Archive for Carole Lombard

Rondo Hatton Investigates

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , on July 23, 2013 by dcairns

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I was excited to read a description of Rondo Hatton, disfigured horror movie star of the 40s, as a “former reporter.” In fact, he’s usually described as a sports writer (he was a high school football star before the acromegaly kicked in) but the idea of investigative journalism resonated.

I’d like to put Hatton in a crime/espionage drama. Make it the early forties — the unhealthy B-movie star tracks a clue leading him to a gang of fifth columnists — maybe the guys who, according to Orson Welles, shot Carole Lombard out of the skies. This is the trouble with most of my movie ideas — I live in a mental space where a movie about a disfigured B-movie star snapping Nazis’ spines sounds like a Major Motion Picture that could actually happen (maybe with Ron Perlman?). At any rate, while in poor taste, it might partially make up for THE ROCKETEER, in which an actor made-up to look like Rondo played a fifth columnist.

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Sisters

Posted in FILM, literature with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 28, 2013 by dcairns

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Pretty experimental for 1940, no?

The conventional wisdom (read: baloney) on George Stevens is that WWII changed him from a fleet-footed comedy director to a leaden dramatist — one shakes one’s head sadly, understandingly — he did, after all, witness the liberation of the camps, after which  the prospect of romantic comedy surely seemed unappealing — and perhaps one thinks of the hero of SULLIVAN’S TRAVELS and the dangers of the message movie.

In fact, VIGIL IN THE NIGHT, released in 1940, shows how Stevens was already itching to get to grips with more sombre subjects: after all, the movie, a medical drama, kills a cute kid in the very first sequence. He perhaps didn’t have the chops for it yet, but that would come. Like Leo McCarey, Stevens went from frivolous nothings to incredibly elegant and accomplished comedies, but unlike McCarey his move into more serious films opened up fresh stylistic possibilities. Whatever you think of the lap dissolves of A PLACE IN THE SUN or the tableau style of THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD, these devices stretch the conventional language of Hollywood storytelling.

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There’s some of that on display in VIGIL, where the desire to simulate the dark environment of Northern England (the story is from a novel by A.J. Cronin, author of The Crucible The Citadel) involves Stevens in some weird stylisation with his lavish but grimy sets. This is obvious from the start, when he pans from a SFX lighthouse across a miniature landscape, onto a full-scale set of the hospital Isolation Ward, where nurse Carole Lombard is ministering to a sick child. Stevens then cuts inside, and a short while later has Lombard look out the window. Instead of seeing the sea, which is what we’ve just been shown lies beyond the glass, she sees a busy street. Maybe she’s gone to a different window, but check this: panning along the far building, in a continuation of Lombard’s POV shot, we then discover that it’s the Isolation Ward — the very building Lombard is in! Time and space seem to have formed a Moebius strip to allow Lombard to look at herself.

The plotting carries out similarly weird contortions. At one point, Lombard is riding a bus with other hospital staff, and one nosy parker is on the point of revealing the dark secret from her past — suddenly, CRASH! The bus, magically reduced to miniature size, hurtles off the road and smashes itself to pieces in a cataclysm of quick cuts. Lombard receives a few cuts to the face, which we are presumably meant to see as the source of her sexy little scars, but that other nurse sure shut her mouth. It seems like Lombard has the fabled Medusa Touch. When, later, she tells Dr Brian Aherne that he’s going to get the modern hospital he’s been fighting for, because she saw it in a dream, we believe her. If, in fact, Carole Lombard can make things happen with the power of her mind, and is controlling the whole plot of the film, things make a certain sense. Of course, her shallow sister (Anne Shirley), for whom she took the rap for that child’s death, and who repaid her by stealing her fiance (Peter Cushing, sporting one of the few Northern accents), has to die. The only surprise is that Carole doesn’t have her explode like John Cassavetes at the end of THE FURY.

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Another example of the film’s odd relationship with realism. The matron (Ethel Griffies, brilliant as the bird lady in THE BIRDS) bans cosmetics on her nurses, but of course all the women look immaculate all the time. But in her sick-bed, Shirley has a convincingly natural look, with the kind of skin tones only previously seen on children. Death, the great leveler and the great skin cleanser.

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Was Cushing destined for Hollywood stardom? He apparently couldn’t wait to get home, though anemia prevented him joining up for WWII. His movie roles in America were all small, though VIGIL sees him, briefly, playing Lombard’s romantic interest, and he does very well in a scene of drunken despair, filmed by Stevens mainly in bleak wide shots. It’s a very good performance all round, but perhaps evidence more of what Cushing lacked as a lead — though quite the lover-boy offscreen, he doesn’t really create any kind of spark with his leading lady, and if Lombard doesn’t make you hot under the collar there may be no hope. Back in Britain, this quality of a sexuality which doesn’t show up on film proved no barrier at Hammer, where the sex was all sublimated into vampirism anyway, and Cushing would embody the man who showed up to punish it with a wooden stake to the cleavage. It’s doubtful if such opportunities would have come along in the US.

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Lithographs

Posted in FILM, Theatre with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 8, 2011 by dcairns

Fun revisiting TWENTIETH CENTURY, even though in certain respects the film is never quite as good as I want it to be. But even its weaknesses are interesting and revealing and sometimes enjoyable.

I’ve never seen the play but I’m guessing that Howard Hawks his screenwriters (Hecht & McArthur + Gene Fowler: Preston Sturges was fired after four days, but seems to have retained the idea of Edgar Kennedy as a private eye for UNFAITHFULLY YOURS) have both gutted and exploded it. The parts on the train are the play, truncated. So there’s an extensive series of preceding scenes, “opening out” the action and roughing in the prehistory of the characters before the central situ (broke theatre impresario woos the star he created on train bound for NYC). This effectively destroys the play’s taut structure, but Hawks never cared a lick for plot, and the additions are so entertaining it just about gets away with it.

The rewrite has the effect of turning the story into HIS GIRL FRIDAY avant la lettre, with the crazy boss trying to win back his star pupil — the comedy in both cases both depends upon and is endangered by the fact that Oscar Jaffe/Walter Burns (or John Barrymore/Cary Grant) is a deplorable megalomaniac and one should in no way root for his success. The anti-hero’s awfulness provides the laughs and undercuts the drama, but mustn’t be allowed to keep us from investing a little bit of interest — but it’s curiosity about what devilry he’ll attempt next, rather than any sense of “rooting for him.”

Barrymore, in the early scenes, gets to spoof himself pretty thoroughly, with Hawks throwing in a lot of the in-jokes he was intermittently addicted to: references to Svengali and whatnot. Most of Barrymore’s famous roles get lampooned, and the actor heroically throws in a lifetime’s worth of baroque stage business, pushing the dramaturgy just far enough to highlight its artifice and make it absurd. It’s a parody of hamminess that’s often very nuanced and always exquisitely controlled.

As his rival, Lombard is great in the early scenes where she has our sympathy, and perhaps a little too shrill once we get to the play and she has to transform into a diva. Some of the screaming and wailing gets a bit much, and her lightning shifts of phony emotion don’t have as clear a throughline as Barrymore’s. But her footwork is terrific here —

If the relationship prefigures HIS GIRL FRIDAY for Hawks, it rehearses TO BE OR NOT TO BE for Lombard, where she gets to play a drama queen who’s NOT a hysteric. Indeed, it’s hard to believe Lubitsch wasn’t in some way influenced by Hawks here — John Barrymore would have made a lot more obvious sense as a Shakespearean ham than Jack Benny, even if the initials are the same. Of course Lubitsch’s instincts were perfect: Barrymore is perfect casting as a director so he can mock actors, and Benny is superb because casting him as Poland’s leading tragedian is inherently funny.

If Barrymore and Lombard are not quite perfectly matched for ability at farce, her amazing beauty gives her an edge, and then there’s everybody else: Roscoe Karns, Walter Connolly (his dyspepsia in scene one turning to acute angina by film’s end) and Charles Lane, back when he was Charles Levison, playing a character who’s changed from Max Mandelbaum to Max Jacobson “for some mysterious reason.” Barrymore’s character harps on the guy’s Jewish origins in a way no comedy character would be allowed to today, and it’s a little shocking but of course entirely in keeping for the monster that is Oscar Jaffe.

If all the front-loading of back-story in the form of prologue does any harm at all, apart from enforcing a certain shapelessness that’s  much to Hawks’ liking, it’s that it creates the necessity for a coda, just to frame the lengthy train sequence. And so we get a not-very-inspired “This is where we came in” type rehash of the opening rehearsal, which is brief, but not quite speedy or funny enough to get itself out of trouble. A movie which crams gigantic amounts of character development into it’s first half and then suggests its characters are fixed, unchanging and unreal “lithographs,” for the remaining running time, does leave a slight dissatisfaction, even though it’s all so brilliantly done and funny. Fortunately, we don’t require perfection.

Check out the Lombard blogathon here.