Thursday, October 31, 2013


Today (and today only) our friend Lara of Backlots is hosting a one day Hitchcock Halloween blogathon and for the occasion I'm resurrecting an old favorite from the Reel Life archives.

In January 2011 the Classic Movie Blog Association hosted a Hitchcock blogathon and I decided rather than blog about a particular film, I'd take another approach. The result was an exploration of three legendary Hitchcock killers and the actors who portrayed them: Joseph Cotten's Uncle Charlie in Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Robert Walker's Bruno Anthony in Strangers on a Train (1951) and Anthony Perkins's Norman Bates in Psycho (1960). I was and still am fascinated by the complex characters of Uncle Charlie, Bruno and Norman - and with the masterful performances of the three daring actors who took their turns as what film critic/historian David Thomson calls Hitchcock's "smiling psychopaths."

Click here to read Three Classic Hitchcock Killers.

For links to Lara's blog and and more on Hitchcock Halloween, click here.


Saturday, October 19, 2013


Just over two years ago I attended – and was astounded by - “Casablanca with the San Francisco Symphony” at Davies Hall. Conductor Michael Francis led the orchestra in accompanying the beyond-iconic classic with Max Steiner’s unforgettable score. What an experience it was (click here for my reaction)...

Now the symphony is about to present a Halloween season series, Hitchcock Week, spotlighting several of the Master’s films with live musical accompaniment. The piècede résistance will be “World Premiere: Vertigo” on Friday, November 1, with the symphony accompanying Hitchcock’s great masterpiece with Bernard Herrmann’s brilliant, haunting and, some would say, peerless score.

Bay Area film lovers, get thee to a box office, online or otherwise! Hitchcock Week is about to begin… 

Wednesday, October 30, 8pm, Psycho, with Joshua Gersen conducting Herrmann’s legendary score 

Thursday, October 31, 7:30pm, The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog, live organ music will accompany Hitchcock’s early silent thriller on Halloween night
Kim Novak and James Stewart, Vertigo (1958)
Friday, November 1, 8pm, Vertigo - Vertigo accompanied by the San Francisco Symphony…what more is there to say? 

Saturday, November 2, 8pm, Hitchcock! Greatest Hits, clips from several Hitchcock classics – To Catch a Thief, Strangers on a Train, Dial M for Murder, North by Northwest – to be hosted by Eva Marie Saint, with Joshua Gersen conducting

Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint in North by Northwest (1959)

The symphony has scheduled more classic films with orchestral accompaniment through the rest of its 2013/2014 season: 

Friday and Saturday, December 6 and 7, 7:30pm, Singin’ in the Rain 

Saturday, February 15, 8pm, A Night at the Oscars will feature celebrated scenes and scores from memorable films 

Saturday, April 12, 8pm, Charlie Chaplin's City Lights 

Saturday, May 31 at 8pm and Sunday, June 1 at 4pm, Fantasia 

A “Compose Your Own Film Series” package offers savings to those who buy tickets to three or more of these film concerts: Click here to go to the symphony website or call (415)864-6000.

Fantasia (1940)

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Nightmare Alley to Make Its TCM Premiere

Nightmare Alley

Tyrone Power was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood from the late 1930s through the late 1950s and he was 20th Century Fox's most famous star until Marilyn Monroe came along. Turner Classic Movies hasn't traditionally aired as many films of Fox's great stars as those from other studios - this has been about film rights more than anything else. Since TCM entered into an exclusive licensing deal with Fox, though, that has begun to change.


In August 2012, Tyrone Power was honored for the first time with a day filled with his films as part of TCM's annual Summer Under the Stars event. Soon after, more of Power's films began appearing on the channel than in the past, but Wednesday evening, October 16, marks the first time since then that TCM's primetime schedule and late night hours are being devoted to his movies.  Among the films to be aired are two that will be making their TCM debuts: Rawhide (1951), a Western, and Nightmare Alley (1947), a film noir that contains what most consider Power's best dramatic performance.

The Schedule (all times Eastern/Pacific):

8:00pm/5:00pm  Rawhide (1951), co-starring Susan Hayward, directed by Henry Hathaway

9:45pm/6:45pm  Nightmare Alley (1947), co-starring Joan Blondell, directed by Edmund Goulding

11:45pm/8:45pm  The Mark of Zorro (1940), co-starring Basil Rathbone and Linda Darnell, directed by Rouben Mamoulian

1:30am/10:30pm  The Black Swan (1942), co-starring Maureen O'Hara, George Sanders, Thomas Mitchell and Anthony Quinn, directed by Henry King

3:00am/midnight  Marie Antoinette (1938), co-starring Norma Shearer, directed by W.S. Van Dyke 


The Black Swan

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Bette Davis, Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Davis
The Metzinger Sisters of Silver Scenes are hosting a classic film event,The Great Imaginary Film Blogathon - and this is my entry. Click here for links to participating blogs.

~

In 1926, Pulitzer Prize-winning author Willa Cather published her eighth novel, a novella, really, titled My Mortal Enemy. Among the writer's many poetic works of prose fiction, the book earned a reputation for both its lean structure and dramatic plot. When I read it for the first time, I couldn't help but imagine what a powerful film My Mortal Enemy might be. Yet I also knew that, because of Cather's profound unhappiness with the film version of A Lost Lady (1934, starring Barbara Stanwyck), she hadn't allowed her other works to be adapted in her lifetime and that at the time of her death in 1947, the terms of her will dictated a ban on future film adaptations. Mostly because I saw in My Mortal Enemy's central character, Myra Driscoll Henshawe, a role that would provide a golden opportunity for the right actress to deliver a blistering tour de force performance, I despaired that it would never be dramatized.

The tale unfolds from the point of view of its narrator, a young Midwestern woman named Nellie, who grew up enchanted by the local legend of a great romance that had taken place not too many years before she was born. Myra Driscoll had been the pampered only heir of her great-uncle, the wealthiest man in town. Though well-educated and handsome, Oswald Henshawe was of more humble origins, and the love that developed between the two was unacceptable to Myra's guardian. Myra threw away the certain inheritance of most of her great-uncle's enormous fortune when she defied him and eloped with Oswald. For young Nellie, Myra and Oswald's "runaway marriage" was "the most interesting, indeed the only interesting" story among those told on "holidays or at family dinners."

Myra had been taken in by her great-uncle when she was orphaned in childhood. He took her traveling with him to Europe, had her portrait painted by an esteemed painter, lavished her with clothing and jewelry as well as a riding horse and "a Steinway piano." She was spirited and witty and pretty and her guardian took pride in her. Though she enjoyed a close, affectionate relationship with her uncle, she was also proud and willful. When he solemnly promised he would "cut her off without a penny" if she married Oswald, she didn't react immediately. Some months later, though, Myra went out on a sleigh-ride with friends and never returned. She and Oswald met at a pre-arranged time and place, were married with his parents and her friends on hand and departed in the wee hours on an express train.

Drawing by Edward Hopper

The Myra we glimpse through Nellie's reminiscences of the stories she's been told all her life is  passionate, impulsive, determined and full of self-confidence. The Myra we encounter when Nellie meets her in person is much older and very worldly. Myra and Oswald return to the small town 25 years after their elopement and Nellie, now 15, is finally introduced to the couple she has idealized as storybook lovers. She meets Myra first and is both bewitched and intimidated by the still-handsome but heavier-than-expected middle-aged woman. Myra's "charming, fluent voice, her clear light enunciation" bewilders Nellie, who also notes that her "sarcasm was so quick, so fine at the point - it was like being touched by a metal so cold that one doesn't know whether one is burned or chilled." Oswald is less imposing though also charismatic, and Nellie is captivated by his "dark and soft" eyes, shaped "exactly like half-moons." She observes "something about him that suggested personal bravery, magnanimity, and a fine, generous way of doing things." Nellie was more comfortable with Oswald than Myra, "because he did not frighten one so much." By the time the Henshawes leave days later, it has been decided that Nellie and her aunt will spend the Christmas holidays in New York and stay at a hotel near Oswald and Myra's apartment on Madison Square.

Madison Square painted by Paul Cornoyer, circa 1900

Once in New York, Nellie falls instantly in love with the couple's apartment in a brownstone on the north side of the Square. She enthusiastically takes in every detail - including long velvet curtains "lined with that rich cream-colour that lies under the blue skin of ripe figs." She is dazzled at the celebrity-studded New Years' Eve party the Henshawe's host, and enthralled when an opera star sings an aria from Bellini's Norma to piano accompaniment. But she also observes first-hand a darker side to the Henshawe marriage.  After spending a pleasant day with Myra in Central Park, Nellie notices in her friend what seems an "insane ambition" when the woman offhandedly reveals her deep disappointment that her lifestyle isn't at all grand enough to suit her. Then, finally, Nellie walks in on the pair in the midst of a ferocious argument. Myra has found a key on Oswald's key-ring that he cannot or will not explain to her satisfaction. Already, Nellie is aware that a young woman of Oswald's acquaintance has given him a gift of topaz cufflinks and that, to avoid Myra's jealous wrath, he had asked her aunt to pretend they were a Christmas present from her. As Nellie and her aunt leave New York, Myra makes sure to tell them that she knows the cufflinks were not a gift from the aunt, "I was sure to find out, I always do," she says. Nellie will not see the Henshawes for another ten years and when she does encounter them again, it comes as a complete surprise.

At 25, Nellie ventures, without much conviction, to a West Coast city (reminiscent of Los Angeles then) to teach. She takes rooms in an apartment-hotel and once there finds that the Henshawes are living in the same building. Their circumstances are much reduced and Myra, now a wheelchair-bound invalid, is dying. Oswald, who holds a low-paying job with the city while carefully tending to his wife's needs, looks far older than his years. Myra appears to Nellie "strong and broken, generous and tyrannical, a witty and rather wicked old woman." Those traits the younger woman had admired and disliked have become ever more distilled.

As death approaches, Myra grows more demanding and difficult, as does her dark resentment of Oswald. She is openly suspicious of him and seems to blame him for her every discomfort and complaint. On one particularly bad night she laments that she must "die like this, alone with my mortal enemy..." Nellie, chilled as she listens to these bitter words, reflects that "...violent natures like hers sometimes turn against themselves..." 


~

I’ve envisioned many actresses in the role of Myra Henshawe.

A rich, multifaceted character like Myra would have tantalized Miss Bette Davis during her heyday. With William Wyler in the director’s chair, Davis had turned in three outstanding performances – in Jezebel (1938), The Letter (1940) and The Little Foxes (1941), all of them earning Best Actress Oscar nominations for her, and Jezebel bringing the gold statuette. And all three characters possessed traits in common with Myra – spoiled, impetuous Julie, manipulative Leslie Crosbie and fierce Regina Giddens. So, with Wyler directing Davis and an evocative score by Max Steiner, My Mortal Enemy could easily have been another stellar Warner Bros. release during Hollywood’s Golden Age. While Warners might’ve been inclined to put George Brent or Herbert Marshall in the role of Oswald, the studio’s best bet would’ve been Paul Henreid. It seems to me, though, that another actor, someone like Lew Ayres, would've been a better fit.

I’ve also imagined My Mortal Enemy as a Technicolor production from the 1950s starring Deborah Kerr and Gregory Peck. Kerr’s lofty poise and ability to convey tumultuous emotions (Black Narcissus, From Here to Eternity, The Innocents) would've made for an interesting take on Myra, who was as haughty as she was passionate. Gregory Peck would have had no trouble portraying gentle, magnetically attractive Oswald. A good pick to direct might’ve been John Huston, who so often and successfully adapted literary gems (The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Moby Dick). Huston also devised the vivid color concept of Moulin Rouge (1952) and directed both Kerr and Peck in popular films of the 1950s.

In the late 1960s, My Mortal Enemy could’ve provided a high profile vehicle as well as a solid follow-up to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? for Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The characters were within their range, but Liz & Dick's  tabloid notoriety and worldwide superstardom at the time might well have overpowered the actual characters and story. Perhaps with Mike Nichols, who directed Virginia Woolf, at the helm, My Mortal Enemy could’ve been one of those memorable transitional films that bridged the shift from the studio era to the age of “easy riders and raging bulls.”
Meryl Streep, Jeremy Irons, The French Lieutenant's Woman

Meryl Streep was well established by the 1980s, and a complex and meaty role like Myra would’ve seemed tailor-made for her remarkable talents. Teaming her with Jeremy Irons, her co-star in The French Lieutenant’s Woman (1981), would’ve worked well. On the other hand, there’s the superb but relatively underrated Judy Davis, who emerged with My Brilliant Career (1979) and A Passage to India (1984), earning a Best Actress Oscar nomination for the latter. Davis possesses, along with an ability to express the deep anguish of a divided soul, the vivacity and sharp humor integral to Myra’s personality. I would pair Davis with William Hurt and put them under the direction of Martin Scorsese, who later rendered a moving and meticulous adaptation of Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence (1993).

By the early 1990s, adaptations of Willa Cather’s fiction for television had begun to surface. Perhaps the ban on “film” adaptations did not, technically, apply to broadcast media. A PBS production of O Pioneers!, starring Mary McDonnell, appeared in 1991 and a Hallmark Hall of Fame adaptation of the same novel appeared in 1992, starring Jessica Lange. In 1995, the USA Network aired a TV-movie version of My Ántonia, the second novel in Cather’s Prairie Trilogy (after Pioneers), starring Jason Robards and Eva Marie Saint. Finally, in 2001, the third book in the trilogy, The Song of the Lark, was adapted for PBS, starring Maximilian Schell and Alison Elliot.

Following the death of the last living executor of Willa Cather’s estate, Charles Cather, in 2011, The Cather Trust dropped the prohibition contained in her will against the publication of her letters and the adaptation of her fiction to film. In April of this year Knopf published The Selected Letters of Willa Cather. A dramatization of My Mortal Enemy, it seems, could actually come to pass. Cate Blanchett, now in her early 40s, is still young as well as old enough for the plum role of Myra. But the possibilities are endless - and fascinating.

Cate Blanchett by David Downton

Monday, September 16, 2013

Before The Cafe, Lesser Ury, 1920s
Guest blogger Karin (aka/Whistlingypsy) of Distant Voices and Flickering Shadows is a freelance technical writer living in the Austin area. She has contributed to Reel Life in the past, treating readers to lyrical prose as well as a unique exploration of her subject in every case - from her two-part series on legendary art director Van Nest Polglase in 2010, to her entry on composer Bernard Herrmann for my Vertigo blog event early in 2012, to her contribution, "The Feminine Mystique of Mad Men," for my Mad Men blog event later that year. Karin's current fascination is Weimar-era Berlin's art, cabaret, cinema and music scene...
                                                                                      ~  The Lady Eve


Classic films offer the viewer an opportunity to glimpse, however briefly and dimly, the world in which the audience and the performer lived. Classic films can also provide an imperfect record of the psychological and sociological issues of concern to the public. For many of us, German cinema during the Weimar era remains frustratingly elusive, while art and auteur
Renate Müller performs "Castle in Spain"
 in Viktor und Viktoria
cinema rightfully have a place in the nation’s legacy, popular cinema has suffered neglect with critics and fans. Thomas Elsaessar, in Weimar Cinema And After: Germany’s Historical Imaginary, states this is due, in part, "to a bias on the part of the Weimar cultural elite for art films or American popular cinema, a scarcity of surviving examples from other genres, and a persistent myth that German cinema was incapable of producing really good comedies after Ernst Lubitsch left for Hollywood". The development of Weimar cinema coincided with the transition from silent films to sound pictures and German filmmakers excelled in making cabaret-style comedies and popular musicals. Most film fans are familiar with Viktor und Viktoria (1933) as the inspiration for not one but four remakes. The original material also acts as a small crack in the otherwise accepted perception of German cinema as a dark mirror reflecting a nation’s soul and authoritarian traits.

She Represents 
Jeanne Mammen (1927)
The film certainly reflects Weimar era sauciness in all its manifestations, but referring to the film as a spoof of Vesta Tilley, London’s famous male impersonator, is to ignore the influence of Berlin’s inclusive cabaret history. Berlin’s cabarets were home to some of Europe’s most creative and experimental individuals, encouraging a free exchange of ideas and influencing art, cinema, literature, music and philosophy. The cabaret scene brought into being an incisive and satirical world of humor and music, exploring fads and fashions, political ideologies and sexual mores in the city and Germany at large. In fact, the tension between conservative and liberal, experimental and quotidian made Berlin’s cabarets simultaneously attractive and a target to competing factions. Cabarets, most importantly, supported a tradition of male, as well as female, impersonators who fashioned stage personas meant to depict gender ambiguities, outwit censors and reflect life.

Fans of Blake Edwards’s 1983 version of the film will find many similarities in Reinhold Schünzel’s dynamic and provocative original. Susanne Lohr (Renate Müller), a young aspiring actress, is befriended by Viktor Hempel (Hermann Thimig) after both audition for but fail to get work. The pair consoles one another in a local café, Susanne sharing her aspirations to become a cabaret performer, Viktor revealing his ambition to be a serious actor. Viktor admits that he is presently working as a female impersonator, and when illness prevents him from performing his act, he persuades his new friend to perform in his place. Susanne and Viktor’s luck changes over night and the pair is launched on a European tour that eventually takes them to London. Susanne becomes the toast of society, and the object of Robert’s (Anton Walbrook, billed as Adolphe Wohlbrück) fascination.

The film rightly deserves acclaim for achieving in the early sound era what others such as Rouben Mamoulian were not. Schünzel’s use of sound and image to comic effect, and his integration of singing and dancing in the plot, foreshadowed the integrated Hollywood musical. Viktor und Viktoria (1933) is not simply a brilliant example of the early sound era musical, but a joyous exploration of the rhythm of speech and music. The entire film is in blank verse, rhyme or sprechgesang (the spoken song), in combination with carefully orchestrated blocking, camera movement and editing. The film also reflects irony and nostalgia for operetta, once a part of the cabaret legacy and denounced in 1913 as ‘the worst enemy of German theatrical art’. The more optimistic film operettas of the late Weimar era reflect a myth that luck could bring overnight prosperity. Susanne’s discovery and instant fame integrate cabaret humor and the operetta myth in a post-Weimar era film.

Georges et Georgette (1934)
During the early sound era, the practice of filming additional versions for foreign markets was common in both Europe and Hollywood. The same year Viktor und Victoria was filmed in German; Georges et Georgette (1934) was filmed for French language audiences. Anton Walbrook reprised his role as Robert, Meg Lemonnier took over the role of Susanne and Julien Carette (La Grande Illusion) appeared as Georges. In 1935, Jessie Matthews, the dancing divinity, princess personality and the girl Bette Davis called ‘England’s greatest star’ appeared in a British Gaumont-Gainsborough remake.

First A Girl (1935)
The plot of First A Girl (1935) is expanded to include a job in a dress shop for Elizabeth (Matthews), which allows for additional song and dance numbers. Viktor und Viktoria (1957) is an Agfacolor quality film and strays the farthest from the original. Erika (Susanne in the original) invents a brother as part of her "cover story", and when Erika can no longer maintain the charade, she tells Viktor she has “killed” her brother, Erik. Through a comedy of errors, Erika is arrested for the “murder”, and her beloved Jean (Robert in the original) confesses to complicity in the murder. A comparison of the double-exposure travel montage from Viktor und Viktoria to the same from First A Girl reveals the latter's faithful adaptation (the quality of the first is a bit squiffy, the dialogue is in German, but Susanne sings "Castle in Spain" in English).



Robert and Susanne get "uncomfortable"
Schünzle’s film is certainly available for gay and gender film scholarship, but in its charmingly prim manner, the premise extends few invitations. The material for Schünzel’s Viktor und Viktoria becomes a sophisticated adult comedy and adds levels of gender ambiguity, when the traditional plot of a woman dressing as a man evolves to a woman passing for a man. The film also expands the notion of pre-code films and takes the screwball comedy to levels Lubitsch and Mamoulian would not have been permitted to explore, in which feelings are present but denied or thwarted. However, contemporary audiences and non-German speaking viewers are at a disadvantage in appreciating the film’s allusions and nuanced jokes. The most skillful effort of translation can take the viewer only so far in understanding an element of humor uniquely rooted in Berlin joke-telling. In his book Berlin Cabaret, Peter Jelavich recounts an experience of a visitor to the city, “No gestures, no wry faces, no smirks: the Berliner is dry and cold-blooded when he jokes. He displays an intentionally deadpan countenance, which stands in such contrast to his words that it never fails to provoke laughter” (many cabaret performers stood absolutely still while performing). This aspect of Berlin and cabaret style humor is reflected in Robert and Susanne’s inexplicably tense manner of flirtation, which initially seems counter-intuitive to notions of joke delivery.

Viktor und Viktoria's ensemble cast
Robert’s bemused fascination quickly turns to gleeful torment after discovering Susanne’s secret and realizing the many ways he can use this against her. Although a visit to the barber and a visit to a seedy cellar cabaret play-out ironically, Susanne remains a sweet, if baffled, young woman in over her head, showing no hint of the transparent sexuality Dietrich displays in her Lola-Lola or Amy Jolly characters. This is hardly surprising given the political climate in Berlin at the time. Work on the film began, and the film's premier occurred, within month's of the Nazi accession to power. In October of 1932, Berlin’s chief of police ordered a ban on same-sex couples dancing in public. In January of 1933, the process of gleichschaltung (“the forcing into conformity”) brought artistic organizations under state control while eliminating objectionable artists from the field. The hugely popular Eldorado cabaret became the headquarters of the Sturmabteilung (SA), and in February of 1933, Hermann Goering ordered closure of similar establishments and instituted the arrest and imprisonment of gays and transvestites.

Renate Müller
In the absence of a definitive biography, Renate Müller’s life and early death have acquired legendary proportions. However, a search of available publications makes it possible to sketch a less sensational portrait of the actress’s last days. Renate Müller's skills as a singer and her knowledge of foreign languages made her the ideal actress for musical comedies. The actress made twenty-five films between 1929 and 1937, and her role in Reinhold Schünzel’s Peter der Matrose (1929) was the first of seven comedies in which she appeared for the director. Her sister, Gabriele Müller, described Renate’s screen appeal and why she captivated Weimar era audiences, “A new type of character was born in German film: after the ‘vamp’ and the ‘cute girlie’, there appeared a girl with heart who wasn’t a sweetheart, who was smart but not a bluestocking, charming yet not coy – a down-to-earth and bracingly natural girl.” Her trip to England in the summer of 1931 to film Sunshine Susie, as part of a British Gaumont-Gainsborough-Ufa film exchange, was reported widely in the cinema related press, and her personal appearances drew large crowds of fans.

Renate Müller 
in Sunshine Susie (1931)
Her girl next-door persona and her wide-ranging popularity would prove to have a darker responsibility once the Nazis reached power. She is said to have been brought to the attention of propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, who saw in the actress a Hollywood style star, and one who could fill the void left by Marlene Dietrich after she emigrated from Germany. She continued to play coquettish and self-confident females, however, in 1937 when UFA became "the most horizontally and vertically intergrated German film conglomerate under the Nazis"; she found her career increasingly sidelined and she was forced to take a role in Togger (1937), a blatant propaganda film. In May of the same year, People Of The Studios, reported “O.E. Lubitz, once producer-manager for Bavaria and Atlantia films, has formed a company with Styria-Film of Vienna, with offices in Berlin. Renate Müller, one-time English star takes the lead in a film version of the Strauss operetta, Die Fledermaus", in fact, the role went to another actress. The mystery surrounding Renate Müller’s death on October 7, 1937, officially attributed to a cerebral hemorrhage, lead to increasingly wilder speculation including a rumored suicide.

A musical number from Liebling Der Götter
Phil M. Daly reported on May 20, 1947 in his column, Along The Rialto (The Film Daily), director Henry Wilcox and his wife, actress Anna Neagle, would produce a film “based on the life and exploits of Renate Müller”. The reporter proceeded to refer to the actress as a “Nazi spy, film actress and musical comedy star” and the proposed film as a “spy thriller”. The actress's biography would eventually receive the cinematic treatment, over protests of surviving family members, in Liebling Der Götter/Darling of The Gods (1957). Tim Bergfelder in International Adventures: German Popular Cinema and European Co-Production describes the film's grim opening, “Even audiences previously unfamiliar with Müller’s fate would have known not to expect a happy ending after an introductory, and rather didactic, caption at the beginning of the film informed them that the narrative would 'portray the life and death of an artist in unfree times'. Contemporary viewers hoping to find a dramatic re-creation of the actress’s life will undoubtedly be disappointed (a bit a trivia, Peter Van Eyck, who plays Renate’s love interest in the film, is said to have been romantically involved with Jean Ross).

I would like to thank Lady Eve for her gracious invitation to contribute to her always elegant blog. I would also like to acknowledge the invaluable help provided by DocTom (Thomas) in understanding certain nuances of the German language.

Reference Material: Berlin Cabaret, Peter Jelavich; Film and the German Left in the Weimar Republic: from Caligari to Kuhle Wampe, Bruce Murray; International Adventures: German Popular Cinema and European Co-Production, Tim Bergfelder; The Film Daily, December, 1930, March 1932, May 1947; Weimar Cinema And After: Germany’s Historical Imaginary, Thomas Elsaessar; World Film News and Television Progress: People Of The Studios, May 1937.
 
Click here for all of Karin's contributions to Reel Life.

Thursday, August 29, 2013




When Rex Harrison came to Hollywood in 1945 to make a movie, he was 37 years old, had already been on the stage in England for 22 years and had been making films there since 1930. Orson Welles later claimed it was on his recommendation that Harrison was given his first American role, a part that Welles himself turned down, that of the King in the 1946 production of Anna and the King of Siam. Welles told his friend, director Henry Jaglom, over one of their now famous lunches, “I suggested him. Rex made pictures that only played in England, teacup comedies and things. No one in Hollywood knew who he was.” Welles had refused the role, he said, because he didn’t want to work with Irene Dunne, who had already been cast as Anna. And so, Rex Harrison made his American film debut.

Anna and the King of Siam

At the time he arrived in Hollywood, Harrison was married to his second wife, German actress Lilli Palmer. She also began making movies in the U.S. and started by co-starring with Gary Cooper in Fritz Lang’s Cloak and Daggerin 1946. Both Mr. and Mrs. Harrison starred in 1947 classics - for Rex, the first and best of his three films for Joseph L. Mankiewicz, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, with Gene Tierney; for Lilli, Robert Rosen’s Body and Soul, opposite John Garfield. Rex also starred in The Foxes of Harrow in 1947; Lilli would star in My Girl Tisa in 1948. Then came the scandal that ruined Harrison’s personal reputation and may or may not have brought him the nickname “Sexy Rexy.”

Lilli Palmer
Rex Harrison, it seems, was a ladies’ man. By 1947, he had become involved in a romance with actress Carole Landis. The affair was no secret in Hollywood and was apparently made public by columnist/radio commentator Walter Winchell. On the night of July 4, 1948, after Harrison spent the evening with her at her home, Landis consumed a lethal dose of barbiturates. Ruled a suicide, her death was naturally surrounded by a storm of hearsay and speculation. The rumor mill had it that Landis was despondent because Harrison refused to leave Lilli Palmer and/or because he was soon to depart for New York to star on Broadway in Anne of the Thousand Days. There was even some conjecture that Harrison had murdered the woman and staged the scene to look like suicide.


Carole Landis
A few months before Landis’ death, Harrison had completed production on a film for legendary writer/director Preston Sturges. It would be the one-time wunderkind’s final cinematic gem, a darkest-black comedy titled – perhaps unfortunately – Unfaithfully Yours (1948). The lurid and lingering Landis tragedy would have an impact on the fate of the film. In an attempt to distance it from the scandal, the film’s release date was held up for several months. Additionally, publicity was dialed back - and the marketing campaign changed drastically. It was labeled a murder mystery, it was touted as “six kinds of picture all rolled into one” – confusing and misleading the movie-going public.


Preston Sturges had written a Broadway hit in 1929 and trekked to Hollywood following the play’s adaptation to the screen. He penned several films for Paramount, including Easy Living (1937) and Remember the Night (1940). In 1940 he asked for and was given a chance to direct as well as write. The result was his political sendup, The Great McGinty, a break-out hit that brought Sturges an Oscar for his original screenplay. A string of sly and exhilarating classics written and directed by Preston Sturges followed, namely: The Lady Eve (1941), Sullivan’s Travels (1941), The Palm Beach Story (1942), Hail the Conquering Hero (1944) and The Miracle at Morgan’s Creek (1944). But Paramount had begun to view its genius-in-residence as next-to-impossible to deal with, and relations between the studio and the man soured. When his split from Paramount finally came, Sturges went into partnership with Howard Hughes on California Pictures Corporation for three disastrous years. Sturges and Hughes parted ways in 1947 and the writer/director soon went to work for Darryl F. Zanuck at 20th Century Fox. Zanuck was interested in a story Sturges had written years earlier titled Matrix. In the end, Matrix was dropped for lack of interest and a treatment of another early Sturges story - he called it The Symphony Story - was picked up instead and retitled…
 
Preston Sturges

Unfaithfully Yours bears most trademark Sturges elements – it moves at a dizzying pace, overflows with clever dialogue, is peopled with assorted (and well-cast) eccentrics and its plot completely confounds audience expectations. But in this case Sturges ventured into especially dark farce…

The film opens with the return to New York of Sir Alfred de Carter (Harrison), a well-known symphony conductor, who has been in London. He is warmly welcomed by his beautiful young and doting wife, Daphne (Linda Darnell). But soon the mischief begins. It seems that before leaving New York, Sir Alfred had asked his rich but dull brother in law (Rudy Vallee) to keep an eye on Daphne while he was away. The brother in law misinterpreted the request and took it upon himself to hire a private detective to monitor her. And now he has come to deliver the detective’s report. Sir Alfred, initially shocked and outraged at the misunderstanding, eventually manages to read the report and works himself into a frenzy of jealousy and suspicion. While conducting a concert after quarreling with his wife, Sir Alfred begins to fantasize about how to handle what he believes is her infidelity. As he conducts three orchestral pieces, he vividly imagines three different possible scenarios – each played out onscreen. The first fantasy involves murder and a frame-up, in the second Sir Alfred is noble and obliging, in the third he falls victim to his own bravado. When the concert finally comes to an end, Sir Alfred sets out to make one of his fantasies real.

Unfaithfully Yours - fantasy or reality?

Although Sturges wasn’t entirely happy with the film’s final cut (which came courtesy of Mr. Zanuck), he was pleased with the performances – Rex Harrison executes a superb turn as the temperamental artist/bungling schemer. Sturges was also particularly fond of the fantasy segments. He wrote that he tried to construct the three scenarios envisioned by the conductor “as if written and directed by Sir Alfred, who is neither a writer nor a director.” In his fantasies, the conductor imagines his own behavior “vividly” while the other characters are “marionettelike.” Sturges believed this would be “the natural result of Sir Alfred’s ability to have them say and do exactly what he wants them to say and do.”

The film’s themes are dark and, perhaps, for the audience of its time, too much so for “six kinds of picture all rolled into one." Its timing in proximity to the leading man's notorious Hollywood scandal was extremely unlucky. For whatever reason or combination of reasons, Unfaithfully Yours was not a success. In his autobiographical notes Sturges reflected, “Unfaithfully Yours received much critical acclaim and lost a fortune.” That the film failed to find an audience contributed to the steep decline of his increasingly precarious career. He would write and direct only one more Hollywood film (The Beautiful Blonde from Bashful Bend in 1949) and it was a resounding flop.

My Fair Lady, with Audrey Hepburn
Rex Harrison continued to work steadily and successfully on stage, film – and TV – for the rest of his life. He gained worldwide stardom with his performance in George Cukor’s 1964 film adaptation of My Fair Lady, a long-running Broadway hit in which Harrison originated the role of Henry Higgins and for which he won a Tony Award. For transferring his Henry Higgins from stage to screen, he duly took home an Oscar for Best Actor. Knighted in 1989 at age 81, Sir Rex would, as the producer of The Circle, Harrison’s final Broadway play, put it, very nearly die “with his boots on;” his last stage appearance preceded his death, in 1990 of pancreatic cancer, by only six months. Harrison’s long Hollywood career had brought him two Oscar nominations and one win; his even longer career on Broadway brought him five Tony nominations and three awards as well as a special Drama Desk Award in 1985. He was honored with two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, one for film and one for television.

Kay Kendall

Rex Harrison would also continue to be inconstant in his private life. Sandy Sturges, Preston’s widow, recalled walking in New York with her husband and Harrison in the early 1950s. Suddenly and unexpectedly Rex walked away and left them – he’d spied a lovely young thing on the street and simply followed her. His interest in women, Mrs. Sturges recalled, was “not subtle at all.” Harrison’s marriage to Lilli Palmer continued until 1957, when the two divorced so that he could marry his lover, actress Kay Kendall, who was dying of leukemia. He married Welsh-born, Oscar-nominated, Tony-winning actress Rachel Roberts in 1962. That marriage ended in divorce many years later and, it is said, she reacted by drinking ever more heavily and by finally taking her own life. Harrison was married to the ex-Mrs. Richard Harris, Welsh actress/socialite Elizabeth Rees-Williams, for a time, and his 6th and final wife was Mercia Tinker, to whom he remained married until the end of his life.

Rachel Roberts and Rex Harrison
Harrison has garnered much praise for his work on stage and screen, but not much admiration for his conduct out of the limelight. One of his biographers, Nicholas Wapshott (Rex Harrison, 1991) met the actor while doing research for a biography on British director Carol Reed. Wapshott considered Harrison a “technical genius” capable of “effortless delivery of difficult prose.” He noted that the actor didn’t make much visible effort, “he was inescapably Rex in everything - but his understanding of the text meant that he hit every note the first time.” On the other hand, the author found Harrison, in person, “a cad of the first order,” and at first hesitated to take on the biography of a man whose “black-hole egotism meant he could not appreciate the worth of others, particularly other men, and his attitude to his string of wives…and lovers was often hard and heartless.” Wapshott blamed Harrison’s involvement in the Carole Landis scandal for the fact that Unfaithfully Yours “languished for years.”
Rex Harrison and Claudette Colbert in Aren't We All

Tony-winning, Oscar-nominated actor Frank Langella admired Rex Harrison’s work extravagantly; “He was my idol. I thought him the most accomplished, technically perfect, and totally believable English actor of his time.” Langella managed to meet Harrison twice. Their first meeting occurred in the early ‘70s at a cocktail reception in the older actor’s honor. Langella encountered his idol in the foyer where he was removing his hat and coat. The young actor put out his hand and began to extend a greeting when Harrison flung both his coat and his wife’s over Langella’s arm, as if he was a servant, and made his entrance into the party. The two met again in 1984 when a friend of Langella’s was appearing in Aren’t We All on Broadway with Harrison and Claudette Colbert. Forgoing dinner with his friend and Miss Colbert (who utterly charmed him) in order to try once more to pay his respects to Harrison, Langella found him in his dressing room and finally delivered his heartfelt homage. The old actor heard him out and dismissed him with, “Thank you. Very kind. I’m afraid I can’t ask you to sit down.” Langella was not amused and would remember that his good friend, Harrison’s 5th wife, Elizabeth, told him of Rex, “He was the only man I ever knew who would send back the wine at his own dinner table.”
Rex Harrison and Preston Sturges on the set
British film critic and historian David Thomson‘s view of Harrison the actor is fairly restrained, seeing in most of his screen roles the personification of the stereotypically empty-headed aristocrat. However, Thomson allows that Unfaithfully Yours is “one of the few films that made use of his grating charm.”

Harrison is in top form in Sturges’ black-humored classic, adapting with surprising ease to the writer/director’s penchant for slapstick. Unfaithfully Yours airs on Saturday, August 31, at 3:00pm Eastern/noon Pacific, part of TCM’s 2013 Summer Under the Stars tribute to Rex Harrison.



This is my entry for the 2013 TCM Summer Under the Stars Blogathon now in progress and hosted by Jill Blake ofhttp://sittinonabackyardfence.com/ and Michael Nazarewycz of http://scribehardonfilm.wordpress.com/. Visit their sites for more information and links to participating blogs.

Notes: 
My Lunches with Orson by Henry Jaglom and Peter Biskind (Metropolitan Books, 2013) 
Preston Sturges by Preston Sturges adapted by Sandy Sturges (Simon & Schuster, 1990) 
The New York Sun, “Unfaithfully Yours, Rex” by Nicholas Wapshott, March 8, 2008 
Dropped Names, a Memoir by Frank Langella (Harper, 2012) 
The New Biographical Dictionary of Film by David Thomson (Knopf, 2010)