them to see -- and to send us one of several messages that he is older, if no less Cary Grantish.
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| "How do you shave in there?" |
So Grant worked with screenwriter Peter Stone and director Stanley Donen (in the last of their four pictures together) to gently and cleverly emphasize the fact that he wasn't a spring chicken anymore.
The result? Not only does "Charade" satisfy as a suspense film and as a romantic film, it also has the unusual combination of offbeat warmth and genuine heat between the leading characters. It's easily Grant's most self-referential film, made at the perfect time -- just as his legendary film career was winding down, by his choice. The character of Peter Joshua (the first names of Donen's two oldest sons) is distilled Cary Grant -- the essence of a dozen or more of his films and of the onscreen persona of the man who helped make them classics.
The movie opens with a shock -- a body being thrown off a high-speed train whizzing across the French countryside, the face of the victim suddenly filling the frame, frozen in death.
The stiff is Charles Lambert, a bit of a ne'er-do-well who was on the verge of being divorced by wife Regina (Hepburn). His death saves her the trouble, and the non-stricken widow has already found a new male friend and possible conquest -- Joshua, who she has just met on a skiing trip while Charles was getting offed by a stranger on a train.
Charles's funeral is one of several great set pieces in the movie. The only mourners, if you can call them that, are Regina, her best friend and the detective investigating the case, who sits in the back and clips his fingernails. But it also attracts some rather threatening characters -- Scobie (George Kennedy), Tex (James Coburn) and Gideon (Ned Glass):
Regina has no idea who the men are, or what connection Charles had with them. She gets the story from state department honcho Bartholomew (Walter Matthau) -- Charles, Tex, Scobie and Gideon were buddies during World War II who hijacked a gold shipment. Then the men went back to America and Charles stayed behind with the loot. Now it's 20 years later and the men want it -- but they don't know where Charles hid it.
Regina's only protector is Joshua, who reappears in her life after their encounter on the skiing trip. He seems to be the right man in the right place at the right time.
Grant brings all the tools in his arsenal to "Charade" -- the tan, the white dress shirts that set off the tan, the monochromatic suits and ties (so as not to fight with Hepburn's Givenchy wardrobe and color palate), and the bemusement (and concealed pride) that someone as young and attractive as Regina is chasing him. He is tough when the situation calls for it, but not above being goofy just for the hell of it:
As essential as Grant is to the success of "Charade," it's frightening to consider that he almost didn't make the movie. Donen tells the story that, initially, Grant had committed to make a movie with Howard Hawks and had to turn Donen down -- then Grant read the script for the Hawks movie, "Man's Favorite Sport?" and jumped back into "Charade."
Grant appeared in just two more movies -- as a grizzled beachcomber in 1964's "Father Goose" and as a grandfatherly matchmaker who connects Jim Hutton with Samantha Eggar in 1966's "Walk, Don't Run." (The movie was a remake of "The More the Merrier," and Grant played the role Charles Coburn won an Oscar for in the original.) After that, Grant became a "normal" citizen, free to wear his glasses all the time -- and he did.While we're on the subject of aging gracefully, here is "Charade" director Stanley Donen at age 72, accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award at the 1997 Academy Awards by breaking into song and a little soft shoe. This is one of my very favorite Oscar moments:
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