Archive for Frank Tuttle

Bonita, Meet Belita

Posted in Dance, FILM, Sport with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 25, 2018 by dcairns

  

SUSPENSE (1946). Directed by Frank Tuttle, script by Philip Yordan, who probably hadn’t started fronting yet, so he probably did write it. Here, Bonita Granville, in rare vamp mode, tranmogrifies into ice-skating queen Belita.

Starrng Belita, Captain Mark Markary, Dr. Cyclops, Nancy Drew, Friar Tuck and Toothpick Charlie.

The only ice-skating noir film — apart from MURDER IN THE MUSIC HALL, which also has an intriguing cast (the Honorable Betty Cream, the Spirit of Christmas Past, Trigger).

Eugene Pallette’s last movie before he retreated to his fall-out shelter to await Doomsday. The plot is basically GILDA, without the homoerotic overtones, or any overtones, really.

Well, Albert Dekker does have a cat, which might mean he’s gay. But he also smokes a manly pipe, so he can’t be gay. I’m confused. He and his wife, Belita, have separate beds. But then, everybody in 1946 had separate beds.

“How can I know what you’re talking about if you don’t talk about it?” complains Huge Euge. He speaks for me.

The skating/musical numbers are pretty spectacular — Belita was a ballerina as well as an Olympic skater, so she can really move. Which is more than the rest of the film manages. It takes way too long to set up any source of the titular emotion, and doesn’t give us any reason to care. (But does GILDA? I can’t remember, but I remember it works like gangbusters.) So SUSPENSE succeeds only in moments and sequences — Tuttle may not have drilled his cast into a pacey rendition of the lines, but he stages some interesting angles once the plot finally gets going in the last act.

The drama is HUGELY helped by Daniele Amfitheatrof’s score — remember how much he contributed to LETTER FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN? Even if Ophuls complained that the Hollywood composer was like the man with the cheese in an Italian restaurant, always ready to dart in and spoon some more parmesan on our spaghetti when you’re not looking. “You have to watch him.”

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Cruising

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , on September 20, 2018 by dcairns

Over at The Notebook, we have another Frank Tuttle obscurity illumined, or perhaps further obscured, by my prose analysis. PLEASURE CRUISE is a racy and unusual pre-code starring the ineffable Roland Young (not pictured). It will change your life!

Featuring Della Street, Cosmo Topper, Sir Hugo Baskerville, Minnie, Much the miller’s son, Mimi Jorgensen, Hives the butler and Professor Summerlee.

 

The McCarthy Era

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , on September 18, 2018 by dcairns

Frank Tuttle directed 1939’s CHARLIE MCCARTHY, DETECTIVE. I don’t know what they had on him to make him do it, but it must have been damning.

Charlie McCarthy plays himself in the title role. I’m not sure how he ever became a star. Plenty of movie stars are short, of course, and plenty are not classically handsome. Plenty more, these days, have rigid, immobile features, thanks to Botox. But McCarthy is tiny, knee-high to his co-star Edgar Bergen, and apart from his flapping jaw his face doesn’t seem to move at all. Added to these disabilities, either of which might be expected to disqualify him from motion picture prominence, he seems to be totally disabled from the neck down. His co-star literally carries him through every scene. I suppose it’s commendable that Universal were willing to overlook the actor’s physical problems, but he also has a really obnoxious personality, so I’m not sure why they thought it was worth it.

McCarthy, left, with his supporting actor.

Bergen isn’t so great either. When McCarthy speaks, Bergen seems to move his lips slightly in rhythm with his lines, as if he’s learned the whole script and is waiting for his own lines to commence. (You can see Emma Watson do this in the last scene of HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE, but at least she has the excuse of being a little kid.)

Bergen and McCarthy never made any films on their own. They were truly an inseparable team. I don’t know anything about their offscreen relationship, but there’s something I noticed in this movie… I hardly like to point it out. I feel like it’s bound to upset someone. But, in several of the wide shots of the two actors, it’s painfully obvious that as Bergen carries his diminutive partner about, his hand is vanishing up the seat of McCarthy’s trousers. It’s really impossible to miss. I can’t imagine how they got this past the censor, or why they did it in the first place. I mean, in private, sure, we’ve all done it. But on a movie set? When it’s NOT essential to the plot? I mean, none of the other characters in the scene respond to this startling behaviour in any way, just as they politely overlook McCarthy’s inhuman tininess and terrifying, corpse-like, unmoving features.

Charlie auditions for the role of Mr. Scratch, which he failed to play two years later.

I think perhaps Tuttle intended the film as a Bunuelian satire on the mores of the wealthy. The upper-class characters among whom McCarthy operates, in their swank night clubs and country manor, are shown as so absurdly polite and civilised that they react not in the slightest to the grotesque sight of this shrunken paralysed homunculus, face fixed in a hideous rictus, being carried aloft with another man’s fist crammed into his tiny anal compartment. They smile and nod and show their impeccable manners and their utter separation from reality. Viewed this way, CHARLIE MCCARTHY, DETECTIVE is a powerful condemnation indeed.

Also starring the Butcher of Strasbourg and the Walking Fontanelle.