Thanks to everyone who contributed to yesterday’s tribute to Natalie Wood. Please make sure you check out all the great posts. For the next 24 hours we honor Randolph Scott Read more
In 2012 I attended the 3rd Annual TCM Classic Film Festival (and my 1st). In 2010 I was unable to attend because I had a bun in the oven and in 2011 the little bun was too young for me to leave. It was hard for me to stay here, watching the commercials, seeing the live blogs and tweets, and of course the footage from the Festival itself. I honestly didn’t think it would ever be a possibility for me to go. When the opportunity arose for me to attend in 2012, everything fell into place. All of the things I worried about were non-issues and all of the things I didn’t think would be issues? Well…
Disclaimer: This post discusses Japanese racial stereotypes common in World War II propaganda films including examples of dialogue used.
True Classics is three years old! (!!!!!!!!) In the blogging racket, three years is an ETERNITY. I raise my bottle of Boone’s Farm to the entire True Classics crew: Brandie, Nikki, Carrie, and Sarah. Thanks for being amazing classic film ambassadors and all-around awesome-y! To celebrate the occasion, the ladies are hosting a limerick contest! Below are my entries for the event.
With vision that’s doubled and blurry
She visits Doc Brent in a hurry
Her prognosis was bleak
She’d die in 12 weeks
He withheld though, to not make her worry
Inspired by Dark Victory (1939)
Why’d Ms. Timberlake stop to think?
She should’ve been in the pink!
Before they retired
To give her That Touch of Mink
Inspired by That Touch of Mink (1962)
Sheriff Bart took the job no one wanted
The townspeople, their hatred was flaunted
With a tip of his hat
“Where the white women at?”
With his cunning and wit, he taunted
Inspired by Blazing Saddles (1974)
Macaulay was quite a swell guy
He stuttered uh…uh well… I…
He’s the voice of doom
The drunk in the room
Sipping champagne and rye
Inspired by The Philadelphia Story (1940)
Alicia was loose and unfit
Uncle Sam, for she’d commit
With a tinge of hate
“Alex is my playmate”
Jealous, said Dev, “just skip it.”
Inspired by Notorious (1946)
Two “friends” named Randy and Cary
Many women they courted to marry
On the beach in their socks
Shorts tight on their cocks
Of women, claimed Hedda, they’re wary
Inspired by Hollywood tabloid trash and salacious “biographies”
(For the record: I love Hollywood tabloid trash and salacious “biographies”)
The man Kelly was known for his class
for women he bowed when he’d pass
When he yelled “Gotta Dance!”
All fell in a trance
Admiring his luscious firm ass
Inspired by Singin’ in the Rain (1952)
(and every other Gene Kelly performance)
Count me now on the list of jerks who’s been to the TCM Classic Film Festival. To say that my experience was incredible is a complete understatement.
I arrived in California on Wednesday evening. After a lovely, relaxing dinner with some close friends, I traveled up to Hollywood from Orange County to check into my hotel. Little did I know, that meal would be the last one for quite a while. After finally meeting some of my Twitter friends in person for the first time, I settled in for a good night’s sleep. It would be the last one of those too. I quickly learned there is no place for eating or sleeping at the festival. After all, “sleeping is giving in, no matter what the time is.”
Thursday, April 12th
My hotel was over a mile away from the epicenter of the festival. Although exhaustion would eventually take its toll and force me into the unpleasantness that is the Hollywood cab culture, on this day I was eager to walk. I enjoyed silently calling out all of the stars I passed on the Walk of Fame– “There’s Bette Davis, Billy Barty, Hattie McDaniel, Mack Sennett, and Errol Flynn!” I listened to Frank Sinatra as I passed Capitol Records. I soaked in the sun knowing that I would rarely see it for the next several days. Once I arrived at the Roosevelt Hotel, TCM’s official Headquarters for the festival, I met up with Will to shoot our first video.
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Cinemental Jill Blake (JB) welcomes you to the historic Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood for the third annual TCM Classic Film Festival on April 12, 2012.
That evening, I met fellow bloggers and Twitter users and relaxed. Carley Johnson and I attended the TCM Tweet-up, which was held in the Marilyn Monroe Suite at the Roosevelt. It was a wonderful time, and I enjoyed great conversation with such lovely people. Later I went to the screening of High Society (1954), which was originally scheduled to be shown at the Roosevelt’s pool. Due to windy conditions, the screening was moved inside. Although lacking in ambiance (no model of the True Love sailing in the pool), it was still great fun. Afterward, completely decked out in my Seven Year Itch-style dress, we headed over to The Cinementals opening night party, which was held in one of the marvelous Cabana suites. With the palm trees and the iconic Hotel Roosevelt sign, this was the perfect spot to kick-off the weekend’s events.
Friday, April 13th
After much talk and drink the night before, morning came too early– though nothing a bottle of water, Excedrin, and coffee couldn’t fix. The weather was rainy and cold, and the stars on the Walk of Fame were like little death traps. You see, when the polished terrazzo becomes wet, it’s like walking on a strip of banana peels. Throw in some unsavory individuals dressed as beloved cartoon characters, excited tourists, and Scientologists conducting stress tests, and it’s akin to a medieval gauntlet. I met up with friends to attend the screening of Anthony Mann’s Raw Deal (1948), introduced by Eddie Muller from the Film Noir Foundation and star Marsha Hunt. The screening was “sold out”, so we decided on Love Story with special guest Robert Evans. Prior to the festival, I made it abundantly clear to my fellow Cinementals that I am not incredibly fond of Ryan O’Neal. I believe I said something along the lines of “I hate him.” I have to admit that I had serious trepidation going into this film, given my strong feelings on O’Neal. I also have to admit that, although the film is overly sentimental and weepy, it is reminiscent of Douglas Sirk’s luscious technicolor melodramas which I love. I didn’t hate Love Story as much as I thought I would, but it wasn’t a highlight for me.
Next we rushed over to the Egyptian Theatre for Frankenstein (1931), with special guest John Carpenter. Although I felt the discussion to be too brief, it was a pleasure to hear Carpenter talk about how he has been influenced by the work of director James Whale. Afterward, I went to my first screening at the palatial Grauman’s Chinese Theatre: Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece Vertigo (1958) starring James Stewart and Kim Novak, the latter being in attendance for the screening. The event was completely sold out to an enthusiastic and appreciative crowd. Although I’ve always had mixed feelings on Vertigo, it was a pleasure to see on the big screen. The bright colors, the unforgettable musical score, and the grand setting made me forget all the problems I have with the film.
After Vertigo I immediately returned to the Egyptian Theatre for a nearly sold-out screening of Young Frankenstein (1974), with an introduction by Mel Brooks. Growing up, I enjoyed Brooks’ films with my dad. Watching them made me feel like I was getting away with something. Seeing Young Frankenstein in a theatre on the big screen, and with Mel Brooks in person? Perfection. This event made my entire weekend.
Closing out a most interesting Friday the 13th was the bizarre Phase IV (1974) directed by Saul Bass. There are no words for the tragic mess that is this film. I will spare you the misery we all experienced. The only highlight? Seeing the film’s reluctant star Michael Murphy in person, and witnessing his brilliant self-deprecating humor. Confused and afraid my fellow Cinementals and I went back to our Headquarters for a late night podcast. This Cinemental finally made it to bed at 5:30 am.
Saturday, April 14th
My first screening of the day was the 75th Anniversary restoration of Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. If there was only one film I had to see over the course of the festival, this was it. In 1983, Snow White was re-released in theatres. I was 3 years old and my mom took me to see it. I still remember sitting in the theatre feeling equally excited and terrified. When I found my seat at Grauman’s, I was immediately taken back to 1983. I sent my mom a text saying “I wish you were here with me” and I started blubbering. I’m sure the people next to me thought I had been dumped or was a drug addict. I assure you neither is true; I’m just a mama’s girl. It’s amazing how a single film can elicit such a powerful emotional response. As for the quality of the print, I’ve never seen Snow White look or sound better.
After Snow White, I took a field trip to the courtyard in front of Grauman’s Chinese for quick photo op. Although the area was filled with passholders on line for the next screening and tourists fawning all over the Twilight footprints, we were able to take a few shots for The Cinementals family albumn.
The next film I attended was Harold Lloyd’s Girl Shy (1924). I have seen many of Lloyd’s films, but this was a first time viewing for me. The screening was introduced by Leonard Maltin and Lloyd’s granddaughter. The main attraction was live accompaniment by the Robert Israel Orchestra. The score was light and fun, and the nerdy and handsome Lloyd filled the screen with his larger than life personality. I sat on the edge of my seat in the Egyptian’s balcony enjoying every single minute. A truly unforgettable experience.
I left the Egyptian, only to immediately return for Gun Crazy (1950), starring John Dall and Peggy Cummins, another first time viewing for me. The film was introduced by Eddie Muller and the lovely Ms. Cummins, who is, contrary to popular belief, not at all gun crazy. I cannot think of a better way to see this movie for the first time. The theatre was packed and the audience response to the sometimes humorous dialogue and blatant sexual undertones really enhanced the experience. At the end of the movie, I met the lovely Laura from Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings.
One of the things I quickly learned is that food is a luxury. If you want to make the most out of the festival, there isn’t time for insignificant things such as basic sustenance. Protein bars, peanut butter crackers, and almonds were a staple for me. And lots and lots of coffee. After Gun Crazy I was feeling a bit peckish. Luckily, friends Drew and Nicole felt the same way. The three of us decided to skip the next block of screenings and venture over to West Hollywood to enjoy some delicious Mexican fare at El Coyote. Before you criticize us for doing something non-film related, hold on: El Coyote is infamous for being the last meal of actress Sharon Tate, then wife of director Roman Polanski. With a now full stomach, I met my friend Carley at the Egyptian for a midnight screening of The Marx Bros’ Duck Soup (1933). The film was introduced by TCM senior writer/producer and our good friend Scott McGee. Although the crowd was sparse with a snore or two (seriously), it was a fun time.
Sunday, April 15th
This day did not go as originally planned.
I will say this: if you stay in a two-star hotel, you get two-star wake-up calls. Lesson? Ask family and friends on the East coast to make the call. Also, make sure to set a fast-paced, rollicking wake-up song on your phone. The Rolling Stones’ “Angie” is too sweet and quiet. The unholy mess that is Jagger and Bowie’s rendition of “Dancing in the Street” would be more appropriate, methinks. Most importantly, it helps if you actually set your alarm.
In an attempt to salvage the day, I met friends at the Chinese Multiplex for an encore screening of Anthony Mann’s Raw Deal (1948). Although Marsha Hunt was not in attendance, Eddie Muller enthusiastically introduced the film. Although I enjoyed Raw Deal, it’s a far cry from the incredible Gun Crazy. Afterward I went to the famous Larry Edmunds Bookshop on Hollywood Blvd. Owner Jeff Mantor is helpful and knowledgeable. If he doesn’t have what you’re looking for he will help you find it. I scored a book on Fredric March, Hitchcock by Francois Truffaut, and several production stills from Footlight Parade (1933) and Notorious (1946).
For the closing night film, I struggled between attending The Thief of Bagdad (1924) starring Douglas Fairbanks and Woody Allen’s Annie Hall (1977), with special guest Tony Roberts. Since I was having a generally rotten day and Hollywood was really starting to get on my nerves, I decided there’s only one person who would understand: Alvy Singer. Annie Hall is a favorite and this particular screening was the only 35mm film shown at Grauman’s Chinese. The print was fantastic, although the sound was tinny and distorted at times. Friend and fellow El Coyote patron Drew Morton attended with me. The two of us took solace in Alvy’s self-analytic and neurotic behavior.
After the film, the two of us trekked over to Club TCM at the Roosevelt for the Festival wrap party. It was lovely meeting fellow passholders, TCM staff, and special guests. I enjoyed a lovely conversation with film critic and classic film champion Leonard Maltin. Although I paid $15 for a cocktail, subsequently losing what little remaining innocence a redhead may have, I had a wonderful evening. I recorded the final podcast of the weekend and said goodbye to all of my friends.
It’s hard to imagine that just a few months ago I was not attending the TCM Classic Film Festival. Now that I have been, I’m hooked. It’s a wonderful feeling to know there are other classic film fans out there in the world. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with fellow fans was an amazing experience that I will never forget. And now that TCM has announced that the festival will be a regular annual event, maybe you, dear reader, will get to make your own wonderful memories…
This piece was originally posted on TheCinementals.org
by Bobby Rivers
“Some of you seem to think this is a course in anatomy.” ~Fredric March in The Wild Party as the anthropology professor in a women’s university.
In that 1929 talkie directed by Dorothy Arzner, he also teaches feminism to his flirtiest student, Stella, played by Clara Bow. The professor literally saves that babe in the woods from possible rape after she hit a roadhouse for some hot cha cha. He educates her on the college’s founder: “She braved the ridicule of her friends and the abuse of her contemporaries to bring a true freedom to women.” Prof. Gilmore falls for Stella but she must embrace “work, scholarship and achievement” and stop being a party girl. This movie made Fredric March a star. We can see why. The camera loved his face. Early March had matinee idol looks and serious actor skills. His tone here — in vocal quality and performance — still feel modern. Certainly more modern than Bow’s. Her Betty Boop faces were more suited for a silent film. She does too much. March seems to have hit Hollywood cameras with a natural sense that less would be more in the new sound era. He stars in another film directed by Dorothy Arzner, Sarah and Son. With this 1930 film, Arzner became the first woman to direct another woman to a Best Actress Academy Award nomination. Oscar nominee Ruth Chatterton (much better and memorable as the restless wife of Dodsworth) played the German Sarah. Bow’s physical excess is matched by Chatterton’s vocal excess. Her accent sounds a little to the left of Lili Von Shtupp in Blazing Saddles (“I vant you should get up und get out und get some money. Or you don’t see me again…mebbe.”) She’s the hoofer/singer who married a lazy American. He gives their baby away and then dies. March stars as the respectful lawyer who helps the hard-working single mother reclaim her son. Again, he’s natural. Every time Chatterton opens her mouth, lederhosen pops out.
The Eagle and the Hawk. I wish this World War I film was as popular as 1930′s All Quiet On The Western Front. The star quality felt about March in his first Arzner film has been confirmed by the time he stars in this 1933 drama. And he’d been recognized by Hollywood with the first of his two Best Actor Oscars, winning for 1931-32′s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. His second Oscar® came for William Wyler’s 1946 classic about World War II veterans, The Best Years of Our Lives. Only about 70 minutes long, The Eagle and the Hawk packs quite a punch and contains one of my favorite March performances. The movie is visually handsome, with the 1930s pearly Paramount sheen plus a gorgeous use of darkness and shadow in its black and white cinematography. The aerial sequences are exciting. March and jovial Jack Oakie were both in The Wild Party but didn’t have scenes together. They do in this WWI picture. They’re best friends. Cary Grant plays the bad-ass. ”This is a war. I’m hired to kill the enemy,” Grant’s airman says. We see each pilot’s character in the opening credits. Jerry (March) is the upper class good sportsman. Mike (Oakie) is the happy-go-lucky slug. Crocker (Grant) is the unsympathetic roughneck. Here, March is in peak form. His internal work is masterful. He mentally breaks down from a likable guy who sees war as sport to a haunted shell of a war-hating hero by the end. He drinks, as several March characters do. We feel the rage building in Jerry’s soul. He’s at war with himself every time he gets more medals for shooting down the enemy. ”I got these for killing kids!” It’s all there in March’s eyes. And in his stillness. He was one of those actors who realized early on that to be still, to let the audience come to and into your character was very powerful.
A commanding officer asks Jerry to give the new fresh-faced recruits a pep talk with tales of his latest victory. We see the self-loathing and irony in his eyes as he tells them ”…you’re fighting for humanity and for the preservation of civilization.” In March’s most stirring scene, Jerry has a nightmare about combat. He’s dreaming but his eyes are open. For that’s what war has made his life — a nightmare with his eyes open. A much-needed breather from the horrors of war is supplied by Carole Lombard as The Beautiful Lady at a London party. Her serious role as an elegant woman who comforts Jerry for a night on leave is practically a cameo. Four years later, March and Lombard co-star for lively loopiness in the screwball comedy, Nothing Sacred.
My first professional broadcast job was doing news on 93 QFM, a radio station in Milwaukee. During that gig, I got to meet and spend time with Rosemary Clooney, Margaret Whiting and Martha Raye when they toured in a 1970s stage revue that played Milwaukee for a week. One night after the show, we went out to a barbecue rib joint for dinner and they started telling show biz stories. Martha, who was under contract to Paramount in the 1930s, piped up with what a flirt Fredric March was. Not only that, but he was endowed with more than just a great acting talent. Rosemary and Margaret practically did the Danny Thomas Spit Take with their beverages. I said “Fredric March?” She said, “Why do you think he wore that cape in Death Takes A Holiday? He needed something long enough to cover it up.” What a marvelous night that was with Martha Raye, who later added “Lombard knew how to handle him.” Rosemary Clooney and Margaret Whiting were tired and wanted to go back to the hotel after we finished dinner. Martha turned to me and said, “Let’s get a nightcap.” Over vodka tonics in downtown Milwaukee, I asked her if the celebrated actor was really that much of a Casanova. Martha Raye’s answer: ”Honey, if he saw a crack in the wall, he’d make a pass at it.” I miss Old Hollywood. Fredric March. He was gifted.
Bobby Rivers is a veteran network TV host & entertainment reporter. He had his own VH1 celebrity talk show, reviewed movies for ABC News/Lifetime TV & Premiere Radio and hosted “Metro Movies with Bobby Rivers,” a weekly local show highlighting the NYC film scene. He’s acted in TV commercials and played clueless “Prof. Haige” in satirical news features for The Onion.
You know what is one of the best film discoveries? When you realize two of your favorite actors starred in a film together that you have never seen.
In the case of The Eagle & the Hawk it would be Fredric March & Cary Grant. Of course with big names like this you expect the film to not be very good because why else did you not hear about it before? I’ve only been a fan of Fredric March for two years or so but I’ve been a fan of Grant for years so I thought I at least knew most of what he was in. Thus when I first watched The Eagle and the Hawk a little over a year ago, I wasn’t expecting much. However, I ended up being pleasantly surprised; it turned out to be a pretty decent war drama. That’s one of the best things about being a film fan realizing there are always new films to discover and it doesn’t have to be a well known film either. Sometimes a great film is one that you have not even heard of before.
The Eagle & the Hawk is about Royal Air Force WWI pilots that discover the harsh realities of war. Early US war films are always rather interesting for me to watch because they contrast so much with later war films once we hit WWII. In 1933 when this movie was made, the US was still decidedly anti-war and it shows in every way in this film. In fact if there is another movie with a similar theme I can compare this one to it would be All Quiet on the Western Front, with both movies truly showing the futility of war.
As for our two protagonists, I listed March’s name first on purpose and not just because this blog event is dedicated to him. March is decidedly the star of the film. Cary Grant was known (in large part because of his distinctive voice) but he had not made it big quite yet and is the supporting player here. March on the other hand had already won an Oscar. March shows that Oscar was deserved and gives a richly layered performance in this film as the lead character Jerry Young. Young is an American pilot who fights for the RAF. He is excited for the chance to go to France to fight heroically for his country. However, this excitement quickly turns to disillusionment as Young realizes the only thing he is fighting for is to see the next young pilot killed. Young flies the RAF planes into enemy territory while an observer takes note of the enemies’ base and guns down any enemy planes. Unfortunately these partnerships are quickly dissolved as one after one the gunners are shot down. C’est la guerre to the other seasoned soldiers on the base. In one early scene in the film a man’s bed sheets are rolled up shortly after he dies, his name erased off the board, like he was never there. March however takes the deaths much harder. Fighting for a cause you believe in is one thing but watching men die is something else.
I’m a chauffeur for a graveyard, driving men to their deaths day after day.
Young is named a hero in the film because of his constant successes. He gets medals for his bravery and is told to make speeches to inspire the young recruits. He is the character the younger soldiers (many of them just boys) look up to. This slowly kills Young inside as he realizes as a “hero” he is only inspiring these soldiers to their deaths.
The way March’s character changes and unravels in the film is a testament to his astounding acting skill. The script tells us that Young is cracking but it is the subtle changes in March’s voice and facial expressions that really show us. There are only two scenes where I feel the subtlety breaks down: a nightmare scene & March’s final speech in the film where we can see what the war has truly done to his character.
Another interesting thing about this movie is Grant’s role is not a rival lover. While there is a brief romance in the film (with a young Carole Lombard) the film instead focuses more on the war itself and the relationship of the pilots. I found the fact that romance was such a small after thought in The Eagle and the Hawk to be a nice treat, especially for films of the time.
The relationship between Grant & March’s characters is actually the heart of the film. Grant plays Henry Crocker, the tough one in the group, who isn’t disillusioned about the war at all. He is not above shooting down the enemy even when his is escaping on a parachute. For Crocker there are no rules in war, just survival. Crocker is a character you would never get to see Grant play later on in his career.
Of course Crocker and Young’s ideals are very different and they clash throughout the film. Although Crocker and Young are not on the best of terms, the two are forced to work together because they are both the best at what they do and in such a dangerous job being the best is crucial. However as the film goes on you can see that Crocker’s character is the only person in the film that truly understands what Young is going through. He sees things the others cannot because he doesn’t see Young as a hero but as a man. This leads to a fantastic ending scene between the two characters that I will not spoil here.
Another thing that makes the relationship between Young & Crocker work so well for me is the chemistry between March & Grant was spot on. I would have loved to see them team up again later in their career when Grant was a more established actor but sadly it wasn’t meant to be. I guess I should be happy that two of my favorite actors got to star together at least once & the film itself focused on the relationship between their two characters.
Eagle and the Hawk was directed by Stuart Walker & also stars Jack Oakie who provides the few lighter moments of the movie. Besides the occasional airing on TCM it is also available in the Cary Grant: The Early Years DVD box set.
Kim is an occasional contributor to Sittin’ on a Backyard Fence. Make sure to check out her other posts here at the site.
Merrily We Go to Hell opens with a deceptively jovial score – if your eyes were closed, you’d bet money that you were about to take in a zany Marx Brothers feature or, at the very least, a film containing an overabundance of carnival scenes. But although this film contains the word “merrily” in the title, and while has its share of lightweight, comedic touches, there’s really nothing merry about it.
A first-rate pre-Code offering released by Paramount in 1932, Merrily We Go to Hell was loosely based on a novel by Cleo Lucas, I, Jerry, Take Thee, Joan – the financially struggling studio changed the name in the hopes of attracting more moviegoers (although at least one newspaper refused to print the film’s title in its ads).
In a nutshell, Merrily stars Fredric March as Chicago newspaper columnist and aspiring playwright Jerry Corbett, and Sylvia Sidney as canned goods heiress Joan Prentice. After an imaginative “meet-cute,” Jerry woos Joan, who agrees to marry the fun-loving writer despite his obvious penchant for drink, and although he herself warns, “Any girl would be a fool to marry a man like me.” (It’s Jerry’s favorite drinking toast, incidentally, that provides the film’s title.) Jerry even tells Joan, early on, that he prefers the company of men to that of women: “I figured out a long time ago that a punch in the nose heals much quicker than a broken heart.”
Once married, Jerry manages to stay sober while struggling to fulfill his dream to become a playwright, but he dives headfirst back into the bottle again when his play is finally produced, and when his old flame, Claire (Adrianne Allen), is cast in the starring role, the film leaves all semblance of comedy behind. The remainder of this 83-minute feature packs in adultery, open marriage, and family tragedy before winding up in a somber but satisfying clinch at the end.
Fredric March’s Jerry is the heart and soul of the movie – his face is the first we see when the film opens, on the patio at a cocktail party, crouched behind a table filled with liquor bottles, flicking bottle tops in the direction of the partygoers inside. “Silly people,” he slurs, chuckling to himself. “I don’t like that fellow with the little mustache.” Political correctness aside, Jerry actually makes a rather charming drunk (at first), unsteadily maneuvering his way around the patio, warbling a little ditty about gingerbread and crème de menthe, and vowing to stop drinking “next Tuesday afternoon at three o’clock sharp.” It’s no wonder Joan falls for him, hard. His antics are less amusing, though, when they include showing up at his engagement party clad in tuxedo and top hat – and passed out in the back seat of his best buddy’s car, and placing a corkscrew bottle opener on Joan’s hand at their wedding because he has misplaced the ring.
March offers a fascinating portrait of a man battling to overcome his demons – not only against alcohol, but against the lingering lure of his first love. His inner weakness is nearly his undoing, which is demonstrated most compellingly when, on the opening night of his play, he announces his intentions to go to Claire unless his wife prevents him. “If you love me, you’ll lock that door so I can’t get out,” he says, pitifully unable to stop himself. March infuses this scene with pathos and heartbreaking frailty, invoking our sympathy even as he leaps headlong into an affair. We are captivated even more by March’s superb performance toward the film’s end, as he fights to regain Joan’s love, never giving up, even in the face of obstinate opposition from Joan’s well-meaning father (George Irving).
The film features in a small role, a young Cary Grant, as an actor with whom Joan unhappily engages in a dalliance of her own, and Esther Howard, looking blonde and sophisticated (and nothing at all like the dame with a “face like a bucket of mud” that she portrayed in the 1944 film noir Murder, My Sweet). Merrily also co-stars Skeets Gallagher, in one of his patented best pal roles, offering such bon mots as “What this world needs is more blondes like that and more men like me,” and “What this country needs is less ventilation and more smoke.”
Merrily was directed by Dorothy Arzner, the first woman to join the Directors Guild of America, who is credited with fostering March’s rise to fame, having also helmed him in three previous films, The Wild Party (1929), Sarah and Son (1930), and Honor Among Lovers (1931). Upon the film’s release, March was praised in The New York Times for his “excellent” acting and in Variety for his “light and graceful” performance.
(One more interesting note – March’s co-star Sylvia Sidney, who also appeared with the actor in 1934’s Good Dame, once remarked that March had “the reputation of being a ladies’ man. But he never laid a hand on me, never made a pass at me! Freddie was happily married. He’d tease me by saying, ‘Look at those boobs!’ or ‘Look at that toosh!’ But it was all in fun.”)
Merrily We Go to Hell is one of six pictures included in Universal’s Pre-Code Hollywood Collection. The set also includes such gems as The Cheat (1931) and Hot Saturday (1932), but for my money, the set is worth looking into for March’s performance in Merrily alone. Check it out.
You only owe it to yourself.
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the blog Shadows and Satin, which is lovingly devoted to her two cinematic passions, the pre-Code and film noir eras. Karen is also the author of Femme Noir: Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir, and editor of the bi-monthly, hard copy film noir newsletter (now also available in electronic form!), The Dark Pages.
When thinking about men’s fashion in old Hollywood, there are two actors who immediately come to mind: Cary Grant and Gary Cooper. Both had impeccable taste and appreciated high quality, custom tailored clothing, and both had wardrobes inspired by European fashion. Although Grant looked great in everything, he didn’t always look comfortable in more casual attire. This is not the case with Gary Cooper. He somehow made a cowboy hat and jeans look attainable to the every man, yet kept a look of sophistication.
Gary Cooper: Enduring Style is a lovely collection of private family photos showcasing Cooper’s sartorial elegance, beginning from his days in a prestigious private school in England, up to and around the time of his death in 1961. The book is reminiscent of a family album, with one or two photos to a page. Images of Gary and his wife Rocky relaxing poolside, on hunting trips with Clark Gable, and skiing with Ingrid Bergman are all wonderful additions. The captions are minimal, allowing the photos to speak for themselves.
With a foreward by Ralph Lauren, a brief yet thorough biography by G. Bruce Boyer, and afterward by Cooper’s only child Maria Cooper Janis, Gary Cooper: Enduring Style is a wonderful tribute to a beloved Hollywood icon. I appreciate the artistic quality of the book in the images selected. For the serious Gary Cooper fan, Enduring Style is a must have.
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Gary Cooper: Enduring Style
Full Disclosure: I received a copy of Gary Cooper: Enduring Style for review directly from the publisher, powerHouse Books. The book is available for purchase here. I would like to thank the publisher for the opportunity to review this book.
I have never heard anyone speak harshly of Myrna Loy. In fact, just the mere mention of her name elicits such a positive response it is hard not to crack a smile. My first encounter with Myrna’s films was her work with Cary Grant in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer and Mr. Blandings Builds His Dreamhouse.
She is brilliant in both roles and is one of Grant’s greatest co-stars. When I eventually discovered her films from the 1930s, I finally understood why she is so highly regarded among classic film fans. Soon I began scrounging for every Loy performance I could find, including all the films she made with the charming William Powell, with whom she co-starred 14 times.
In the late eighties, Myrna Loy worked extensively and exclusively with James Kotsilibas-Davis to pen her autobiography Being and Becoming. This personal account has been the only significant information regarding Loy’s private life and career until now. Emily W. Leider, author of Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood, utilizes Loy’s recollections from Being and Becoming, along with newly obtained material, in an attempt to piece together more of Loy’s life story.
Leider begins with a detailed account of Myrna Loy’s childhood leading up to being discovered in Hollywood. In her hometown of Helena, Montana, a young Loy took an interest in performing arts–especially dance. After the death of her father, Myrna, her mother, and other relatives moved to Southern California. She continued taking dance lessons and eventually sought work to provide for her family. More importantly, Myrna desperately wanted independence. In 1923 she was hired as a prologue dancer at Grauman’s Egyptian Theatre. For frame of reference, these elaborate stage productions (which provided in-house entertainment for moviegoers), were akin to the prologues featured in Busby Berkeley’s Footlight Parade. Before long, Loy’s beauty and talent were noticed by Rudolph Valentino and his wife Natacha Rambova. Myrna quickly acquired her first uncredited role in the 1925 film What Price Beauty?
After several of these smaller roles, Loy was offered parts as exotics, often playing a temptress and homewrecker. She would be typecast in this kind of role until around 1934 when she gave breakout performances in Manhattan Melodrama and The Thin Man. Although she had shed one typecast, she gained another in being labeled “the perfect wife.”
Leider writes of Loy’s early years in Hollywood, including when she fell in love with a married man, producer Arthur Hornblow. Eventually they married, but Arthur’s infidelities and lack of commitment led to their divorce. Myrna had four husbands in all, yet never found the reciprocal love she so desperately sought. Since she could not find complete happiness in her romantic life, Myrna looked for other ways to gain fulfillment. She was a dedicated volunteer during WWII and raised millions of dollars in war bonds for the cause. She was also quite active in liberal politics and outspoken against the House Un-American Activities Committee. A staunch supporter of President Roosevelt, Loy soon became friends with First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, and the two worked closely on social and political causes. Myrna was also an unabashed supporter of the Civil Rights Movement, which was not a popular stance at the time. Later in her career and life, Loy retreated from Hollywood to New York where she remained until her death in 1993. In the final years of her life she was finally recognized by The Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences with a Lifetime Achievement Academy Award. Up to that moment, Loy had never even been nominated for an Oscar.
I have long awaited a biography on Myrna Loy. Her autobiography Being and Becoming is out of print, so finding an affordable copy has proven to be difficult. When I first heard of Emily W. Leider’s book, I was ecstatic. Unfortunately, I have to admit that I am slightly disappointed. Leider’s account of Myrna Loy’s early life is well written. I appreciate her attention to detail in retelling Loy’s story from a different perspective than what has already been written. What I noticed is Leider references Loy’s book numerous times (almost to the point of distraction), and it quickly becomes apparent that perhaps there really isn’t much information about Loy’s life outside of what has already been written. In other words, Loy wrote what she thought we should know about her and therefore disclosed a filtered, if incomplete version, which is fair. That said, there are a few new bits of information in The Only Good Girl in Hollywood, that according to Leider, Loy either briefly mentions in passing or ignores completely in her autobiography. For example, Leider discusses the reason behind Loy’s inability to bear children, something that Loy never divulged.
One of the trappings of the star biography is an author’s tendency to give synopses of movies in an actor’s filmography. In telling the story of Loy’s early fledgling career and rise to prominence in Hollywood, Leider often falls into the pattern of film synopsis and review. I understand that anecdotes from the filming of Loy’s movies is important to paint a complete picture of the surrounding events in her life. However, when plotlines are detailed from start to finish accompanied by critique and opinion (either Leider’s or that of a film critic), it is too much.
Overall, I have mixed feelings on Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood. I would like to revisit this book after reading Being and Becoming. Perhaps Leider’s book will be a nice companion piece to Loy’s, but in all honesty I was looking for something more.
Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood
University of California Press
Full Disclosure: I received a copy of Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood directly from the publisher, University of California Press. I would like to thank the publisher for the opportunity to review this book.