Tag Archives: 1950s

The League of Alternate Superstars: Glenn Ford

It is a shame that Glenn Ford (1916-2006), contemporary of many Hollywood luminaries including his chum William Holden, did not receive the credit he deserved for a long and distinguished film and TV career.  Perhaps the most egregious omission is that Citadel Press never published The Films of Glenn Ford.

In The Great Movie Stars:  The International Years, David Shipman wrote of Ford, “It is always a pleasure to renew acquaintance with him, especially in comedy, where his relaxed and impish performances as a bumbling ordinary guy have been much underrated.  In drama he remains the Little Man, often victimized and battling grimly against the forces of fate.”

Gwyllyn Samuel Newton Ford was born on May 1, 1916 in Quebec City.  In 1922 the family relocated to Los Angeles.  Gwyllyn, now Glenn, made his first feature film in 1937, Night in Manhattan.  In 1939, the same year as Holden gained fame in Golden Boy, Ford was 4th billed in Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence but was in fact the key player.  His breakout role was as a young German caught up in the Nazi net cast over Jews and others the Fascist regimes considered undesirables in So Ends Our Night (1941), a major film starring Fredric March and Margaret Sullavan.  The same year he co-starred with Holden in the quality western, Texas.   Eventually the Holden character goes bad.  (Almost a decade later they reversed roles for The Man from Colorado, with Ford as a psychopathic colonel become federal judge after the Civil War.)

Like Holden, Tyrone Power, Clark Gable and various other Hollywood leading men, Ford joined the service during World War II.  He enlisted in the Marines.

The war over, Ford returned to the Columbia Pictures fold and had his big breakout role as Johnny Farrell opposite siren Rita Hayworth in Gilda (1946).  Now considered a staple of film noir, it would not be Ford’s last venture into that arena.  Although hardly anyone realizes it today, Ford and Hayworth were a legitimate movie team, co-starring in three other films:  The Loves of Carmen (1948), Affair in Trinidad (1952), and The Money Trap (1966).  Unfortunately, these films were primarily memorable for the casts, not the plots.

Ford became a major western hero, and sometimes, like James Stewart, a tortured one.  The same year as The Man from Colorado (1948), Ford starred in Lust for Gold, a tale of the search for the Lost Dutchman mine.  The ending featured a spectacular earthquake.  In Western Films:  A Complete Guide, author Brian Garfield suggested that as the amoral German immigrant, Ford gave the best performance of his career.  (Note that the same year The Treasure of the Sierra Madre had a similar plot and theme:  greed.).  Ford’s son wrote that co-star Ida Lupino ranked his father and Richard Widmark as her favorite leading men.

Five quality westerns followed:  The Violent Men (1955) opposite Barbara Stanwyck and Edward G. Robinson, Jubal (1956) opposite Felicia Farr and Valerie French and the amazing male duo of Ernest Borgnine and Rod Steiger with Charles Bronson in support.  An acknowledged classic was next:  3:10 to Yuma.  Ford played ingratiating but dangerous outlaw Ben Wade, captured and assigned to Dan Evans (Van Heflin), a rancher hired to put him on the train over the dangerous obstacle of Wade’s scurvy gang.  Wade comes to respect Evans and actually helps him survive.  There were two westerns in 1958.  Cowboy was rather epic in scope, with a hard edge befitting this tale based on fact.  The dude played by Jack Lemmon joined Ford’s no-nonsense rancher on his cattle drive and became a man.  The Sheepman was not so hard-edged, with Ford battling with the cattlemen (naturally) and sparring with spunky Shirley MacLaine in this, her fifth film.  A sixth western intended as a large-scale remake of the epic 1931 Best Picture Academy Award winner, 1960’s Cimarron was a major disappointment, as would the 1962 remake of 1921’s The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Ford’s first noir classic had been Gilda, and Ford had another significant—and vastly more violent entry in that realm in 1953.  Directed by Fritz Lang, The Big Heat joined the pantheon of most famous noirs.  After his family is attacked, Detective Dan Bannion (Ford) goes all out for revenge on Mike Lagana’s crime syndicate and its prime hitman (Lee Marvin).  It would not be much of a stretch to label Experiment in Terror (1962) a noir.  Ross Martin’s psychopath terrorized sisters played by Lee Remick and Stefanie Powers. Ford’s detective is out to nab the miscreant, and symbolic of changing times, in one scene Ford stands alone among a gaggle of female mannequins.  His attire may be symbolic:  still in fedora, which by decade’s end will disappear from the noggins of both policemen and hoods, but his trenchcoat has no belt.

Contemporary issues were also in Ford’s repertoire.  The most famous and significant film in this bailiwick was Blackboard Jungle (1955), whose theme “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley and the Comets became the anthem for rock ‘n roll.  Ford played teacher Richard Dadier (or “daddio” to the punks) at an inner city school packed with society’s newly christened “juvenile delinquents”, including Vic Morrow.  The film was controversial on several accounts, not least in casting Sidney Poitier in a prime role as one of the students.

After Blackboard Jungle Ford began a spate of military movies in that almost forgotten comedy subgenre:  the “service comedy”:  The Teahouse of the August Moon (1956), Don’t Go Near the Water (1957) Imitation General (1958), and Cry for Happy (1961). As Shipman indicated, he was also adept at light contemporary comedies (The Gazebo, 1960; Love is a Ball, 1963) and comedy-dramas (The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, 1963; Dear Heart, 1964).

It may be that Ford’s on-screen persona was so soothing and made things seem so effortless that he was not a perennial Academy Award-nominee.  He did, however, receive nominations and win awards presented by other organizations, including the Golden Globe for Best Actor-Comedy or Musical (Pocketful of Miracles, 1961), the Golden Apple Award for Most Cooperative Actor (1948 and 1957), the Golden Boot Award (1987), the Laurel Award for Top Male Comedy Performance (Don’t Go Near the Water, 1957), and the Donostia Lifetime Achievement Award at the 1987 San Sebastien International Film Festival.  He received his Hollywood Walk of Fame Star in 1960.

By Kim

 

References

Ford, Peter.  Glenn Ford:  A Life.  Madison, WI:  University of Wisconsin Press, 2011.

Garfield, Brian.  Western Films:  A Complete Guide.  Rawson Associates, 1982.

Shipman, David.  The Great Stars:  The International Years.  London:  Angus & Robertson, 1972.

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Riot in Cell Block 11: When Character Actors Star

With a sterling resume as an independent Hollywood producer (The Bitter Tea of General Yen, Queen Christina, Algiers, Stagecoach, Foreign Correspondent, Canyon Passage, and in 1963, Cleopatra), Walter Wanger opted to use his talents to expose prison injustice in the 1954 film Riot in Cell Block 11.  The immediate prompt was his 1952 incarceration at the Wayside Honor Farm for putting a slug into the groin of agent Jennings Lang, believed to be having an affair with Wanger’s wife, actress Joan Bennett. 

The resulting spare film (80 minutes) is an attack on a society—wardens, guards, politicians and the public at large—that could care less about rehabilitation or the tendency to dump psychopaths into the general prison population.  Aptly, the director was Don Siegel, cutting his teeth on B-movies generally more interesting and in retrospect more important than most big-budget studio films.  Soon Siegel would helm Wanger’s seminal science fiction movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers and later achieve greater fame directing Clint Eastwood in such films as Coogan’s Bluff, The Beguiled and Dirty HarryRiot bears his occasional semi-documentary approach, beginning with newsreel film of actual U.S. prison riots.

Filmed at Folsom State Prison in California, Riot in Cell Block 11 is unique in that all of the stars  are character actors:  the riot’s fomenter Dunn (highly decorated WW II soldier Neville Brand in a sympathetic role), his brutish enforcer (Leo “The Scariest Guy in Hollywood” Gordon), the frustrated warden (Emile Meyer, fresh off his role as cattle baron Ryker in Shane), the by-the-book commissioner (Frank Faylen, an It’s a Wonderful Life alumnus soon to play Dwayne Hickman’s dad on TV’s The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis), Snader (Whit Bissell, once disparaged as an American everyman, here a despicable guard whereas in 1947’s Brute Force he’d been a con—and in 1957 would play mad scientists in I Was a Teenage Werewolf and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein), “The Colonel” (Robert Osterloh, veteran then and later of innumerable TV and film roles) here playing an intelligent war vet incarcerated for a lapse in judgment that led to a manslaughter conviction), hepped-up Mickey (William Phipps, a nuclear holocaust survivor in Five as the most unhinged of the prisoners), victimized guard Monroe (Paul Frees, the ubiquitous narrator and voice actor, e.g., Boris Badenov on TV’s Rocky and His Friends), news reporter (William Schallert, the father on The Patty Duke Show in the 1960s), the con who initiates the riot (Dabbs Greer, veteran by the end of his life of over 300 roles), “Gator” (Alvy Moore of the future TV series Green Acres in a long-billed cap that must be seen to be believed).  Pay attention or you’ll miss James Anderson, who will be playing Scout’s brutish nemesis in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) and a chain gang captain in Woody Allen’s Take the Money and Run (1969).

In summary, Riot in Cell Block 11 may be the only major Hollywood film whose performers were all members of the unsung but necessary and often compelling caste:  the character actor.

By Kim

 

References

Holston, Kim.  Susan Hayward:  Her Films and Life.  Jefferson, NC:  McFarland & Co., 2002.  Trace producer Wanger’s trial and incarceration in at least 12 New York Times 1952 articles.

Kaminsky, Stuart M.  Don Siegel, Director.  New York:  Curtis Books, 1974.  See “Chapter VI:  700 Prisoners and a Handful of Actors.”  Siegel said San Quentin ex-con, now actor, Leo Gordon, was not originally welcomed by the warden, who made him enter a separate gate and searched.  Siegel and producer Wanger knew Gordon’s worth.  “Had he not been in the picture it would surely have suffered,” said the director.

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Peyton Place: Return to Innocence

Grace Metalious’ Peyton Place was the scandalous and best-selling novel of 1956-57.  The title has become synonymous with small-town America, especially its hidden, often odious human substratum.  Here, in a story set immediately before and during World War II, patriotic parades, picnics, and proms mask hypocritical, sexually repressed, judgmental, mean-spirited, alcoholic, catty, and even murderous citizens.

In 1957 Peyton Place was made into a big-budget and highly successful film that may be the ultimate quality Hollywood soap opera.  (It became a hit primetime TV soap in 1964.)  With a running time of 2 hours and 37 minutes, Peyton Place allowed significant time for each of its multitude of characters to make an impression, and of its 9 Academy Award nominations five were for acting:   Best Actress (Lana Turner), Supporting Actor (Arthur Kennedy, Russ Tamblyn), Supporting Actress (Diane Varsi, Hope Lange).

The virtually unknown Varsi landed the key role of Allison MacKenzie, the high school senior who doesn’t want to attend college to learn how to write, she wants to write even if her apprenticeship is on the town’s newspaper.  It is Allison’s voice periodically narrating the story.  Another prominent inhabitant of the town is Dr. Swain, played by ubiquitous character/supporting actor Lloyd Nolan.  The climax turns on Swain’s decision to renege on a promise.  His voice of reason and compassion is raised to hold the community accountable.

Even now Peyton Place is a surprisingly affecting movie that can bring tears to the eyes.  Why?  Is it the tree-lined streets, the lake, the Labor Day celebration, the students and teachers holding hands and singing “Auld Lang Syne”?  It is perhaps a fantasy, a terrain that never existed, an environment we think or wish or maybe did inhabit as carefree children.  (Another example of this yearning is seen in “Walking Distance,” the 1959 Twilight Zone episode in which Gig Young interacts with his younger self and longs to remain in the town of his youth.).  One must not neglect another “character” that allows the film to successfully carry all this emotional weight:  Franz Waxman’s lovely theme and score.  Just before Waxman’s music wraps it up, Allison’s voice provides hope for the future:  “We’d finally discovered that season of love.  It is only found in someone else’s heart.  Right now someone you know is looking everywhere for it, and it’s in you.”

 

[Thank you, Mike Varano, for identifying potentially significant subtext:  characters are constantly opening and closing doors:  front, back, classroom, diner, restroom, office, closet, kitchen, pantry, car, bus, train carriage.]

By Kim

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Saddle the Wind  (1958)

In Western Films:  A Complete Guide (1982), Brian Garfield extols Royal Dano’s performance but otherwise comes down fairly hard on Saddle the Wind (1958).  He thought the actors had not received much direction, New York-born John Cassavetes was miscast, and the story familiar and clichéd.  Yet there is much to give pleasure in this film, especially for film aficionados who can put the whole shebang into context.  Familiarity with the entire corpus of film allows one to enjoy almost any movie.

The Colorado scenery is captivating, the gunplay choreography judicious, the music by future master of western scores Elmer Bernstein, and the character actors backing up Robert Taylor and Julie London rather stunning:  Dano as the fanatical, perhaps unhinged Union army veteran who shakes a deed to the verdant valley into the faces of Sinclair (Robert Taylor) and Deneen (Donald Crisp) and dares them to run off him and his small group of sodbusters, Jay Adler as a bedraggled saloon worker, gravely-voiced Charles McGraw as the extremely nasty Venables come to town to test himself against former gunman Sinclair, Douglas Spencer as the ranch hand incapable of chaperoning the increasingly violent Tony (Cassavetes), and Ray Teal as Deneen’s major domo.

The dialogue is also sparkling, and it’s easy to see why.  Rod Serling was the screenwriter.  He’d written Patterns (1955) and Requiem for a Heavyweight (1956) for TV.  The year after Saddle the Wind he was narrating and writing his ground-breaking TV series, The Twilight Zone.

Some of the movie’s pithy monologues:

“Looking after your brother is like poking hot butter in a wildcat’s ear.  It just can’t be done.”  (Douglas Spencer as Hemp Scribner)

“Sonny, I got the guts and the know-how to puncture your belly six times before you can take a breath of air.”  (Charles McGraw as Venables)

“I’m no slut, Mr. Sinclair.  He didn’t buy me like he bought that gun.”  (Julie London as Joan Blake)

“Yes, but not to a man.  I’m telling it to a dirty, little, trigger-happy jackal without a heart in his body. I can’t say it much plainer that that, Tony.”  (Donald Crisp as Dennis Deneen)

Beyond the sociopathic behavior of Tony, larger issues emerge.  Like Shane (1953), in Saddle the Wind we observe characters embroiled in an imbroglio from which neither side can claim a fully satisfactory outcome.  Who should control the valley, the farmers or the cattlemen?  Both have solid arguments.  Human detritus from the Civil War is also in evidence, with the Union veteran (Dano) being taunted by “Dallas” (Richard Erdman).  Consider Cassavetes’ Tony the incarnation of Shane’s gun-for-hire Wilson (Jack Palance) who insults and blows away Elisha Cook, Jr.’s Reb.  Or maybe Charles McGraw’s Venables is the parallel, although we don’t learn anything of his backstory.

By Kim

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The Most Underappreciated Major Western

Garden of Evil is a 1954 western that for many years languished beyond the purview of cinema aficionados.  It gained some traction after its first TV broadcast on Saturday Night at the Movies in 1961, but Brian Garfield may have been the first to resuscitate it in his 1982 book, Western Films:  A Complete Guide.  He especially admired the landscape that in its harsh majesty overwhelmed its puny human interlopers.  That scenery was “The Lost World” of Mexico, specifically the blasted heath around Paricutin, a volcano that spouted from a farmer’s field in 1943 and continued erupting until 1952 by which time its effluvium had submerged two towns.  The tops of the spires of San Juan Parangaricutiro Church were all that remained of human habitation, and these are featured in the film.

The story:  When their ship to the California gold fields puts up for garden of evilrepairs on the Mexican coast, the disillusioned Hooker (Gary Cooper), the card-sharp Fiske (Richard Widmark), the rambunctious Daly (Cameron Mitchell), and the formidable hombre Vicente (Victor Manuel Mendoza) are enticed by the promise of treasure they won’t have to dig for when Leah Fuller (Susan Hayward) offers gold if they will accompany her to the mine where her husband John (Hugh Marlowe) lies trapped by a cave-in.  They ride deep into the interior, find a lava-strewn landscape and an abandoned town before entering the mine and dragging John into the light of day.  He is not sanguine about the future, telling his rescuers that it is the time of the “White Man’s Moon” and their lives are in mortal danger from a savage tribe whose members didn’t kill him because they couldn’t imagine a better torture than letting him rot under the mine’s fallen beams.  Will the gold-seekers allow Leah to tend the fire while they take John and sneak away?  Will Leah give herself to Hooker?  Fiske?  Daly?  Will any survive the White Man’s Moon?

There is much to recommend in this 20th Century Fox production, obviously made on location to lure TV fans back to the big screen.  Fox had introduced CinemaScope the previous year with The RobeGarden of Evils exotic locale was just as suitable for this new process.  The cast was topnotch:  long-time superstar Gary Cooper; the multi-Academy Award-nominated, extremely popular and CinemaScope-ready redhead Susan Hayward; and the one-time king of movie psychopaths Richard Widmark, branching out into non-criminal genres.  Philadelphia-born Hugh Marlowe was in the midst of a golden age as supporting actor at Fox, having featured prominently in Twelve O’Clock High, All About Eve, The Day the Earth Stood Still, Rawhide and Monkey Business.  Veteran director Henry Hathaway was at the helm.  Master composer Bernard Herrmann (Citizen Kane, Day the Earth Stood Still) supplied the variegated score that wouldn’t find its way to CD until the 1990s.  If any of these elements had been less than sterling, so we suspect would have been the movie.

Compare and contrast:   Gary Cooper starred in another quality western filmed in Mexico that same year:  Vera CruzThe Tall Texan, an exemplary black & white, 1953 B-movie with Lloyd Bridges and Marie Windsor, follows a similar path but with obviously less grandeur, philosophical musings, or star power.

By Kim

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The Least is the Funniest

Doris Day and Rock Hudson co-starred in three highly successful comedies:  Pillow Talk, Lover Come Back, and Send Me No Flowers.  The first is generally considered the best.  But is it the funniest?

Pillow Talk (1959)pillow talk tells the tale of a shared telephone line (remember party lines?) on which Jan Morrow (Day) accidentally eavesdrops on the pick-up lines Brad Allen (Hudson) is using on innumerable women.  He eventually learns about his eavesdropper and naturally masquerades as someone else in order to romance her.  Thelma Ritter adds her typical endearing support, and as with the ensuing two films, Tony Randall is an engaging sounding pad and foil.

Lover Come Back (1961) is about advertising “mad men” and a woman.  Jerry Webster (Hudson) competes for accounts with cross-town rival Carol Templeton (Day).  Pretending to be the inventor of the nonexistent VIP, Webster’s ruse falls apart when his boss (Randall) places the seductive Rebel (Edie Adams) in TV commercials for the imaginary product.  A chemist (Jack Kruschen) is hired to come up with something, anything that will prove to the Ad Council that VIP is not a hoax.  The chemist succeeds and Jerry proclaims, “Gentlemen, I give you VIP, a pleasant concoction to be enjoyed by the entire family.”  VIP turns out to be….I won’t give it away.

Send Me No Flowers (1964) features Day and Hudson as a suburban married couple (So much for the myth that she was always the eternal virgin.), Judy and George Kimball.  A hypochondriac, George mistakes for his own a doctor’s chart for another patient and thinks he has a limited time to live.  A noble fellow, he decides to keep Judy in the dark while he hooks her up with an appropriate future husband.  Enter the imposing Clint Walker (of TV’s Cheyenne fame).  send me no flowersSo large of frame is he that he can barely exit his Jaguar.  Hearing of Judy’s travails, he calls her a “brick.”  George retorts, “I’ll tell my wife when she’s a brick!”  When he learns that George is (supposedly) dying, Arnold (Randall) goes on a binge and finds solace in the extreme smoothness of a wooden table top.  George’s weird behavior eventually promotes suspicion in Judy’s mind that he’s having an affair, possibly with Linda Bullard (Patricia Barry).  Arnold tells George to admit his unfaithfulness.  What could go wrong?  Of course it backfires, and in a priceless scene in a train station baggage office Judy grills George, demanding the name of the lady in question. “Dolores,” says he.  She wants a last name, too.   At a loss, George scans the room, his eyes alighting on a park poster of Smokey the Bear.  Thus, “Dolores Yellowstone.”   Send Me No Flowers is a solid mix of sight gags, memorable one-liners, and characters coming to erroneous conclusions.  It benefits from a stable of excellent character actors, including Paul Lynde as a funeral director, Edward Andrews as the doctor, and Hal March as a philanderer.  Chalk up some of its appeal to director Norman Jewison, who the following year helmed The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming.  Credit the writers as well:  Norman Barasch and Carroll Moore, who’d written the play upon which the film is based.

By Kim

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Heavyweight Male Superstar Duos

Gunfight at the OK Corral (1957) is a good but not great western, but there is one attribute that makes it watchable over and over again:  the conflict/rapport between Hollywood stars of equal magnitude:  Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas.

In Gunfight, Douglas appears first, his Doc Holliday gunfight at the ok corralthrowing knives at the door of his hotel room while Kate (Jo Van Fleet) berates him for not skipping town after killing Ed Bailey’s (Lee Van Cleef’s) brother.  Bailey arrives, intent on avenging his brother.  While Doc makes him stew in the bar, Wyatt Earp (Burt Lancaster) calls on Sheriff Cotton (Frank Faylen) and is perturbed the lawman didn’t arrest Ike Clanton and Ringo when they rode into town.  In the saloon, Earp meets Holliday.  This is what we’ve waited for:  the first meeting of two megastars.  One cannot look away.  Even though I’d seen this film several times, the first at Chester’s Mac Theater (specializing in second-run films like Horror of Dracula, The Vikings, and I Want to Live!) in the early 60s, I must always watch the interplay if I stumble on the movie on TV.  I must watch Lancaster confront Douglas, I must see them spar with each other.  They had made one film before GunfightI Walk Alone (1948).  Lancaster was in the second year of his cinematic career, having debuted as the star of The Killers (1946).  Like very few others, he served no apprenticeship and was a star from the get-go.  Douglas was rambling around the late forties in significant but often secondary roles, such as Robert Mitchum’s foil in the seminal noir film Out of the Past (1947).  His breakthrough to leading man status occurred in 1949’s prizefight film, Champion.  It was all up from there.

Lancaster and Douglas made five other films together:  The Devil’s Disciple (1959), The List of Adrian Messenger (1963; Lancaster in guest role, Douglas the main star), Seven Days in May (1964; Douglas has the more sympathetic part as the officer who must stop Lancaster’s coup), and Tough Guys (1986).*

Two years privera cruzor to Gunfight at the OK Corral Lancaster had another outing versus a superstar.  In 1954’s Vera Cruz his uncouth but ingratiating mercenary Joe Erin came up against soft-spoken but wily Ben Trane, played by the legendary Gary Cooper.  Allied to protect a shipment of gold through Mexico, they find themselves in a stand-off at the finale.  Lancaster was still out for personal booty, Cooper had decided to use it in the service of the rebel Juaristas.

Another 1950s confrontation between heavyweights occurred in 1958’s The Big Country, like Gunfight not a truly great western but entirely watchable.  The Big Country’s on-location shooting is better than Gunfight, the gunplay less well choreographed in the big confrontation between the Terrills and Hannassays in Blanco Canyon.  However, The Big Country ’s music scorebig country by Jerome Moross is the standard against which all subsequent westerns are measured.  And like Gunfight, Big Country benefits immeasurably by a conflict between two Hollywood male superstars.  Gregory Peck played ship captain Jim McKay come west to run a ranch, and was a mere dude to the Terrill ranch foreman Steve Leech played by Charlton Heston.  Like Lancaster, the 6’3” Peck had been a star from his first movie, Days of Glory (1944).  Like Peck and Lancaster, Heston (also 6’3”) didn’t have a meteoric rise to stardom; he was a star from his first film, 1950’s Dark City and by 1956 was playing Moses in The Ten Commandments.  In the meantime Peck had starred in many quality films in various genres (Gentleman’s Agreement, Yellow Sky, Twelve O’Clock High, The Gunfighter, Roman Holliday, Moby Dick) and amassed multiple Oscar nominations.  So when these two got together it was, as with Lancaster and Douglas, a pairing of equals symbolized in this instance by their private nighttime fistfight behind the bunkhouse witnessed only by ranch hand Ramon (played by Alfonso “The Face That Kills” from 1948’s The Treasure of the Sierra Madre Bedoya).  Appropriately, the Peck-Heston fracas ended in a draw.

Four years later Peck had another match with a superstar.  In 1962, when he finally won an Oscar for his Southern attorney Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, Peck played another Southern attorney, Sam Bowden, in Cape Fear.   Bowden had to deal with a vengeance-minded ex-con.  That menacing psychopath was portrayed by Robert Mitchum, whose Max Cady was as chilling as his bogus preacher man Harry Powell in 1955’s The Night of the Hunter.  There could be no draw in their knock-down, drag-out finale fight.  Cady had to be contained, but it took a gun to give Bowden the final say.

One could extend this discussion to other stars of equal stature.  For example,

Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, San Francisco (1936)
Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, Boom Town (1940)
William Holden, Glenn Ford, Texas (1941)
Robert Montgomery, John Wayne, They Were Expendable (1945)run silent run deep
William Holden, Robert Mitchum, Rachel and the Stranger (1948)
Glenn Ford, William Holden, The Man from Colorado (1948)
John Wayne, Henry Fonda, Fort Apache (1948)
Robert Taylor, Stewart Granger, All the Brothers Were Valiant (1953)
Robert Taylor, Stewart Granger, The Last Hunt (1956)
Charlton Heston, Yul Brynner, The Ten Commandments (1956)
Tony Curtis, Sidney Poitier, The Defiant Ones (1958)
Clark Gable, Burt Lancaster, Run Silent, Run Deep (1958)
Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Some Came Running (1958)
John Wayne, William Holden, The Horse Soldiers (1959)
Gary Cooper, Charlton Heston, The Wreck of the Mary Deare (1959)
Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon, Some Like It Hot (1959)
Spencer Tracy, Frank Sinatra, The Devil at 4 O’Clock (1961)
John Wayne, James Stewart, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)
Richard Burton, Peter O’Toole, Becket (1964)towering inferno
John Wayne, Kirk Douglas, In Harm’s Way (1965)
Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon, The Great Race (1965)
John Wayne, Robert Mitchum, El Dorado (1966)
John Wayne, Kirk Douglas, The War Wagon (1967)
Paul Newman, Robert Redford, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
John Wayne, Rock Hudson, The Undefeated (1969)
Kirk Douglas, Henry Fonda, There Was a Crooked Man (1970)
Steve McQueen, Dustin Hoffman, Papillon (1973)
Paul Newman, Robert Redford, The Sting (1973)
Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, The Towering Inferno (1974)
Sean Connery, Michael Caine, The Man Who Would Be King (1975)
Marlon Brando, Jack Nicholson, The Missouri Breaks (1976)
Al Pacino, Robert DeNiro, HEAT (1994)

As for female stars of equal rank in the same movie, there are fewer examples.  What comes to mind immediately is 1962’s What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? with Bette Davis and Joan Crawford.  Another is 1961’s The Children’s Hour with Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine.

*Even when their screenthe vikings time was equal—or even when Douglas had a more significant role (as in The Devil’s Disciple)—Lancaster always received the preferred left-hand spot on the movie posters for the films in which they costarred.  However, Douglas’ overall 1950s films were at least as good as his rival’s.  Douglas had 24 movies released between 1950 and 1959, Lancaster 22 (including one as an uncredited player).  A subjective rating results in a virtual tie as far as quality goes.  Among Douglas’ premiere films of the decade were Young Man with a Horn, Ace in the Hole, Detective Story, The Bad and the Beautiful, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Lust for Life, Paths of Glory, and The VikingsLancaster’s top-of-the-line releases were The Flame and the Arrow, Come Back, Little Sheba, From Here to Eternity, Vera Cruz, The Rose Tattoo, The Crimson Pirate, Sweet Smell of Success and Run Silent, Run Deep.  Remember that this is subjective, but Douglas needs reevaluation vis-à-vis Lancaster.

By Kim

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The League of Alternate Superstars: Janet Leigh (1927-2004)

Janet Leigh was the object of desire and murderous rage in a scene that might be equaled but not surpassed in cinema history. She was on the cover of the June 25, 1951 issue of Life.  She was a leading lady throughout the 1950s.  Her resume from 1958 to 1963 was exemplary.  So it is surprising that other than in Ian Haydn Smith’s Movie Star Chronicles (2015), Janet Leigh is rarely included in books about top Hollywood stars.  Even David Shipman’s estimable The Great Movie Stars:  The International Years, which includes Tab Hunter and Louise Fletcher, fails to include her.  Or is Leigh’s omission that odd?  Most stars, even superstars, hardly ever make quality and successful movies for more than a decade.  Some just have better publicity mills, agents and personal managers.scaramouche

Janet Leigh’s screen debut came in The Romance of Rosy Ridge (1947), a successful MGM production. Apparently MGM’s “first lady of the screen” Norma Shearer, although retired, opened the door for her.  Leigh played Meg opposite Elizabeth Taylor, June Allyson and Margaret O’Brien in the MGM remake of Little Women (1949).  In 1951 she married soon-to-be film heartthrob Tony Curtis (divorced 1962).  Soon they were co-starring in the biopic Houdini (1953) and The Prince Who Was a Thief (1954), a typical sword and sandals mini-epic from Universal.  A larger scale and better swashbuckling outing was Scaramouche (1953), in which Leigh co-starred with Stewart Granger, Eleanor Parker and Mel Ferrer in a film set at the time of the French Revolution.  In 1954 she encountered Norse marauders in Prince Valiant (“Ooh, father’s right about those blasted Vikings!” she exclaimed.)  She’d find herself even more vexed by those medieval ruffians later in the decade. The Naked Spur (1953) with James Stewart, Robert Ryan, Ralph Meeker and Millard Mitchell was a rough western now regarded as a classic.  Leigh’s hair was cut and she played dirty, refusing to believe Ryan’s character Vandergroat was a killer.   the vikings

Although shooting had started in 1953, RKO’s production head Howard Hughes tampered with it so much Jet Pilot wasn’t released until 1957.  This is probably Leigh’s second oddest movie.  She played a Russian spy cum jet pilot opposite John Wayne. 

Leigh’s golden age began with another introduction to sea rovers in The Vikings (1958).  Filmed on location on and near European shores and castles for Kirk Douglas’ Bryna Productions, this rousing adventure is one of the few serious feature films about the infamous medieval Scandinavian seafarers.  Janet played Morgana, captured by Kirk Douglas’s Einar and saved in the nick of time by Erik (husband Tony).

The same year found her in what is generally regarded as the last entry in film noir’s golden era, Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil (1958).  Leigh was Charlton Heston’s much put upon wife, kidnapped and sequestered in a motel (!) managed by a goofy manager (!) played not by Anthony Perkins but by Dennis Weaver.Perfect Furlough

The Perfect Furlough was also 1958 and again Leigh co-starred with husband Tony. It was a typical service comedy of the era.  (See also Imitation General, Don’t Go Near the Water, It Started with a Kiss, Operation Mad Ball).

In Who Was That Lady? (1960) Janet played Curtis’ wife who thought he was having an affair.  Dean Martin made things worse with his loopy advice, and the FBI and Soviet spies muddied the waters.  Looking back, the subtext might be Cold War paranoia.  It’s a hoot.

Psycho (1960) was unusual in many ways.  Director Alfred Hitchcock used his TV crew, filmed in black & white, and killed off Marianpsycho (Leigh) half way into the film.  The shower sequence became famous, and Leigh’s screaming face to the screeching violins of composer Bernard Herrmann’s became iconic.

In John Frankenheimer’s highly-regarded Cold War suspense film, The Manchurian Candidate (1962) Leigh co-starred with Frank Sinatra and Laurence Harvey.

Bye Bye Birdie (1963) featured Leigh in a black wig, perhaps to contrast with Ann-Margret’s  redhead.  She’d graced the cover of Life again on August 10, 1962, atop her head a succession of fezes she wore in one of the film’s dance numbers.

Some of her future ‘60s films were not without some quality or interest, e.g., Wives and Lovers, Harper.  Competing with Jet Pilot as her oddest outing, as it must have also been for Stuart Whitman and Rory Calhoun, was Night of the Lepus (1972).  Surprisingly, it does generate chills and has the immortal line from a state troope using his bullhorn to warn a drive-in audience, “There is a herd of killer rabbits heading this way.”

Leigh seems to have curtailed film work to tend to her children, Jamie Lee and Kelly Curtis.  She appeared with Jamie in The Fog (1980) and 18 years later in Halloween H2O (1998).  In between she wrote There Really Was a Hollywood (1984).  Later in life she attended film conventions, including FANEX outside Baltimore in 2000.

By Kim

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The Decade of P

Possibly of no significance whatever is the fact that the 1950s witnessed the release of a significant number of movies whose titles started with P.  But is it not a curious Phenomenon?  Is there some cultural subtext to be mined?  A country, an industry obsessed with P?  It boggles the mind.  I did not find an equal number of films starting with B, C, M, S or T.

Here are the titles:
Painting the Clouds with Sunshinepanic_in_the_streets_poster2
The Pajama Game
Pal Joey
Pandora and the Flying Dutchman
Panic in the Streets
Paratrooper
Pardners
Park Row
Party Girl
Passage West
Pat and Mike
The Pathfinder
Paths of Glory
Patterns
Pawnee
Payment on Demand
The People Against O’Hara
People Will TalkPerfect Furlough
The Perfect Furlough
Perri
Personal Affair
Pete Kelly’s Blues
Peter Pan
The Petty Girl
Peyton Place
Phantom from Space
The Phantom from 10,000 Leagues
Phenix City Story
Phfft!
Phone Call from a Stranger
Pickup on South Street
Picnic
Pillars of the Sky
Pillow Talk
A Place in the Sun
Plan 9 from Outer Spacepork chop hill
Plunder of the Sun
Plunder Road
Plymouth Adventure
Pony Express
Pony Soldier
Porgy and Bess
Pork Chop Hill
Postmark for Danger
Powder River
The Power and the Prize
Prehistoric Women
The President’s Lady
The Pride and the Passion
The Pride of St. Louis
Pride of the Blue Grass
The Prince and the Showgirl
Prince of Pirates
Prince of Players
Prince Valiant
The Prince Who Was a Thief
Princess of the Nile
The Prisoner
The Prisoner of Zenda
Private Hell 36
The Private War of Major BensonThe_Prowler_1951-Poster1
Private’s Progress
A Prize of Gold
The Prodigal
Project Moonbase
The Promoter
The Proud and Profane
The Proud Rebel
The Prowler
The Purple Mask
The Purple Plain
Pushover

By Kim

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Lee Marvin: 50s Villain, 60s Icon, 70s Disappointment

In Medium Cool:  The Movies of the 1960s, Ethan Mordden ranked Lee Marvin ahead of Steve McQueen as most representative of that cinematic era.  Like McQueen, Marvin was an anti-hero, a rebel.  His characters were cool and collected and sometimes calculating.  It had been a long haul to this pinnacle.

After World War II service as a Marine, bad day at black rockMarvin took acting lessons, performed in summer stock, and in the 1950s became arguably the most despicable bad guy in crime films and westerns.  Nineteen-fifty-three was a banner year.   He became famous for tossing scalding coffee into Gloria Grahame’s face in The Big Heat (1953), standing up against rival motorcycle gang leader Marlon Brando in The Wild One, and hanging out with those other great Hollywood heavies Leo Gordon and Neville Brand in Gun Fury.  Nineteen-fifty-five was hardly less significant.  In Bad Day at Black Rock Marvin backed Robert Ryan and Ernest Borgnine against Spencer Tracy’s one-armed vet investigating the death of a Japanese-American in a dusty Southwestern town.  Sniffing an inhaler, he was a member of the hoods intent on stealing the mine employee payroll in a modern copper mine town in Violent Saturday.  Badly for him, an Amish farmer played by Ernest Borgnine became his nemesis.  It was the second but would not be the last time he and Borgnine faced off on film.  In Shack Out on 101, an unintentionallyseven men from now hilarious anti-communist diatribe, Marvin played Slob, the Shack’s short-order cook with a big secret.

More cerebral was his politically-minded Colonel in the grim World War II film Attack (1956).  Jack Palance was the good guy for a change.  Like Borgnine, Palance would costar with Marvin again.  Also in ’56 appeared the highly-regarded western Seven Men from Now.  In the final showdown Marvin faced off against Randolph Scott.

Marvin did have some roles on the right side of the law, especially Chicago detective Lt. Frank Ballinger on TV’s M Squad (1957-1960).  This very popular series is credited with making Marvin a star, but for a couple more years in feature films he continued as a supporting player, notably Tully Crow in The Comancheros (1961) and the truly vile title character in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)

Marvin’s big break cameCat Ballou with Cat Ballou (1965).  Almost symbolic of his professional career and private life, he played the dual role of noble if drunken peacemaker Kid Shelleen and evil gunslinger Tim Strawn.  He won the Best Actor Academy Award and for the rest of the decade was on top of the cinematic world.  Curiously, the month after Cat Ballou was released came Ship of Fools in which Marvin was 4th billed behind three Oscar winners, including Simone Signoret and Jose Ferrer.   Thus Cat Ballou and the Oscar played no part in getting him this acting gig opposite the first-billed and double-Oscar winner, the legendary Vivien Leigh.

The Professionals (1966) was a rip-roaring, Magnificent Seven-like saga of four specialists sent into Mexico to retrieve Ralph Bellamy’s kidnapped wife played by Claudia Cardinale.  point blankMarvin led the group of four, and what a group it was:  Burt Lancaster (explosives), Woody Strode (bow) and Robert Ryan (horses).  Needless to say, in the form of the ostensible kidnapper Jesus Raza played by Jack Palance, they faced a formidable foe.  An even bigger success followed with The Dirty Dozen (1967).  This time Marvin trained and led a pack of U.S. Army miscreants into occupied France to blow up a chateau full of Nazi-officers.  John Boorman’s Point Blank (1967) wasn’t quite as successful when it appeared but has since become symbolic of the decade, a modern film noir.  Less successful still was Boorman’s valiant effort Hell in the Pacific (1968) which pitted a Japanese soldier (Toshiro Mifune) against Marvn’s American, both marooned on a Pacific Island during World War II.

No one expected Marvin’s next film to become notorious and viewed as a total dud, but Paint Your Wagon (1969) with rising starpaint your wagon Clint Eastwood and Jean Seberg was not the financial disaster myth has it.  Its real problem was that all the adventure took place during the opening credits and title tune.  When by accident gold was found on the journey, everyone settled down there to prospect.  No more adventure.  Surprisingly, Marvin had a hit single from the soundtrack:  “Wandrin’ Star.”

It is said that Marvin turned down True Grit, but that might be scuttlebutt.  After all, he couldn’t have done that and Wagon for ’69 release.  Wagon had been an epic musical filmed on location in Baker, Oregon.  If it is true and Marvin did eschew playing Rooster Cogburn, it was a logical choice.  Cogburn was in the same league as Marvin’s Cat Ballou characters.

Marvin is also said to have been up for the lead in Patton (1970).  Today one can hardly visualize anyone other than George C. Scott as the World War II firebrand commander.  Would Marvin have been as good?  Turning it down seems a poor decision, but according to biographer Dwayne Epstein, Marvin had become very selective, and he had been riding high.  Marvin was in Quigley’s motion picture exhibitors’ annual poll of top-ranking stars in 1967 (#2), 1968 (#9), 1969 (#7), 1970 (#7), and 1971 (#10).

A choice acting job came with his performance as Hickey in The Iceman Cometh (1972).  This was not a movie as such but Eugene O’Neill’s famous 1946 play filmed for the screen by American Film Theatre.  Jason Robards had played Hickey in a successful Off-Broadway production in 1956 and reportedly was devastated not to repeat that role here.

Monte Walsh (1970) was a quality western co-starring Jack Palance monte walshas Marvin’s aging cowpoke buddy.  Emperor of the North (1973) is a neglected action-adventure in which Marvin’s tramp dueled with the railway cop entailed with keeping hobos off the train.  That employee was none other than Ernest Borgnine.  (Six degrees of separation could be played with Marvin, Borgnine, Ryan, Bronson, McQueen, Garner, and Coburn.)

It wouldn’t be until 1980’s The Big Red One that Marvin would make another film worthy of his talents.  Iconic director and World War II vet Samuel Fuller based this on his own war experiences.  Marvin played a World War One vet who stayed on and fought as a sergeant in the Second World War.  Among his squad was Mark Hamill, fresh from The Empire Strikes Back.

The remainder of Marvin’s 1980s movies were not much more than acceptable, including Death Hunt (1981), Gorky Park (1983), and The Delta Force (1986).  Despite a lackluster end to his career, Lee Marvin does deserve accolades for his impressive roster of screen villains in the 1950s as well as a half-dozen films in which he subsequently starred.  Like many if not most of Hollywood’s leading men of its golden age and postwar years, he was not a pretty boy.  Like Bogart, his face and voice were distinctive.

Marvin died of a heart attack in 1987 at the age of 63 and is buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

 

References

Dwayne Epstein, Dwayne.  Lee Marvin:  Point Blank.  Tucson, AZ:  Schaffner Press, 2013.

Mordden, Ethan.  Medium Cool:  The Movies of the 1960s.  New York:  Knopf, 1990.

 

By Kim

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