Shoot the Money

When students first start editing dialogue scenes in their films, often their first instinct is to simply show the person talking. While Jack Webb makes this work in DRAGNET, film and TV show, it isn’t usually an expressive or involving approach, since it deprives us of a lot of emotional connection which comes from watching the listener rather than the speaker. An editor needs to be like a mind-reader, predicting what the audience wants to see in order to follow the emotional flow of the conversation.

To prove that the person speaking need not be the person visible, I often show students Rita Hayworth’s first appearance in GILDA, which is an exemplary scene in all kinds of ways, not least of which is the way a scene involving a newly-wed husband and wife and a friend is arranged so as to practically exclude the husband altogether. While appearing to assemble his material in a conventional, commonsense manner, director Charles Vidor (and editor Charles Nelson) actually lead the audience to realise very strongly the undercurrent of attraction that hubby is unaware of.

One effect of using this clip as a teaching aid is that poor George MacReady’s exclusion from his own bedroom scene becomes increasingly hilarious once your attention is drawn to it. Before we even get to the boudoir, Vidor uses a camera move to push in on Glenn Ford, who matters here, and exclude MacReady, who apparently doesn’t. Of course, the real purpose for the track-in, or maybe the alibi, is to emphasise Glenn’s emotional reaction to the unexpected presence of a woman. Glenn and George have been very close, you see.

Rita’s first appearance, with the spectacular hair-flip, is striking for other reasons. She gets a big close-up, deliberately boosting her over the two menfolk, who have just been seen in a knee-length medium shot that makes them virtual pygmies in her presence. Her appearance has IMPACT, and it’s a purely cinematic creation: if you were in that room, you’d have seen her long before she enters frame from below like a surfacing shark, and you’d have seen her in the same kind of distant mid-shot as the boys get. The effect is WOW. No wonder Glenn has to grab the door frame for support. And note Rita’s eschewing of femme fatale smolder in favour of a googly-eyed ditziness that’s much more effective for being indirect.

Vidor then intercuts between some intense looks between his two leads which apparently George doesn’t notice at all, because when we get back to the wide shot he’s perfectly happy and unsuspicious. That’s the mood he leaves us with, because he’s not going to be glimpsed again until the end of the scene. Now he leads Glenn forward to be introduced (Glenn walking like a small boy in his way to some frightful corporal punishment), and we cut to —

A splendiferous wide of the boudoir in which we get a full-length Rita x2, an O/S of Glenn, and no sign of George. So irrelevant to this love scene that he doesn’t even cast a reflection in the vast dressing table mirror.

Rita now advances into an O/S midshot, and when we cut to the logical reverse of that, her great head of hair is completely obscuring our view of George. And we find that we don’t mind that at all. Now a long dialogue can play out, most of it between George and Rita, but what the visual scheme is telling us is something very different — this is a scene about Glenn and Rita. The scene is cut exactly as if Glenn were doing the talking — you can amuse yourselves by imagining George’s voice as being telepathic communications from inside Glenn Ford’s head.

Then a big close-up of Rita, simmering away, all sultry and smoking, while Glenn and George converse meaninglessly. You can imagine this bit as being about the voices in Rita’s head. It won’t get you anywhere, but you can totally do it.

Finally Glenn gets a close-up, very slightly smaller than Rita’s (I blame the hair) but basically a match. George is still AWOL, literally phoning his performance in for all we know. He should’ve got a special award for giving a radio performance in a feature film. Vidor continues in a shot-reverse-shot pattern that would seem entirely conventional except that one half of the conversation has been usurped by the silent, moody Mr. Ford. This is a classic example of the conventions of film-making being used in a defiantly unconventional way for expressive reasons.

Vidor cuts back to the MS of Ford and some strange guy we’ve never seen before — oh wait, it’s George MacReady — crashes the shot and swoops in to kiss Rita. But Vidor isn’t through humiliating the oblivious dope: perversely, he uses shot-reverse-shot cutting on Ford and Hayworth to make them interact during the kiss. MacReady may be owner of the lips descending on Hayworth’s expensive face, but it’s Ford she’s thinking about. Further sadomasochistic intrigue oozes in as she calls him “hired help” — Glenn’s reaction shot here — *GULP* — is priceless, as he swallows his pride like a bad oyster. In the words of Bart Simpson, if you use slomo, you can actually see the moment his heart breaks.

Glenn’s shoulder frames the next three-shot, where George again has his back to us. A fresh angle allows him at least a profile, salvaging some of the poor guy’s dignity, but he’s still way off to the side, with Ford obviously the subject of the shot and Rita’s cascade of hair taking up more screen space than either man.

Then Glenn slopes off, George bounding after him (unusual to see this actor so puppylike). Entertain yourselves one more time by abolishing perspective and picturing the back of Rita’s head as being actually bigger than all of George MacReady. Now you have an unforgettable and accurate image of their wedding night.

George leaves, and Rita caps the scene with a brooding, smoky close-up and another swish of her hair, a sort of bookend to the action.

Now, “Shoot the money” was a well-known Hollywood saying, meaning that the stars get the limelight and the character players have to fend for themselves, grabbing moments when they can (which may have helped produce the manic, intense and over-eager style so beloved in successful bit actors like Pangborn or Demarest). But obviously, I hope, there’s more than that going on here — the cutting is telling a story that’s very different from that carried in the words. Of course, many of those words are laden with subtext too, but in a classically Hollywood manner, Vidor reinforces the meaning of the scene through framing and cutting. And it makes great use of the slower cutting pace of the period. Nowadays, when editing is so fast, even in conversations, I can imagine someone saying, “Why not have a quick glimpse of George, just to remind us he’s there?” And of course, the answer is, “As far as these two are concerned, he’s not there.”

Dedicated to the memory of Bert Eeles, my editor on CRY FOR BOBO, who died last week.

21 Responses to “Shoot the Money”

  1. Rita’s entrance in Gilda is the ,i>ne plus ultra STAR(!!!!) moment of all-time. The film’s d.p. — Rudolph Mate — treats Rita just a tad differently than he did Falconetti in Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc.

    You’re right the scene is taking palce inside of Glenn Ford’s head. And its rather crowded as we’re in there too.

  2. Great analysis of that scene. George Macready’s vanishing trick within that scene while he babbles on is also so important to the scene because we can see those steamy glances between Ford and Hayworth but we already know that Macready’s vision, his take on the scene, is going to be where our plot is. So there’s an added note of suspense–sure he sounds idiotically oblivious but we no clues from his face as to what he’s thinking.

    On a side note, whenever I watch that scene, I always do a double take at how Glenn Ford enters the room. At 1:02, Macready is gesturing him in, he’s in the doorway. We cut to Gilda, then at 1:08, Ford takes a giant step forward, grabbing the door frame for support, as you say. Macready has vanished from the frame. Then we cut to Gilda again (“sure I’m decent”) and Ford looks like he’s stepped backwards to his original position with Macready on the right. While you could have a lot of fun trying to imagine what these movements look like outside of Ford’s head, all that lunging in and out and Gilda flipping her hair for no apparent reason, it’s still a nice touch. Sort of the visual equivalent of Ford taking a huge gasp of air and then immediately going back to regular breathing.

  3. It MIGHT be that a shift in angle is responsible for him looking like he’s moved back. Or they might have cheated his position in order to use the doorframe. As you say, it all works psychologically rather than geographically.

  4. In Hollywood psychology IS geography.

  5. Christopher Says:

    THeres so much stuff going on between Hayworth and Ford that it would be hard not to be suspicious..but I guess if your mind has no prior reason to think that way,no amount of smoldering glances and cutting tones can clue you in..It almost sounds like MacReady is taunting Ford.

  6. On my first viewing, I was convinced that Glenn and Rita had prior history that we would eventually find out about — there just seemed to be so much going on underneath what’s said. Now I think it’s just an instant hate/lust on his part because he’s jealous of her relationship with George. But it’s all deeply perverse and strange.

  7. Yes but they DID have a prior history — as the last reel explains, albeit in nearly incomprehensible fashion.

    Gilda is the greatest film Luis Bunuel never made.

    Or as Andre Bazin famously said “If Hollywood might be likened to the court of Versailles then Gilda is its Phaedra.”

  8. This is a wonderful entry, David. A tight, logical analysis, and a model of what close attention to style and narrative can yield. I love it when directors tweak the norms and get such rich results.

  9. Thanks!

    Yet another explanation of the approach occurred to me reading Christopher’s comments — by keeping MacReady’s reactions offscreen, Vidor more or less stops us worrying about how unobservant he must be, not noticing all the chemistry in the room. If we saw his face looking at either Ford or Hayworth, we’d have to wonder how he could remain oblivious. By making him a radio character, we can see how, going by the soundtrack, everything seems above board, and only within the tight space of the leads’ close-ups is anything illicit in progress.

  10. Christopher Says:

    Its like a science film in school where the narrator is calmly chatting away while 2 bugs kill each other on screen.

  11. mndean Says:

    I saw a film in a sex-ed class much like Christopher’s bug film – the narrator blandly quipped “I guess that’s why they call it screwing” while on film the man on top is gyrating and thrusting away.

  12. That line would only work if he were rotating like a centrifuge!

  13. It’s confirmed later on that Johnny and Gilda do have prior history.

    There’s also a big gay thing going on between Ford and Macready, no? You know, the way they meet (on the waterfront IIRC), Macready’s swordstick, the way Macready dresses etc. Underlined for me also by MacReady’s line, “Quite a surprise to hear a woman singing in my house, eh Johnny?” Makes this whole scene even more complicated and delicious.

  14. Yes! Ford and MacReady have a mutual prohibition on mingling with women which Mac has violated bigtime, also.

    What I was expecting re the prior history is that we’d learn WHY Johnny hates Gilda, but we never seem to: we learn that she’s only been pretending to be a bad girl in order to torture him, but we don’t learn why he thought she was a slut in the first place.

  15. The answer is quite simple: paranoia. Put Gilda on a double feature with Bunuel’s EL and all will be made clear.

  16. Yes, but maybe that would have come out more readily WITHOUT the plot point of Ford and Hayworth’s prior history, because then we could see how the paranoia begins. Instead we have to extrapolate backwards to before the movie began. But the delirious confusion of the narrative is part of the film’s pleasure, so I’m not seriously suggesting that as a necessary improvement.

  17. I always liked the tagline for this movie: “There NEVER was a woman like Gilda” which might also be read as, “There never WAS a woman like Gilda.” I always interpreted it as Johnny imagining slutty behaviour where there wasn’t any.

    I quite like that it’s not explained any further; when I first saw the film I was agreeably surprised by the way it seems to take Gilda’s side, while Johnny behaves like a complete psychotic prick.

  18. That’s part of the film’s greatness — it manages to just about hang together as a story while containing all these mysteries. The characters are simultaneously clear & readable and bizarrely inconsistent & underdeveloped.

    I guess in Gilda, Rita’s badness is something the hero projects onto her, while in Lady from Shanghai he’s projecting a romantic fantasy of her as a damsel in distress.

  19. Where are the actresses like Rita today? Most modern women cannot even be compared to the beauty and charm of the women in the 1930-40s cinema.
    Glen Ford was also in a hard-to-find movie, “The Brotherhood of the Bell”. Have you ever heard of it? I thought it was interesting. Would you consider posting it and your thoughts of it on this site?

  20. 1) There never was anyone else like Rita then either: a voluptuous red-headed hispanic dancer turned actress? Plus, performance styles and fashion styles have changed for sure, so that it’s impossible to find a true modern equivalent for anyone back then.

    2) I know of BOTB, a TV movie directed by Paul Wendkos — if I get around to seeing it, I’d certainly write about it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: