The Man I Married (1940) Joan Bennett Says 'Nazi Go Home'

1940 saw an increasing tide of anti-Nazi sentiment in Hollywood and though the United States wasn't officially involved in the European war, studios were walking a fine line between creating films denouncing German leader Adolf Hitler and trying to keep a neutral stance. Producer and head of 20th Century-Fox Darryl F. Zanuck took the plunge in the anti-Nazi arena with an underrated melodrama called The Man I Married. On the face of it, the movie seemed to be a tabloid feature with an alternative/ working title of I Married a Nazi, with matching melodramatic poster art promising a flick wrought with sensationalism. But to dig a little deeper, filmgoers found a movie presenting an apt description of Germany at the time just before World War II.

Joan Bennett plays Carol Hoffman, a chic New York art critic who is married to German born Eric (Francis Lederer). The couple, along with their small son Ricky, travel back to Eric's homeland in 1938 to attend to family business. Germany is going through major changes with the Fuhrer at the helm and Eric quickly falls under the spell of the Third Reich, with help from an attractive uber Nazi female (Anna Sten). The fanatacism of the Nazi movement in the late 30's is deftly illustrated. Propaganda, huge political rallies and martial law are all on board, including a disturbing scene where Czech citizens living in Berlin are forced to pick up garbage in the street while armed soldiers watch and mock them.

The Man I Married was Bennett's first film for 20th Century-Fox under her new non-exclusive contract with the studio. The actress had ended her professional involvement with producer Walter Wanger while extending her personal one (the couple married in early 1940 after a long term affair). She was just embarking on the second, more interesting season of her career, as a brunette. After years as a blonde, immersed in ingenue roles, she changed her hair color to a sultry dark shade and saw a vast improvement in her choice of film parts.

Critics ran the gamut on Joan's performance in The Man I Married. A Variety review claimed: "Bennett is excellent as the educated American wife who sees through the schemes of Nazism," while New York Times reviewer Bosley Crowther wrote that Joan "might have brought more vitality and internal conflict to her role; as it is, she does little more than model dresses and express incredulity." He definitely was correct about modeling dresses as Travis Banton, the coutour master at Paramount during the early and mid-Thirties, outfitted Miss Bennett in the top 1940 vogue. It is also true that the actress' dramatic range was limited but her presence was surefire.

Fox contract player Lloyd Nolan plays an amicable war correspondent named Kenneth Delane, who opens Carol's eyes to the dangers and horrors of the Nazi regime. Austrian born Francis Lederer does a good job taking Eric Hoffman from affable, charming German-American to enraptured Nazi zombie. George Sanders was originally cast for the part but was still tied up on the set of Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent and was unable to commit. One wonders what the suave yet snide Sanders could have made of this role. Otto Kruger, Maria Ouspenskaya and moppet Johnny Russell round out the cast.

A slick, glossy movie, The Man I Married is, nonetheless, worthy of its period in film timeline. The actors give fine performances and the script is fun (perturbed Bennett to newly ordained Nazi husband: "Heil heel!"). By the way, watch for that ending which I'll bet you don't see coming for a mile away. Danke Schoen.

No Man of Her Own (1932): Gable & Lombard, Love [NOT] at First Sight

The love story of screen stars Clark Gable and Carole Lombard is legendary. A physically beautiful couple, who fell in love and married at the peak of their careers, reigned as one of Hollywood's highest profile couples and eventually met with tragedy upon Lombard's death in a 1942 plane crash at the age of 33. No Man of Her Own, filmed and released in late 1932, is famous as the only film in which the appealing duo starred together. Yet the irony is that they weren't a couple at the time, nor did they want to be.

Getting the film onto the screen was a story in itself. The original script was based on a bestselling 1932 pulp novel, written by none other than RKO horror producer Val Lewton, when he was a struggling commercial hack. It was called No Bed of Her Own and bought by Paramount Pictures as a potential vehicle for studio newbie George Raft and its reigning diva Miriam Hopkins. With loose living and prostitution as some of the general themes in No Bed of Her Own, an adaption to film was problematic, even in pre-Code years, and Paramount decided to keep the title but go with a completely different story written by Edmund Goulding and Benjamin Glazer. By the time the proverbial dust settled the title was also found unpassable to the Will Hays office and it too was changed, albeit only slightly, to No Man of Her Own.

Who would have thought that fate would have chosen Marion Davies, film star wannabe and mistress of multi-gazillionaire William Randolph Hearst, to bring about the only screen pairing of Gable and Lombard (sources say they were extras in at least one picture during the 1920's). Davies was making a picture for MGM eventually called Going Hollywood and wanted the number one box office crooner at the time, Bing Crosby, as her co-star. Hearst persuaded studio boss Louis B. Mayer to make a trade with Paramount, where Crosby was under contract. For this illustrious switcheroo Mayer had to offer up big ticket star power and after 1932's Red Dust with Jean Harlow and Strange Interlude with Norma Shearer, Clark Gable was MGM's male star on the rise.

Meanwhile, back over at Paramount, Miriam Hopkins would have no part of the film if Gable received top billing (which was part of the deal) and Carole Lombard, a member of the studio's stable of up and coming stars was cast instead. Although he had been quite chummy with Crawford and Harlow back home at MGM, Gable was relatively indifferent to Lombard during filming and she reciprocated the feeling. She was still very much married to big man on campus William Powell and Gable to wealthy/older/less attractive Rhea Langham (not that that fact had hindered earlier indiscretions).  When the film wrapped, Clark gave his blond co-star a pair of ballerina slippers with a note reading, "To a true primadonna." Carole, not to be outdone, presented him with a packaged ham with his photograph plastered on the front. It was all in good fun and caught on camera for everyone to see.

In this serio-comic pre-Code Gable plays Jerry "Babe" Stewart, a hot shot gambling cheat who can turn a card as well as a lady's head. When the law gets too close to his shenanigans, he lays low in podunk where he meets the local librarian, Connie Randall (Lombard). Connie has the small town blues and an itchin' to see what's out there. They get married on the flip of a coin and Connie goes back to the big city with her groom, unaware of his shady dealings (pardon the pun) and instead believing he works on Wall Street. Trouble steps in when the blonde bride discovers Babe's secret and tampers with his deck of cards. You know the old saying, lucky at cards unlucky in love. Well count it here in spades (pardon again).

Filmed in late 1932, more than a year before the Will Hays office would enforce tougher censorship restrictions, No Man of Her Own offered several opportunities for the risque in its dialogue. When his recent paramour clings to him like a vine on a tree, Gable's Babe responds, "Listen kid, that thing you've got on is pretty thin but I've got tough skin, see, and I don't feel it." Whew!

After filming was complete Gable went back to MGM and Lombard stayed on at Paramount for a while, her reputation as a gorgeous comedienne skyrocketing with each passing year. It wouldn't be until the mid to late 1930's until they began the affair that would eventually lead them to marriage and super couple status in Tinsel Town. As Clark Gable once said, "It is an extra dividend when you like the girl you've fallen in love with." No Man Of Her Own here.

The Sea Wolf (1941): An Unsung Warner Brothers Classic

"Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven" ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

Edward G. Robinson is best known to filmgoers as a movie heavy. In fact, the gangland saga Little Caesar (1930) is the film that made him a star and subsequent gangster roles, both sinister and comedic, made him a superstar. In 1941 he took all that experience playing hoodlums and tough guys and wrapped it together in the character of Wolf Larsen in Warner Brothers' The Sea Wolf.

Larsen is a complex figure, both in the film and the 1904 book by American novelist Jack London on which the screenplay is based. Robinson pulls out all the stops to show the character's depth of savagery. He is primitive in his brutishness, while his intellect is of a high caliber, a dangerous combination. His cruelty knows no bounds and is only exacerbated by his intelligence. He is the tyrannical captain of the "Ghost", an aptly named schooner off the San Francisco coast at the turn of the 20th century with a crew comprised of scurvy misfits and cut-throat criminals. Among this motley assortment are Humphrey van Weyden (Alexander Knox) and Ruth Webster (Ida Lupino), survivors of a wrecked passenger ship who are picked up by the Ghost. Van Weyden is a soft spoken author of fiction, Webster an escaped convict with a major chip on her shoulder. On board they join George Leach (John Garfield), a rebellious lad who is one of many criminals on the lam who has found refuge as it were on the sloop, Louis Prescott (Gene Lockhart) the drunken and pathetic ship's physician and Cooky (Barry Fitzgerald) the vessel's galley mate, a nefarious imp with an obnoxiously wicked laugh.

The sadistic skipper takes no prisoners when dispensing his brand of brutality and perverse sarcasm. When Lupino's Ruth is dragged on board, she is near death and requires a blood transfusion. Larsen bullies Dr. Louis into performing the procedure, the hung-over surgeon's hands in a constant state of the shakes. When the operation is successful (with Garfield's blood), the recovered Ruth (lone female aboard the ship) finally makes an appearance on deck, unaware that she has betrayed her past in a moment of delirium. Nervously, she makes her way through the filthy, lecherous crew toward captain. At first he is polite and treats her with dignity, waiting until she is baited into a semi-sense of security and comfort before lowering the boom and bellowing out her secret to the gaffows of all on board.

An early 20th century illustration of the character Wolf Larsen

But she is handled with kid gloves in comparison to the treatment the ship's doctor is given. Louis Prescott is a raging alcoholic and can no longer practice on shore, hence his presence on the Ghost. He drowns his sorrows and regrets in mug after mug of hooch. When he successful saves Ruth, he is filled with pride and a renewed sense of confidence, cleaning himself up and demanding to be called Dr. Prescott, instead of being addressed with no respect whatsoever. He takes his complaint to Larsen, who assures him that he and the entire crew will give him what he deserves. Wolf takes him out to the group of ragamuffin sailors where, instead of heaping upon him the honor the physician longs for, he mocks him and kicks him down a set of steps, yet again to the uproarious laughter of the company. Refusing to live in a constant state of ridicule and desperation, Prescott climbs to the top of the mile high mast and jumps to his death, but not before exposing Larsen's secret to all below.

Much of the focus in The Sea Wolf, however, centers around the relationship between the seafarer and the intellectual Van Weyden. In the weak bodied Van Weyden, Larsen found both a physical punching bag, as well as a mental sparring partner. Forcing him into servitude as a cabin boy, Wolf takes control (the thing he thrives on) of yet another being in his self styled universe. Taking as his motto, Milton's quote from Paradise Lost, "Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav'n", Larsen has created and extended to those around him his own hellish domain. Of all the characters, these two extreme opposites are alone together at the end of the film.

Warners had purchased the film rights to the novel in the late 30's, as a possible project for its top serious actor Paul Muni. When initial plans didn't pan out it stayed on the back burner until 1940 when Edward G. Robinson was cast as the blackhearted captain and the studio's top adventure director Michael Curtiz was slated to direct. Casting for George Leach wasn't as simple. Warners offered the role to another of it's top gangsters, George Raft, but Raft thought it too small a role, saying in a letter to producer Hal Wallis: "My dear Mr. Wallis, just read Sea Wolf [script]. You told me in your office [that the role of Leach] would be a fifty-fifty part. I'm sorry to say that it is just the opposite." This from the man who also refused the lead roles in High Sierra and The Maltese Falcon, propelling Humphrey Bogart to stardom. Others considered for the secondary but meaty role of Leach were Bogart and Arthur Kennedy until a studio up and comer, John Garfield was chosen.

The cast was superb, as was the production staff behind the camera. Sol Polito's atmospheric cinematography and Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s haunting score were a perfect complement to Curtiz' brisk pacing. In a year filled with top quality entertainment, Oscar time was tight, but The Sea Wolf did garner one nomination for Best Effects, Special Effects. The film is arguably a masterpiece at just under 90 minutes. Newly installed fog machines, first used the previously year for Errol Flynn's latest swashbuckler, The Sea Hawk, added even more gloomy, stifling ambience. Tying all these elements together was Robert Rossen's literate and forceful script.

As the subtitle of this post states, The Sea Wolf is an unsung classic. Many have never seen it and others only heard of it, which is unfortunate, because for those who love older films, especially those with a distinctive Warner Brothers stamp, this film is a great example of all that is good about classic Hollywood. It doesn't have the glamour of the Flynn spectacles but that sparkle wouldn't feel at home on this schooner anyway.

Uncle Silas (1947): Gothic Thriller, British Style

Filmmaking in England during the 1940's, in many cases, was an adventure in visual design. Whether strong crayon coated Technicolor or chiroscuro laden black and white, the photography was exquisite and historical dramas were draped with period costumes and interiors that displayed the most intricate detail. Uncle Silas (1947), known in the United States as The Inheritance, is a perfect example of how these creative elements came together, along with atmospheric music and distinctive acting to fashion a stylized installment of 40's British cinema. It is an English Gothic thriller in the most traditional "Gothic" sense, with a dark, mysterious castle, hidden passages, and danger lurking around every musty, candle lit corner for its young and unsuspecting herione.

The film's star, Jean Simmons, was in the bloom of youthful beauty in 1947. She had played young Estella in David Lean's Great Expectations the previous year, appeared in Powell and Pressburger's Black Narcissus the same year as this picture and would star as Ophelia in Olivier's Hamlet the following year, quite a resume for an 18 year old young lady. In Uncle Silas Simmons plays Caroline Ruthyn, a teenaged heiress who goes to live with her mysterious uncle upon her beloved father's death. Silas (Derrick De Marney) is a creepy degenerate, shady past and all, who is after his niece's sizable fortune, unbeknownst to her. The damsel only sees a loving and exciting uncle until the veneer starts to crumble and her existence becomes one of a prisoner, her jailor the weird and rambuncteous Madame de la Rougierre (Katina Paxinou). Throw in Silas' amoral son and you have our fair maiden facing danger at every turn, with only Lord Richard Ilbury (Derek Bond) and a boy hero to come to her aid.

Uncle Silas is based on a novel of the same name by writer J. Sheridan Le Fanu, an Irish author of eerie ghost stories. Directed by Charles Frank, who also directed the Simmons Victorian suspenser So Long at the Fair (1950), it features the moody cinematography of Robert Krasker (an Oscar winner in 1949 for The Third Man), whose lighting and camera shots produce pieces of Gothic art. Sharing the front of the camera with Simmons were scenery chewers Derrick De Marney and Katina Paxinou. A madwoman on speed, Paxinou is a Greek fireball letting it all hang out, literally eating every scene she is in with over the top face mugging and gesturing. These two make a ham dinner look like an after school snack. Seriously, De Marney's performance is more irritating than menacing. His character is supposed to reek of evil, but instead comes off silly and annoying. The pair are cut some slack merely because the story itself is a melodrama of the old order, so that their pantomime performances seem to fit right in with all the shenanigans.

There are times when the movie's pacing is a bit slow, others where the suspense is high. With high marks on the visual and creative elements, mediocre ratings for De Marney and Paxinou's cartoon caricatures and fair to low scores for overall pacing, the film is still very watchable. As previously stated, it is a great example of the British playbill in the mid to late 40's and early 50's.

Hold Back the Dawn (1941): Boyer, De Havilland and the Cockroach You Never Saw

Like so many classic films, Hold Back the Dawn is one of those that played on late night television back in the day but has an obscure status among younger fans of golden age movies.  Not as well known as higher profile pictures of its era, it is a solid classic nonetheless and deserves its rightful place as a bonefide gem.  Produced by Paramount in 1941, it is a unique and intriguing film with a backstory which is just as interesting, if not more so.

As the picture begins, Georges Iscovescu (Charles Boyer) is making his way across the lot of Paramount Pictures, obvious by his gait and expression, a man on a mission.  He is searching for, and eventually finds, director Mitchell Leisen, to whom he wants to sell his story, hoping for some fast money.  As his tale unfolds we discover the reason for his need of a quick buck.

Iscovescu is a Rumanian ballroom dancer cum gigolo, who finds himself in Tijuana, Mexico, trying, like so many others in the town, to get into the U.S.  He bumps into his ex-dancing partner, sexy vixen Anita Dixon (played by sexy vixen Paulette Goddard).  She explains that, as a girl of mixed international heritage (she is half Australian, half French), she got her American citizenship via quick marriage (and subsequent quick divorce) to an unsuspecting native.  Her tale gets Iscovescu's sordid wheels turning and he roams the streets of the Mexican border town in search of marital prey from the USA.  Enter Emmy Brown (Olivia de Havilland), a young, spinster-ish American schoolteacher.  The suave heel uses all his European charms, along with his thickest accent, to woo the wide eyed innocent into a whirlwind wedding.  What he doesn't realize is that U.S. immigration agent (Walter Abel) is in town, sniffing out fraud and his radar is on Georges in full force.

Hold Back the Dawn was directed by Leisen, a former set and art director, whose peak years at Paramount these were.  Like George Cukor, his directing style favored the leading ladies in his films and his design background added an elegant visual element to his pictures.  With Dawn, the setting is a dusty, hot border town in Mexico, not exactly the Ritz.  Yet Leisen conveyed a certain sophistication in both character development and camera work, which was matched by the writing of master team Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett.  There was, however, no love lost between Leisen and Wilder.  Their feuds over script changes are well documented and, like Preston Sturges before him, were the impetus for Wilder becoming a director in his own right.  One of the more explosive incidents during filming involved a scene where Boyer had to talk to a cockroach in his depressing, isolated hotel room.  The scene was a commentary on Iscovescu's immigration status, with the bitter emigre asking to see the roach's "papers."  Boyer thought the scene was degrading and refused to play it.  Leisen sided with the star, infuriating Wilder.  With the scene cut, Wilder and Brackett exacted their revenge on Boyer by rewriting the remaining scenes of the movie in favor of his leading lady de Havilland.  With the attention devoted to the actress by Leisen, the last portion of the script tipped in her direction and her own talent allowed to blossom in a quality production, de Havilland ended up with her first Best Actress Oscar nomination (she had been nominated in the Best Supporting Actress category for her role of Melanie in Gone with the Wind).

Olivia de Havilland's casting in the film was an ironic aspect to the production.  Screenwriter Charles Brackett had the actress in mind when penning the script, though her home studio, Warner Brothers, rarely loaned its stars and never without a hefty price tag.  The studio, however, was interested in Paramount star Fred MacMurray for a film called Dive Bomber that it was planning.  When negotiations began for MacMurray's services, Warners offered a list of its contractees as a trade off.  Olivia's name was on the list.  Paramount half heartedly accepted the actress in a swap with MacMurray, getting exactly what they wanted at no extra expense.  De Havilland's ironic inclusion in Hold Back the Dawn didn't end there.  Her Oscar nominated status was shared that year by her equally famous sister, Joan Fontaine.  Fontaine was nominated for Suspicion, a romantic suspense thriller directed by Alfred Hitchcock.  Their sibling rivalry in Tinsel Town was exacerbated by this competition and the personal rift was only widened when Fontaine was proclaimed the winner on Oscar night (pictured above).

The film is a reflection on the community of American citizen wannabes in Tijuana during the 1930's and 1940's as much as it is on the plight of the main characters.  Rosemary de Camp gives a poignant portrayal as a pregnant European who, along with her husband, is awaiting her final entry papers, desperate that her baby be born on United States soil.  It is also interesting to see the interaction of American citizens making day trips across the border.  These lighthearted visits by tourists are a proverbial slap in the face to those pining to cross the ever taunting border.  Not to pass over the always lovely Paulette Goddard, her Anita is a fiery contrast to the more wholesome charms of de Havilland's Emmy.  In fact, there is a certain irony that Emmy comes across so hum-drum at first, as Olivia de Havilland is so physically appealing, a fact not lost on Anita during their face to face meeting.

Hold Back the Dawn was also nominated by the Academy as Best Picture, a deserved recognition.   An absolute perfect cast, good direction and writing, make it a film which should be viewed and remembered in the annals of classic movie history.  Catch it if you can.

*Note:  The film being shot by Mitchell Leisen at the beginning of Hold Back the Dawn is I Wanted Wings starring Veronica Lake, and actually Paramount release in 1941.

Paid (1930): Joan Goes to Jail

One of the first names that comes to mind when thinking of classic Hollywood is Joan Crawford.  Her amazing career spanned six decades and the longer she made films, the more iconic she became.  As an icon, she sometimes morphed into a caricature of her own screen image.  The eyes bulging under uber heavy, arched brows and lips painted deep crimson, twisted into a melodramatic snarl.  But long before she was Mildred Pierce, Harriet Craig or even Crystal Allen, displaying her learned screen affectations and perfect diction, she was a burgeoning MGM starlet, a movie queen in training.  Her pre-code shop girl was a box office bonanza.  In 1930, after years of being everyone's favorite flapper, Joan made the film Paid, her first real dramatic attempt and it was both a personal and professional success, ranking her in the top tier at Metro.

In Paid, Crawford plays Mary Turner, a young shop clerk who is falsely accused of theft by her department store boss.  As she is literally dragged off to prison, she dramatically declares vengeance against her heartless oppressor.  While in the pokey, she studies law books and meets up with a tough talkin' toots named Agnes Lynch (Marie Prevost).  Upon her release she joins up with "Aggie", who introduces her to Joe Garson (Robert Armstrong), a longtime crook with a smart mouth.  With these two seedy characters, Mary uses what she learned in jail and plans a scam called the "heart balm" racket, where unsuspecting older men are sued for breach of promise, a legal form of blackmail.  The bitter lass carries her revenge even further and closer to home by marrying the son of her former boss, who was responsible for her imprisonment.

Directed by Sam Wood, who had joined MGM just a few years earlier, the movie was based on the play Within the Law by Bayard Veiller.  It was originally slated to star Norma Shearer, the queen of the Metro lot, but when she became pregnant, the role was open.  Crawford pleaded with her bosses to give her the part and Irving Thalberg (Shearer's husband and second in command at the studio) gave her the chance she needed to put her "Dancing Daughter" days behind her.

Paid was a hit and to show his gratitude, head honcho Louis B. Mayer gave Joan a financial boost.  She received a $10,000 bonus with a note that read:  "In appreciation of the co-operation and excellent services rendered by you, we take great pleasure in handing you your check made payable to your order in the amount of $10,000...this does not affect the terms of your contract dated November 2, 1928."  Not bad for a shopgirl.

The film also marked the debut of Douglass Montgomery, billed here as Kent Douglass, who played Bob, the innocent who Mary Turner weds to get her ultimate revenge.  It's fun to watch Crawford here, honing her craft and giving a good performance before she would ultimately become JOAN CRAWFORD.  She and co-star Marie Prevost would become friends during the filming of Paid and remain so until Prevost's untimely death in 1937 of acute alcoholism.  Among a collection of empty liquor bottles detectives found a promisory note of $110 to Crawford and it was reported that it was Joan who paid for the funeral.

These Three (1936): It's a Lie! (or Is It?)

In many cases films of 1930's American cinema are very stylized, by that I mean they fall very squarely into a specific genre. Astaire/Rogers musicals follow a formula of boy meets girl meets dancing (charming boy, lovely girl, amazing dancing mind you). Shirley Temple movies were just that, perky Temple plunked down in the middle of a sweet and sentimental situation. Gangster thrillers were tough guys with tough talk and a lot of bullots in between. Much of the acting was over the top (wonderfully so in most cases) and many of the characters even more animated.

The collaboration of producer Samuel Goldwyn with director William Wyler created films during this period that, unlike the mainstream themed picture, were independent in spirit, exceptional in technical expertise. The first of the Goldwyn/Wyler successes was a very sophisticated adult drama called These Three (1936). Both powerful and compelling, the film was based on Lillian Hellman's debut play, The Children's Hour, a gripping look at the consequences surrounding a child's lie that her two schoolmistresses are lesbian lovers. Goldwyn bought the film rights to the play aware that the Hays board of Hollywood censors would never allow him to use either its title or its sapphic storyline. However, he hedged his bets by also hiring Hellman to write the screenplay. The lesbian angle was changed from sexual relations between the two female teachers to a heterosexual love triangle with one teacher allegedly committing an indescretion with the other's intended, a local doctor.

Hellman's play was partially based on a court case in 19th century Scotland and on Broadway it ran for 691 performances. It was a real heavy hitter and even with a somewhat "sanitized" version set for movie audiences, it packed a wallop as Hellman successfully tried to illustrate that the power of the story came from the damage a lie can create rather than the nature of the lie. The cast was headed by screen stars who would become Goldwyn regulars. Karen Wright and Martha Dobie, the slandered teaching duo were played by Merle Oberon and Miriam Hopkins respectively, while Joel McCrea was cast as the third leg of the titular triangle. All three gave fine performances, Hopkins and Oberon arguably the best of their careers. The physical and personality differances between "these two" complemented the picture. If Oberon had been paired with Kay Francis or Hopkins with Carole Lombard, there might have been an imbalance of sorts. Saying this however, it seems less likely that Oberon's elegant, soft spoken Karen and Hopkins earthy and somber Martha would become bosom chums as undergrads.

The supporting cast is outstanding. Catherine Doucet as Martha's worthless leech of an aunt. Marcia Mae Jones as a timid pupil, terrorized into complicity of the lie. Margaret Hamilton, whose small but notable role as a maid won't be forgotten. Alma Kruger as wealthy matron, Mrs. Tilford, whose influence in the community causes the downfall of the reputation of those involved and juvenille actress Bonita Granville. As the prepubescent monster Mary Tilford, Granville was as evil a villain as 30's audiences had experienced, giving Basil Rathbone, Lionel Atwill or Conrad Veidt a run for their sinister money. Her natural blond hair was darkened to convey a more threatening persona, but her strong performance required no such physical pretense and she was nominated at age 13 for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, the first year the Academy offered the award (Gale Sondergaard won the prize that year).

The movie met critical acclaim including Britain's Graham Green who wrote: "I have seldom been so moved by any fictional film as by These Three. After 10 minutes or so of the usual screen sentiment, quaintness and exaggeration, one began to watch with incredulous pleasure nothing less than life." William Wyler remade the film 25 years later under its original title and with the original lesbian theme intact (and with Miriam Hopkins in the supporting role of Aunt Lily). It was a pale comparison to the '36 version, Wyler's direction and Hopkins' presence notwithstanding.

Come Back Little Sheba (1952): Hazel on Downers

Through the years I've read many reviews and articles about the 1952 Oscar winner Come Back Little Sheba and it seems the general consensus appreciates the cinematic and artistic value of the film but the opinions about the story, individual characters and their relationship with each other are all over the board.  The middle aged marrieds, as the focus of the movie, could be the dramatic version of the Odd Couple, with the emotional scale heavier on the melancholy rather than the comic.

Come Back Little Sheba was originally a hit Broadway play written by William Inge.  Produced in 1950, it starred Shirley Booth as a blowsy, lazy housewife named Lola Delaney and Sidney Blackmer as her disillusioned, alcoholic husband, Doc.  Producer Hal Wallis brought the heartbreaking story to the screen via Paramount Pictures in the early 50's, with Booth reprising the role of Lola and Burt Lancaster taking on the part of Doc.  The play's director Daniel Mann was also brought in to oversee the production.  As with most film versions of famous plays, the story is visually contained with most sets limited to the interior of the Delaney's deteriorating mid-western home.  The film's focus is on the couple's deteriorating, mid-western marriage.

Lola is a slovenly matron, sloppy and pathetically child-like.  Her days consist of sleeping late, lounging on the sofa while the radio transports her to exotic locales and desperately trying to engage the mailman into general conversation, a result of her attention starved existence.  Doc is a chiropractor and recovering alcoholic, remorseful over his broken dreams of becoming a "real" physician due to his forced marriage to a pregnant Lola many years before.  As the film progresses, it is discovered that Lola is rejected by her father after she finds herself in the "family way" even when she and Doc marry.  To add insult to injury she loses the baby and isn't able to conceive again.  Their humdrum life together gets shaken up with the arrival of a young college co-ed (Terry Moore) into the home.  The nubile new border is a ray of sunshine to the crestfallen Doc, a source of emotional activity to the clueless Lola.

The driving influences of the two lead characters, as well as their casting, are what make the film so interesting.  In a time when middle aged actresses and roles for such veterans were in small demand, 54 year-old Shirley Booth not only repeated her stage success as Lola (she won a Tony for the role on Broadway) but walked away with the Academy Award, Golden Globe, New York Drama Critics Award and Cannes Film Festival Award for this, her debut film.  A triumphant victory to be sure, but such a huge achievement left little opportunity for her future in the film world.  Appearing in only four more movies (one in a mere cameo role), the talented Booth made an even larger impression on audiences as the meddling and guffawing maid Hazel in the long running television series of the same name, adding two Emmys to her collection of accolades.  Such honors weren't foreshadowed before filming of Sheba began however, and Paramount, wary of featuring depressing subject matter and an unknown (to film) actress, hedged its bets by casting Burt Lancaster as Doc.  An extremely appealing, athletic and virile actor, a former acrobat in fact, Lancaster had to stretch his acting muscles (and cover his physical ones) to portray an aging, mild mannered, broken husband.

For the most part, Burt's Doc was a personal success, gaining the actor the dramatic experience he would use to create legendary film characters in years to come.  But as an overall contribution to the completed Sheba, Lancaster's believability is lacking.  He was 15 years younger than Booth and even with aging make up, slumped shoulders and body padding, his good looks and athleticism showed through, particularly in the scenes where he physically attacks Lola.  It is hard to imagine Lancaster staying with the clinging, dowdy Booth.

Depending on who you ask, Lola is viewed as a sympathetic frump or a half witted slattern, whose non stop prattle drove her husband to drink.  Doc could be seen as a kind yet sorely disappointed man, whose once great potential was never to be discovered.  However, some call him an internal whiner, who should put on his big boy pants and build some sort of life with the upbeat, friendly Lola, who obviously cares for him.  Modern viewers of the film might question the choices made by the principals, living together under such miserable and depressing circumstances, but times and social mores were different in 1950 and the play/film is a good character study of a realistic, unglamrous relationship in mid-century America.  By the way, the title refers to Lola's little dog, who ran away before the movie begins and who is referenced throughout.

Cast a Dark Shadow (1955): Bluebeard Bogarde

Dirk Bogarde was a cinema star of international magnitude in the 1960’s and 70’s, his films being screened across Europe and North America. In the 50’s however, his star shone mostly in Britain (albeit shown very brightly) and he was cast in a variety of roles including the comedic “Doctor” series. But some of his best roles from this period and precursors of those parts which made him a mega star, were those which cast him in a dark shadow. How’s THAT for a segue way?

Cast a Dark Shadow (1955) is a shadowy suspenser, very British and highly enjoyable. Bogarde plays Edward “Teddy” Bare (really, Teddy Bare?), a modern day Bluebeard, an unsavory charmer of well-off widows. As the film opens, Teddy is married to the much older Monica or ’Monnie’ as he affectionately calls her (Mona Washbourne). Innocent and trusting Monnie enjoys her drink a little more than she should, thanks to the coaching of her lay about husband. Unbeknownst to Teddy, she means to change her will in his favor, leaving him everything. Believing she is meeting with her attorney to adjust her estate without him in mind, he kills her, making it appear an accident, she being the victim of a gas fireplace. He later discovers he has slain the goose AND done away with the golden eggs.

Running low on funds (as most gigolos) our Teddy Bare seeks the green pastures of a recently widowed barkeep, Freda, who is coarse, loud and heavily endowed financially. Freda (convincingly played by Brit powerhouse Margaret Lockwood) is no shrinking violet and takes the slick Mr. Bare on toe to toe. They marry with the new Missus thinking her husband has as much spinach as she herself. He soon realizes Freda is no soft touch and his eye turns to a new, attractive widow in town named Charlotte (Kay Walsh).

Shadow is based on a play called “Murder Mistaken” by British playwright Janet Green. It has twists, turns and is a bit Hitchcockian in feel, Agatha Christie in theme. The deep black and white photography is brought to the screen via cinematographer Jack Asher, who would shoot many of the best known Hammer thrillers later in the decade and into the next. And not to be left out is the performance by Kathleen Harrison as Emmy, the slow witted, guileless servant, a role very similar to the one she played in her more famous film, the 1951 version of A Christmas Carol.

Portrait of Jennie (1948): Haunting Beauty

"Who knoweth if to die be but to live, and that called life by mortals be but death?" ~ Euripides

Portraits have played key plot elements in several classic movies during the 1940’s, sometimes even being the central theme around which the film is based. From Kitty (1945) and Laura (1944) to The Picture of Dorian Gray (also 1945), the mystery and enchantment of someone’s painted image intrigued moviegoers throughout the decade. One of the most fascinating examples in this circle took over four years to get on the screen. Portrait of Jennie (1948) is a romantic fantasy with shades of mystery and more than its share of haunting beauty.

 The film was based on a 1940 novel by Robert Nathan, who had also authored The Bishop’s Wife, which was adapted for the screen in 1947. MGM had taken an option on the story but dropped it, when producer David O. Selznick picked it up in late 1944. When casting discussions began, Vivien Leigh was considered for the part of Jennie. She was still under contract to Selznick at the time and there was even talk of she and husband Laurence Olivier starring together but the idea was dropped. There was also discussion among Selznick’s production team to film it with Shirley Temple, who was also under personal contract, over a period of years to take advantage of Temple’s transition from youth to young adulthood. As tempting as the marketing angle was to the publicity genius, Selznick felt it would be a perfect project for his then lover Jennifer Jones. Joseph Cotten was then cast in the male lead, making it the fourth film teaming for the duo in as many years (Cotten and Jones had previously co-starred in Since You Went Away (1944), Love Letters (1945) and Duel in the Sun (1946)).

Eben Adams is a downtrodden artist, a wandering soul in search of what he’s not entirely sure. His name fairly drips of early-mid century American artist. He half heartedly wanders into the low key but high quality gallery of Matthews and Spinney, the latter name belonging to a straight talking, self proclaimed old maid who takes a shine to Adams. Receiving a verbal as well as a financial renewal at Matthews and Spinney, the artist heads back out into the cold that is Manhattan in winter. While wandering in the park, he encounters a strange but lovely girl named Jennie. She talks of things and places from 20+ years earlier, as if they were happening that day. She leaves as suddenly as she appeared, leaving Adams to speculate on such an odd child. Taken with Jennie’s unique spirit, the artist creates a sketch of her which he presents to Matthews and Spinney. Mr. Matthews, who originally thought Eben’s work lacking, finds the sketch so striking and inspired, that he offers him a relatively substantial sum.

Adams once again meets Jennie, while out and about, but notices that she seems to have aged somewhat, changing from a child into a pre-adolescent. His subsequent encounters with her prove just as strange, each revealing a maturity in years. As she “ages” he falls in love with her and she with him. This romance, created beyond the confines of time and space, blossoms but where will it lead?

With production beginning in February 1947 and ending in October 1948, Jennie was fraught with problems, least of which was Selznick’s perfectionism. William Dieterle was chosen to direct. His creative sense of the visual had been used to great effect in the fantasy The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941), which had photographic elements that could transfer into this project. Ethel Barrymore was perfectly cast as Miss Spinney, as was Cecil Kellaway as Mr. Matthews and Lillian Gish as a kind nun who knew Jennie as a child.

Portrait of Jennie was released on Christmas Day 1948 and although not very well received, has over the course of time become a classic. Joseph Cotten won the International Prize for Best Actor at the 1949 Venice International Film Festival for his portrayal of Eben Adams and Selznick and Jones married the following year. Though problems and chaos plagued production of the movie, the end result is a fascinating fantasy ghost romance.