The Awful, Awful Truth

Today I turned on the TV and there was Ray Milland. He caught me in his grip in an instant. Unfortunately Jane Wyman was with him. That lady is such a buzz-kill. The movie was painful to watch. More on that, but at first I just couldn't get past the dress.

I came in on a scene where Jane is wearing this crazy awful white lace off the shoulder thing that I am at first convinced must be a wedding dress. Then she walks across the room and we see the very fitted trousers exposed by the curtain like opening in the front. There was a particularly tasteless period in Hollywood costume design where most actresses had a turn prancing around in this combination. These stiffly-fitted outfits tended to look uncomfortable, and often had prickly looking metallic accents.

Here it is in "technicolor"

Every lady has to has to have an endless supply of gowns to wear for the informal I'm-not-dressed-to-go-out-but-not-in-my-pajamas look. I could make the case that this dress presents the wearer as an upside-down flower. The flouncy layers of skirt open up like petals to reveal the nectar-loaded stamen for the hungry bee. Additionally there is a huge flower decorating her waist, just in case the bee isn't very bright and needs some extra navigational help. Subliminal sex appeal. It still has look difficult enough to get out of that the illusion of propriety is maintained.

In the '30s the euphemistically called "casual lounging at home" ensemble was a softly flowing unstructured gown required to have lush fur or feathers covering enormous sleeves. Totally impractical for doing anything other than "receiving male callers" in. Much too suggestive, and much to easy to slip out of. 

Now that I've had my say on that we can get back to the movie, unfortunately named "Let's Do it Again". Oh how I wish they hadn't. (What is it with Hollywood and its consistent foible of badly remaking wonderful movies?)

I didn't realize what they'd done to one of my favorite movies until Jane shows up at Ray's stuffy new fiancee's party, and freaks everyone out with a super slutty routine as "his sister." Irene Dunne did a beautifully cringe inducing turn in this role in 'The Awful Truth." (more on that later) This version is devoid of any charm, sparkle, or humour. 

This is Jane's big dance number and she sings a song so lewd that even the dimmest person in the room knows she is singing about fulfilling wanton lust. They really played this scene up in all the publicity for the movie. Jane can sing, and she can follow the choreography, but can she sell it? No way. The only reason the song doesn't fall completely flat is that its so dirty you cant wait to hear  what the next line will be. Oh, and her dress moves a lot. One might think that her zero sex appeal would make others around her sparkle in comparison. Not so. A room with Jane Wyman in it is a sexual vacuum. I've always thought Jane was a dreary little pill, and this pitiful remake of a great movie proves my point. 

Ray Milland is a guy who makes my knees go weak. Naturally he is handsome and charming. A leading man must be. But Ray is debonair—how many people are debonair anymore? There is a sparkle of wit in his eye, a smile ready to sneak out. Ray has charisma. Jane does not.

Jane has something people like, but it eludes me. Jane is prim, serious. You know something awful will happen to her and she will be brave. She's most emphatically not the sex pot in that poster, and she has no feel for comedy. 

In her early career Jane did her time singing and dancing like everyone did. They liked her enough to give her good parts right away. She was a big star for quite a long time, although she's not really a household name anymore. Some people probably know her from Falcon Crest, which I never saw. Trivia geeks might know her as Ronald Reagan's first wife. In the '50s Jane walked stoically through Douglas Sirk's big melodramas, "Magnificent Obsession" and "All that Heaven Allows". Please don't ever make me watch either of those again. At my age I can't afford the frown lines.

 I know I have to see "The Lost Weekend", but its hard to imagine that my low rating of Jane will shift much.

Quotes from Bachelor Aprtment

Rollins, Wayne's Butler: [holding up a diamond bracelet] Er, I found this, sir. 
Wayne Carter: You find the strangest things in a bachelor's apartment. 
Rollins, Wayne's Butler: Do you suppose the lady lost anything else, sir? 
Wayne Carter: Well, if she did, she didn't lose it here.

Fuck Virtue!

Arrrggghh! Val, I caught your Waterloo Bridge today and I'm feeling quite infuriated.

Catamite or Gunsel?

Someone on NPR asked some young actress what her favorite movie is. The one—if you had to pick one—that you could watch over and over for the rest of your life. She chose Wet Hot American Summer. Her explanation intrigued me enough to Netflix it. I do not get it. I am a fan of the genre. The cast is impeccable. But every line is spoken in a flat monotone, with long pauses in between, as if everyone is waiting for their cue. Its charms elude me.

So I asked myself, what is my one movie? There are so many I love and can watch any number of times. His Girl Friday, The Philadelphia Story, Holiday, You Can't Take it With You, Swing Time, To Have and Have Not, Tampopo, Yojimbo, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, The Long Hot Summer, Double Indemnity, The Lady from Shanghai, just off the top of my head. But if I stop trying to sift through all those movies I love, if I stop everything, and stop thinking at all, there is really only one answer. The one with the quotes tattooed all over my brain. The one they didn't get right until the third try.

Sam Spade: "We didn't exactly believe your story, Miss O'Shaughnessy. We believed your 200 dollars. I mean, you paid us more than if you had been telling us the truth, and enough more to make it all right."

Brigid O'Shaughnessy: "I haven't lived a good life. I've been bad, worse than you could know. 
Sam Spade:"You know, that's good, because if you actually were as innocent as you pretend to be, we'd never get anywhere."

Joel Cairo "Our private conversations have not been such that I am anxious to continue them"


Kasper Gutman:
 "I distrust a man who says "when." If he's got to be careful not to drink too much, it's because he's not to be trusted when he does."


"Talking's something you can't do judiciously, unless you keep in practice."
"Now, sir. We'll talk, if you like. I'll tell you right out, I am a man who likes talking to a man who likes to talk."

"...there are other means of persuasion besides killing and threatening to kill."
Sam Spade: That's true. But, there're none of them any good unless the threat of death is behind them. You see what I mean? If you start something, I'll make it a matter of your having to kill me or call it off. 

"I couldn't be fonder of you if you were my own son. But, well, if you lose a son, it's possible to get another. There's only one Maltese Falcon."

Spade:
"Don't be too sure I'm as crooked as I'm supposed to be."

"When a man's partner is killed, he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it. And it happens we're in the detective business. Well, when one of your organization gets killed, it's-it's bad business to let the killer get away with it, bad all around, bad for every detective everywhere."

"I'll have some rotten nights after I've sent you over, but that'll pass."

Greta and the Barrymores

I want to wear huge fur collars

Stumbled into Greta and Lionel in "Mata Hari " (1931) this morning. Well. We must begin with the clothes. Oh, those clothes and the way Greta wears them. A huge fur collar and cuffs. Enormous. Anyone else would look ridiculous. She does regal as if it's in her bones. She doesn't even have any hair in this movie. She is all face. A face that makes your heart beat faster. Much faster. But I have to say, her acting is way over the top.
The bulk of her film work is from 1931 and earlier. We all know she vanished before her perfect visage would be marred by signs of age. Wise. And perhaps she knew her acting style wouldn't carry over into the forties. Try to imagine Garbo in "His Girl Friday". No. It is too painful. Forgive me for suggesting it. We love her sultry voice, but it is languorous. No long speeches for Garbo. Long takes. The camera is lost in her spell and she takes her time with every thought. But my darling is already outdated in the '30s. Her style is for the time before sound. Everything she feels is there without words. So her acting looks too big.

Next up was "Grand Hotel." This film has become somewhat obscure, but is required viewing for any Garbo fan or lover of old Hollywood, especially pre-code Hollywood. It is summed up nicely here When it comes on I always think I won't watch it. I've already seen it so many times. But the plot is so good. The way these archetypal characters weave into tangled knots sucks you in before you know it. Here Garbo's over acting fits perfectly. She's playing a diva ballerina -- the pampered neurotic star. Perfectly, flawlessly believable. The immortal lines are here, "I want to be alone", "I'm so tired ... ". Brilliant. She clings to the dissolute Baron's (John Barrymore, in make up for the stage) love for her as a precious orchid, a stem so delicate it cannot stand on its own.

Who me? I'm just a stenographer.

The real surprise in "Grand Hotel" is Joan Crawford. A luminous Joan Crawford. With a smile that melts you. She plays a "stenographer" and I use quotation marks because she's the girl who has abandoned virtue quite some time ago, in favor of getting what she wants. And she's not at all coy about it. She shows up in the room of a repulsive, obnoxious rich man, and while she doesn't flirt or flatter him, she doesn't discourage his suggestions that she'll be "nice to him." His delicate use of the word nice is about the only subtle thing in this scene. She comes out of the bathroom in a robe wrapped loosely enough to make sure the audience knows she's got nothing else on. A modern audience doesn't think anything of it, but if they tried to make Gand Hotel after the Hays Code her character would have had to be utterly pure, or dead by the end of the movie.  Her character's frank, and crisp cynicism is a lovely counterpoint to her still pliable charm. In '31 Joan was already 27, but she looks 20. Soft, lithe, malleable. No hard edges. She wears the slim flat-chested style of the time with an elegance that looks effortless. One dress carries her through the entire film--only two days-- and she wears the most mesmerizing cuffs. Almost the length of her forearm, white, sheer with a large ruffle on the outside that never looks too stiff or too floppy.

So luminous and innocent

Joan was in an astonishing number of films prior to 1940, but hardly any of them are in circulation. The only two early ones that she is known for are this and "The Women". Ironically they are both star laden ensemble casts where she did not receive top billing. But she did get to play a husband stealing tramp in "The Women" and she's still darn cute.

But Joan is much better known for the later '40s roles. The don't-fuck-with-me Joan. That silky, intoxicating smile is gone. If you are a drag queen you are this Joan. You own those famously forties shoulder pads. Your hair doesn't float anymore. It is architecture, and it's staying put. Now your lips are fixed too. Fuller than '30s lips and the corners go down. You could be covered in the fluffiest peignoir and those lips would still say don't fuck with me.

Scary Joan

And then There is John Barrymore. He was such a huge star of stage and screen, bigger than Greta, bigger than anyone today. But he was on his way out by '31. If you want to know why watch his brutal characterization of himself in "Dinner at Eight". His brother Lionel is a bigger legend today. I say legend and yet I'm quite sure he's not a household name. Who is anymore? Whose legacy from the Golden Years still holds? Liz Taylor. Any teenagers out there know who Cary Grant is? I'd like to stand on that walk of fame and interview the idiots that come by to walk on those stars. How many of them will have ever heard of the ones I hold so dear?

John Barrymore with Joan Crawford

~got to go find some photos ...
 So I'm looking for photos of Joan and she is smiling or vamping in nearly every one.  She was a hard working girl who worked hard on her image. From what I've read her "Grand Hotel" was pretty close to reality. She used her sex appeal to get what she wanted, and that meant being the girl who knows what she's doing, and does it a lot.

Way to look cheap!

On a minor side note

I am wondering if you—and our dear readers—could post about their favorite movies to watch high. This is a subcategory I've previously not given thought to, since my days of recreational use are far behind me. But I have recently had the occasion to smoke for medicinal purposes. And I've found—very much to my surprise—that Dinner For Shmucks is not only utterly charming, but holds up well to repeated viewings.

Six Degrees of Movie Star Separation

Dear e~.,

I'm so happy you mentioned Robert Taylor, for I've been trying to think up an excuse to make you talk about my favorite actress: Vivien Leigh, who appeared with Taylor in "Waterloo Bridge." It would be fun and interesting if we agreed on either her merits as an actress or her qualifications for the most beautiful actress in classic movies. But it would be even more fun and interesting if we didn't. I haven't heard your opinion on this before and look forward to knowing it.

In case you didn't see "Waterloo Bridge," it's a dark little movie where Viv plays a prostitute. I know that's almost as hard to believe as when the sainted Audrey Hepburn played one in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" despite the fact that the thought of her in bed with some swollen-nosed thug was more than ludicrous. So the audience must suspend their belief a tad also with Vivien, knowing she wouldn't dirty her little hands or feet by doing such dastardly deeds. Still, even if you don't believe she's had to go to the dark side for money during the war, her natural darkness bleeds through the performance and she is full of natural guilt and remorse.

I remember watching this movie when I lived on the Cape, and my stepfather's stepmother moved to Brewster. She had all the old film star biographies around, and I used to pour over them until my eyes were practically black and white like the pictures. Vivien was my favorite then, as now. I think part of it is that she reminded me of my grandmother, who from the front looked a little like Ava Gardner, but from the side had Vivien's exact profile. But that grandmother was of Czech and Austrian descent, not English, and did not have Viv's thin bow-like lips. But from the side, they could be twins.

Another reason I loved Vivien is because she was so petite. It's been said in biographies that her stage voice was rather thin. You can see her pushing her thin voice through that corset and up to her voice box belting out the true southern belle brat's argument with Mammy. I think she made a wonderful Scarlett, but there are at least two places where her southern accent sounds just a tad British. But we must forgive her, for she carried that entire movie on her narrow little shoulders so beautifully.

I'll be waiting anxiously e~ for your input on this Leigh thing. I do think although Liz Taylor may have been more striking, Vivien was just so freaking pretty, and had so much class, and the sweetest girlish expression on her face but with the strange and seductive tilt of her eyes - why I do believe she could have snared any man she wanted in the world with them.

Sifting Through the Roberts

Montgomery, Cummings, Young, Taylor... I get them mixed up sometimes.

Last night I watched Robert Taylor in a movie —with beloved Barbara Stanwyck—and realized he'd slipped below my radar. Ridiculously handsome, with full, sensuous lips. Striking. Nothing like the others.

I always think I know a fair bit about old Hollywood history. Plegh! How did I not know that Talor and Barbara were married from 1939-1952??? Shame on me. A one time Taylor was number 4 at the box office, and took the lead in the 1935 version of Magnificant Obsession with Irene Dunne. I'll need to try to dig that one out, it was a huge hit, and I find the Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman version painful to watch. I'd rather stick a fork in my hand. (that is not my line, but I can't remember who said it.) Taylor was a pretty big star, a solid leading man into the '50s, and even had his own TV show in the '60s. Yet he is quite obscure today.

Robert Taylor served admirably in the war, but would have been despised by all I hold dear because he was a "friendly witness" for the HUAC. Close friend of Ronald Regan, who even spoke at his funeral. But I will set aside my feelings about that. Above all else, I can forgive Taylor anything for this alone: When asked at a party what his most important goal was, he replied very seriously that it was to accumulate "a wardrobe of ten fine custom-tailored suits." How can I not love a man who said that?

In which we pick up where we left off

What do you think so far val?

Tweaking all the little layout details are a huge pain. Still trying to get it just right.