TCM Pick of the Month: Pre-Code

I’m barely squeaking in under the wire this time – but I couldn’t pass up the chance to offer up my pre-Code pick of the month for March – Red-Headed Woman (1932). One of the first pre-Codes I ever saw, and one of the most scandalous, Red-Headed Woman airs on TCM on the morning of Monday, March 25th – and you haven’t seen this one, you’re in for a real treat. The film stars Jean Harlow and Chester Morris, with an awesome supporting cast that includes one of my favorite pre-Code gal pals, Una Merkel, along with Leila Hyams, Lewis Stone, and May Robson.

The plot:

Social-climbing Lillian “Lil’” Andrews (Jean Harlow) works as a secretary and has her eye on more than her typewriter – she’s got a hankerin’ for her boss, Bill Legnedre (Chester Morris), and the fact that he’s happily married is of little consequence. As for Bill, he’s no match for this red-headed home-wrecker – no matter how hard he tries!

Lil shows the garter picture she inserted in the opening scene.

Favorite scene:

There are lots from which to choose, but I do love the economical opening of the film, which gives us a glimpse into Lil’s character in just three short frames. In the first, she’s just finished having a facial and comments, “So gentlemen prefer blondes, do they?” She then takes a look at herself in a mirror and concludes, “Yes, they do” (which, as I learned a few years after my first viewing, really means “Yeah, right” in 1930s-speak). The next one – and my favorite of the three – shows Lil in a dress shop trying on a new frock. She addresses an off-camera saleslady, asking her if she can see through the dress. When the woman reluctantly affirms that she can, Lil responds, “I’ll wear it.” And the third just shows Lil’s legs as we hear her say “Hmm, the boss’s picture.” We watch as she takes a picture of his face, clipped from a newspaper article, and fits it neatly inside a frame on her garter. “Well, it’ll get me more there than it will hanging on a wall,” she comments. With these three brief sequences, totaling less than a minute in length, we see that Lil has a high (and deserving!) opinion of herself, that she’s a bit of an exhibitionist, and that she just may be the type of gal who’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants.

Irene may have lost her man but she got the last word.

Favorite quote:

“You won’t have him long. You caught him with sex, but sex isn’t the only thing in life and it doesn’t last forever, and once it’s gone, you’ll lose him. Because then he’ll want love, and love is one thing you don’t know anything about and never will!” Irene Legendre (Leila Hyams)

Other stuff:

• The original screenplay was by F. Scott Fitzgerald, but MGM production chief Irving Thalberg thought the tone of Fitzgerald’s script was too serious. He brought in Anita Loos to do a rewrite with a lighter tone.

• Jean Harlow wore a red wig for the film.

• Leila Hyams, who played Bill Legendre’s wife, was one of the top female stars of the pre-Code era, but her career ended in 1936, when she retired from the big screen to concentrate on her marriage. It was worth the sacrifice – she remained married to the same man for 50 years, until her death in 1977 at the age of  72.
  

  Charles Boyer played a small, but pivotal, role.

• Charles Boyer has a small part in the film as a chauffeur.

• The film was banned in the UK until after 1965.

• Director John Conway also directed Harlow in Libeled Lady (1934), The Girl from Missouri (1936), and her final film, Saratoga (1937).

• Watch for this goof. In the scene where Sally removes her pajamas and hands them to Lil, she tells her friend to “hang on to that bootlegger of yours.” Lil, standing near the door, gestures to a man’s framed picture on a table and says, “What? Go on with Al after Bill Legendre?” But the guy in the photo looks nothing like Al (William Pawley), who we saw in an earlier scene with Lil.

Don’t miss Red-Headed Woman, airing on TCM on March 25th. You only owe it to yourself!

Famous Couples of Noir: Annie and Bart in Gun Crazy (1950)

Bang, bang — I love you.

Gun Crazy (1950) depicts a kind of noirish Bonnie and Clyde story. For me, the heart of this feature is the relationship between Bart Tare and Annie Laurie Starr – here’s a peek inside the connection between this dysfunctional duo.

It was love – or something – at first sight.

Gun Crazy’s sharpshooter Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins) makes her entrance on a carnival sideshow stage with guns blazing. Seated in the audience, with his two best pals, is Bart Tare (John Dall), newly returned from a stint in the army. As Bart watches, he literally leans forward in his seat, his face plastered with an ear-to-ear grin and his eyes wide and shining. And Laurie? Among the tent full of thrill-seekers, she zeroes in on Bart, points her gun straight at him – and fires.

If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.

Minutes later, Bart and Laurie are engaged in a courtship dance that involves a gun-shooting competition – when Bart first joins her on stage, they look each other up and down, both sporting mutually appreciative smirks. And when Bart bests Laurie in the shoot-off, her appreciation increases – appreciably. She arranges for him to sign on with the carnival, and the two begin dating, despite the fact that Bart is warned away by a clown (yes, a clown) who tells him: “She ain’t the type that makes a happy home . . . Some guys are born smart about women and some guys are born dumb. You were born dumb.”

But Bart is hooked. He doesn’t heed the words of the wise clown, nor does he back off when his smarmy, liquor-swilling boss, Packy (Berry Kroeger) tells him, point blank, that he “has a claim” on Laurie. And in contrast with his easygoing, amiable personality, Bart doesn’t hesitate to fire a shot in Packy’s general direction when he catches Packy making the moves on Laurie. It’s a costly shot, granted, as it winds up getting them both axed from the carnival, but Bart gets the girl, so it’s worth it. (Isn’t it?) And soon after they leave the carnival behind them, Bart and Laurie become man and wife, taking their first joyous step on a journey toward happily ever after. (Right?)

Not so fast.

Does that burger look delish, or am I just hungry?

Despite the instantaneous, irrefutable attraction between Bart and Laurie, and notwithstanding that they, according to Bart himself, went together like “guns and ammunition,” theirs was not exactly a match made in heaven. Oh, they had a wonderful time in the beginning – we see them taking a stroll hand in hand, picking out wedding rings, sitting blissfully by a waterfall, dancing at a swanky nightclub, living it up in Vegas. But the good times don’t last. Before long they’re hocking their rings at a pawn shop and turning down onions on a couple of (really tasty looking!) burgers at a roadside dive because they can’t afford the extra nickel. And it’s about this time that we learn that all is not sweetness and light with these two.

But why?

Because, as it turns out, aside from their mutual affinity for firearms, Bart and Laurie couldn’t be more different. Let’s take a closer look.

• Laurie provides us with a pretty clear key to her personality early in the film, when she gives Packy the brush-off, telling him: “You’ll never make big money. You’re a two-bit guy. No guts. Nothing. I want action.” And later, before she and Bart enter the offices of the justice of the peace, Laurie offers up this revelation: “I’ve never been much good, at least up to now I haven’t. You aren’t getting any bargain. But I’ve got a funny feeling that I want to be good. I don’t know, maybe I can’t. But I’m gonna try. I’ll try hard, Bart. I’ll try.”

• Money doesn’t seem to mean a whole lot to Bart. As they leave the carnival after being fired, Laurie half-jokes that Bart should have waited until payday to shoot at Packy. And Bart blithely responds, “I’ve got money. We’ll get along all right.” I don’t know where he got his money from – aside from his short stint at the carnival – or how much he has saved, but it couldn’t be too much. Still, he doesn’t seem concerned. It simply doesn’t matter.

• When Laurie – not for the first time, apparently – floats her idea that they turn to robbery for some easy cash, Bart’s response is that it’s “too dangerous” and “somebody might get hurt.” And Laurie’s point of view? “How can anybody get hurt if we don’t hurt them?”
  

  There’s no place like home. (Blecch.)

• We see Laurie and Bart living in a crummy, run-down hotel. Laurie grouses that there’s no more hot water. Bart rejoins, “Well, it’s a roof, anyway.” Bart reminds his bride of a $40 a week job he can get, assuring her that they can “get by on that,” and Laurie replies, “Yeah, Maybe you can, but not me. It’s too slow, Bart. I wanna do a little living.” Bart even tells her that he’ll hock his prized gun collection – but that’s not enough for Laurie: “Bart, I want things. A lot of things. Big things. I don’t wanna be afraid of life or anything else. I want a guy with spirit and guts. A guy who can laugh at anything, who’ll do anything. A guy who can kick over the traces and win the world for me.” And what does Bart want? I don’t know what he does want, but he makes it clear what he doesn’t: “I don’t wanna look in that mirror and see nothing but a stickup man staring back at me.”

• As Bart prepares to leave, Laurie tells him to kiss her goodbye – because she won’t be there when he gets back. She reclines on the bed, parts her lips seductively, lowers her lids . . .  and the next thing we know, Bart has his gun pointed at some hapless clerk at the Traveler’s Aid.

And that’s the relationship of Bart and Laurie, in a nutshell. Despite Bart’s moral core, he seems powerless to fight Laurie’s forceful personality and his own undeniable attraction for her. And as for Laurie, as much as she can love anyone, she appears to love Bart – but even more than her feeling for her husband, she loves the prospect of the money she can have. And the thrill of doing whatever she has to do to get it. Or, as she herself told Bart, “I’ve been kicked around all my life, and from now on, I’m gonna start kicking back.”

Annie kicking back.

If you’ve never seen this film, or you’ve got a hankering to give it a much-deserved re-watch, you’ll soon get your chance – it’s airing on Turner Classic Movies on March 23rd.  Make an appointment to spend 86 minutes in the company of these gun-crazy kids, Bart Tare and Annie Laurie Starr.

You know why, don’t you? You only owe it to yourself.

This is a revised version of a post that appeared on the 1001 Movies I (Apparently) Must See Before I Die website, for the Seven Shadows blog event  in May 2012.

List o’ the Week: The Toughest Men and Women of Film Noir

Don’t mess with this tough dame.

There are lots of ways to define the word “tough.” Strong and resilient. Physically hardy.  Hard to cut or chew!  But in the film noir realm, the “tough” description takes on a whole ‘nother meaning, giving us characters who are ruthlessly determined, relentlessly hard-boiled, fearless, callous, and willing to do whatever it takes to get whatever they want. It’s one of the things I love most about film noir.

This week’s list celebrates the toughest dames, dicks, gunsels and dolls of film noir. Read on and see if your favorites are here!

Ida Lupino:  Hard-boiled tough. It was all in her attitude . . . she could cut you down to size with a few choice words, and slap you with a smile on her face.  See Road House, While the City Sleeps

Dick Powell:  Smooth tough. Always cool, always unflappable.  See Johnny O’Clock , Cry Danger

Claire Trevor:  Refined tough. Like a lump of coal polished into a diamond, she glittered on the outside, but was rock-hard on the inside. See Murder, My Sweet, Born to Kill

Sterling Hayden. Nary a chuckle.

Sterling Hayden:  Stoic tough. Life was serious business for this tough guy. (I mean, really – did he ever smile?)  See The Asphalt Jungle, Crime Wave

Marie Windsor:  Steely tough. She was as hard as nails and sharp as a razor.  See The Narrow Margin, The Killing

Robert Ryan:  Quietly tough. He didn’t have to raise his voice to make his intentions known or his expectations understood.  See The Racket, Act of Violence

Barbara Stanwyck:  Icy tough. With one chilly glance, she could reduce a man (or woman!) to a puddle.  See Double Indemnity, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Charles McGraw:  Relentlessly tough. Never gave up, never gave in, never gave an inch.  See Loophole, The Narrow Margin

Is Audrey Totter tough, or what? (She’s tough!)

Audrey Totter:  Tough bitch. Her toughness was tinged with a surly sense of entitlement and disdain.  See Tension, The Unsuspected

Richard Widmark:  Psycho tough. Whether motivated by monetary greed or desire for a woman, he could be a more than a little wacky.  See Road House, Kiss of Death

Gloria Grahame:  Sultry tough. Using her sensuous means to justify the nefarious ends. See Human Desire, Sudden Fear

Dan Duryea:  Wily tough. Always thinking, scheming, maneuvering, and plotting.  See Scarlet Street, Too Late for Tears

Hope Emerson:  Imposing tough. Her inner fortitude was backed up by her massive size and her willingness to use it to her best advantage.  See Caged, Cry of the City

I admit it. I can’t get enough of Richard Conte tough.

Richard Conte:  Arrogant tough. Was there anyone who thought more of himself and his impact on others than a Conte character? (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)  See The Big Combo, New York Confidential

Helen Walker:  Sociopathic tough. Her motivations were a little on the socially deviant side.  See Impact, Nightmare Alley

Robert Mitchum:  Vulnerable tough. Like Kryptonite to Superman, his toughness could always (temporarily, at least) be weakened by a woman.   See Out of the Past, Angel Face

Lizabeth Scott:  Streetwise tough. Despite her veneer, she gave the impression that she was from the other side of the tracks.  See The Racket, I Walk Alone

Humphrey Bogart:  Morally tough. Displaying a set of principles that were often lacking in the tough.  See The Maltese Falcon, Dead Reckoning

Joanie Crawford tough: Savin’ the best ’til last.

Joan Crawford:  Cultivated tough. She displayed a toughness that was initially dormant, but blossomed out of necessity. See The Damned Don’t Cry, Mildred Pierce

Lee J. Cobb:  Loud tough. His bellowing and blustering provided an exclamation point to his toughness.  See The Garment Jungle, Thieves’ Highway

So, that’s my list of noir’s toughest! Who’s on your list of favorite tough guys and gals?

Fabulous Films of the 1940s Blogathon: Things I Love About Criss Cross (1949)

Whenever I think of quintessential noirs, those features that offer the purest representations of the era, Criss Cross (1949) is one that comes immediately to mind. It’s got it all – urban setting, flashbacks, voiceover. Ever-present atmosphere of doom. Unforgettably fatal femme, fittingly gullible anti-hero. A titilating opening. And an absolutely perfect end – perhaps my favorite in all of film noir (and that’s saying something!).

Criss Cross tells the story of an armored car truck driver who teams with his ex-wife and her husband, a gambler with underworld connections, to steal his company’s payroll – with disastrous results, as hinted by the film’s apt title. I’m here to tell you, there’s a whole lot to love about this fabulous 1940s film noir feature, from the first-rate cast to the unforgettable dialogue, and so much more! First off, there’s . . .

Furtive parking lot kisses. It doesn’t get better than that.

The opening. The film begins with stolen kisses and furtive whispers in a nightclub parking lot. We quickly learn that the couple behind the kisses – Steve Thompson (Burt Lancaster) and Anna Dundee (Yvonne DeCarlo) – are having an affair. We also discern that they share some sort of rocky past, which is made clear by Anna’s earnest declaration: “All those things that happened to us. Everything that went before. We’ll forget it. You’ll see – I’ll make you forget it. After it’s done. After it’s all over and we’re safe, it’ll be just you and me. You and me. The way it should’ve been all along from the start.” We really don’t have a clue about the specifics behind Anna’s cryptic vow, but this opening sure as heck makes us want to find out.

Familiar supporting cast. It’s fun recognizing various supporting cast members – Steve’s kid brother was played by Richard Long, who was later seen in TV’s The Big Valley and Nanny and the Professor.  Also in the cast was Alan Napier, famed for his role as Alfred in the Batman series, and a young Tony Curtis can be seen in a walk-on (or a “dance-on,” if you will), cutting a rug with Yvonne DeCarlo in an early scene. They’re all like old friends!

The flashback begins . . .

Flashbacks and voiceovers. I admit it – I’ve got a thing for ‘em. And Criss Cross offers us a nice, leisurely peek into the past, during which we learn that Steve and Anna were divorced almost a year earlier, but try as he might, Steve hadn’t succeeded in getting her out of his system. We learn further that, after he returns to town after an extended sojourn, Steve and Anna pick up where they left off – but their reignited romance is interrupted when she abruptly marries gambler Slim Dundee (the always awesome Dan Duryea). The flashback is narrated by Steve, complete with appropriately ominous allusions, as he informs us that “from the start, it all went one way. It was in the cards.” And speaking of “in the cards . . .”

One of the most common characteristics of film noir is an overarching, pervading sense of inescapable destiny, and Criss Cross has it in spades. Anna feels it – she tells Steve in one scene, “I want to cry. I wish we’d never met.” Steve’s best friend, police detective Pete Ramirez (Stephen McNally), feels it; when he talks to Steve in the hospital after the botched armored car heist, he regrets that he didn’t intervene: “I shoulda been a better friend. I shoulda stopped you. I shoulda grabbed you by the neck. I shoulda kicked your teeth in.”  Even Steve can feel it. Recalling his first night back in town, he muses:  “A man eats an apple, gets a piece of the core stuck between his teeth. He tries to work it out with some cellophane off a cigarette pack – what happens? The cellophane gets stuck in there too. Anna – what was the use? I knew one way or the other, somehow I’d wind up seeing her that night.”

Which Anna is this?

Anna Dundee. Anna is the kind of femme fatale who always keeps us on our toes. We don’t know who she is, really. Is she the anxious, concerned, and devoted lover we meet in the first scene? Or the flirty good-time girl that Steve finds in the nightclub when he returns to town? Is she the bitter woman who matter-of-factly explains to Steve why she married Slim Dundee, or the frightened victim who sobs on Steve’s lap as she reveals her husband’s abuse? The cool liar who barely bats a lash when her husband catches her alone with an undershirt-clad Steve? Or the pragmatic dame who, in the final analysis, shows us – and Steve – that she will always put herself first? Anna is like the surprise in a box of Cracker Jack – you never know what you’re going to get, and it’s not always something that you want.

Percy Helton. Whether the film is of high-quality or bargain basement-budget, any noir goes up a few notches, in my estimation, when Percy Helton is in the cast. In Criss Cross, the pint-sized, oddly voiced character actor portrayed a judicious, compassionate bartender – the kind of guy who knows when your girl is stepping out on you, and offers you a free shot of bourbon before he breaks the news.

“It don’t look right.”

Slim Dundee. The coldest cat this side of the North Pole. My favorite scene is when Slim pays a surprise visit to Steve’s house after learning that Anna is there. When Steve walks into his living room, Slim and two of his henchmen are seated there, calmly enjoying a few beers from Steve’s icebox. Slim doesn’t shout or get physical – in fact, he doesn’t even look particularly angry. And when Anna joins the group, Slim speaks to her in an almost convivial, conversational tone:  “Hello, baby. You know – it don’t look right. You can’t exactly say it looks right, now, can you?” At one point, he even smiles. He’s a whole lot scarier this way.

Steve Thompson. Steve is one of the most naïve guys I’ve yet to encounter in film noir – you can’t help but want to give him a big hug and then bop him upside the head for being so stupid.  But I doubt that a knock on the noggin would have made a bit of difference – that’s how dense Steve was where Anna was concerned. I mean, it’s not like he’d just met Anna – he was MARRIED to her, for cryin’ out loud. And he DIVORCED her!  And when he returned to town, he was warned against getting involved with her again, not just by his best friend, but by his own mother. (“You know, Steve, you’re a very nice looking boy. Out of all the girls in Los Angeles, why’d you have to pick on her?”)  Even Anna says to him, “I wish you’d never seen me.” To that, Steve should’ve replied, “The feeling is mutual,” and got the heck out of Dodge, if you know what I mean.

And, finally, the lines. My favorite changes with each viewing – right now it’s this gem from Mama Thompson: “What makes you think I don’t understand? I understand. A girl puts on a piece of silk, and the next thing that happens, a young fella like you is sure he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

That’s it. The many reasons why Criss Cross is one of my favorite 1940s movies, and one of my favorites from the film noir era – it’s a double threat! If you’ve seen it, treat yourself and see it again. And if you haven’t, you simply must check it out. You know why. Do I have to tell you why?

You only owe it to yourself! (But you knew that.)

This post is part of the Fabulous Films of the 1940s Blogathon, sponsored by the Classic Movie Blog Association (CMBA). Do yourself a favor – click the blogathon picture and check out the wealth of great posts being offered on various CMBA member blogs as part of this fantastic event!

Top 10 Oscar-Less Dames and Their Oscar-Worthy Roles

This wonderful season of accolades, applause and awards is my favorite time of the year.  I rejoice in the Golden Globes, swoon over the Screen Actors Guild Awards, and become absolutely enraptured by the granddaddy of them all – the Oscars. But I can’t help but notice that, while Hollywood seems to have an honor for practically every occasion and occupation, it has been known to take many a misstep over its long and illustrious history, leaving a number of empty-handed, but ever-so-deserving performers in its wake.

Today, I pay homage to some of the famous femmes of the silver screen who, despite long and storied careers, never walked off a stage clutching a golden Academy Award statuette for a single screen part.  What follows is my own personal Oscar ceremony, featuring my Top 10 Oscar-worthy performances from the pre-Code and film noir eras, and the Oscar-less ladies who brought the roles to life. Salut!

Lauren Bacall:  Vivian Rutledge in The Big Sleep (1946)

Lauren Bacall was nominated for an Oscar in 1997, for her supporting role in The Mirror Has Two Faces. The fact that she didn’t win the prize that year isn’t the only travesty. Worse still is that this was her first and only nomination! After more than five decades in the biz! What about To Have and Have Not? What about Young Man with a Horn? And what about my personal pick, The Big Sleep? You may not have known what the heck was going on in this film half the time, and you may never have figured who killed the chauffeur, but I’ll wager that you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Bacall whenever she was on screen.

This scene makes me smile every time I see it.

Oscar-worthy scene: Although The Big Sleep was certainly no comedy, I’m mad about the scene that shows Bacall and her real-life hubby Humphrey Bogart in a humorous routine where they prank a police official on the phone. The bit begins when Bacall’s character, Vivian Rutledge, telephones a police station, but before she can speak, Bogart – as private dick Philip Marlowe – takes the receiver, asking the cop on the other end to state his business. The disembodied voice of the frustrated officer can be heard through the receiver as Vivian and Marlowe pass the phone back and forth, toying with him: “Look, this is not a police station . . . what was that you said? Oh, my father should hear this,” Vivian quips. I defy you to keep a smile off of your face.

Oscar-worthy quote: “So you’re a private detective. I didn’t know they existed, except in books, or else they were greasy little men snooping around hotel corridors. My, you’re a mess, aren’t you?”

Jean Harlow: Kitty Packard in Dinner at Eight (1933)

This fabulous feature, focusing on a motley crew of guests and hosts at an elegant dinner party, is one of my most-watched and most-appreciated pre-Codes.  And Jean Harlow is the main reason why. The blonde bombshell of the big screen stands out like a shining star amongst such luminaries as John and Lionel Barrymore, Wallace Beery, Billie Burke, Lee Tracy, Madge Evans, Karen Morley, and the hilariously scenery-chomping Marie Dressler. It was this film that first illustrated, for me, Harlow’s true talent, as both a comedienne and a dramatic actress.

“Who d’ya think you’re talking to?”

Oscar-worthy scene: Even though I’ve seen Dinner at Eight more times than I care to count, I’m still riveted by the scene where Kitty and her husband, Dan (Wallace Beery), are dressing for the dinner party of the film’s title. The scene begins on a simple note, with Dan innocently inquiring after his wife’s state of readiness: “How you comin’, Kitten?” But Kitty’s response provides an immediate indication that this will be no pleasant exchange of information: “I’ve told you a million times not to talk to me while I’m doing my lashes!” The conversation rapidly devolves into a nasty – but hilarious – shouting match, during which Kitty declares her refusal to accompany Dan to the nation’s capital to mingle with “a lot of sour-faced frumps with last year’s clothes on.” The barbs fly fast and furious, with Kitty more than holding her own against her brash, blustering (and sometimes physically abusive) spouse.

Oscar-worthy quote: “Who d’ya think you’re talking to – your first wife out in Montana? That poor thing with the flat chest that didn’t have nerve enough to talk up to you? Washing your greasy overalls, cooking and slaving in some lousy mining shack? No wonder she died.”

Rita Hayworth: Gilda in Gilda (1946)

It’s my firm belief that Rita Hayworth’s extraordinary beauty and natural sensuality prevented her from being appreciated for her talent as an actress. If you can get past these external attributes, Gilda serves as an ideal vehicle for demonstrating that Hayworth could do more than just sing, dance, and look pretty. Don’t get me wrong, though – in the film’s title role of a good-time gal who weds a psychologically twisted cartel head, but is in love with his loyal second-in-command, Hayworth definitely sings, dances, and looks pretty.

“Sure, I’m decent.”

Oscar-worthy scene: I adore the film’s introduction of Gilda – the audience experiences a sense of keen expectation before she even appears on screen, prompted by her melodic humming to a recording of “Put the Blame on Mame” and the responsive look on the face of Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford). We finally see her after her new groom, Ballin (George Macready) asks her if she’s decent. Following a flip of her auburn mane and a flash of bare shoulder, her face comes into view as she playfully asks, “Me?” Spotting Johnny, who just happens to be her former lover, Gilda’s eyes briefly harden and freeze, and she concludes: “Sure. I’m decent.” Hayworth dominates the remainder of the scene, tossing off bon-mots and double entendres like so much confetti: “Johnny is such a hard name to remember,” she purrs dismissively, “and so easy to forget.”

Oscar-worthy quote:  “I can never get a zipper to close. Maybe that stands for something, what do you think?”

Miriam Hopkins: Lily in Trouble in Paradise (1932)

Witty, intelligent and urbane, Trouble in Paradise is a film-lover’s delight and Miriam Hopkins is an absolute joy to watch as a pickpocket who falls in love with a thief, Gaston Monescu (Herbert Marshall), and teams up with him to fleece the wealthy owner of a perfume company. Directed by Ernst Lubitsch, the film was fairly teeming with innuendo – in fact, just three short years after its initial release, with the Production Code then firmly in effect, the film was not approved for reissue, and wasn’t seen again for more than 30 years. Make sure you don’t wait that long to catch Hopkins’s performance!

How did Gaston manage to filch Lilly’s garter? Hmm.

Oscar-worthy scene: The scene where Lily meets Gaston is sheer perfection. Invited to dine at his villa, Lily is masquerading as a countess, while Gaston is posing as a baron – neither of them seemingly aware of the other’s true vocation. During the meal, the two blithely produce a series of items that they have stolen from each other, finally collapsing into an embrace as they realize they have found, in each other, their true soul mates. My lame description, believe me, does not begin to do this scene justice. It is something to behold.

Oscar-worthy quote:  “Darling, remember, you are Gaston Monescu. You are a crook. I want you as a crook. I love you as a crook. I worship you as a crook. Steal, swindle, rob. Oh, but don’t become one of those useless, good-for-nothing gigolos.”

Agnes Moorehead: Madge Rapf in Dark Passage (1947)

Unlike most of the films represented in this list, Dark Passage isn’t necessarily one of my favorites. Oh, it’s certainly watchable – its stars, Bogie and Bacall, always are – and the “subjective camera” perspective employed for the first third of the feature is attention-grabbing, at the very least. And the plot – about an escaped convicted murderer who joins forces with a sympathetic young artist in an effort to prove his innocence – is mighty fine. It’s just not one of those features that frequently finds its way off my shelf and into my VCR, if you know what I mean. But Agnes Moorehead, as Madge Rapf, the shrill and shrewish friend of the artist, is a revelation – talk about characters you love to hate! That’s putting it mildly. Truth be told, I adored loathing her, was crazy about despising her, and quite fancied my extreme dislike for her.

Madge didn’t scare easy. (But she fell hard, if you know what I mean.)

Oscar-worthy scene: The scene where Madge is confronted and accused of murder by Vincent Parry (Humphrey Bogart) is practically a tour-de-force.  One would expect a woman challenged in such a manner to crumple in a veritable heap, admit her culpability, and beg for mercy, but not Madge. She never backed down, never batted an eye, never gave an inch.  (Too bad she tried to hide behind that curtain, though.)

Oscar-worthy quote: “I’ve cried myself to sleep at night because of you. She’s got you now. She wants you very badly doesn’t she? She’s willing to run away with you and keep on running and ruin everything for herself. But she wouldn’t care because she’d be with you and that’s what she wants. Well, she doesn’t have you now. She’ll never have you. Nobody will ever have you! And that’s the way I want it!”

Barbara Stanwyck: Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity (1944)

I make no secret of the fact that Double Indemnity is my best-loved film noir – so it stands to reason that one of my favorite femmes is Phyllis Dietrichson, that mercenary murderess who Barbara Stanwyck brought to life in such an unforgettable fashion. Unlike most of the women being recognized here, Stanwyck was nominated for an Oscar for her role in the film – it was just her bad luck that she offered us Phyllis in the same year we were introduced to Ingrid Bergman’s Paula in Gaslight.

“There’s a speed limit in this state.”

Oscar-worthy scene:  I go ga-ga almost every time Stanwyck crosses the screen, but a standout scene is the first encounter between Phyllis and her soon-to-be lover, Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), which is highlighted by a rapid-fire, innuendo-charged metaphor involving speeding tickets and motorcycle cops (“There’s a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. Forty-five miles an hour.”)

Oscar-worthy quote: “We went into this together and we’re coming out at the end together. It’s straight down the line for both of us. Remember?”

Margaret Sullavan: Mary Lane in Only Yesterday (1933)

This little lady is deserving of an Oscar for this role if for no other reason than she was able to act with a straight face opposite the lumber-like John Boles. (Sorry, John Boles fans. I digress.) Sullavan was everything she needed to be in this five-hankie weeper about a belle who gets pregnant after a one-night stand with a soldier during World War I, and then must raise the child alone when the soldier fails to recognize her after the war. Sullavan’s performance was all the more impressive because it was the 24-year-old actress’s screen debut.

The morning after . . .

Oscar-worthy scene: When the troops return to New York, Mary can scarcely wait to reunite with the father of her child, Jim Emerson (John Boles), and rushes to find him during the city’s ticker tape parade. She spies him among the throng of marching soldiers and excitedly makes her way through the crowd, following him as he breaks ranks to greet a group of cheering friends. Catching up to him, Mary stands beaming as Jim plants kisses on the women gathered to greet him, then politely shakes Mary’s hand before turning back to his pals. When one of the women asks Jim about Mary, Jim replies that he doesn’t know who she is. “I thought she was with you,” he comments. The look in Mary’s eyes is heartbreaking.

Oscar-worthy quote:  “Don’t think. Why think? Just live in the moment. This moment.”

Gloria Swanson: Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard (1950)

In this classic, Gloria Swanson portrayed a reclusive silent film star whose time warp-like existence is shattered by the arrival of a hack screenwriter. Unfortunately, Swanson suffered from the same stroke of bad luck that Stanwyck did a few years earlier – only worse! Swanson was nominated for her portrayal of Norma Desmond, but she was not only up against the fantastic Judy Holliday, who won the Best Actress Oscar that year for Born Yesterday, but both Bette Davis and Anne Baxter in All About Eve, and Eleanor Parker in Caged. The spate of awesome female performances that year was a boon for moviegoers – but a huge bummer for Gloria, who would never again be offered a role of this caliber.

Swanson was a wonder in this scene.

Oscar-worthy scene: The New Year’s Eve party is an awesome showcase for Swanson’s thespianic (I don’t think this is a word, but it should be!) capabilities. Here, she masterfully exhibits a wide range of moods and emotions – an almost motherly pride at the handsome appearance of the party’s only guest, screenwriter Joe Gillis (William Holden); girlishly flirtatious during their first dance on the polished tile floor; boldly matter-of-fact in her first declaration of love; carefree and expectant as she looks forward to the future (“What a wonderful next year it’s going to be. What fun we’re going to have. I’ll fill the pool for you.”); subtle yet derisive in her reference to Joe’s gigolo status; and, finally, a flash of passionate jealousy, manifested in one of the best movie slaps this side of Kirk Douglas and Jane Greer in Out of the Past.

Oscar-worthy quote: “No one ever leaves a star. That’s what makes one a star.”

Gene Tierney: Ellen Berent Harland in Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

It’s filmed in glorious Technicolor, but trust me, Leave Her to Heaven is dark, dark, dark. And Gene Tierney is the reason why. She plays a psychopathic beauty – your basic nutcase in gorgeous clothing, if you will – whose cloying possessiveness for the men in her life literally leaves bodies in its wake.

Cold-blooded.

Oscar-worthy scene: If you haven’t seen this film, watch for a spoiler dead ahead. (No pun intended.) I love the scene where Ellen takes her physically challenged young brother-in-law, Danny (Darryl Hickman), out for a swim on the lake. Ostensibly (don’t you love that word?), she’s there to help him build up his strength so he can surprise his big brother (and Ellen’s extra-beloved hubby) with his paddling prowess. Only trouble is, the little tyke is putting a crimp in her plans for a happy home, and Ellen doesn’t suffer obstacles gladly. So when Danny starts to tire and first asks, then begs, for Ellen’s help, she sits in her canoe, stone-faced behind her Foster Grants, and coolly lets him drown. Yowza.

Oscar-worthy quote: “I’ll never let you go. Never, never, never.”

Lana Turner: Cora Smith in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

Who can forget Lana Turner in her white shorts, midriff top and turban, framed like a portrait in the doorway, coolly applying her lipstick like the devastating diva she was? Not me! But this iconic scene was not the only favor Turner brought to the party – in her role as an unhappy diner owner’s wife whose fling with a drifter leads to murder, Turner demonstrated her ability to evoke a spate of visceral reactions in moviegoers, from sympathy to loathing, and back again.

Let’s just say she wasn’t happy.

Oscar-worthy scene:  I can’t get enough of the courthouse scene after Cora is double-crossed by her lover, Frank (John Garfield), and learns that she is charged not only with the murder of her husband but the attempted murder of Frank as well. Escorted into the waiting room where Frank sits alone, Cora first stalks about like a caged lioness, every now and then stopping to toss her tresses or shoot a withering glance in Frank’s general direction. When she finally does speak, she fairly spits every word, leaving no doubt regarding her utter contempt for her lover and her resolve to settle the score. She’s magnificent!

Oscar-worthy quote: “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll put you out of business. There must be a law, even for lawyers.”

In tribute to each of these non-Oscar-winning winners, I raise a proverbial glass, privileged to celebrate their marvelously unforgettable performances. They may not have heard their names read aloud as winners at an Academy Awards venue, but it’s my honor to shower them with accolades here. Congratulations, you fabulous, fantastic, first-rate femmes!

This post is part of the month-long 31 Days of Oscar Blogathon, sponsored by Once Upon a Screen, Outspoken & Freckled, and Paula’s Cinema Club. Please take some time to read the many excellent posts being offered as part of this outstanding Oscar-themed extravaganza!

You only owe it to yourself! (You really do!)

TCM Pick for February — Pre-Code

Greta Garbo. Joan Crawford. John and Lionel Barrymore. Wallace Beery. Lewis Stone. Jean Hersholt. Who could pass up this star-studded cast? Not me, that’s for sure – and that’s why Grand Hotel (1932), airing on Friday, February 15th, is my TCM pick of the month.

The plot:

The film takes a look at a few days in the lives of a disparate group of individuals who are staying or working at Berlin’s Grand Hotel, depicting, in this brief snapshot of time, their loves, hopes, fears, ambitions, crimes, and triumphs.

Favorite scene:

Really, there are so many awesome scenes in this film that it almost doesn’t make sense to try to name a favorite.  I’ve settled, though, on the opening scene, in which most of the film’s major characters – and their unique circumstances and personalities – are introduced. In a clever montage, the characters’ personas are revealed as they speak on the hotel’s public telephones – we learn that Senf (Jean Hersholt), the head hotel porter, is anxiously awaiting news on the birth of his child. Otto Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore), who is suffering from an unnamed fatal condition, has withdrawn all of his savings from the bank in order to enjoy one last fling. General Director Preysing (Wallace Beery), who is Kringelein’s boss, is apprehensive about all-important business merger. Suzette (Rafaela Ottiano), the personal maid to famed prima ballerina Grusinskaya (Greta Garbo), frets over the ballerina’s tortured emotional state, and Baron Von Geiger (John Barrymore) is desperate for money. At the scene’s end, we see Dr. Otternschlag (Lewis Stone), as he sits in a chair in the hotel lobby and ironically observes, “The Grand Hotel – people coming, going. Nothing ever happens.”

Favorite characters:

I have three:

As Flaemmchen, Joanie practically walks off with the entire picture.

Flamenchen (Joan Crawford)

The “little stenographess,” Flaemmchen is a delight – flirty and sassy, slightly shallow, materialistic but practical, and a wee bit vain – but with an inner core of compassion and decency, which she demonstrates so touchingly at the film’s end.

Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore)

How could you not fall in love with this awkward, guileless, oh-so-sincere fella? When we first see him, Kringelein is a rather piteous character, clad in ill-fitting clothes and bemoaning his placement in a tiny room near the hotel’s boiler room. But before long, he has befriended a Baron, won thousands at Baccarat, delivered a tongue-lashing to his boss, and danced in public for the first time. The sheer joy he experiences is practically palpable.

Baron von Geigern (John Barrymore)

The Baron was a fascinating mass of contradictions. He could be the iceberg-cold aristocrat, which he demonstrates when addressing the chauffeur who keeps hounding him for money or the outlandishly rude General Preysing. Or the flirtatious, playful, and carefree gent that he was with Flammechen. He was the calculating criminal who stole Kringelein’s wallet – but also the tenderhearted friend who returned it. And he was Grusinskaya’s passionate, desperately love-struck suitor, who risked his very life to be with the one he adored. He was perhaps the most nuanced and multifaceted character in the film.

Favorite quote:

And three favorite quotes!

“I don’t know much about women. I’ve been married for 28 years, you know.” General Director Preysing (Wallace Beery)

“I’ve tasted life!”

“It’s been so marvelous. For the first time in my life, I’ve gambled and I’ve danced. You gentlemen can laugh, but for the first time in my life, I’ve tasted life!” Otto Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore)

“What do you do in the Grand Hotel? Eat, sleep, loaf around. Flirt a little, dance a little. A hundred doors leading to one hall. No one knows anything about the person next to them. And when you leave, someone occupies your room, lies in your bed. That’s the end.” Dr. Otternschlag (Lewis Stone)

Other stuff:

Grand Hotel was based on the 1929 novel by Vicki Baum, entitled Menschen im Hotel and the Broadway play, Grand Hotel, which was financed by MGM. As part of the financing deal, the studio bought the film rights for $35,000. The book was inspired by Baum’s experiences as a chambermaid in two Berlin hotels.

The film was directed by Edmund Goulding, who also helmed such features as Dark Victory (1939), The Old Maid (1939), The Constant Nymph (1943), The Razor’s Edge (1946), and Nightmare Alley (1947). (Speaking of Nightmare Alley, click here to order a copy of the giant, 40-page Dark Pages issue focusing on this great noir!)

Grand Hotel was produced by MGM “boy wonder” Irving Thalberg and Paul Bern, who was found dead just two months after his wedding to blonde bombshell Jean Harlow. (Bern’s death was ruled a suicide, but in recent years, it has been theorized that he was murdered by his common-law wife, Dorothy Millette, who herself committed suicide shortly after Bern’s body was found. Whew!)

Speaking of Irving Thalberg, his wife, actress Norma Shearer, was the first choice for the role of Flaemmchen. Reportedly, she turned the part down after receiving a slew of mail from fans who didn’t want to see her in the part.

Garbo and Barrymore were fast friends.

Garbo and John Barrymore were wary about working with each other; he’d been told that Garbo was cold and anti-social, and she’d been informed that Barrymore was an egomaniacal poseur. Despite these preconceived notions, the two got along famously. Garbo was so fond of her co-star that she allowed a series of backstage publicity stills to be taken of her with Barrymore.

Greta Garbo initially turned down the role of Grusinskaya because she felt that, at age 27, she was too old to play a prima ballerina.

Wallace Beery also originally balked at playing Preysing, because he felt the part was too unsympathetic. He finally accepted the role on the condition that he would be the only main character to play his part with a German accent.

The Hollywood Reporter originally announced that comedian Buster Keaton would play the role of Otto Kringelein.

Grand Hotel won an Academy Award for Best Picture. It was not nominated for an Oscar in any other category. The other nominees for Best Picture that year were Arrowsmith, Bad Girl, The Champ, Five Star Final, One Hour with You, Shanghai Express, and The Smiling Lieutenant.

This was the sixth film in which Lewis Stone and Greta Garbo both appeared.

During the film’s busy lobby scenes, the actors and actresses wore woolen socks over their shoes to prevent noise.

This scene didn’t make the final cut. I wouldn’t wonder . . .

The film makes it clear that Flaemmchen is prostituting herself to Preysing, but the more openly provocative scenes were cut, including one showing Crawford reclining on the hotel bed and another in which Crawford’s dress is hiked high on her thigh while she and Beery hold onto her garter.

Watch for this goof: after the Baron asks Flaemmchen for a date and they are laughing together, the Baron moves from behind her left shoulder to her right – and then is suddenly behind her left shoulder again. Similarly, in the scene where the Baron is secretly listening to Grusinskaya while she is on the telephone with the ballet master, Pimenov, watch when she says, “I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t!” A second after this, an abrupt edit will show the telephone receiver switch from her left hand to her right.

This isn’t necessarily a goof, but check out the early scene where the Baron introduces Kringelein to Pimenov. Kringelein asks if Pimenov is a baron as well, prompting laughter all around. John Barrymore, as the Baron, is smoking a cigarette during this scene and chokes out an unscripted cough. He even seems to duck a little behind another actor while he gets himself together.

The film’s wardrobe was designed by famed costumer Adrian.

This is the film in which Garbo utters her iconic line, “I want to be alone.” It was listed as number 30 in the American Film Institute’s list of top 100 quotes from U.S. films.

At the film’s premiere at Grauman’s (now Mann’s) Chinese Theatre, Greta Garbo did not appear with the cast – but after the film, Wallace Beery reportedly dressed as Garbo in drag. (The gag was not well-received by the audience.) The star-studded premiere was attended by a variety of Hollywood luminaries, including Edward G. Robinson, Ben Lyon and his wife Bebe Daniels, Lew Ayres and his then-wife Lola Lane, Conrad Nagel (who hosted the event), the comedy team Bert Wheeler and Robert Woolsey, Walter Huston, Edmund Lowe and his wife Lilyan Tashman, Robert Montgomery, Anita Page, Marlene Dietrich, Anna Q. Nilsson, Jean Harlow, Chester Morris, William Haines, Constance Bennett, Norma Shearer, and Clark Gable.

Don’t miss Grand Hotel, February 15th on TCM. If you’ve seen it, give it a re-watch! And if you haven’t seen it, you simply must. Garbo and Crawford? Barrymore and Barrymore? Come on, now. You know you only owe it to yourself.

List o’ the Week: Noir I Don’t Care For (Part 1)

The poster, I like. The movie, not so much.

This edition of the “list o’ the week” may represent even more of a sacrilege than my previous failure to fall head over heels for Arsenic and Old Lace – this week, I list those film noir features that, frankly, left me cold. There aren’t many – y’all know how I love my noir. But every now and then, I run across a noir that isn’t necessarily shadowy because of its setting and tone, but because I’m trying to shield my eyes! Hence, I offer this week’s list, in no particular order: Noir I Don’t Care For (Part 1).

House on 92^nd Street (1945)

When I think of noirs that I never plan to see again, this is always the first one that comes to mind.  Filled with spies and Nazis and whatnot, this semi-documentary “based on actual FBI files” just wasn’t my cup of tea. In fact, I’ve found that, generally speaking, I’m not a huge fan of the semi-documentary noirs – which brings me to . . .

He Walked By Night (1948)

This film, about a cop-killer on the lam, is often lauded by noir lovers – a glance at the reviews on the IMDB.com reveals such accolades as “influential,” “innovative,” “suspenseful,” and “unforgettable.” It was kind of a yawn-fest for me.

It certainly looks noirish enough, but come on – it’s CLAUDETTE COLBERT.

Sleep, My Love (1948)

Claudette Colbert. Film noir.  There’s just something very wrong with that combination.

Cornered (1945)

Although it stars Dick Powell – and I’m nuts about Dick Powell – this one just did not do it for me. He played a Canadian pilot and prisoner of war survivor bent on avenging the death of his French war bride. Just, no.

The Second Woman (1950)

Lots of psychiatric terms tossed about in this one – like “paranoiac” and “delusions” and “persecution.” I actually don’t even remember what it was about. I just remember that I was glad when it was over.

Abandoned (1949)

The best part of this movie was Raymond Burr (who can practically do no wrong, in my book), but even he couldn’t salvage this snoozer about a baby-stealing racket.

The best thing about this clunker was Hedy Lamarr’s wardrobe.

A Lady Without Passport (1950)

Hedy Lamarr and John Hodiak starred in this feature, whose plot I never was able to decipher.

On Dangerous Ground (1952)

Goodness knows, I’m wild about Ida Lupino and Robert Ryan, but not in this film. Ryan was a brooding, quick-tempered New York cop and Lupino played a blind woman who strikes up a friendship with the officer – I hate to admit it, but I agreed with the notoriously acerbic New York Times critic Bosley Crowther when he panned the movie’s “obvious attempt to get something more than sheer melodrama onto the screen.”

Mr. Arkadin (1955)

I confess that I could not even make it through this Orson Welles starrer. In fact, I disliked it so much that I decided it wasn’t film noir at all, and left it completely out of the chapter on Welles in my book, Bad Boys. (Don’t tell anybody.)

The Sniper (1952)

I think that, of all the films on this list, this one is my least favorite. Centering on a mentally disturbed laundry service employee, this picture was directed by Stanley Kramer and featured one of my all-time favorite femmes, Marie Windsor – but no matter. It was lousy.

What say you? Have you seen any of these? What did you think?