How the West Was Won (1963)

Full disclosure: I love westerns. I have only realized this love in the last few years, so I'm not as versed in them as I'd like to be, but darn it, an evening spent with John Wayne is an evening well spent. More disclosure: I love John Wayne. I mean, come on. He's John Wayne. Whenever he's onscreen, I feel safe. He's going to get me through any trouble that may ensue.

So let me just gush about this film. I completely, accidentally stumbled upon "How The West Was Won" 1963 the other day and oh boy, was I thrilled! Here is one of only TWO narrative films in history made with the "Cinerama" process (the other being "The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grim" 1962) which had one camera with three strips of film, resulting in an epic surround-scene panoramic view. And if you saw it in a theatre, it would have to be outfitted with a special projection screen that's actually dozens of vertical strips of screen all angled toward the audience to reduce glare and reflection from the curved viewing space. What the very F.

Anyway, this proved an incredibly difficult process, both during filming and during screenings for audiences. There was some kind of widescreen format war going on in the 50s and 60s when the production companies were trying out new ways to draw audiences out of their comfortable easy chairs in front of their shiny new TV sets to see EPIC EVENT MOTION PICTURES. The ultra-wide formats that won out were cameras that used only one film strip with a larger aspect ratio. The 1959 version of "Ben Hur" for example, used 70mm film, as opposed to the standard 35mm film, like in any Marvel superhero movie you see these days. My absolute favorite, "Lawrence of Arabia" 1962 was also in 70mm, as was "The Sound of Music" 1965.

It is more costly to film and project with 70mm, but it is of very high resolution and quality. Home VHS and DVD formats could never dream of offering the true original resolution of these films, but if you picked up a Blu-Ray of "Lawrence of Arabia" and watched it on a nice big TV, you could pretty much expect to see the quality 70mm carries. It's very rarely used now, especially since the advent of digital projection systems. When Sir Ken Branagh's "Hamlet" 1996 was filmed in 70mm, that was only the third time 70mm was used since 1970, and it's only been used four times since "Hamlet." For reals.

Back to THE WEST. This film is essentially five stories told between the 1830s to the 1880s about a single extended family and how they managed to survive one of the most exciting and tumultuous eras of American history. It really has to be seen to be believed, as it is far too complex and beautiful a film to miss. Even on the flatscreen of your TV, you ain't never seen anything like it before, I swear. Just look at it. There's so much real estate on that frame. It's ridiculous.

So, to suck you in, I'll just give you some tidbits. Like, why does Jimmy Stewart have a terrible mullet haircut?

But look! Gregory Peck (GREGORY PECK!) is made of sex!

And fricken Russ "Riff" Tamblyn is a fricken Confederate deserter!

Princess Leia's mom is in fluffy knickers!

Henry Fonda in fringe! Woohoo!

You haven't seen such gripping Civil War footage since that Ken Burns documentary that you watched in middle school that was longer than the war itself! (Ok, sarcasm, but really, as much as I learned to love Ken Burns in my adult life, this is way more fun to see)

Finally, John Wayne is General William Tecumseh Sherman! 

OMG look at all that! Why aren't you finding this on Netflix or something right now?! 

You are wrong NOT to see this.

The Women (1939)

One of the most interesting things about "The Women" 1939 is that, despite its prominent tagline "It's all about men!" it actually passes the Bechdel Test. Not with flying colors, but in fact, there are a few moments here and there where these sexy, rich, bored housewives of Manhattan actually sneak in some convo about something other than the men in their lives--you know, like nail polish color and horse riding. Even stranger, this film contains not a single male actor, not even a bare chest or non-speaking punim in the joint. WHAT?!

I recorded this one last week because it got four stars according to my cable schedule guide. The description included terms that would usually turn me off, e.g. "gossiping," "catty," "divorce," etc. So I just had to see what the hell made such petty subject matter so great, especially since there's not even a Gregory Peck to keep me interested (yum). Well, let me tell you, it was the all-lady cast, which is basically a shortlist of MGM's greatest actresses of the era. Shearer, Russell, Crawford--they're absolutely sparkling and engrossing and eminently watchable despite the very domestic and banal squabbles they portray.

Shearer plays Mrs. Haines, a lovely wife with a young daughter (Virginia Weidler--the cutie who will go on to play in that other divorce-happy classic, The Philadelphia Story 1940) with whom she has a picture-perfect relationship. Russell is Sylvia, Shearer's "bestie" and a relentless gossip girl with an endless supply of hats equally posh and crass. Crawford appears as Crystal, the perfume counter salesgirl who catches Mr. Haines' wandering eye and gleefully positions herself as Mrs. Haines' mortal enemy. Much of this drama plays out in their fancy parlors or at the beauty salon, where the clucking hens are shown to be subjecting themselves to laughable physical tortures to "stay fit." Some things never change.

What constantly surprised me as I watched this dramedy of manners was the frankness with which they presented the effects of marital betrayal and divorce on the women involved. I've seen plenty of movies that merely hint at the horrors of divorce in the olden days, usually by just featuring a penny-pinching affluent old lady who just left her third husband, or by downplaying the seriousness with a song and dance and misplaced identities. But "The Women" puts these stereotyped female roles on full display, so you can count Mrs. Haines' tears as she weeps in her mother's lap when she discovers her husband's suspected infidelity. You can feel the sick satisfaction Crystal gets when she's on the phone with her married beau. The true emptiness of Sylvia's obsession with little whisperings along the grapevine strikes you in the chest. It's insane.

Now, of course, Mrs. Haines' struggles with whether she should let her husband's indiscretion go, or divorce, and SPOILER ALERT she decides to take the "six-week cure" and goes to Reno for what was then, the most trouble-free divorce money could buy. Funny thing about Reno--I had always heard this mentioned in older films and newer films about older days, but never really understood what that meant. Turns out that Nevada was the only state up until the 60's that granted divorces on a whim. You could file for many reasons, including something as simple as "Mental cruelty" (aka, "He talks too much" or "She interrupts me all the time") with no evidence. Everywhere else, the only grounds for divorce was adultery, for which one must present physical evidence, like photographs, or an eyewitness. Good luck with that!

So what well-to-do but disillusioned women did was head to Reno, where they had to establish residence for six weeks, all the while living a resort lifestyle horseback riding and schmoozing with "dudes." Then they filed for divorce and got their lives back from whatever two-timing bastard they had left back home. It was so popular that a whole tourist trade revolved around it and special Reno "divorce ranches" cropped up.

"The Women" shows Mrs. Haines living at one of these ranches with a number of others who are in limbo. Super ironically, one of them was played by the fiesty Paulette Goddard, who at the time, was married to Charlie Chaplin, but would soon be divorced from him two years later.

After much emotional distress from the whole "Reno-vation," Mrs. Haines goes home to her daughter, little Mary, who at one point joyfully jumps into bed with her mom and says "The best thing about divorce is that I get to sleep with you!" Oh boy. Of course, Little Mary sees and hears things at her daddy's house, like the new Mrs. Haines talking on the phone in the bathtub with her secret lover. When she tells her mom this, mom hatches a plan to out Crystal and therefore screw her husband's entire life! No, actually, that's how the ardent feminist in me would've liked to to end, but what really happens is that she uses this moment to embarrass Crystal and give her husband a reason to leave her and come back to his actual loving wife again. THE END.

Um WHAT.

Whatever. It's the 30's. What else can I expect? At least she got what she wanted in the end. Right?

One more thing before I go... in the middle of the film, the women all get together to watch a fashion show (as rich bored Manhattan housewives are wont to do) which suddenly bursts into TECHNICOLOR for several minutes. DOUBLE WTF. I mean, it was cool, but I have ever seen such a thing, except in arty european films at the time. I wish Fred and Ginger movies did this!

So anyway, watch this one because Joan Crawford is at her drag-queen best (see below if you don't believe me) and it's way better than reading a Cosmo. Keep is spangly, gals.

Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

Apparently, Hitchcock once said that "Shadow of a Doubt" 1943 was his favorite of his films, and I have to say that it's definitely now one of mine (right after "North By Northwest" 1959 because, hey, Cary Grant!). It also happens to be the most "domesticated" of his oeuvre, as it heavily features a very "average American family" in a lovely "anywhere USA" kind of small town in California. In fact, it feels an awful lot like watching a darker version of "Meet Me in St. Louis," (which I LOVE and it makes me CRY every Christmas when I watch it) which came out only a year later in 1944.

The pleasant, humble setting is a perfect pairing for the second half of the suspense recipe, which consists of two very strong performances from Joseph Cotten and Teresa Wright. Cotten (who all to much resembles Tim Robbins in "The Hudsucker Proxy" 1994) is Uncle Charlie and Wright (who is way cute and clever) plays little Charlie, his favorite niece. Because they have the same name, they have this "special connection," and of course, it's little Charlie who first begins to suspect her Uncle of his strange past after he comes to visit her family after years of estrangement. 

All we know as an audience is that before Uncle Charlie runs into the bosom of his loving family, the police are spying on him and he's got a rather ludicrous amount of money on his person. When little Charlie realizes that her beloved Uncle is a prime suspect regarding the multiple murders of several rich women, she is burdened with the tension that inevitably comes with wondering if your own realtive is capable of "silencing" you for their own survival.

What I love about this family-based situation is that the Charlies are surrounded by offbeat characters, which also reminds me a LOT of "Meet Me in St. Louis":

1) Charlie's father has a buddy with whom they love to go on constitutionals while discussing "the perfect way to kill each other." In one scene, when Charlie is loosing her grip on her calm, she loudly asks her father why can't he quit talking about killing people at the dinner table. He cooly responds with, "We're not talking about killing people. Herb's talking about killing me and I'm talking about killing him." WEIRDO.

2) One of the young detectives investigating Uncle Charlie develops more than a crush on little Charlie even as they secretly plot to expose her Uncle's criminal activity. GRIM.

3) Charlie's little sister is a shameless bookworm who borders on Asberger's with her literal interpretations and random facts. I loved when Charlie asked her when the library closed and she responded that she would know already if she read as much as she ought to. SASSTASTIC!

PS: The town library closes at 9:00 PM. NINE O'CLOCK AT NIGHT. And the sign on the door said it was open on SUNDAYS. Gee whiz, I'd like to live in a "sleepy little town" like that!

What's most interesting to me about "Shadow of a Doubt" is that the overarching theme of questioning what you think you know is buttressed by the underlying theme that you may not even know what you think you know. This disconcerting idea is pretty well summed up in a little speech Uncle Charlie gives his niece in a cafe right after he understands that she suspects him (and subsequently chases her down, which is s bit creepy in itself). This is the true horror Hitch is presenting to us:

"You think you know something, don't you? You think you're the clever little girl who knows something. There's so much you don't know, so much. What do you know, really? You're just an ordinary little girl, living in an ordinary little town. You wake up every morning of your life and you know perfectly well that there's nothing in the world to trouble you. You go through your ordinary little day, and at night you sleep your untroubled ordinary little sleep, filled with peaceful stupid dreams. And I brought you nightmares. Or did I? Or was it a silly, inexpert little lie? You live in a dream. You're a sleepwalker, blind. How do you know what the world is like? Do you know the world is a foul sty? Do you know, if you rip off the fronts of houses, you'd find swine? The world's a hell. What does it matter what happens in it? Wake up, Charlie. Use your wits. Learn something."

Yeah, he brings the nightmares alright.
*SPOILER ALERT*
A very R-rated moment is a Shakespearean "non-scene" that (mercifully) occurs "offstage": Charlie's father's buddy describes what he heard about what happened to one of the two prime suspects in the "Merry Widow Murder," which involves him escaping across the tarmac at an airport and accidentally running into a propeller, where he gets chopped to bits. Also, Uncle Charlie tries to oh-so-casually kill off little Charlie by locking her into the garage with the car running. And the climactic tussle on the train is some intense shit.

WTF. Seriously. WTF.

WATCH THIS IF YOU GET THE CHANCE. It is perfect.

Captain Blood (1935)

I simply don't trust anyone who can resist Errol Flynn. But that's nearly what Warner Bros. did when they were casting "Captain Blood" 1935. Thank the Universe they ended up giving him (and Olivia de Havilland) a chance to prove just how sexy an onscreen team they could be. If it weren't for this swashbuckling adventure--the obvious predesessor to all those wildly popular "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies-–we wouldn't have one of my absolute favorites: "The Adventures of Robin Hood" 1938.

So anyway, Errol. Look at him. Of course he was a carefree playboy in his time. Wouldn't you be with that stature, that face, that winning smile? In every film I've seen him in, he's effortlessly likable and easy on the eyes. Here's some more Errol's Chest for you:

*sigh*

Anyways, playing a noble doctor who gets unwillingly wrapped up with rebels in King James' England, Errol debuts with all the photogenie and dashing charisma that becomes his trademark in later films. As Errol's Dr. Blood is sold into slavery across the sea in Port Royal, Olivia's prim and proper niece of the island's miltary commander buys him and put him to work as a doctor. Having gained some favor amongst his slavedriver, he secretly plots with his fellow captives to escape and become pirates, and despite some hitches, they steal a handsome ship and become infamous in the Caribbean as Captain Blood's loyal crew. 

Soon enough, this movie tosses in a surprisingly smoldering Basil Rathbone (the iconic Sherlock Holmes actor who has the best name this side of Cumberbatch) into the mix as a savvy French pirate Levasseur. Holy cats, my ovaries!

Oh when they unsheath their swords and quarrel over a captive Olivia... I must pause to fan myself. More action-packed piratey fun ensues. Captain Blood eventually finds out that the asshole James has been deposed, and he proves his renewed English pride by rescuing Port Royal from some French attackers. He get rewarded with a governorship, and of course, his lady's hand. 

Not since silent era Douglas Fairbanks (oh, my sweet Douglas Fairbanks) had such a delicious swashbuckler leapt into moviegoers' hearts. As far as I'm concerned, "Captain Blood" is still the gold standard of pirate awesomeness. And here's some Doug Fairbanks for you before you go:

Suddenly (1954)

So I'm skimming through the TCM schedule and find this random, unknown film called "Suddenly" 1954, which I only recorded because it had Frank Sinatra playing a gangster who's holding a family hostage so he can get a good shot at assasinating the president. Worth a try. I mean, how hard could it be for Sinatra to play a gangster, right? *wink wink*

Five minutes in, I notice that I recognize the sherrif of this titular town called Suddenly (WTF kinda name is that? It's almost as bad as "Perdition"). I know his voice better than his face, but I look him up and lo and behold, he's the same dude (Sterling Hayden) who played a more famous cop--Captain McClusky--in The Godfather 1972. You know, he was the d-bag shot in the throat by Michael Corleone in the Italian restaurant.

Anyway, there's a funny thing about "The Godfather," though. If you recall the beginning of that film, a young singer named Johnny Fontaine asks his godfather for help with his life in Hollywood. He says he needs this role in a special movie to jumpstart his acting career. What ensues is that very iconic scene where the horse head shows up in the movie producer's bed. And of course, Johnny got the role he wanted after that.

But that wasn't the only time Don Corleone helped his godson. He also sent Luca Brasi to "convice" Johnny's old band leader to let him out of his contract so he could pursue a bigger singing job. He made him that "offer he couldn't refuse"--namely, that either his brains or his signature would be on the contract--and he let Johnny go. 

Mario Puzo's stories about Johnny Fontaine was based on the rumors that another real star used his mob relations to get ahead in Hollywood, the headliner of today's movie, old blue eyes himself: Frank Sinatra. And even better, his character's name in this film is "Johnny." 

PS. Oddly enough, they remade this fucking movie in 2013 with Ray Liotta in Sterling Hayden's role. Ray Liotta. The guy who famously opened "Goodfellas 1990" with "As far back as I can remember, I've always wanted to be a gangster."

Dinner at Eight (1933)

So as I'm watching this famous comedy of manners, I find I am surprised at how grim and dark and cynical it becomes as it progresses. It's essentially about how the rich and nouveau-riche interact with each other during the early years of the 1929 Depression. You've got the juxtaposition of old and crumbling empires (Marie Dressler's aging widow, Lionel Barrymore's failing shipping magnate, John Barrymore's has-been actor) and the youthful upstarts (Wallace Beery as a bullying businessman with his gold digging wife, Jean Harlow; Madge Evans as Lionel's rebellious daughter).

All these folks are supposed to go to a society dinner in a week, and they've all got secrets and problems: promiscuity, heavy alcoholism, corruption, and suicide all happen before dinner is called.

So imagine my non-surprise when I read that "Dinner at Eight" is considered a Pre-Code film despite the Code's inception in 1930. Now "The Code" aka "Hays Code" aka "How Catholics crashed the Hollywood party in 1931" was developed as a reaction to the rising number of what society in general deemed "immoral values" being "promoted" by Hollywood film. And yes, there was all kinds of gangstering and whoring and drugging before 1931, but there was still plenty up until 1934, which was the year Hollywood producers actually started strictly enforcing the "rules." Therefore, "Dinner at Eight" 1933 was technically pre-code and still contained more of the juicier subject matter.

And the rules, BTW, were pretty amazing. Some made sense (no nudity or venereal diseases onscreen), but many were either hilariously prude or weird, e.g. "No pointed profanity, like "Hell, Damn, or Gawd" or "Miscegenation" or "Children's sex organs." Like, what Hollywood movies were showing children's sex organs? Never mind. I don't wanna know.

Some other "Be Carefuls" included "Man and woman in bed together" "the use of drugs" and "Excessive or lustful kissing (more than 3 seconds)." What's the fun in that?

I mean, look at the movie poster: multiple (mostly male) heads crowding around the sex-symbol Jean Harlow's scantily-clad body. The opening credits had her served up on a platter. And in many of her scenes, she's just lying around in bed, with naught but a tight negligee and side-boob action. That's what audiences paid to see, Code or no!

Then you've got poor John Barrymore, who at this point in his illustrious career was forced to play caricatures of himself as the drunken washed-up old actor. A few characters in this movie called Barrymore's character "The Great Profile," which was his actual nickname in reality. Dressler, as well, was on the outs career-wise, but she starred in Hollywood's first feature-length comedy, "Tillie's Punctured Romance" 1914, also starring the up-and-coming Charlie Chaplin. 

In the end, after one character dies of shame, these people show up for dinner and try their best to appear relaxed and germane, despite the obvious fucked-upness of it all. Funny though... as they are having cocktails and their issues are being revealed to concerned parties, everyone seems to find a means to cooperate and show more dedication to sticking out this terrible Depression. So maybe the dinner was such a mishegoss after all.

 The best line comes at the end:

Ready for my close-up

All oldies, all the time

I'm pretty sure I've seen more movies made before 1960 than my 82-year-old grandmother. Of course, she never had narrative film classes in college and hasn't read a lick of film history/theory books and essays either. Does that make me an expert (at anything)? No. Watching more TCM than I do any other channel does. Well, at least I'm an expert at hitting RECORD whenever a Cary Grant(RAWR) movie shows up on the cable guide.

I'm 32, and I've been a classic film fan for half my life. Ever since I saw my first Fred and Ginger movie ("Top Hat," 1935), I was smitten. I recently saw "Top Hat" at the historic Tampa Theatre with my husband, who, thanks to my constant watching, has now developed a taste for the time-tested motion pictures that occupy my mind and free time. Sure, I consume all sorts of film subjects out there--dinosaurs, Bollywood, and anything by Sir Kenneth Branagh immediately comes to mind--but TCM provides me with the comfort food. Nothing thrills me more than learning a clever line (especially from Mae West) or witnessing an established star's film debut (I just saw little "Ronny" Howard yesterday in "The Journey," 1959 when he was five years old).

So, if your film history education starts and ends with AMC (God help you) OR you're just as titillated by a good Bing and Bob "Road" flick as I am, tune in every week for my running digest of all things classic.



Seriously though, I just want to call my constant TCM watching "research for my blog." So there.