Strange Names: It’s in the Name of the Title Blogathon

When it comes to pre-Code dames, there’s a whole lot ‘o strange stuff goin’ on.

Films from the Golden Age of Hollywood were no strangers (no pun intended) to titles with the word “strange” in them. But two of my favorites also just happen to feature the names of the women who make those films come alive, which makes them ideal for this blogathon: The Strange Love of Molly Louvain and The Strange Case of Clara Deane. And they’re both from the pre-Code era – so you know you’re likely to find memorable plots, first-rate performances, dramatic twists . . . and women climbing in and out of their skivvies for no apparent reason.

Are you in? Let’s take a look . . .

The Strange Love of Molly Louvain (1932)

When we first meet Molly Louvain (Ann Dvorak), she’s crying.

She’s being comforted by a man who’s obviously her boyfriend, Ralph Rogers (Don Dillaway) – he tells her not to be afraid. We don’t really learn what he’s referring to, but we do find out that he’s kept Molly “a secret” from his mother and that the two women will meet the following night, because he’s inviting Molly to his birthday celebration. We further learn that, while Ralph’s mother is wealthy and, in Molly’s words, “grand,” Molly’s own mother abandoned her when Molly was seven years old. (“Even before I began to live, people said, ‘That Louvain girl – just like her mother,’” Molly shares with Ralph. “I want to be different, Ralph – decent. Everything people think I can’t be.”) Ralph arranges to meet her at the hotel where she lives and works at the cigar counter; three guesses as to whether Ralph shows up – and the first two don’t count.

— Hopelessly devoted to Molly.

If you guessed that Ralph doesn’t pick Molly up at the appointed time, you’d be spot-on – and you’d get bonus points if you further predicted that Molly would, in fact, never see Ralph again. When Ralph doesn’t arrive, Molly uses her last 95 cents to take a cab to the mansion where Ralph lives with his mother, but she’s informed by the butler that Ralph and his mother left “quite suddenly” for New York and that the birthday party has been cancelled. The butler also gives her a “Dear Molly” letter that Ralph left for her. And that’s the end of that.

Incidentally, in addition to Molly and Ralph, the early scenes also introduce us to Jimmy Cook (Richard Cromwell), a hotel bellhop who has a massive crush on Molly, and Nick Grant (Leslie Fenton), an oily traveling salesman who also has eyes for Molly. After being dumped by Ralph (and drowning her sorrows in a drunken, piano-playing evening with Nick), Molly takes to the road with the salesman and before you can say “Bob’s your uncle,” three years have passed and she has a daughter. (Three guesses who the father is – and if you guess Nick, you’d be wrong.)

— Lee Tracy. It figures.

The rest of the film serves up a tasty course of petty crimes, gun battles, unrequited love, and deception – and then there’s Lee Tracy as a fast-talking (of course), unprincipled (naturally) reporter (no surprise there), who comes into Molly’s life and wreaks all kinds of havoc. All of this leads to a wild and woolly denouement that you have to see to believe.

The Strange Case of Clara Deane (1932)

This film – which I never hear anyone talk about, and that’s a real shame – starts so pleasantly that you would never have the slightest clue that it will soon go completely off the rails. And stay there.

It opens with an introduction to the title character, played by Wynne Gibson, a dress designer who’s leaving her job to marry insurance agent Frank Deane (Pat O’Brien). Her boss (Lee Kohlmar) and co-workers give Clara a surprise going-away party, showering her with so much love and appreciation that all she can do is cry. Sadly, these won’t be the last tears we see from Clara.

On her wedding day, literally seconds before she’s about to walk down the aisle with Frank, a police detective by the name of Garrison (Dudley Diggs) shows up with a warrant for Frank’s arrest for insurance fraud. Clara insists on proceeding with the wedding, despite the gravity of the situation and the warning from the detective (“You’re not thinking of going on with the marriage, are you?” he asks. “Don’t you think you better wait a while?”). Clara responds that she’s not afraid, but as it turns out, she should have been afraid. She should have been very afraid.

Clara appeals to the District Attorney on Frank’s behalf, pays back the insurance money he stole, and the charges are dropped. A sheepish Frank assures Clara: “I’ve learned my lesson, dear. It’ll never happen again.” In the very next scene, Frank is seen playing poker – or should I say, losing his money at poker. It’s becoming increasingly clear that Frank may not be the world’s most upstanding citizen. In the middle of the game, Frank receives a call – he’s told that his wife just had a baby (he neglects to ask whether it’s a boy or a girl) and he tells his fellow gamblers that he’s going to head home. When one of the men suggests that he stay because the arrival of the baby might change his luck, Frank gives it a moment’s thought, then declines – and then changes his mind and DECIDES TO STAY.  And I think we’ve just received confirmation about Frank’s less-than-stellar character.

— Cora Sue Collins is a delight.

A few years pass, and life in the Deane household is none too rosy. Frank is out of work, Clara is supporting the family by selling her designs to her former boss, and the family is forced to flee to the country when Frank is suspected of robbing a local gambling joint. The only bright spot is their daughter, Nancy (delightfully played by Cora Sue Collins), but Frank doesn’t allow a little thing like family responsibility stand in the way of his tendency to take what doesn’t belong to him. And when he uses his wife and child as decoys while he helps himself to a gas station cash register, things go downhill with alarming and tragic rapidity.

You will scarcely believe the way the film unfolds at this point, but I can guarantee you one thing – you’ll never be bored.

— Sweet on the outside, steely on the inside.

Each of these films are headed by first-rate performances by the lead actresses; I’d previously experienced Ann Dvorak’s considerable talents in films like Scarface (1932) and Three on a Match (1932), but Wynne Gibson was a revelation. She played her role with touching sincerity and left me wanting to see more of her. Interestingly, the characters of Molly Louvain and Clara Deane couldn’t have been more different from each other; Molly was hard-boiled and tough as shoe leather, with a deep-seated survival instinct, while Clara possessed a steely courage, strength, and determination that was masked by her gentle exterior. The women were equally devoted to their daughters, and while their circumstances dictated varying demonstrations of their love, they both proved to be self-sacrificing to the core, in the tradition of such memorable mothers as Stella Dallas and Mildred Pierce.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find either of these “strange” movies via streaming, but I did locate the DVDs via my favorite seller of hard-to-find classic films, Gary McNerney; you can request a free copy of his catalog of movies by emailing him at garym502@gmail.com. The DVDs are also currently for sale on eBay. I strongly recommend that you consider buying them or, if ever the films are aired on TCM, be sure to make a date to see them.

You only owe it to yourself.

———-

This post is part of It’s in the Name of the Title Blogathon, hosted by Rebecca over at Taking Up Room and Gill at Real Weegie Midget Reviews. Click here to discover more great films where you can find the name in the title!

Shadowy and Satiny: What to Watch on TCM in May 2024

May is bustin’ out all over with pre-Code and film noir gems – there are so many flicks from the shadowy side, in fact, that I’m recommending an entire day of noir instead of just one film. But first, my . . .

Satiny Pick: My Past (1931)

This isn’t one of those films that’s typically mentioned on lists of favorite pre-Codes, but I like it and I hope you will, too. It stars Bebe Daniels as stage actress Doree Macy, Lewis Stone as millionaire steel operator John Thornley, and Daniels’s real-life husband Ben Lyon as Thornley’s right-hand man, Bob Byrne. At the core of the film is a triangle concerning these three; John has loved Doree for several years, Doree falls hard for Bob shortly after they meet, and Bob returns Doree’s feelings but he’s married and, as it turns out, committed to his union.

Is it any wonder that everybody wants Doree?

This picture has more pre-Code goodies than you can shake a stick at. Just when you think you’ve recovered from one dramatic scenario or startling bit of dialogue, along comes another. There’s the encounter between Bob and Doree the day after they meet aboard John’s yacht; Bob spies Doree taking a swim and before you can say “Fanny’s your aunt,” he’s stripping off his clothes to join her. And he’s even more intrigued when he sees that she’s removed her swimsuit: “I can’t swim with a suit on,” Doree tells him. “At least, not as fast!” (Whoa!)

On Bob and Doree’s first night on dry land, he drives her to her hotel, and while she’s changing into something more comfortable, he calls his garage and arranges for his car to be picked up. And the next morning, we see dishes from a breakfast meal that was clearly for two. Even Doree’s best friend Marion (Joan Blondell) knows the deal: “I catch on,” she says.

“There’s a lot o’ difference between getting and got.”

Speaking of Marion, she delivers one of my favorite monologues when Doree tells her that Bob’s wife is getting a divorce. “There’s a lot o’ difference between ‘getting’ and ‘got’,” she says. “Take it from me, I know these young married men. When their wives are away, they play – and how! They’ll tell you anything, they’ll make all sorts of promises. . . . But just as soon as the well-known ball and chain gets back, they creep home on their hands and knees.”

Give My Past a look – it’s airing on TCM May 6th. And let me know what you think!

Other Stuff:

Ben Lyon and Bebe Daniels got married the year before the release of My Past. This film was the second of their six pictures together. They remained married for more than 40 years, until Daniels’s death in 1971.

Daniels and Lyon on their wedding day in 1930.

In the scene where Marion is warning Doree about her relationship with Bob, Doree refers to her friend as “Beatrice Fairfax.” This was the pseudonym for the real-life Marie Manning Gasch, who wrote an advice-to-the-lovelorn column in The New York Evening Journal for many years.

From the “Tell me your chauffeur is Black without telling me he’s Black” department: Marion tells Bob that she’s looking for a man and asks him if he has a good-looking chauffeur. Bob affirms that he does, but adds, “The only trouble is his name is Thomas Jefferson Washington Lee and he hails from New Orleans.” (“Curses,” Marion responds.) Wow.

During a golf outing, Doree is carrying a book of Bob’s. When she places the book on a table, we see that it’s Dashiell Hammett’s 1930 mystery novel, The Maltese Falcon. Bebe Daniels would star with Ricardo Cortez in the first film adaptation of the book that same year.

Shadowy Pick:  May 16th

Lizabeth Scott is a highlight of Pitfall.

May 16th is National Classic Movie Day, which celebrates films from the silents to the 1970s. And on that great day this year, TCM is screening seven first-rate noirs:

Pitfall (1948). Lizabeth Scott stars as a model who gets involved with a married (and bored with his life) insurance adjuster (Dick Powell) and a psychopathic private dick (Raymond Burr).

The Set-Up (1949). Based on a poem by Joseph Moncure March, this film takes place during a single night, centering on the Paradise City boxing arena, where aging boxer Stoker Thompson (Robert Ryan) hopes to win the evening’s bout – but doesn’t know that his manager and trainer have made a deal with a local gangster for him to take a dive.

The Maltese Falcon (1941). Humphrey Bogart is private detective Sam Spade, who finds himself entangled with a motley trio in search of the jewel encrusted bird of the film’s title.

Lady in the Lake (1947). This is my least favorite of the bunch, but it’s worth a look nonetheless. It’s filmed from the subjective camera point of view, which allows the audience to see the world as main character Phillip Marlowe (Robert Montgomery) sees it.

They Live By Night (1948). Farley Granger and Cathy O’Donnell are Bowie and Keechie, star-crossed lovers whose future is imperiled by Bowie’s inability to escape his criminal past.

O’Donnell and Granger in They Live by Night.

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946). In the title role, Barbara Stanwyck is the head of an industrial empire, which she has expanded and enhanced since inheriting it from her aunt –who, incidentally, she killed as a youngster.

The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946). Based on a James M. Cain novel, this feature focuses on drifter Frank Chambers (John Garfield), who falls for the very married Cora Smith (Lana Turner) and teams with her to murder her husband.

Call in sick to work (or maybe just set your DVR, whatever) and make sure you don’t miss this shadowy septuple on May 16th!

Other Stuff:

In Pitfall, keep your eyes peeled for the scene where Dick Powell goes to see Lizabeth Scott at her job. After he parks, you can see the May Company department store in the background, located on Wilshire Blvd. That building now houses the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures.

Sydney Greenstreet was a cinematic late-bloomer.

Robert Ryan, who plays a boxer in The Set-Up, held the heavyweight boxing title for all four years of his attendance at Dartmouth College.

At the age of 62, Sydney Greenstreet made his big screen debut in The Maltese Falcon.

Robert Montgomery made his directorial debut on Lady in the Lake and completed the movie 19 days ahead of schedule.

Cathy O’Donnell landed the role of Keechie in They Live By Night after she was recommended by Farley Granger.

Audrey Totter. Sans lions.

Watch for the scene in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers when Van Heflin is giving a ride to a hitchhiking sailor. That sailor is future director, producer, screenwriter – and husband of Julie Andrews – Blake Edwards.

In the novel The Postman Always Rings Twice, the character played in the film by Audrey Totter was a lion tamer. The movie’s director, Tay Garnett, filmed a scene where Totter introduces John Garfield to her cats, but it was later scrapped and the character was changed to a diner waitress.

Have a great May and check out these films – you’ll be glad you did.

This Ain’t Endora: Agnes Moorehead in Caged (1950)

Caged (1950), categorized in most cinema circles as film noir, takes a grim and often harrowing look inside a women’s prison, concentrating primarily on one Marie Allen (excellently portrayed by Eleanor Parker), a 19-year-old who’s convicted as an accessory to an armed robbery committed by her husband. (Did I mention that in addition to being young and naive, she’s also pregnant? And that her husband was killed during the commission of the crime?)

Marie’s fellow inmates comprise a motley crew of femmes of all ages and from all walks of life. There’s Emma (Ellen Corby), a rather happy-go-lucky repeat offender who is in this time for killing her husband – in an early scene, she sits up in bed, excitedly sharing her epiphany that it’s the judge’s fault that she’s in prison. “If he’d have nabbed me the first three times when I was just practicing, I wouldn’t be here now for murder.” Others include Georgia (Gertrude Michael), a fragile southern belle who’s certain that her wealthy father will show up to secure her release; the sweet-faced but tough-talking Smoochie (Jan Sterling); Kitty (Betty Garde), the hard-boiled, no-nonsense leader of a shoplifting ring; and Kitty’s arch-rival Elivira (Lee Patrick), also known as the “Vice Queen.” Lording it over the women is the hulking, romance magazine-reading, chocolate bon-bon-eating matron, Evelyn Harper (Hope Emerson), who’s one of the scariest, most sadistic characters you’re likely to ever encounter.

“Don’t be frightened.”

And then we come to Ruth Benton, the warden of the institution, played by the multi-talented focus of this blogathon, Agnes Moorehead. We first meet her when Marie, newly arrived at the prison, is sent to Benton’s office. Right away, we sense that Benton is one of the good ones. Maybe it’s the bouquet of fresh flowers on her desk. Or her appropriately neat, but not-too-severe-looking hairstyle. Or simply the sincerity in her voice when she tells Marie, “Don’t be frightened. . . . I want you to believe that I’d like to be your friend. If you’ll let me.” Our initial impressions are confirmed moments later when Marie bursts into uncontrollable sobs. Benton doesn’t hesitate to rise from her desk to comfort the girl, putting an arm around her shoulders and literally letting Marie lean on her. It’s clear that Benton isn’t your everyday, garden-variety warden.

Benton is in over her head.

Instead, Benton is calmly, quietly efficient, and dedicated to the welfare of the women under her charge. When Marie goes into early labor, Benton works diligently to find a doctor, then paces back and forth with a furrowed brow outside the delivery room until the baby is born. But she’s not perfect; her compassionate nature doesn’t necessarily transfer to effective management of her staff, or ensure optimum care for the women under her charge. After an inmate in Evelyn Harper’s ward commits suicide, and Benton summons Harper for a chastising, we see that Benton is sometimes in over her head. Although she flat-out blames Harper for the inmate’s death, Benton also has to admit that there will likely be no investigation of the incident: “I wish somebody cared enough to make an investigation.” And after issuing a warning that she will do everything in her power to have Harper fired, Harper reminds her that she’s a political appointee with friends in high places and is virtually untouchable.

She’s tired.

Benton’s encounter with Harper leaves her with her head bowed, but she’s not broken. She attempts to secure a bigger budget for the prison, tries to upgrade the infirmary, and hopes for the services of teachers and a full-time psychiatrist. Even the administrator from the state medical board sees her as “a fighter.” But he also shares that he was a boxer in his younger days and learned, “When the odds are against a good fight . . . cover up if you want to keep on your feet. Because even though you lose the decision, it’s better than a knockout.”

Benton evokes our admiration, but our sympathy as well. She looks beyond tired – she’s WEARY. We see this in the scene where Marie comes before the parole board, and Benton advocates on her behalf, trying (unsuccessfully) to convince the board that Marie is mature enough to handle life on the outside. She’s obviously committed to her job, but the constant uphill battle is draining. You wonder how much longer she’ll be able – or willing – to continue. You wonder why she’d want to.

She never gives up. No matter what.

But no matter what happens – a prison riot, a slanderous newspaper article, pushback from her superiors – Benton simply refuses to give up. “My predecessor refused to regard criminals as human beings. I try to change that attitude,” she tells the local commissioner (Don Beddoe). “I intend to keep on trying.”

By the film’s end, we see that Benton’s efforts – as far as Marie is concerned, at least – have been to no avail. During the course of the film, Marie transforms from a frightened, innocent child to a hardened, irredeemable adult; when she’s paroled, Benton regretfully instructs her assistant to keep Marie’s file open, telling her, “She’ll be back.”

Agnes Moorehead’s performance in this feature isn’t flashy, but she grounds the proceedings and gives the film its heart and soul. If you’ve never seen her in Caged, do yourself a solid and check it out. And if you’re already familiar with it, maybe it’s time for a rewatch – it’s just that good.

Director John Cromwell and his wife, Kay Johnson.

Other stuff:

Caged was directed by John Cromwell, who was married to actress Kay Johnson (best known for Madame Satan) and was the father of actor James Cromwell (who has been featured in numerous productions including films like Babe and L.A. Confidential, and such TV series as Six Feet Under and Succession).

In the 1940s, former newspaper reporter Virginia Kellogg was sent by Warner Bros. producer Jerry Wald to investigate women’s prisons for a film he had in mind. Kellogg conducted research nationwide and reportedly went undercover in at least one facility, serving time for a false conviction. Her efforts resulted in an article for Colliers magazine, co-written with Bernard C. Schoenfeld, called “Women Without Men,” and Kellogg went on to write the screenplay for Caged. Kellogg and Schoenfeld received an Academy Award nomination for Best Story and Screenplay but lost to Sunset Boulevard.

Caged is available for free on Plex (but the last few minutes are cut off), and for rent or purchase on YouTube, Amazon Prime, Apple TV, and other streaming services.

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This post is part of the Third Agnes Moorehead Blogathon, hosted by Crystal over at In the Good Old Days of Hollywood. Click here to read about more films featuring this talented and versatile actress. You only owe it to yourself.

2024: A TCM Film Fest Odyssey (or, What I Did Last Week) — Part One

Never does time pass so quickly than it does each spring when I visit Los Angeles for the TCM Film Festival. This year was no different.

The 2024 festival, which took place April 18-21, gave me another delightful experience of moviegoing, stargazing, friend reunions, and popcorn meals (one of which left me with a broken crown, but whaddya gonna do?). I’ll be covering the actual festival in a post coming soon, but today, I wanted to share the activities that occupied my time in the days before the fest began. I did more this year than I ever have before, and it was fantastic!

This was my 12th film festival (including the two virtual fests in 2020 and 2021), and the fourth for my older daughter, Veronica. When we arrived on Monday, we intended to partake in the dining tradition that I started my first year, in 2013, by visiting the Cabo Wabo restaurant in the nearby Ovation Mall, but to my dismay, it was gone! I couldn’t believe my eyes. (We wound up at the mall’s Japanese eatery, Cho-Oishi, but vegetable fried rice and Pinot Grigio – no matter how tasty – doesn’t quite hit the spot when you’ve got a taste for fish tacos and a jumbo margarita. Ah, well. Again – whaddya gonna do?)

No mo’ Cabo Wabo.

Darn, that’s the end.

Our adventures really took off on Tuesday, when we joined several friends – Aurora of Once Upon a Screen, Laura (and her husband, Doug) of Laura’s Miscellaneous Movies, and Toni of Watching Forever – for a tour of Paramount Studios. It was entertaining and informative – we got the chance to hold an Oscar (the first one awarded for Best Special Effects, for the 1953 sci-fi feature War of the Worlds), see the building used as the high school in The Brady Bunch (which, along with The Dick Van Dyke Show and Good Times, is among my favorite classic TV shows), sit on the actual bench that Tom Hanks sat on in Forrest Gump, and take pictures of props used in films like Dreamgirls and Coming to America. And our tour guide was a delight (she reminded Veronica and me of Anne Hathaway’s character in The Princess Diaries).

(L-R) Veronica, Aurora, Laura, Toni, Me, and Doug

This is where William Holden and Nancy Olson met to work on their screenplay in Sunset Boulevard.

Veronica and the Oscar for Best Special Effects for War of the Worlds.

The back of the Forrest Gump bench was at a 90-degree angle to foster Tom Hanks’s rigid posture.

The statue of King Jaffe Joffer from Coming to America.

After the Paramount tour, Veronica and I headed downtown to visit a series of locations that I’d discovered in a TikTok video. First, we ate at the Grand Central Market, which is a huge, warehouse-size structure that houses all kinds of food vendors selling goodies that ranged from pastries and pizza to tacos and sushi. (I wound up at Wexler’s Deli, where I got a tuna sandwich described as “classically austere” in the L.A. Times newspaper.) Later in the afternoon, Veronica and I returned to share a piece of key lime pie. So delish.

The Grand Central Market houses 40 food vendors. Something for everyone!

I sure can pick ’em!

Our next stop was described on the TikTok video as “around the corner,” but it was actually three or four blocks away: The Last Bookstore. According to the store’s website, it’s the largest new and used bookstore in California and it’s the only one that’s “22,000 square feet with a record store, comic bookstore, five art studios, an epic yarn shop, a famous book tunnel, a mammoth head, and unexpected nooks of funkiness.” It was great to explore, and they had so many interesting books.

We followed the bookstore with a stop in the Bradbury Building, where numerous movies have been filmed, including such noirs and neo-noirs as Double Indemnity (1944), The Unfaithful (1947), D.O.A. (1950), M (1951), Chinatown (1974), and Blade Runner (1982). Public access isn’t allowed past a certain point near the building’s entrance, but you can still step inside and see the beautiful skylit atrium and the intricate ironwork.

Our downtown tour wrapped up with a trip to Angels Flight, a 118-year-old cable railway that runs two blocks up and downhill and is billed as the world’s shortest railway. From 1901 to 1969, the railway was located near the Third Street Tunnel and operated between Hill Street and Olive Street. It was dismantled in 1969 and sat in storage for nearly 30 years, until it reopened in 1996, half a block from the original site, ferrying customers between Hill Street and California Plaza. It has two cars, named Olivet and Sinai. I think I first became aware of Angels Flight from the 1949 noir Criss Cross, starring Burt Lancaster. It’s also been seen in other noirs including Hollow Triumph (1948) and Night Has a Thousand Eyes (1955), as well as in two that also used the Bradbury Building: The Unfaithful (1947) and M (1951). I loved riding the railway – even though it’s not in the same spot that it was in the movies, it was a thrill to be aboard this historic vehicle. I could have ridden it all day!

The following day – Wednesday – featured a visit to another spot that we’d learned of via TikTok: Mr. Brainwash Art Museum, billed as “the first contemporary art museum created and run by a living artist.” That artist is Thierry Guetta, who gained prominence in 2010 after the release of the Oscar-nominated British documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop. The three-story structure, located in Beverly Hills, features a wide variety of unique and interactive exhibits, including a dinosaur made out of books, a multi-story mobile of paintbrushes, a psychedelic hall of mirrors, famous paintings modified with pop culture references, and life-size paintings by Edward Hopper and Vincent Van Gogh that visitors can actually climb inside. It was the most fun I’ve ever had at an art museum!

And that was the end of our two-day pre-fest L.A. exploration adventure. Thanks for joining me on my L.A. discoveries – stay tuned for coverage of my TCM film festival experience this year!

It’s a Wonderful World: My Plans for the 2024 TCM Film Festival

It’s about that time again, y’all – time for the Turner Classic Movies film festival! I’ve been attending since 2013, so 2024 marks my 10th year attending the festival in person (and my 12th overall, counting the two years – 2020 and 2021 – that TCM presented a virtual fest). And I’m almost excited all these years later as I was for that very first festival. (Except I no longer start crying after I purchase my passes!) It’s my third year, by the way, that I’ll be attending with my older daughter, Veronica!

The day that the full schedule drops is always one of great excitement – seeing all of the movies that will be offered and the guests who will be on hand is a thrill that’s somewhat akin to riding a rollercoaster. Or like Christmas morning – just one gift after another!

After several days of deliberation, I’ve finally come up with my schedule, and it’s my delight to share it with y’all!  Here goes . . .

— Glory days . . .

As I’ve done every year that I attended the festival in person, I’ll be kicking things off by participating in the “So You Think You Know Movies” trivia contest, hosted by Bruce Goldstein, the founder of classic film distributor Rialto Pictures and Founding Repertory Artistic Director of New York’s Film Forum. In case I haven’t mentioned this two or three hundred times in the past, I was on the winning team for the contest in 2022 – truly a highlight of my very existence. The contest is very challenging, but so much fun, and it’s a much-beloved tradition for me.

Movie-wise, this year, I once again purchased Essential passes for Veronica and me, which permits to all of the screenings, including the Opening Night film. At the time the passes went on sale, the Opening Night film had not yet been announced, but I decided that if it was a movie that I really wasn’t interested in, then we just wouldn’t go to it. As it turns out, the movie is Pulp Fiction, with John Travolta as the guest, and I was absolutely thrilled. Pulp Fiction is one of my favorite films, and I’ve been a Travolta fan since he first appeared on my TV as Vinnie Barbarino. The only drawback is that two of the films that I was looking forward to seeing – Only Yesterday and Grand Hotel – are in direct conflict with Pulp Fiction. I’ve seen them both, but my copy of Only Yesterday is practically unwatchable, and I really wanted Veronica to see Grand Hotel. But, whaddya gonna do? Onward to  . . .

— I’m looking forward to finally being able to see Mr. Norman!

FRIDAY – where the first time block includes several films that I strongly considered – The Caine Mutiny, The Good Fairy, and Mighty Joe Young (the latter because I think it would be a hoot to see with an audience) – but, instead, I decided to do something I’ve never done before: go to a screening just to see the introduction. The film is One Hundred and One Dalmations at the El Capitan Theater, which I haven’t been inside since I saw The Women [1939] back in 2014 (when Paula, of Paula’s Cinema Club, and I LITERALLY ran down Hollywood Boulevard at night to make it just in time). I have no interest whatsoever in seeing this movie, but the special guests are actor Mario Cantone and former Disney illustrator Floyd Norman. I saw Cantone for the first time at the 2022 festival, when he pinch-hit for last-minute no-show Paula Abdul, who was supposed to introduce Singin’ in the Rain. Then, last year, I saw him introduce The Old Maid, and I think I can honestly say I’ve never laughed so loud and so long at a guest’s introduction. As for Norman, I learned about him from the outstanding 2016 documentary, Floyd Norman: An Animated Life, and I was blown away by his story. I missed seeing him at last year’s event – I’m not going to let this second chance pass me by. But I plan to leave after the introduction (I hope I can work up the nerve) so that I can see The Little Foxes, which will also be introduced by Cantone. Other films during this second block are Them!, Three Godfathers, and The Model and the Marriage Broker; of these, the only one that gave me pause was The Model and the Marriage Broker, because it’s being introduced by actress Diane Baker and my pal, Christy Putnam, who’s in the process of writing the biography of the film’s star, Thelma Ritter. Unfortunately, I really want Veronica to see The Little Foxes, so that one won out in this time slot.

— Billy Dee, by hook or by crook.

Next up, I hope to see the hour-long interview of Billy Dee Williams in Club TCM, which is the Blossom Room in the Roosevelt Hotel. The room – which, incidentally, was the site of the very first Academy Awards ceremony – is rather small, all things considered, and I won’t have a lot of advance time to get there, so I’m going to have to be flexible with this one, in case there’s no space.  There’s not much else in this time slot that I’m overly enthusiastic about seeing, with perhaps the exception of The Big House, but it’s in the smallest theater, and I doubt that we could get in. If we don’t see Billy Dee here, I may just opt for getting a meal that consists of something more substantial than popcorn and white wine.

The evening block is not set in stone. I’d like to see the documentary Frank Capra: Mr. America, which is being introduced by film historian and author Jeanine Basinger (who I’d really love to see), but I’m also considering Lady Sings the Blues, which will feature Billy Dee Williams. It depends on what happens with the Club TCM interview earlier in the day. One way or another, I’m GOING to see Billy Dee Williams before I go back home!

— I REALLY want to see this. (But I swear, I’m yawning right now, just thinking about staying up until midnight.)

And for the late-evening block, my choices are Se7en (which, thank you, I never want to see again ever), All the King’s Men, Jailhouse Rock, The Bellboy, It Happened One Night, and Gidget. I may go for It Happened One Night, because it’s such a classic and it’s time Veronica saw it. And then there’s a midnight movie – The Road to Ruin (1934). In all the years I’ve gone to the fest, I’ve never gone to a midnight movie, but I may give this one a try, especially since it may be the only pre-Code I catch this year. I’m not sure if I can hang, though, especially since I plan to be up early for the first film on . . .

— Robbins and Freeman? Yes, indeed!

SATURDAY! This one was a no-brainer for me – we’ll be going to see Night Has a Thousand Eyes, which is being introduced by my pal, historian and author Alan K. Rode. (Other films during that time slot are El Cid, Four Weddings and a Funeral, The Long, Long Trailer, and Dirty Harry. No problems here, although it’s worth noting that El Cid will be introduced by Sophia Loren’s son, director Edoardo Ponti. Nice!) Next up, we’re going to see The Big Heat, which is one of my favorite noirs and another one of those films that I really want Veronica to see. AND, it’s being introduced by Dana Delany. (Bonus!) It’s up against A Little Romance (where Diane Lane is the special guest), She Done Him Wrong, and Annie Get Your Gun. I may grab a bite during the next time slot and then go get in line for The Shawshank Redemption, where Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins are the special guests. You can best believe that I do not plan to miss this one! Other good stuff in this slot includes The Shop Around the Corner, International House, Westward the Women, and Footloose.

The final slot of the day consists of On the Waterfront, Little Women, Summer Stock (introduced by Kate Flannery, of The Office fame, who I met by chance several years ago – she was SO nice!), La Strada, and Dog Day Afternoon (introduced by Jeff Daniels). I think I’ll let Veronica pick which one we see. And that will take us to . . .

— Carl Franklin is introducing this one.

SUNDAY! The last day already! Time has simply flown by. Anyway – I only have two must-sees for Sunday: Chinatown, which is being introduced by director (and former Good Times guest star!) Carl Franklin, and Spaceballs, where Mel Brooks will be the special guest. If I don’t see anything else, I am going to see these two. Other possibles for the day include The Sin of Nora Moran, introduced by former child star Cora Sue Collins; The Bingo Long Traveling All-Stars and Motor Kings (again with Billy Dee Williams, so this one is contingent on whether we’re able to see Williams on Saturday), and the TBA slots, which replay popular screenings from earlier in the fest where a significant number of people had to be turned away. If Grand Hotel or Only Yesterday are among these, I hope we can catch them.

And that’s it, y’all! I get the feeling that this year’s schedule will be my most fluid – I’d like for Veronica to have more input, and if possible, I’d also like to see a few more movies that are new to me. So far, Spaceballs is the only set-in-stone film that I haven’t seen before. But whatever happens, I know it will be another awesome experience!

If you’ve gotten this far, I thank you for reading – and I’d love to know what films you’d like to see!

Something Completely Different: What to Watch on TCM in April 2024

There are lots of great features airing on TCM in April: pre-Codes like Grand Hotel (1932), Three on a Match (1932), and Bombshell (1933); noirs including Double Indemnity (1944) and The Breaking Point (1950), and a surfeit of classics that don’t fit either of these categories, such as Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939), Pride and Prejudice (1940), and The Mortal Storm. But I’m not selecting any of these for my TCM pick of the month. Instead, I’m doing something a little different. In honor of MGM’s 100-year anniversary (the studio was founded in April 1924, with the merger of Metro Pictures, Goldwyn Pictures, and Louis B. Mayer Pictures), I am recommending the outstanding 1992 documentary, MGM: When the Lion Roars.

Hosted by Patrick Stewart, the documentary is presented in three parts. Part One: The Lion Roars, focuses on the relationship between studio head Louis B. Mayer and his “Boy Wonder” production head Irving Thalberg, the transition from silent films to talking pictures, and the careers of such luminaries as Greta Garbo, John Gilbert, Joan Crawford, Clark Gable, Marie Dressler, Lon Chaney, Marion Davies, and Lillian Gish. Part Two: The Lion Reigns Supreme, covers the studio’s operations after the untimely 1936 death of Thalberg through 1946 and includes a look at set designer Cedric Gibbons and costumer designer Adrian; the release of such classics as The Good Earth (1937), Gone With the Wind (1939), and The Wizard of Oz (1939); and the popularity of screen teams Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney, and William Powell and Myrna Loy. The final chapter, The Lion in Winter, focuses on MGM’s spate of unforgettable musicals, the arrival of producer Dore Schary, and the downfall of Louis B. Mayer.

— Louis B. Mayer and some of his many “children.”

Each part is brimming with film clips and both archival and exclusive interviews with a wide variety of notables, including Lew Ayres, Freddie Bartholomew, Eleanor Boardman, editor Margaret Booth, director Clarence Brown, Jackie Cooper, Lillian Gish, Helen Hayes, Charlton Heston, Roddy McDowall, producer Samuel Marx, Maureen O’Sullivan, Luise Rainer, Mickey Rooney, and director King Vidor. The clips from the various films are fascinating and fun, as are the stories told by the actors, actresses, directors, and other personages affiliated with the studio. For instance, Vidor shares his experience directing Lillian Gish in the 1926 silent film La Boheme, recalling her convincing performance during her death scene. “She died so realistically and her breath didn’t move, that I began to see headlines: “Actress Does The Scene So Well That She Actually Dies.” In another interview, Bartholomew opines that to Louis B. Mayer, the actors and actresses under his employ were his children: “I think he thought of them as naughty children who needed slapping and punishing,” Bartholomew said.  “And I think he always thought, quite sincerely, that his children were being terribly disloyal when they asked for more money, because we were stabbing Daddy in the back.”

I taped this feature off of the cable channel TNT when it first aired, and I have seen it so many times that my VHS tape is all but unwatchable. (I also purchased the hefty companion coffee table book by Peter Hay.) That should give you an idea of just how great this documentary is. If you love old movies (and, of course, you do), or MGM (and, really, how could you not?), you’ve got to see MGM: When the Lion Roars. It’s airing on three nights on TCM: April 1st, April 8th, and April 15th. Do yourself an enormous favor, and don’t miss this one, y’all.

You only owe it to yourself.

Gloria, Hallelujah: The Marathon Stars Blogathon

What’s the Marathon Stars blogathon, you may ask? It’s an event that invites participants to select a performer that they’ve seen in no more than three movies, and then view and write about at least five of that performer’s features that are new to them.

When I read about this event, I immediately thought of Gloria Swanson – I loved her in Sunset Blvd. (1950), but other than that, I’d never seen her in any other feature. And I knew that this blogathon would give me the perfect motivation for discovering her earlier work. (By the way – SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT – if you’re interested in reading more about Sunset Blvd., you might want to buy a copy of the 2023 Giant Dark Pages newsletter, which is all about this first-rate noir. Just $10! To order, just click here and go to “Special Issues Available.”)

— Swanson with husband number three, Henri de la Falaise.

Swanson was born in Chicago on March 27, 1899, the only child of Adelaide and Joseph, a civilian official in the U.S. Army transport service. At the age of 15, after visiting Chicago’s Essanay movie studios with an aunt, the teenager was tapped to be an extra in a motion picture, and a short time later, she was hired as a stock player at $3.25 a week. Among her films there were 1914’s Sweedie Goes to College, where she met Wallace Beery, who would become her first husband; Swanson followed him to Hollywood and the two married on Swanson’s 17th birthday but, by all accounts, the union was a dismal failure, and they were divorced within two years. Swanson would go on to rack up five more husbands; her sixth husband, writer and musician William Dufty, from 1976 until her death in 1983. Dufty, who was 16 years Swanson’s junior, was the co-writer of Lady Sings the Blues, the autobiography of singer Billie Holiday on which the 1972 Diana Ross film was based. He was also the ghostwriter for Swanson’s 1980 autobiography, Swanson on Swanson.

— “Every inch and every moment the star.”

Meanwhile, once in Hollywood, Swanson signed with Mack Sennett, playing in such comedies as Teddy at the Throttle, in which she was tied to a railroad track by Wallace Beery. Later, she signed with Triangle, starring in a series of dramas for that studio, then began working with Cecil B. DeMille, who released his films through Paramount Studios. She remained with Paramount until 1926, becoming the studio’s highest paid star in movies like Male and Female (1919) and The Affairs of Anatol (1921). She was once quoted as saying, “I have decided that when I am a star, I will be every inch and every moment the star. Everybody from the studio gateman to the highest executive will know it.”

And speaking of stars, I think it’s time to kick this marathon into gear! Here are the five Gloria Swanson films I watched for my star marathon:

Manhandled (1924)

I chose Manhandled as my first Swanson film because I’d read a description of it as the second film (in addition to Sunset Blvd.) where Swanson does an imitation of Charlie Chaplin. Tried as I might, I didn’t find what they were referencing, but I really enjoyed the film.

— Tessie doesn’t want to be manhandled.

In this silent feature, Swanson stars as Tessie McGuire, a department store salesgirl who accepts a party invitation when her boyfriend (Tom Moore) chooses work over a date with her. At the party, Tessie does an impression of a Russian Countess, which she parlays into a gig at a posh tearoom, but she discovers all too often that she’s “manhandled” by the gents she encounters in this upper crust society.

The first thing I noticed about this film was the opening credits. Swanson’s name was above the title, but the rest of the cast was listed under the heading of “Supporting Miss Swanson.” (WOW. I have never seen anything like that.) Swanson does a great job in this feature showing her talent for drama as well as comedy, including her first scene, where she’s pummeled, poked, and prodded by her fellow passengers on the subway. One of eight Swanson features directed by Allan Dwan, the film’s cast also included Lilyan Tashman, Frank Morgan, and Ian Keith in his big screen debut.

The Affairs of Anatol (1921)

I was quite familiar with the name of this film, but until I started watching it, I’d always assumed that Anatol was a woman! But, no. However, this silent feature directed by Cecil B. DeMille was written by a woman: Jeanie MacPherson (whose credits also include the wild and woolly Madam Satan (1930), and whose life deserves a blog post all its own).

— The Affairs of Anatol: Not enough Gloria.

The Affairs of Anatol focuses on the title character, who has been recently wed to Swanson’s Vivian, but is already bored with matrimony and suffering from a wandering eye. The picture covers his indulging in a series of “affairs” – the first with Emilie Dixon (Wanda Hawley) a woman he knew as a youngster from their hometown; he fancies himself rescuing her from the wealthy geezer who is keeping her, until he realizes that she’s partial to the geezer – and his money. The second is Annie Elliott (Agnes Ayres), a young woman in the country (where Anatol moves with Vivian after she becomes entranced with a hypnotist – don’t ask) who tries to commit suicide and is saved by Anatol. And the third is a nightclub entertainer named Satan Synne (Bebe Daniels), who turns out to not be quite as vampish as she seems.

Unfortunately, because Anatol spent so much time with these other women, there wasn’t enough Swanson in this film for me. When she was on screen, she was excellent – her acting is so understated and natural. The film is primarily a drama, but Swanson gets to display her comedy chops, particularly in the scene where Vivian and Anatol disagree over the best way to revive Annie Elliott.

The Trespasser (1929)

This feature was the first Swanson talkie that I watched in my marathon. It was written and directed by Edmund Goulding, who I know best from his helming of such classics as Grand Hotel (1932), The Old Maid (1939), Dark Victory (1939), and Nightmare Alley (1947). The film’s opening proclaims that it is “presented” by Joseph P. Kennedy, with whom Swanson was having an affair at the time.

— Never a dull moment in The Trespasser.

This film has more melodrama than you can shake a proverbial stick at. It begins with the elopement of Swanson’s character, stenographer Marion Donnell, with Jack Merrick (Robert Ames), the son of an uber-wealthy businessman (or something). As you can imagine, dad’s none too pleased to find out that his son has married “beneath” him and, for her part, Marion’s none too pleased to learn that her new father-in-law is a snobbish, judgmental jackass. The rest of the plot includes an annulment, a baby, an affair, an unexpected death, a scandal, a tragedy, and a sacrifice. It’s a wild ride, I can tell you.

This was Swanson’s first talkie, and I must say, I could tell. From the start, her actions were exaggerated, as if she were still in a silent movie – things like hand wringing and finger pointing and fist clenching. Still, it definitely held my attention, and Swanson was nothing if not interesting to watch. (BTW, Marion did a lot of singing in this one – and it was all Swanson.)

Tonight or Never (1931)

The fourth feature in my Swanson marathon was another talkie. I’d actually tried watching this once before, several years ago, but didn’t get very far. Still, I hoped that the second time might be the charm – surely, with Melvyn Douglas (in his big-screen debut), this one would turn out to be worth my time.

— This is kind of how I felt watching Tonight or Never.

The story, based on a play by David Belasco (his “great stage success,” we’re informed by the title card), focuses on Nella Vago (Swanson), an opera singer whose performances lack passion because of the passion lacking in her own life. She is attracted to a mysterious stranger (Douglas) who appears to be stalking interested in her, but she believes that the man is a gigolo. Still, when Nella discovers that her fiancé is having an affair, she determines to find passion with the mysterious stranger – resulting in all sorts of sticky situations. (By the way, Boris Karloff makes an appearance in one scene as Melvyn Douglas’s butler.)

This was my least favorite of all five Swanson films I watched – unfortunately, my initial reaction from a few years back turned out to be spot-on. I just don’t care for Swanson’s penchant for overacting in her talkies – plus, to me, her make-up belongs to the silent era, especially around the eyes. It’s very distracting. In any event, even with Melvyn Douglas, this film was not my cup of tea. It was supposed to be a romantic comedy, but I was neither amused nor touched.

Why Change Your Wife? (1920)

I returned to Cecil B. DeMille and Swanson’s silents with my final marathon film. I selected it based on a review by Lea, over at the Silent-ology blog, and boy, was I glad I did!

— Beth. Pre-transformation.

In this comedy, Swanson is Beth Gordon, the stodgy and inflexible wife of Robert (Thomas Meighan), who, despite his efforts, is unable to get his spouse to loosen up. When a series of circumstances lead Robert into a brief physical encounter with an appealing lingerie model, Sally Clark (Bebe Daniels), he and Beth wind up in divorce court and he and Sally wind up married. But when Beth overhears talk that her marriage failed because of her strait-laced ways and dowdy wardrobe, she determines to turn over a new leaf. (“Make them sleeveless, backless, transparent, indecent – go the limit,” Beth tells a clothing store salesman.) It just so happens that Robert and his bride encounter Beth and her new leaf when all three (four?) find themselves vacationing at the same resort, resulting in some very interesting goings-on.

Along with Manhandled, this was one of my favorite Swanson films. She was an absolute delight here – excellent as the drab, dowdy, and altogether unpleasant wife, and oh-so-appealing as the transformed divorcee. This film definitely made me want to seek out some more of Swanson’s silent comedies.

Last Words and Final Thoughts

— Next up: Sadie Thompson!

I am so glad that I decided to participate in this blogathon and take this Gloria Swanson journey. Her Sunset Blvd. performance has long been a favorite of mine, and I greatly enjoyed taking a step back in time to experience the films she made in the decades before she became Norma Desmond.

With the exception of Sunset Blvd., of course, I unquestionably prefer Swanson’s silent films, but I found it intriguing that some of the characteristics that I so disliked in her early talkies were definitely present in her portrayal of Norma Desmond. In the case of that aging, former silent screen queen star, though, those traits were absolutely on point and perfectly suited to Norma’s persona.

I look forward to discovering more of Gloria Swanson’s work, including Male and Female (1919), where she shares the screen with a live lion; Sadie Thompson (1928), which was later remade by both Joan Crawford and Rita Hayworth; and Don’t Change Your Husband (1919), another Cecil B. DeMille-directed comedy. And if you have any other suggestions for me, please let me know!

———-

This post is part of the third “Marathon Stars” Blogathon, hosted by Virginia of The Wonderful World of Cinema, Samantha at Musings of a Classic Film Addict, and Crystal of In the Good Old Days of Hollywood. Visit these blogs to read a variety of posts from fellow film fans making new cinematic discoveries!

I’ll bet you’ll be glad you did.

Treat Yourself to Forbidden Cocktails!

If you know me, you know that I enjoy a tasty cocktail from time to time. I even like the word “cocktail” – it invokes Art Deco rooms peopled by beautiful people clad in impeccable clothes exchanging exquisitely memorable bon mots. Toss a pre-Code movie into this mix, and I’m in heaven!

That’s what you’ll get with Andre Darlington’s new book, Forbidden Cocktails: Libations Inspired by the World of Pre-Code Hollywood, by Turner Classic Movies and Running Press. Featuring a foreword by historian and author Mark A. Vieira, this gorgeous book takes a look at 50 pre-Code features and pairs them with either an original or a classic Prohibition-era cocktail. Each film discussion contains an overview of the plot as well as interesting information related to the production, and almost every page depicts a beautiful scene from a film, a colorful poster, or a tantalizing cocktail.

— The marquee for Red-Headed Woman.

The book opens with a concise, reader-friendly explanation of the pre-Code period of 1930 to 1934, and the films described consist of some of my very favorites from the era, including The Divorcee, Strangers May Kiss, Night Nurse, Safe in Hell, Red-Headed Woman, Red Dust, Three on a Match, Baby Face, and Mandalay. The author also introduced me to a few pictures with which I was completely unfamiliar – Anybody’s Woman, directed by Dorothy Arzner; The Last Flight, starring Richard Barthelmess and David Manners; and Million Dollar Legs, featuring gone-too-soon actress Lyda Roberti and described as “an anarchic cross between Looney Tunes and Monty Python.” The cocktails themselves feature an array of unique, creative, and wholly enticing names, like Count Draiquiri, Lil Red, Pettin’ in the Park, Here Kitty Kitty, and The Berry-More. The cocktail recipes also introduced to me a variety of mixers that I’d never heard of – Lillet Blanc, Fernet Branca, kirschwasser, crème de violette, and amaro.

— Dorothy Mackaill is Safe in Hell.

In addition to the coverage of the films and the cocktail recipes, Forbidden Cocktails very helpfully includes a manual for making mixed drinks (including how to muddle, when to stir and when to shake, and how to create a salt or sugar rim), recommendations for a well-stocked bar – in addition to the liquor and mixers, these include such pantry items as bitters, olives, and club soda, and tools like a jigger, strainers, muddler, and bar spoon. Finally, in addition to the movie-related cocktails recipes, Darlington includes some of his favorite classic cocktails from the pre-Code era, including the Charlie Chaplin, the Mary Pickford, and the Joan Blondell.

Some of the many interesting tidbits in the book include the following:

After winning the Academy Award for The Divorcee, Norma Shearer went on to rack up an additional four Best Actress nominations.

Morocco, the film that made Marlene Dietrich a star, is one of the first movies in which a leading lady kisses another woman.

— The “It Happened One Morning” cocktail.

The 1930 murder of reporter Jake Lingle is one of the real-life elements included in the plot for Dance, Fools, Dance, starring Joan Crawford.

When The Public Enemy was released, the public reception was so positive that one New York theater showed the film 24 hours a day.

In Safe in Hell, actress Nina Mae McKinney sings “When It’s Sleepy Time Down South.” The song was co-written by her co-star Clarence Muse.

During the opening week of Sign of the Cross in New York City, some of the women in the audience screamed, others fainted, and still more walked out.

If you love pre-Code movies, this is the book for you. If you love a good cocktail, this is the book for you. And when I tell you that this book has made me start searching for a vintage bar cart, you can believe it.

Forbidden Cocktails will be available starting May 7th; you can pre-order it from Amazon here.

Treat yourself.

Shadowy and Satiny: What to Watch on TCM in March 2024

My TCM picks for March aren’t the most highly acclaimed films in the history of pre-Code and film noir – but I like them. I hope you will, too.

Satiny Pick: Big Business Girl (1931)

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – I am not a big fan of Loretta Young. EXCEPT when it comes to her pre-Code films. And when it comes to those, I’d watch any of them, any time. In my pick for this month, Big Business Girl, Young stars as Claire “Mac” McIntyre – we meet her and her jazz bandleader boyfriend Johnny (Frank Albertson), at the State University Senior Class Graduation Dance.

R.J. is all about those gams.

(Incidentally, in case you weren’t sure you were watching a pre-Code, you get a pretty solid hint less than two minutes into the film. As the couples whirl around the floor, we see several of them, one couple at a time, dance their way behind a partition at the end of the room and pause there for a few seconds for some surreptitious smooching. We get another clue soon after, when a couple walks outside and the girl asks her beau if she’s safe with him out there in the dark. He assures her that she certainly is not and she rejoins, “Where’s your car parked?”)

We soon learn that Mac and Johnny are madly in love, but we also learn some interesting differences between them. Mac is graduating and moving to New York for a job that will help pay off her college debts. John flunked out, and Mac reads him like a book, observing that John “just didn’t care enough to try . . . You’re just too soft and lazy, dear. You don’t seem to be able to finish anything.” Mac is doubtlessly the more mature and practical one in this relationship; Johnny is a talented musician and loads of fun, but his idea of a future with Mac involves them both moving to New York, getting an apartment, and “read[ing] the want ads together.”

Tug-of-war time.

Ultimately, Johnny travels to Paris for a gig and Mac moves to New York, where she quickly snags a secretarial job at an advertising agency. Before long, she has worked her way up to a copywriter, under the tutelage of her boss, R.J. Clayton (Ricardo Cortez), who’s more interested in Mac’s gams than in her ability to create a successful ad campaign. Incidentally, Clayton is handsome and sexy and a real go-getter, but he’s also a supreme jerk who sees Mac as more of a conquest than anything else. (R.J. does deliver one of my favorite lines, though, telling Johnny in one scene: “You know, you made a silly ass of yourself. I let you insult a lady in my presence. Now, the next time that you lose control of your temper . . . I’m going to be forced to turn you over on my knee and give you a little spanking.”) (Hee!)

Joan Blondell is not here for play-play.

At first, it seems that the film is going to be an exploration of a woman’s ability to have it all – especially when one of Mac’s co-workers opines that it “takes more than a successful career to keep a girl warm on winter nights.” As it happens, that’s not the point at all – what it really boils down to is an ongoing tug-of-war between Johnny and R.J. for Mac’s affections. But don’t let that turn you off – it’s fairly entertaining until it takes a hard left in the last 15 minutes or so, and even then, it’s so darned daffy that it’s worth the trip. (Plus, the last 15 minutes feature an appearance by scene-stealing Joan Blondell, and that’s always worth the price of admission.) Big Business Girl isn’t my favorite Loretta Young pre-Code, but it’s definitely worth a look. Tune into TCM March 11th and see what you think.

Other stuff:

The film’s director, William Seiter, also helmed the delightful silent Colleen Moore feature Why Be Good? (1929); Hot Saturday (1930), starring Nancy Carroll, Cary Grant, and Randolph Scott; and the Laurel and Hardy starrer, Sons of the Desert (1933). Seiter was married to Laura LaPlante at the time this film was made, and later married Marian Nixon. (Ten years after Seiter’s death, Nixon married Ben Lyon).

Dorothy Christy has a small role as a married socialite who has eyes for Johnny (and doesn’t care who knows it). Christy was also featured in Sons of the Desert.

Shadowy Pick: Where Danger Lives (1950)

I can’t lie – Where Danger Lives is one of those films that, for me, falls into the “guilty pleasure” category. In fact, I came close to choosing it for the recent “So Bad, It’s Good” blogathon – that should give you an idea of what kind of movie this is. Even though its cast includes Robert Mitchum, Claude Rains, and Maureen O’Sullivan, and even though it’s directed by John Farrow, and even though the cinematographer is Nicholas “Out of the Past” Musaraca, it’s one of those movies that practically leaves me with my mouth open, no matter how many times I see it. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

The salad days.

The action in Where Danger Lives kicks off when an attempted suicide – Margo Lannington (Faith Domergue) – is brought into the hospital where Dr. Jeff Cameron (Mitchum) is on staff, along with his girlfriend, nurse Julie Dorn (the woefully underutilized O’Sullivan). Before you can say “Bob’s your uncle,” Jeff and Margo are an item, but there’s a monkey wrench in this sudden love affair – Margo tells Jeff that her father doesn’t approve and wants her to send her out of the country. Determined to confront his would-be future father-in-law, Jeff fortifies himself with a couple of cocktails and shows up at Margo’s house, only to learn that her father, Frederick (Rains) isn’t her father at all – he’s her husband! Yadda, yadda, yadda, Jeff and the hubby get into a battle of words, Frederick hits Jeff with a poker, Jeff fights back . . . and somehow, Frederick winds up dead.

These three.

From here, we go on the world’s wildest road trip, as Margo insists that they take it on the lam to Mexico because no one will believe that her husband’s death was an accident. Meanwhile, Jeff diagnoses himself with a concussion, and it sounds unusually dire: “I may talk rationally, but my decisions may not make much sense,” he tells Margo. “It’ll lead to slow paralysis in the extremities, maybe one entire side. It’ll probably end in final collapse and coma. During the unconscious period, I may die or I may come out of it.” Yikes. Will Margo and Jeff make it to Mexico? Will Jeff fall into a coma before they get there? Will Margo take the wheel if Jeff is too paralyzed to drive? And what about Naomi? (Sorry – just had an Electric Company flashback.) Tune into TCM March 24th for the answers to these and other questions.

I just love the expression on Mitchum’s face. So fitting.

Before I get to the other stuff, let me touch on why I considered this film for the “So Bad, It’s Good” category, as well as why I consider it to be a guilty pleasure. As for the “bad” part, that would come down to one person: Faith Domergue. She’s interesting, she’s kind of exotic – but she really can’t act, y’all. I mean, seriously. On the other hand, you have the always-stellar Claude Rains, who is only in one scene, but puts on a show you won’t soon forget and tosses off the film’s very best lines. (“I wish you’d stop calling her my daughter. She happens to be my wife,” Frederick informs Jeff. “Margo married me for my money. I married her for her youth. We both got what we wanted. After a fashion.”)

“Oh, no.”

Also, the film has a number of unintentionally funny moments as poor Jeff’s physical condition deteriorates and Margo’s batshit-craziness ramps up. I think the best example is when Jeff and Margo are alone in a room not far from the Mexico border, waiting to be picked up by a van. (Don’t ask.) Margo asks Jeff what time it is, and Jeff tells her that he thinks his whole left side is getting numb. Margo responds, “I said, WHAT TIME IS IT?!?!” (‘Cause Margo doesn’t give a damn about your left side, Jeff!) When the van arrives, Jeff says that he can’t walk, Margo insists that he only has to make it to the border, she pushes him to give him a bit of encouragement, and Jeff falls backwards onto the floor. And then Margo says, “Oh, no,” like she’d just discovered that her milk was past the expiration date. It’s my favorite part of the movie, y’all.

Other stuff:

Farrow, O’Sullivan, and six of their seven children.

Faith Domergue was first seen by Howard Hughes when she was 16 years old and under contract to Warner Bros. Hughes later bought her contract, and viewed Where Danger Lives as a way to showcase her talent.

At the time of filming, director John Farrow was married to Maureen O’Sullivan. The two were married for 26 years, until Farrow’s death in 1963, and had seven children, including actress Mia Farrow.

Tune into TCM on March 11th and March 24th for these two semi-gems – you won’t be sorry. At least, I don’t think you will!

Shed No Tears: It’s So Bad, It’s Good!

A few days after I saw Shed No Tears (1948) for the first time, I told my mother about the movie and recommended that she watch it.

After she did, she called me and said, “I just have one question. Why??”

And I told her, “Because it’s so bad, it’s good!”

This account may or may not be apocryphal, but there’s no denying two things about Shed No Tears: (1) It’s no masterpiece, and (2) I enjoyed it!

(Before I dive into this little confection from Equity Pictures, let me say that I’m highly likely to let a few – or more than a few – spoilers slip, so watch your step!)

In a nutshell, the film is about a man who fakes his death so that his wife can collect his insurance payout and the two of them can ride off into the Mexico City sunset together. What he doesn’t know is that he’s not exactly the apple of her eye – in fact, she’s got a whole pie on the side, if you get my drift. And she plans on using her faux-deceased hubby’s insurance money to jet off Honolulu with that pie.

Who’s who?

June Vincent brings Edna to life.

The husband in the film is Sam Grover, played by one of my favorite pre-Code/film noir straddlers, Wallace Ford (check him out, for instance, in Skyscraper Souls [1932] and Breaking Point [1950]). His wife, Edna, is played with gusto by June Vincent, who I know from Black Angel, her 1946 noir with Dan Duryea and Peter Lorre. And Edna’s side-fella is Ray Belden (Robert Scott, who, though you may not know it, you’ve seen if you’re familiar with Gilda [1946] – he played Gabe Evans, the “pretty” fella dancing with the title character shortly before she delivers her well-known “Bar Nothing” line).

Who else?

Others in the film are Sam’s son, Tom (Dick Hogan, whose final performance in his 12-year film career was as the murder victim in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope [1948]); Tom’s fiancée, Marilyn (Elena Verdugo, who’s perhaps best recognized as the receptionist on TV’s Marcus Welby, M.D.); Lt. Hutton (Frank Albertson, who was Katharine Hepburn’s ne’er-do-well brother in Alice Adams [1935}, Sam “Hee-Haw”  Wainwright in It’s a Wonderful Life [1946], the owner of the $40 grand that Janet Leigh steals in Psycho [1960] and the mayor of Sweet Apple, Ohio, in Bye Bye Birdie [1963]). And in a significant role as Huntington Stewart is Johnstone White who, for reasons that I can’t fathom, is given the “Introducing” title in the credits even though he’d been in films for more than 10 years.

Dr. Welby’s receptionist was a looker back in the day!

What’s the low-down about the plot?

Like many a noir, Shed No Tears starts out relatively simply, but grows more complex as it goes along. At the outset, Sam sets a hotel room on fire and tosses a corpse out of the window that’s wearing Sam’s watch and ring – as intended, the authorities think that Sam is the dead guy. Meanwhile, Sam takes a bus to Washington, D.C. – the plan is for Edna to collect the $50,000 life insurance policy on Sam and then join him in D.C. before they both start their new life together in Mexico. (By the way, $50,000 may not sound like much to finance a new life, but adjusting for inflation, it would come to more than $655,000 today. Not too shabby.)

Ray and Edna. Up to no good.

As I mentioned earlier, Edna plans to double-cross Sam by taking his insurance money and disappearing with Ray. But a couple of things – or should I say people – stand in her way: Sam’s son, who doesn’t believe that Sam’s death was an accident, and Huntington Stewart, who Tom hires to look into the matter. And if that weren’t enough, Stewart is less interested in unearthing the truth about Sam’s demise than he is in snagging a piece of Sam’s insurance money for himself.

What’s bad about this movie?

Dick Hogan. Enough said.

I’m not gonna lie – Dick Hogan’s performance leaves a lot to be desired. It’s kinda like watching an animated block of wood. And I use the word “animated” loosely. A perfect example of his thespianic capabilities comes during a conversation Tom has with the private investigator, Stewart, who suggests that Edna and Ray may have conspired to kill Sam. Tom actually snaps his fingers and enthusiastically emotes: “So they could have each other and plenty of money besides! That’s it! We’ve got it!” Oh, brother! (And while I’m on the subject, Robert Scott, as Ray, is no Laurence Olivier either. But he does have nice dimples.)

Also, the plot has a tendency to veer into certain directions and then completely abandon them. There’s one scene, for instance, where Edna is visited by two representatives from her husband’s insurance company. One of the reps makes it clear that he’s not satisfied with the police’s account of Sam’s death: “Before we settle,” he tells Edna, “I’ll have to do a certain amount of investigating.” And he adds, rather ominously, that his report will be ready in about a week “if there are no disturbing difficulties.” We never see or hear from this dude again.

Sam turns over a houseful of furniture.

In another scene, Sam employs an interesting scheme to raise money for his return to Los Angeles from his Washington, D.C. hideout. He’s been renting a room in a house and he tells the housekeeper that the landlady no longer needs her services. With the other renters and the landlady at work for the day, Sam proceeds to contact a finance company that offers “easy way loans” on cars, furniture, and other items. It’s a kind of pawn shop that makes housecalls – and Sam arranges to turn over all of the furniture in the house – living room, dining room, kitchen, and four bedrooms – in exchange for a cash loan. But what did the landlady say when she arrived to a house completely void of furnishings? Did any of the neighbors notice that all of the furniture in the house was being removed? And did the housekeeper ever get her back pay? We’ll never know. The landlady, the housekeeper, and the furniture-bereft house are out of the picture – for good.

Speaking of good, what’s good about this movie?

For my money, it’s the triumvirate of June Vincent, Wallace Ford, and Johnstone White that transforms this low-budget stinker into a time-worthy yarn.

Five hundred bucks? Be for real.

June’s Edna grabs your attention from the moment she appears on screen. She has a way of delivering her lines that reminds you of a refined diner waitress from Hackensack. But she’s fascinating to watch – able to go from zero to 60 on the emotional scale, cool as shaved ice when she has to be, and always ready with a smooth lie when she needs one. In case you’re not certain that Edna is a femme fatale of the first order (despite her decidedly non-femme fatale-ish name), the film tosses a couple of red flags your way early on.  The first comes after the hotel fire, when Sam is on his way to catch his Washington, D.C.-bound bus. He gives his wife $500 (nearly $7,000 in 2024 dollars) and when he asks her if that’s enough, she sullenly replies, “I guess so.” She then tells him she needs new clothes: “A widow has to wear black.” Minutes later, we get a couple more red flags. After Edna watches Sam’s bus pull away, she dismissively tosses her cigarette to the ground in a move that feels like a metaphor for her indifference toward her spouse. She then checks her reflection in a nearby mirror, removes her beret, reapplies her lipstick, and smoothes her hair, giving her curls an extra pat for good measure. There’s something about that pat that spells DANGER. Or maybe, DUPLICITOUS. Or words to that effect.

Red flags begin to appear . . .

One thing about Edna, she can be as sweet as maple syrup or as hard as rock candy. And she perfectly demonstrates the latter quality in a scene late in the film where she squares off against Sam, delivering the following monologue: “I’ve got to kill you before you kill me. Because I despise myself for ever having had anything to do with you. Every time you came near me, I hated it. Whenever you touched me, it made me ill. Everything you did revolted me. I hated the way you let me push you around, the stupid way you sacrificed for me. Everything that would have been beautiful in anyone else, I loathed in you. But now I’m gonna fix it so I don’t ever have to see or think about you again.” (Whoa!)

Something about that ‘stache . . .

As Edna’s put-upon hubby, Wallace Ford is off-screen for half the film, but when he’s there, he makes sure we know it. In the beginning, Sam comes off like a sap, asking Edna to write to him every day while he’s in D.C. and telling her he “must be daffy” about her to be involved in such a scheme. But Sam’s no dummy. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that Edna’s not the paragon of virtue he imagined her to be, and once he does – watch out. He grows a moustache that’s as transformative as Samson’s long mane and returns to Edna with nothing short of murder on his mind. Best of all, he’s always on an even, matter-of-fact keel – he doesn’t raise his voice or demonstrate even a modicum of anger, even when he tells Edna: “All I wanted was you. You were everything to me. There was a time when I thought I’d die if you ever left me. But now, I think I can get along all right without you. You’re through with me, and I don’t want you anymore. Very nice timing.”

Stewart. Not your typical private dick.

The last member of this trio is Huntington Stewart, who strikes me as a mishmash of a low-rent Waldo Lydecker and, for some reason, Charlie Chan. He’s described by one character as “sort of eccentric,” and from the moment he opens his mouth, we understand why. We’re introduced to Stewart when Tom and his fiancée, Marilyn, go to meet with him. Marilyn walks into his office, with Tom entering a couple of seconds behind her. “My dear,” Stewart says, “You’re being followed. Did you know?” (Har.) And when Marilyn introduces Tom as her fiancé, Stewart offers: “You depress me deeply, Marilyn. However, I shall subject the young man to a thorough investigation and advise you whether to proceed with matrimony.” (Hee.) Literally every line out of this guy’s mouth is either some sort or quip or witticism, or else he’s tossing around phrases like “Machivellian machinations.” He undeniably incites the urge to roll one’s eyes on a regular basis; for instance, once he learns the name of Tom’s father, he asks him, “You are here, obviously, because there is some question in your mind concerning the circumstances of your father’s exit from this pleasant little world?” I mean, he could’ve just said, “You think your dad was murdered, huh?” But, no.

Still, there’s no denying that Huntington Stewart is different from any character in noir (or anywhere else, I’d wager) that you’re likely to come across. And when he and Edna go head-to-head, it’s an absolute gas. In fact, the exchanges between these two are the best thing about the movie – both full of snarky tones and bitter banter. They make me want to break out the popcorn and lean forward in my chair.

Other Shed My Tears Stuff

The film was based on the debut novel by Don Martin (who was described in the book’s dust jacket as “college bred and newspaper buttered”). Incidentally, if you’re interested in reading the source material, you can buy a copy of the book for a cool $1,500.00 from Abe Books and Biblio.com.

“Is that your daughter?”

There’s a brief scene showing Sam on the bus to D.C.; seated next to him is an older woman who sees him looking at a wallet photo of Edna. The woman asks Sam if the woman is his daughter. After a look of chagrin flashes across his face, he replies, “My granddaughter. She’s studying surgery in Switzerland.” This exchange was unnecessary, but it made me laugh. Not only that, but I recognized the older woman from an episode of I Love Lucy (Season 2, Episode 19), where Lucy and Ethel are courting a club member for her vote for president, for which they’re both running. In the last scene, the club member has been invited by Ricky to his nightclub and he’s showering her with attention, even making her a part of one of his numbers. She’s delighted, but it turns out that she’s actually the mother-in-law of the coveted club member. The actress was played by Ida Moore, who started her career in silent films in the mid-1920s and went on to appear in such classics as To Each His Own (1946), The Dark Mirror (1946), and The Egg and I (1947).

This is Mary Treen.

You may not know the name of the actress who played the housekeeper for the home where Sam rented a room, but you’ll certainly recognize her face. She’s Mary Treen, and her extensive filmography included Kitty Foyle (1940) and It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), where she played Tilly. If you’re a Brady Bunch aficionado, you’ll also surely remember Treen from the episode where Alice leaves the family because the children think she’s a snitch and have given her the cold shoulder; she’s replaced by a stern-faced friend of Alice’s named Kay, who doesn’t play basketball with the boys or have impromptu dance parties with the girls. (“That was Alice. I’m Kay,” she explains.) Kay was played by Treen.

Paul Maxey had quite a noir pedigree.

The skeptical insurance company representative who vowed to investigate Tom’s death was played by Paul Maxey. I remember him best from the 1952 noir The Narrow Margin, where he had a featured role as a portly train detective. He also had uncredited appearances in several other noirs, including They Won’t Believe Me (1947) and Ride the Pink Horse (1947). His first film was They Won’t Forget (1937), which also marked the debut of Lana Turner.

You can find Shed No Tears for free on YouTube; there’s also an ad-free version on Prime. If you like your noirs gritty and your femmes full of nasty charm, this is the movie for you. You only owe it to yourself to check it out – it’s so bad, it’s good!

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This post is part of the So Bad It’s Good Blogathon, hosted by Rebecca over at the Taking Up Room blog. Grab a snack, pour yourself something cold, and click here to discover some other films that are gems under shabby clothing. You’ll be glad you did.