Lady on a Train (1945): Deanna Durbin Solves a Mystery!

With a pert and high-spirited personality, strong, operatic singing voice and youthful confidence, Deanna Durbin was one of the most popular teenage stars of the classic movie age. Long forgotten by all but hardcore fans of Hollywood's golden age, Durbin has often been given credit for saving her home studio, Universal, from bankruptcy in the late 30's and early 40's and at one point she was the highest paid female star in Tinsel Town. Having a string of hits in her corner, this winsome warbler turned her back on Hollywood, retiring to France at the ripe old age of 27.

In 1945 Durbin was in transition from perky juvenile to sophisticated, though still vivacious, glamour girl. Lady on a Train showcased both a more adult Deanna, as well as her lilting singing voice, though, like most DD films, it would hardly be classified as a musical. It was however, the rare movie combination of comedy-mystery, with shades of the Bob Hope/Paulette Goddard classic, The Cat and the Canary.  It also has a film noir feel about it. Dark, moody lighting, guns being brandished and danger (as well as laughs) lurking just around the corner.

Nicki Collins is a pretty and ebullient young San Francisco socialite who witnesses a murder via a passenger train while en route to visit her aunt in New York. When she confronts New York's finest about the dirty deed she has observed, they blow her off as a crackpot when they discover she has been reading murder mysteries. The determined damsel sets out to initiate help from the author of one of her pulp fiction primers, Wayne Morgan (David Bruce), and solve the mystery herself.

While watching a newsreel in a local theater, Nicki discovers that the murdered gent was a well-known and wealthy businessman. She heads out to his Long Island estate, only to get entangled with his "grieving" family and be mistaken for a nightclub singer with whom the dearly departed was having an affair. Other mishaps occur including getting between Morgan and his snooty upper crust fiancee, as well as causing a near nervous breakdown for her father's assistant (Edward Everett Horton, famous for his jittery, flustered persona), sent East to watch over the zealous lass.

Lady on a Train is fun. Deanna Durbin is fun in it, although it's not a completely typical example of what a DD movie is (as a bubbly teen the star sang more songs and was usually a matchmaker or problem solver of sorts). She does get to sing three tunes in this film, including a lovely rendition of "Silent Night" (the flick is set during the Christmas season), "Give Me a Little Kiss" and Cole Porter's "Night and Day," in a sultry voice and curvaceous outfit.

Surrounding the film's star are a slew of great supporting actors. As members of the deceased man's family, Ralph Bellamy, Elizabeth Patterson and Dan Duryea (in a good guy role....or is it?) join in the mysterious antics. Patricia Morison, Allen Jenkins and William Frawley (pre-Fred Mertz) round out the stellar supporting cast. It was even nominated for an Academy Award for Best Sound.

The movie is based on a story by Leslie Charteris, who created the crime detective character Simon Templar, aka "The Saint." Another very relevant literary connection to Charteris story and this film is mystery queen Agatha Christie. Her 1957 story "4:50 from Paddington" features a very similar story angle with the main character witnessing a murder while on a train (this story would be filmed as Murder, She Said starring Margaret Rutherford in 1961).

Lady on a Train was produced by Felix Jackson, whom Durbin would marry later the same year. They divorced in 1948, and in 1950, Durbin would marry the film's director, Charles David. It was shortly after this last marriage that the star would retire and live the remainder of her life in France.

Trade Winds (1938): A Tale of Two Blondes

As the title of this article references, Trade Winds, released by United Artist in 1938, owes much of its success to two attractive blondes, Joan Bennett and Ann Sothern. However, Bennett and Sothern arguably owe much more to the film for the career boosting turn it gave each of them respectively. This light mystery-comedy-suspense yarn is fun on more than one level and both of its female stars made the most of what it offered them.

San Francisco, 1938. Kay Kerrigan (Bennett), a beautiful, blonde socialite, confronts and shoots her dead sister's lover when he proves to be a cad supreme, by admitting he practically put her sis in the morgue. Realizing what a pickle she's in, the blonde cutie dyes her hair black, changes her name and takes it on the lam across southeast Asia. Close on her heels is detective Sam Wye (Fredric March), a skirt chasing gumshoe who's out to collect the $100K reward for Kerrigan's capture. Also in tow is Wye's fast talking, wise cracking dame of a secretary Jean (Sothern), who is out to collect a wedding ring from her boss. Along for the crazy ride is police detective Ben Blodgett (Ralph Bellamy), a long legged, dull witted flat foot who likes to flash his badge at the drop of a hat. As Wye pursues and catches up with his beautiful prey incognito, he falls hard for her and she for him, which makes their pickle a double dill..er..um..deal. The globe trotting continues and Wye is faced with a choice, turn his lady love in or face a life on the run with her.

Joan Bennett had been a popular blonde about Hollywood for years when she made Trade Winds. The script called for her to darken her hair in order to skirt the law and change her appearance. The film's producer and Bennett's future husband, Walter Wanger, was taken with the striking resemblance his muse had to new hot property Hedy Lamarr, in her scenes as a brunette. As a result, Joan kept the look, both personally and professionally and began to get better parts. The change was so noticeable that it even elicited a musical response from none other than Cole Porter, who penned this line in his song, "Let's Not Talk About Love": "Let's speak of Lamarr, that Hedy so fair; why does she let Joan Bennett wear all her old hair?" ( In a side note, Bennett divorced husband Gene Markey in 1937, the year before Trade Winds was released and eventually married Wanger. Wanger had produced Lamarr's American film debut Algiers earlier in 1938. Lamarr then married Markey the next year, 1939....oh the Golden Age of Hollywood!) The change made Joan appear more sultry and combined with the exotic locales presented in Trade Winds ~ via back screen projection ~ her days as a sweet blonde ingenue were numbered and the femme fatale Bennett of 40's film noir was soon to emerge.

Ann Sothern had also suffered a rather lackluster career, leaving a none too promising stint at Columbia Pictures and RKO respectively. When independent producer Wanger offered her the second female part in Trade Winds, she showed promise as a comedic gem. Meanwhile, over at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, a script originally intended for blonde bombshell Jean Harlow had been shelved due to Harlow's untimely death in 1937. When Metro producer J. Walter Rubin saw Sothern in Wanger's film, he thought she'd fit the Harlow role well and she was subsequently cast. The film was titled Maisie and it not only made Sothern a star in her own right, but won her a long term contract with prestigious MGM. She graced all ten films in the popular Maisie series, with her showgirl charm and wise-cracking wit.

The film's leading man, Fredric March on the other hand was riding a career high. The previous year March had great successes with the David O. Selznick productions Nothing Sacred and the original A Star is Born, the latter for which the actor received an Oscar nomination. Though better in heavy drama, March handled himself well in the light comedy. Still it must be noted that he seemed more at ease during the dramatic moments of Trade Winds. Rounding out the frantic foursome, Ralph Bellamy had also just come out of 1937 quite successfully with his unforgettable appearance as the wealthy rube in Leo McCarey's The Awful Truth, for which he too was Oscar nominated. The perennial second lead, Bellamy doesn't come off nearly as good in this film as he did in Truth, but gave a worthy performance nonetheless. A quick mention must be made for a quick appearance by the terrific Joyce Compton, blink and you might miss her. Though she doesn't use her comic skills in this film, just knowing what great personality she has bottled up as evidence of her other great film bits, is a pleasure.

No heavy drama here, but it is fun to watch the ultra chic Bennett gadding about the remote islands and isolated areas of pre-war Asia in elegant garb created for her by designer Irene, while speaking in her most polished finishing school way. One would think she just stepped out of a Manhattan salon instead of a native hut. Lucky she was having the smart and savvy Wanger guiding her career and luckier still donning that dark wig.

The Awful Truth: Grant, Dunne and a Dog Named Smith

"The Road to Reno is paved with suspicions" ~ Cary Grant as Jerry Warriner

I saw My Favorite Wife (1940) with Cary Grant and Irene Dunne, years before I saw The Awful Truth, the classic comedy the star duo made together three years earlier. I remember thinking, how could the 1937 movie be better than Wife. When I eventually saw The Awful Truth, I realized, as good as My Favorite Wife was, the stars' original venture was that much better. The witty sophistication that sparkles throughout the film never lets up, but moves seamlessly from scene to scene, gag to gag and isn't afraid to let its guard down on occasion to let slapstick make a cameo appearance.

Cary Grant and Irene Dunne are an ideal screwball team (this blogger prefers Grant's pairing with Miss Dunne to similar screen outings with Katherine Hepburn any day). Grant, at his most dapper, is in top form in The Awful Truth. It was one of the first films he made as an independent, non-studio bound actor and along with Topper (1937) and Bringing Up Baby (1938), pushed him to super stardom. In retrospect, Dunne is an actress who has been underrated and underappreciated by many and completely forgotten by even more. She is an absolute comic treasure in The Awful Truth, her facial expressions and timing are perfection. She had just finished her first big comedy Theodora Goes Wild the previous year and like Grant, was hitting her stride with this film.

The film begins with Jerry Warriner (Grant) at a New York City spa getting a tan underneath a sun lamp (for those of a certain youthful age, these were the precursors to tanning beds) as evidence to his wife, Lucy (Dunne), of his recent solo trip to Florida, which he never actually made. He arrives at his swank abode just minutes before Lucy appears, still dressed in her shimmering evening gown from the night before, accompanied by her handsome and debonair singing teacher (Alexander D'arcy). The situation is wrought with innuendo and doubt, on both sides as Lucy reads the stamp on one of the oranges Jerry brought her back from his Florida "trip" that reads ~ ORANGE GROWERS ASSOCIATION, CALIFORNIA. Words are exchanged and they decide to divorce, though the shenanigans each gets involved with to thwart the others potential post marital plans, proves their love for one another is as strong as ever.

Ralph Bellamy plays the rich rube from Oklahoma with whom Lucy gets involved, only to make Jerry jealous. The nightclub scene where the three of them accidentally meet up is a hoot, with a special nod going to Grant's date, Dixie Belle Lee (Joyce Compton), who performs a tacky and risque singing number at the club with hilarious reactions from Grant, Dunne and Bellamy. Joyce Compton, with her scatter brained persona and sweet-as-sugah-southun accent, is always a delight to watch. Molly Lamont plays Jerry's rebound main squeeze, a madcap heiress (didn't every 30's screwball comedy have to have one?) who's not only not madcap, she hardly ever smiles!

The couple's beloved dog, Mr. Smith (aka Asta of the Thin Man series fame) shares some of the films key comedic moments. The custody of Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith's piano duet with Jerry and Mr. Smith plays hide and seek with a hat are absolute classic bits of classic comedy. One of the funniest laugh out loud scenes involves Jerry bursting into Lucy's singing recital, expecting her to be in a clinch with her music teacher. Instead he's greeted with the stares of a room full of attendees and he begins wreaking havoc with a chair and side table while his wife not only holds her composure to finish her song but gets a little laugh at his antics while still on key.

The film's director, Leo McCarey, who produced My Favorite Wife, won an Academy Award and six other nominations were garnered including Best Picture, Best Actress for Dunne and Best Supporting Actor for Bellamy. Fun from beginning to end.