Does winning an acting Oscar change the career of the recipient? The answer is yes and also no. Take Brad Pitt, who won Best Supporting Actor last year for ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD (2019). He’s a veteran superstar with over three decades in Hollywood. So, the award is more icing on the cake for his career. But that wasn’t the case when he earned his first nomination for Terry Gilliam’s 12 MONKEYS (‘95). Pitt was on a hot streak since gaining attention for his roles in THELMA & LOUISE (‘91), A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT (‘92), INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (‘94) and LEGENDS OF THE FALL (‘94), and his first Oscar nominations gave his career an even bigger boost.

Similar to Pitt, many young actors discovered their stock in Hollywood with Oscar gold, but nominations and wins have effected various stars’ careers in different ways. Here’s a look at various Oscar winners and how the award affected their careers.

Martin Landau

The Oscar has changed the career trajectory of many veteran actors. Martin Landau was making such TV movies The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island (’81) that just squandered his talents. But that all changed when he earned his first Oscar nomination for Francis Ford Coppola’s TUCKER: THE MAN AND HIS DREAM (’88), followed by a second for Woody Allen’s CRIMES & MISDEMEANORS (’89), eventually winning for his poignant performance as Bela Lugosi in Tim Burton’s ED WOOD (’94).

Ironically, Landau told me in a 2010 L.A. Times interview he didn’t think he could play the Dracula star. “It’s a Hungarian morphine addict, alcoholic who has mood swings,” he remembered telling Burton. “That would be hard enough, but it has to be Bela Lugosi! I said I don’t know if I can do this, but let’s do some tests.”

Makeup artist Rick Baker transformed Landau into the elderly frail actor. Burton, he recalled, looked at the tests and thought he was 50% Lugosi. Landau believed he captured the icon in fleeting moments. “I said if I can do it 10% of the time, I can do it 100% of the time. They have to accept me as Lugosi in the first five minutes or we don’t have a film. It was not an impersonation for me. He had to be a human being.”

Melvyn Douglas

Similarly, Melvyn Douglas, who was best known for his comedic roles in the 1930s and ‘40s in such films as NINOTCHKA (’39), had seen his career slow in the 1950s because of his liberal political leanings. But he came back to the forefront in 1960 after winning a Tony Award for Gore Vidal’s THE BEST MAN, and then receiving his first of two supporting actor Oscars for his turn as Paul Newman’s hard-working Texas rancher father in Martin Ritt’s HUD(’63). Seven years later, he received a Best Actor nomination as Gene Hackman’s father in I NEVER SANG FOR MY FATHER (’70), ultimately winning his second Oscar as the president of the United States in Hal Ashby’s BEING THERE (’79).

Luise Rainer

The German stage actress was signed to an MGM contract in the mid-30s. But the free-spirited Rainer, who considered herself an actress and not a movie star, was always at logger heads with studio head Louis B. Mayer. She told me in a 2011 L.A. Times interview, Mayer “couldn’t make me out. You know it was a little bit difficult for him. I wasn’t the type that he was used to. So, the poor man didn’t know what to do with me. For my first film, ESCAPADE [‘35], William Powell said [to him] you got to star that girl…My first film made me a star.”

Rainer won Best Actress as famed performer Anna Held in THE GREAT ZIEGFELD (’36) and as a Chinese peasant in THE GOOD EARTH (’37). All but one of her subsequent films didn’t do well at the box office and she left Hollywood. She made one film, HOSTAGES (’43), guest starred on some TV series including a voyage on The Love Boat and had a small part in indie film THEGAMBLER (’97).

Art Carney  

One of the greatest comedic actors, Carney came to fame in the Honeymooners sketches on The Jackie Gleason Show and The Honeymooners series as Ralph Kramden’s (Gleason) best pal, the clueless sewer worker Ed Norton. He won five Emmys for his work with Gleason. Carney also originated the role of neatnik Felix Ungar opposite Walter Matthau’s Oscar Madison in the 1965 Broadway production of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple.

Well-known that he had a drinking problem, Carney wasn’t working that much in film or TV in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In fact, he tried to convince Paul Mazursky he wasn’t right for the filmmaker’s heartfelt dramedy HARRY & TONTO (’74) about a curmudgeonly old New Yorker who travels with his cat across country after he loses his apartment. Mazursky told me in a 2011 L.A. Times interview that no one wanted the part. James Cagney, Laurence Olivier, Cary Grant and even Danny Kaye were among those who turned him down. 

He had seen Carney on Broadway in 1957 in a dramatic role in The Rope Dancers.  “Of course, I had seen him in The Honeymooners. He didn’t want to do it,” noted Mazursky. “He said ‘I’m 59 years old and you want this guy to be in his 70s.’ I said, ‘Art, this is the first time I met you and you look like you are in your 70s – you’re balding, you wear a hearing aid and you have a bum leg.’ He told me, ‘You don’t want me, I’m an alcoholic.’ He had one bad night then nothing else. He had been out on a binge and he showed up on location in Chicago in a taxi in the morning loaded. I took him up to his room, put him in the shower and made him a pot of coffee. He was easy to direct.”

Carney won both the Golden Globe and the Academy Award for his turn, beating out the likes of Jack Nicholson for CHINATOWN and Al Pacino for THE GODFATHER PART II. And he did some of his best work post-Harry including as an aging Los Angeles private detective in the charming THE LATE SHOW (’77) and as a senior who teams up with his buddies (George Burns and Lee Strasberg) to rob a bank in GOING IN STYLE (’79). He earned his sixth Emmy for the TV movie Terrible Joe Moran (’84), which was James Cagney’s last film.  Carney’s final film was the 1993 Arnold Schwarzenegger disaster LAST ACTION HERO. “I’m outta here” was the last line Carney ever uttered on film.

We all have our favorite Oscar winners that we love to watch over and over again. But there are numerous Oscar winners and nominees that have gained new life thanks to TCM, HBO Max and DVD that are definitely worth revisiting. Here are some of my favorites:

RANDOM HARVEST

I interviewed the legendary funny man Carl Reiner a few months before his death and the conversation drifted to RANDOM HARVEST (’42) and how much he loved the romance. Robert Redford is also a fan. In the 1990s, he was planning on doing a remake, and in 2014, it was announced that Julian Fellowes (Downton Abbey) was hired to pen a remake. The handsome MGM production based on James Hilton’s bestseller starring Ronald Colman and Greer Garson was a huge hit that year and was nominated for seven Oscars including Best Film, Actor for Colman, Actress in a Supporting Role for Susan Peters and Director Mervyn LeRoy. 

Both Colman and Garson had great success in other Hilton adaptations – Colman starred in LOST HORIZON (’37) and Garson made her U.S. film debut and earned her first Best Actress Oscar nomination in GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS (’39). RANDOM HARVEST is often overlooked by the other big MGM film released in 1942, William Wyler’s MRS. MINIVER. Not only was the stirring drama about a British family attempting to survive the years of World War II a blockbuster at the box office, but it also won a striking eight Oscars.

But I think RANDOM HARVEST is the more engaging film. It’s hard not to fall in love with this romantic tale with Colman at his most dreamy as a shell-shocked amnesiac veteran of World War I (Colman was wounded in the global conflict) named Smith who falls in love and marries a loving young entertainer (Garson). But Smithy, as Garson’s Paula calls him, is hit by a car on his way to a job interview and wakes up with no memory of the past three years but does remember who he really is – an aristocrat by the name of Charles Rainier.

Will true love reunite these two? The sigh level is very high with RANDOM HARVEST and this love story has a very strong place in my heart.

NONE BUT THE LONELY HEART

I’ve had more than a few people ask me why I like NONE BUT THE LONELY HEART (’44) so much. It’s depressing, they say. It’s downbeat, they say. But I think it’s a chance to see Cary Grant in a rare break out of his “Cary Grant” suave, sophisticated image. Adapted and directed by Clifford Odets from the novel by Richard Llewellyn (How Green Was My Valley), NONE BUT THE LONELY HEART casts Grant as Ernie Mott, a Cockney drifter who returns home to his Ma (Ethel Barrymore).  When he learns that she’s dying of cancer, Ernie stays to help run her second-hand shop. But Ernie can’t stay out of trouble, joining forces with a gangster stealing cars and pursuing the mobster’s wife (June Duprez). 

Meanwhile, his neighbor Aggie (Jane Wyatt) is madly in love with him and tries to save Ernie from a life of crime. The film was generally warmly received, earning four Oscar nominations and winning supporting actress for Barrymore. She shot her scenes during her two-week vacation from her Broadway triumph The Corn Is Green, and the Academy Award transformed the Broadway star into a much-in-demand film actress. She would go on to earn three more Oscar nominations.

Grant, who had earned his first Oscar nomination three years earlier for PENNY SERENADE (‘41), didn’t attend the Academy Awards where Bing Crosby won best actor for GOING MY WAY. Grant never earned another Oscar nomination, but received an Oscar honorary in 1970.

NIGHT MUST FALL

Handsome and charismatic Robert Montgomery was one of MGM’s top leading men in the 1930s, best known for his work in comedies including PRIVATE LIVES (’31) and FORSAKING ALL OTHERS (’34). Though he did an occasional dramatic part, nothing really stretched him as an actor until NIGHT MUST FALL (’37). Montgomery had long been bugging MGM head Louis B. Mayer for better roles. He supposedly allowed Montgomery to do NIGHT MUST FALL because the studio head thought the actor would be embarrassed when the movie failed. Montgomery later said, “they okayed me playing in it because they thought the fan reaction in such a role would humiliate me.” He went so far as to help subsidize the film’s production budget.

Based on the play by Emlyn Williams which ran on Broadway in 1936, NIGHT MUST FALL finds Montgomery playing Danny, a serial killer who just happens to have a trophy from his latest victim—her head—in a hatbox. Danny charms his way into the heart and home of a wealthy elderly woman (Dame May Whitty, reprising her London stage role). Rosalind Russell, who made five films with Montgomery, plays the elderly woman’s niece who has her suspicions about Danny but can’t convince her aunt that she’s in danger. Both Montgomery and Whitty earned Oscar nominations.

Though Montgomery returned to the comedy genre after NIGHT MUST FALL, he began directing films such as LADY IN THE LAKE (’46) and found great success in TV in the 1950s with the anthology series Robert Montgomery Presents, which often featured his daughter Elizabeth.

THE NAKED SPUR

Jimmy Stewart’s image took a 180 degree turn in the 1950s thanks to Alfred Hitchcock with REAR WINDOW (’54) and VERTIGO (’58), but most notably in the five Westerns he made with Anthony Mann. Far from the boy-next-door character he played pre-World War II, Stewart was transformed into conflicted, troubled men – anti-heroes who often could be as villainous as the bad guys who peppered these sagebrush sagas. (Mann also directed Stewart in three non-Westerns).

THE NAKED SPUR (’53), which earned a screenplay Oscar nomination for Sam Rolfe and Harold Jack Bloom, is my favorite of their collaborations. Stewart really digs deep into the character of Civil War veteran turned bounty hunter, Howard Kemp. He’s angry and bitter having lost his land during his conflict. Kemp hopes he can get his land back by working as a bounty hunter. And he’s doggedly determined to get outlaw Ben Vandergroat (a fabulously vile Robert Ryan). Along the way, he encounters two men (Millard Mitchell and Ralph Meeker) who join him on his journey. And when he finds Vandergroat, he also discovers he has a young woman (Janet Leigh) with him. Intelligent, often disturbing and brilliantly acted, THE NAKED SPUR is an exceptional exploration of the dark side of humanity.

In this year’s 31 Days of Oscar lineup (also available on WatchTCM), among all of the classics we’ve watched and rewatched many times, there is one movie that may at first glance appear to be slightly out of place: the Laurel and Hardy film BLOCK-HEADS (’38). Although it is not as well known or acclaimed, I believe that it is every bit as good as most of the other Oscar-nominated films being shown this month.

In BLOCK-HEADS, Laurel and Hardy portray, as the title suggests, two not-so-bright fellows. The film opens with footage of World War I and we meet Stan and Ollie, two soldiers in the trenches. While the rest of the company goes into battle, Stan is ordered to stay back and guard the trench. In a delightfully dark turn of events, the other soldiers never return, news of the eventual armistice never reaches Stan and he dutifully guards the trench… for 21 years. The year is now 1938, and Stan has been subsisting solely on cans of beans. We even see a humongous mountain of 21 years’ worth of bean cans; it is a haunting image. He is discovered and returned to society, and when Ollie sees his friend’s photograph in the paper he decides to invite him over for dinner. Mayhem, needless to say, ensues.

I first saw this film a few months ago and it was one of my most delightful movie-watching experiences in recent memory. I hadn’t laughed so hard at a movie in a long time. With a running length of just 57 minutes, it’s densely packed with great gags which I won’t attempt to describe here. I’ll just say that my personal favorite gag is the one involving a football and leave it at that.

BLOCK-HEADS was nominated for Best Original Score. Marvin Hatley’s score is certainly good (even if it was often difficult to hear over the sound of my uproarious laughter), but it does seem a bit odd that it’s all that BLOCK-HEADS was nominated for, since it’s just about the last thing you think about when you finish watching this movie. You’re thinking about the hilarious performances by Laurel and Hardy – their gestures and facial expressions – the way Hardy reflexively touches his hat and the way Laurel sways side to side when he’s standing around, not really knowing what to do with himself. Or maybe you’re thinking about the script with its brilliant setups and payoffs. But the actors, writers and directors of movies like BLOCK-HEADS would rarely find themselves nominated for awards.

The film’s director, John G. Blystone, was never nominated for an Oscar. Neither were any of the film’s five writers. Laurel received an honorary Oscar in 1961, but apart from that, Laurel and Hardy themselves were never nominated for anything, even though their performances have aged remarkably well. As for their films,BLOCK-HEADS and WAY OUT WEST (’37) earned Best Original Score nominations, while THE MUSIC BOX (’32) won and TIT FOR TAT (’35) was nominated for Best Live Action Short Subject, Comedy. Tellingly, their work was mainly recognized when competing in a category specifically devoted to comedy, which was discontinued in 1937. Although today Laurel and Hardy are beloved icons and many classic film lovers will agree that their films have stood the test of time, those movies simply weren’t seen as worthy of much recognition when they were first released, except in peripheral categories. (I find it amusing that, although BLOCK-HEADS had no realistic chance of getting a Best Picture nomination at the 11th Oscars, it currently has a better IMDB rating than 6 of the 10 movies that were nominated instead.)

Comedies, particularly “lowbrow” comedies such as Laurel and Hardy’s slapstick-heavy movies, are seldom honored by the Oscars. The films of classic comedians such as Abbott and Costello, the Marx Brothers, Olsen and Johnson and W.C. Fields were regularly ignored. And this trend persists to the present day, perhaps to an even greater extent than in the 1930s. Best Picture nominees are notoriously drama-dominated, and the comedies that do get nominated are nearly always “comedy-dramas” like JOJO RABBIT (2019) which have an underlying seriousness at their core. Silliness for its own sake consistently goes unrewarded, whether it’s from Melissa McCarthy, Jack Black, Will Ferrell or Tyler Perry. Whether or not you think today’s comedians are comparable to those of the ‘30s and ‘40s, it is interesting to consider that Laurel and Hardy may have been viewed in their time the same way that critics receive an Adam Sandler comedy today, only for them to become respected decades later.

Great slapstick is really quite beautiful. Its humor is ageless and universal, striking some indescribable chord in our collective human psyche. What is it about Oliver Hardy slipping and falling on a rolling pin that makes us laugh? I’m not sure, but it’s hard to deny that slapstick has a mysterious power. Silliness deserves respect, especially when it is executed as exquisitely as in films like BLOCK-HEADS.

According to actress Nancy Olson, before filming on the set of SUNSET BLVD. (‘50) in Norma Desmond’s mansion, the cameraman would rub his hands together crushing stone which created dust, then blew the dust on the camera lens, an effect, which encapsulated the ambiance of stagnant corners haunted with memories of the past. One of the most difficult tasks to execute in a retrospective period piece is to precisely immerse an audience. It takes more than vintage vehicles and costumes to fully capture the aura of an era.

Reverting to centuries ago seems an easier feat than reflecting the later years of the 20th century, perhaps because many of us can still attest to it. With most modern-day period pieces, what should be exceptional based on the subject matter alone, unfortunately resembles a costume party. A few feel-good films that readily accomplished this feat of transporting their audience include DAZED AND CONFUSED (‘93), THE SANDLOT (‘93), DETROIT ROCK CITY (‘99) and ROLL BOUNCE (2005). Although some of these films may not be hugely popular, each power-up their flux capacitor, fill the tank with plutonium and hurdle their audiences back in time. 

We don’t know what director/producer/screenwriter and Academy Award-winning Cameron Crowe sprinkled on his camera lens for ALMOST FAMOUS (2000, the film takes place in the ‘70s so take your pick). Still, the film, which celebrated its 20th anniversary in 2020, beams with the spirit of black lights, velvet posters, Don Kirschner’s Rock Concert and The Midnight Special performances. It would only stand to reason, as Crowe is an avid fan of classic film director Billy Wilder, director of SUNSET BLVD. 

Based on Crowe’s true-life experience as a teenage reporter for Rolling Stone magazine, ALMOST FAMOUS mirrored classic film by layering the correct actors, costumes, dialogue, sets and of course an exacting soundtrack. For those of us mature enough to recall the ingrained crackle of a needle against vinyl and the scraping of a lead pencil against paper (all of us know that sound), from the opening credits, Crowe utilizes simple auditory cues and visuals powerful enough to immediately engross his audience until the film’s end.

In his first feature film role, the innocence of Patrick Fugit’s portrayal is perfectly and adorably awkward. When Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman) urges William (Fugit) “to be honest and unmerciful,” the look on William’s face reveals a naive boy who is about to be eaten alive. Although not their first roles, the enchanting Kate Hudson and the fresh-faced Zooey Deschanel both shine in their breakout roles, with each demonstrating exceptional performances. And, if you ever had a doubt of which Philip Seymour Hoffman performance to watch, this may be it, or perhaps, every Philip Seymour Hoffman performance is the one to watch. 

Truly, every performance in the film is exceptional. With almost half the cast being newcomers, in theory ALMOST FAMOUS should not have worked as seamlessly as it did, but according to Hudson during a recent ALMOST FAMOUS reunion, its synergy was the result of “…a magical group of people.”

Conjuring indelible memories by adeptly fusing scenes with music, ALMOST FAMOUS leaves a lasting impression on the psyche which had to be a painstaking process since creating such powerful associations means there can only be one exacting fit. If you’ve seen the film, I’d wager that every time you hear Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer,” you recall a sunlit tour bus driving through cornfields with the occupants joining together in an impromptu sing-along, lending an entirely new appreciation for an old song, or if you happen to hear Brenton Wood’s “The Oogum Boogum Song” you recollect William dwarfed by boys supposedly his own age in the throes of puberty grooming themselves in a mirror. When Simon & Garfunkel’s “America” plays, we witness the exact moment a young boy converges with his future while running his fingers over newly discovered album covers as if taking them in by osmosis.

On the surface, ALMOST FAMOUS is about the once-in-a-lifetime adventure of a teenage journalist, but according to Crowe, and quite apparently, it’s an endearing love letter to music. You certainly don’t need to be a fan of ‘70s rock to enjoy ALMOST FAMOUS, you simply need to be a music fan period. Like revisiting an old time capsule, it’s is a film where you can easily lose yourself and even though the majority of us haven’t toured with a rock’n’roll band during the ‘70s, ALMOST FAMOUS captures its journey so succinctly, hitting every note that it’s difficult to convince yourself you weren’t actually there. Billy Wilder would approve.

Being a child star may sound like a dream come true. But when Jackie Cooper became an adult, he quickly saw everything that he missed out on. “I don’t think our success as child actors is ever an advantage. It’s actually against us,” Cooper said in an interview. Starting out as an actor at age 7 in 1929, Jackie Cooper was a star by 1931 after the release of SKIPPY (’31). SKIPPY not only solidified Cooper as a star, but also proved he could tug at heartstrings when he turned on the tears. The role earned him an Oscar nomination and the distinction of being the youngest actor to do so until 1979.

 With blonde hair, chubby cheeks and a pout, Cooper was dubbed “America’s Boy.” And though his characters seemed like the all-American child of the 1930s, Cooper’s home life was anything but. When he was two years old, his father John Cooper went out for a pack of cigarettes and never returned home. His mother Mabel became the financial supporter, traveling as an entertainer, while Cooper’s grandmother, Nonnie, took care of him. Cooper was not fond of Nonnie, according to his autobiography, but she is the reason he began acting. Because they were poor and Mabel was the only source of income, Nonnie and Cooper would seek work as movie extras — receiving $2 and a boxed lunch per day.

 When Cooper became a successful child actor, money was no longer an issue at home. But he was under tremendous pressure. “The pressure to get the scene right, to learn the words, to act this way or that way, to smile or cry or look scared for the cameraman, to do a nice interview. The responsibility to work correctly for the director who tells you that if you don’t do a good job, he may get fired and he has three little babies at home who need to be fed,” Cooper wrote in his autobiography. He was often told to “be nice” and when Nonnie was on set, she held over him that his mother was ill. However, as a child, Cooper thought he was happy. It was as an adult that he described himself as a “child who grows up empty and doesn’t realize it until it’s too late.”

“Later people tried to rationalize to me that I had gained more than I had lost by being a child star … But no amount of rationalization, no excuses, can make up for what a kid loses — what I lost — when a normal childhood is abandoned for an early movie career,” Cooper wrote.

Cooper also didn’t have basic life skills, which he soon realized after Mabel died when he was 19. While he had money and career experience, he had no friends, didn’t receive an adequate education and had trouble reading as an adult because he wasn’t properly trained. But most of all, Cooper was given no advice on money or finances. “Child stars aren’t taught anything about money, and that is one of the unsung tragedies of the child star trade,” Cooper wrote in his autobiography. As a child, Cooper was given an allowance by his mother, and after Mabel died, Cooper’s uncle, director Norman Taurog, handled Cooper’s finances — even after he was married and while he fought in World War II. Cooper was given a checkbook and never knew the balance of his account.

Cooper said the war made him grow up, and he credited his last wife, Barbara, for giving him life experiences he never had before he met her. As an adult, Cooper continued to act and also direct. Because of his own experiences, Cooper didn’t like to work with children.  “They should be roughhousing,” he said. “They should not be made to drain themselves.”

Julian Duvivier’s PÉPÉ LE MOKO is one of the most influential films of the 20th century. Not only is the 1937 French romantic crime drama starring the legendary Jean Gabin, a precursor of the Hollywood film noir, the classic inspired such filmmakers as Michael Curtiz (Casablanca, ‘42), Carol Reed (The Third Man, ‘49) and even Jean-Pierre Melville (Bob le Flambeur, ‘56). PÉPÉ was such an international hit, producer Walter Wanger quickly released a near shot-by-shot remake in 1938, Algiers, directed by John Cromwell and starring Charles Boyer as Pepe and Hedy Lamarr in her first American role. That film earned four Oscar nominations, including Best Actor for Boyer and Best Supporting Actor for Gene Lockhart.

And lest we forget, the original and the remake also influenced animator Chuck Jones’ now pariah of a character, Pepe Le Pew, and a dreadful musical version Casbah (’48) with Tony Martin and Yvonne De Carlo.

PÉPÉ is also a prime example of the poetic realism style of French filmmaking popular in the late 1930s. Besides Duvivier, other directors known for this lyrical style include Jean Vigo, Marcel Carne and Jean Renoir. The male anti-hero characters who populated these films were doomed from the outset; they lived on the outskirts of society, as in Renoir’s The Lower Depths (’36); were members of the working class; or were criminals, as in the case of Pepe. These characters tragically think when they fall in love, they will break out of their cursed existence.  But women cause their emotional downfall, and romance usually ends in the death of the character.

Pépé is a powerful, charismatic master thief who is respected and feared in the Algerian district known as the Casbah. He rules over the crooked, mazelike area where he plans his latest heists. But he is also trapped there. He dreams of returning to Paris but knows that will never happen. The police are in wait at the edge of the city if he dares try to escape. Also lurking around him is the sleazy and manipulative Inspector Slimane (Lucas Gridoux). As soon as he meets a beautiful Parisienne woman Gaby (Mireille Balin), the mistress of a much older wealthy Frenchman, you know Pépé is doomed.

PÉPÉ LE MOKO wouldn’t have been the enduring masterpiece it is without Gabin, the Everyman superstar of French cinema. Film noir superstars from Humphrey Bogart to Dana Andrews to Robert Ryan owe a lot of their anti-hero personae to Gabin. The legendary film critic Andre Bazin once described him as “the tragic hero of contemporary cinema.”

He was also one of the best dressed – no rumbled fedoras or ill-fitting suits. Just check out those well-tailored suits, snappy shoes and ties Pépé wears. In his 2002 New York Times critical essay on the film, critic Elvis Mitchell wrote Gabin’s “expressive and sorrowful pudding of a face immediately gave a picture a soul. Gabin was the tropical opposite to the waxy screen idols whose sleek good looks often suggested the hood ornament of a Hispano-Suiza.” And in the case of PÉPÉ, “Gabin’s wary cool is the heart of this movie.”

Because Wanger didn’t want any competition with his remake, PÉPÉ LE MOKO wasn’t shown in the U.S until 1941. The New York Times’ Bosley Crowther described the film as an “incomparable advantage over the Hollywood-made imitation: it is raw edged, realistic and utterly frank exposition of a basically evil story …” Adding that Gabin’s “tough, unsentimental performance of the title role is much more credible and revealing than Charles Boyer’s sad-eyed mooning as Pepe in Algiers.”

Gabin, who was a song and dance man before he made films, was probably the biggest star in France when he made PÉPÉ LE MOKO and Renoir’s Grand Illusion, which was also released in 1937. He was sexy, tough and tender. He didn’t need dialogue to express his emotions, he literally wore his heart on his face. There’s an incredible scene near the end of PÉPÉ where he is determined to stop Gaby from leaving on a ship. He’s like a madman making his wave through the maze of the Casbah, and Duvivier’s herky-jerky back projection of the streets reflects his tormented emotional state.

“Director Jean Renoir used to say that the range of feelings Jean Gabin can show and express are limitless,” said Charles Zigman, author of the Gabin biography, Coolest Movie Star, in a 2008 L.A. Times interview. “The difference with other actors is he feels the feelings of his character. … He is the consummate Everyman. When you start watching his movies what you notice immediately is that he’s likeable. You feel like you have known him for a long time. He’s very real. He’s not putting on airs.”

Wanger initially wanted Gabin to reprise his Pépé for Algiers, but the notoriously difficult actor turned him down. Gabin did come to Hollywood in the early 1940s, making two disappointing films, Moontide (1942) and The Imposter (1944), and more headlines for his high-profile romance with Marlene Dietrich. He returned to France and joined Charles De Gaulle’s Free French Forces as a tank commander, winning medals for his bravery in Europe and North Africa.

But his absence from the screen didn’t make the moviegoers hearts grow fonder for Gabin. In fact, when he returned to acting grayer and more corpulent, he discovered he had been forgotten. He made several expensive films, including the dreadful Martin Roumagnac (‘46) with Dietrich and the Oscar-winning The Walls of Malapaga (’49), but even the latter film didn’t get him out of his slump.

But luck changed when he turned 50, starring as an aging gangster in Jacques Becker’s terrific noir, Touchez pas au grisbi (’54), for which he won the Volpi Cup at the Venice Film Festival. And the following year, he reunited with Renoir for the delightful Technicolor hit French Cancan. And he never stopped working. In fact, his last film, Holy Year (‘76), was released the year he died. Beloved by his legions of fans, Gabin had a true hero’s funeral with full military honors. And his ashes were scattered into the sea from a naval ship.

Not many child stars go on to enjoy long, successful careers in show business – and fewer still have earned a prestigious Academy Award nomination before they turned 18. Patty McCormack has achieved both. The actress, who made her first film appearance in 1951 and went on to star in THE BAD SEED (’56, for which she received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress as the murderous Rhoda at age 11); THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN (’60) and THE YOUNG RUNAWAYS (’68), continues to work in Hollywood and shows no indication of slowing down.

I had the pleasure of speaking with McCormack recently about some of these titles and more, including the delightful film KATHY O’ (‘58) in which she plays a famous child star – an apt springboard for a discussion about growing up on screen and transitioning into more mature roles over her incredibly long, accomplished career.   

(This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

I was watching KATHY O’ last night, and I really enjoyed it. In that movie they talk about your blonde pigtail braids as a trademark, and I realized it kind of was; you had that hairstyle in THE BAD SEED and ALL MINE TO GIVE (’57), too. Do you know how that style came about, or was it something you did that caught on?

Patty McCormack: It seems to be! I believe I even had them early on in Mama, which was an old live TV show that was a weekly event. I don’t know how that [trademark] happened. I think it just happened because of THE BAD SEED – I think it was the hairdo that I went in with or they just decided on. When you see the original artwork on William March’s book, there’s a very long face drawing of Rhoda, his Rhoda, and there were braids in it. I don’t know if they were looped or what, but that could have been it – or I honestly don’t remember if it was chosen by my mom because it was easy, but it stuck!

I loved KATHY O’ because I got to live the dream. I loved the notion of them cutting my hair off – except it was a wig that they cut. After a while it felt like I didn’t want to look like an older person with braids – you have to get rid of them eventually. As soon as I could, I wanted hair that was like, in that era, a page boy or something like that, where it landed on your shoulder. But I carried that long hair for a long time. And then you know how you revert back to certain hairdos years later? 

They come back in style.

PM: Yes, they come back, but now I have shortish hair, and I’m growing it one length. So I got over the braids – just in the nick of time!

Circling back to Rhoda, you originated the role on Broadway before the film version, so you obviously had a lot of practice and familiarity with the part before you took it to the screen. Since she’s such a chilling character, how did you get into that mindset at age nine, especially when you had to play the part multiple times a week?

PM: I always go back to the source, and the source was the director, Reginald Denham. He was so good with directing me. He made it fun, because I learned when I’d get an audience reaction on a face I’d make or something, I’d look forward to doing that again – you know, that kind of joy.

He made it so clear and simple, and his point of view was that Rhoda was always right. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s the truth. No matter what anybody says, Rhoda is correct, and anything she wants, she feels entitled to – not using that word ‘entitled’ – but I really wasn’t thinking of myself as a bad person, or especially not a murderer. I just thought it was their fault, which is classic, I guess. I had to kill him [the little boy] because he was so mean. So I think that was how I learned to be that character. I was aware of the murders – people were dead because of me, that I knew – but somehow it wasn’t disturbing to my mind. If you take a look at it knowing that, you see it. I’m not coming from some sort of evil place, I don’t think.

You were nominated for an Oscar for THE BAD SEED, which is amazing; it’s a true testament to your talents, of course, but it’s also such a big accolade to have at such a young age. Do you remember there being any pressure on you for your next role?

PM: Well, the role was so odd for a kid to be so noticed, in that era anyway. I can’t think of any jobs I didn’t get after that that somebody else got, you know? What happened, though, was that each year I grew, and so I just experienced the typical kid actor dilemma which is going from category to category and establishing yourself in that category and learning how to be in that category. I did do something on Playhouse 90 – I did a few PLAYHOUSE 90s back then – and I did a lot of television –

You played Helen Keller [in the original 1957 Playhouse 90 teleplay “The Miracle Worker”].

PM: That’s what I was going to say! That was after THE BAD SEED. But mostly, as far as movies went, there was KATHY O’ and a few here and there and at different levels of development. I was always aware that it had been a while since I worked, that I felt, but I didn’t think business, like “What will I follow up that with?” I didn’t have that kind of mentality, and I really don’t think my mother did either, so it just sort of went the way it went.

As you mentioned too, you were still growing up. So, you’re a child, then a teenager, then young adult. You probably wouldn’t be thinking about the business part of it. 

PM: No, it’s so strange. It’s not an easy transition, and as you know famous people go through really hard things. You don’t get to sit and relax in a certain mode for too long because before you know it you’re in the next one. And then you go through your ‘ugly period’ in front of everybody, which is horrible.

The movie that you mentioned TCM is going to air, THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, when I see the headshots from that I just think, “Aw, I looked uncomfortable!” I could see it even in my body. I felt like I was at the awkward time – you know, part of me was getting bigger, developing – and that hairdo they gave me didn’t help; it was still the braids but wrapped up.

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“Bugsy Malone is like nothing else,” Roger Ebert wrote in his 1976 three-and-a-half-star review. “It’s an original, a charming one.”

Alan Parker’s directorial debut, a one-of-a-kind gangster musical acted out by children (including Scott Baio in the title role and a then-13-year-old Jodie Foster as a sassy nightclub chanteuse), was an early career triumph for Paul Williams. Williams is everything that he wanted to be: an actor, an Oscar-winning songwriter of era-defining hits and composer of iconic movie scores. He’s something else, too: sober. Earlier this month he celebrated just over 30 years of sobriety. “When I got sober, the career I thought I had been gone for 10 years,” he says. “I feel like Lazarus; I’m 80-years-old, and I feel like a tired 34.”

But he’s ebullient talking about BUGSY MALONE, a cult favorite in the United States, but in its native England, it is something of a viewing rite of passage for children, thanks in part to a 1980s stage adaptation by Micky Dolenz. The film itself won four BAFTAs, including Best Screenplay and Best Newcomer and Best Supporting Actress for Foster. Williams was nominated for two Golden Globes, including Original Score and Original Song.

He has completed a new musical, Fortunate Sons, about how the Vietnam War draft lottery affects two households. His last major acting role was as ex-lawyer and informant JT on two seasons of the Amazon series, Goliath. “I’ve always said I’m a pretty good songwriter for an out-of-work actor,” he jokes. “Acting is where I got my start.”

Where in the process did you get involved with Bugsy Malone?  

Paul Williams: BUGSY MALONE began as a bedtime story Alan made up for his kids. Every night he put his kids to bed, they said, ‘Tell us more about Bugsy tomorrow night, dad.’ So maybe the answer to that question is that the headwaters of BUGSY MALONE is Alan’s love for his children and his great love for the traditional American gangster film. He found a place where those two things would meet in a way that was really unique.

How did Bugsy Malone come to you? 

PW: Alan Parker liked my songs, but I don’t know where he got the idea to approach me. It was around the time of A STAR IS BORN (for which he co-wrote the Oscar-winning song “Evergreen” with Barbra Streisand). He sent me a batch of beautiful color drawings of the cars, the splurge guns and the sets. Then he sent me the script, and I loved it. I was playing Vegas a lot and when I agreed to do it, he came over to talk to me. I was opening for Liza Minnelli or Olivia Newton John, I don’t remember who. Alan and I sat down at a deli, drank coffee and I was just singing bits and pieces of songs that I thought would be good ideas. I thought we needed to open with a song about Bugsy. It poured out of me. When the marriage is right, that seems to happen with me.

What was your own connection to American gangster movies? Were you a fan?

PW: Oh, my god, I was a huge Humphrey Bogart fan. One of the great times that I ever had was doing THE CHEAP DETECTIVE, because I was playing Elisha Cook’s role from THE MALTESE FALCON. As a little boy, I knew his name before I knew Santa Claus. I remember when I first came back to Hollywood to try and make it as an actor, one of the first things that happened was I walked into a drug store just as (character actor) Royal Dano was walking out. You’ve seen him in a hundred movies. I said, ‘Hiya, Mr. Dano,’ and he snapped his head around and said, ‘Hello, young man.’ I told that story on Carson, and I got a letter from Royal Dano. He said, ‘Although I don’t remember meeting you, it seems to me you were thinner then.’ I love that.

How did you approach writing the songs, because they are songs being lip-synced by children, but they are not children’s songs. 

PW: The script is the Bible. The two basic tasks a songwriter have are to move the story ahead and to display the inner life of the characters. Alan Parker was similar to Jim Henson in that the rule of writing was to not write down to kids, but to write accurately for character and story. The characters Alan wrote were so strong; they are archetypes of the great Warner Bros. characters. Bugsy was John Garfield meets Humphrey Bogart.

Where did the idea come from to have the child actors lip-sync to adult voices?

PW: They got kids that could act, they got kids that could dance, but the songs had intricate rhythms and to find kids who could sing them was a challenge. I thought that if the automobiles are these weird little hybrids that make the sound of an engine but are being pedaled, and the guns shoot cream, then why couldn’t the kids sing with adult voices? It would have the feel of an animated film. It solved the whole problem. The one regret I will have my entire life is that I put another (singing) voice in Jodie Foster’s mouth; one of the great actors in American film history.  That’s a terrible legacy (laughs). I did that with (the character) Beef in PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE. I used a guy named Ray Kennedy who had a great beefy voice, but when I heard Gerritt Graham sing later, I thought maybe I should have given him a shot.

This was before your collaboration with Jim Henson and the Muppets. Was Bugsy Malone a project you personally wanted to take on as something your own children could see?

PW: Bugsy Malone is the one motion picture I’ve written songs for that I’ve seen more than anything that I ever worked on, and there’s a simple reason for it. When my wife and I broke up, I would spend the weekend with my kids and I would plunk them down in front of the TV with pizza and, god bless them, they must have seen BUGSY MALONE for years. Eventually, I learned how to talk to my kids and be a sober real dad, but my kids just love BUGSY.

The closing number, “You Give a Little Love,” is Bugsy Malone’s legacy song, much like “The Rainbow Connection” is for The Muppet Movie. It was even used in a Coca-Cola Super Bowl commercial.

PW: That song is pretty much my philosophy. I absolutely believe it. My entire life has proven to me that there is something about the elegance of kindness that has always had a solid return. The core philosophy of BUGSY MALONE is, ‘We could have been anything that we wanted to be/and it’s not too late to change.’

In America, Bugsy Malone received good reviews and is a cult favorite. But it’s huge in England. Why do you think it was so embraced there?

PW: We took it to the stage in the 1980s. Every kid in England, Wales and Ireland, but especially in Great Britain, grew up seeing BUGSY MALONE. It’s like GREASE in this country. Edgar Wright did BUGSY as a kid, which led me to a role in BABY DRIVER. 

Where do you rank Bugsy Malone in the Paul Williams canon?

PW: It is probably the best opportunity I ever had in this life to preach a little kindness. It’s probably the best opportunity I’ve ever been given to express the possibilities and probabilities that we could be anything we want to be. I was the runt of the litter from the Midwest; this little dude who didn’t fit into any world. I just absolutely loved music and movies and without thinking twice, I thought, ‘I’m going to do that.’ I hope BUGSY MALONE inspires that for anyone looking up at the screen and is attracted to the possibilities of telling the truth about themselves in a way that helps someone else.

Bugsy Malone is but one chapter in an incredible life and career. Have you given any thought to writing your autobiography? 

PW: You know what? In recovery we call it an inventory (laughs). I think I’m at a place in my life where I feel like a beginner, like I’m just getting started. I know how idiotic that sounds at 80, but I want three digits on my driver’s license, and I think the one thing that gives me a shot at that is that I love being busy and doing the things that matter most to me, and that’s trying to tell the truth in a way that helps someone else.

In 2012, Robert Osborne interviewed a spry 90-year-old, Doris Day. He, of course, asked all the correct questions a true Day fan would be curious about: when she realized she could sing, how her career in film began and did she consider her serendipitous life to be destiny. A vibrant and gracious Day revealed that she wasn’t nervous when it came to performing, and if you have seen her first film ROMANCE ON THE HIGH SEAS (‘48), her organic ease fits like the exact correct puzzle piece. 

Although she passed almost two years ago, fans the world over still celebrate her iconic status. One of those fans is a public speaker on all things Doris, author of Day at a Time: An Indiana Girl’s Sentimental Journey to Doris Day’s Hollywood and Beyond, Mary Anne Barothy. Her fortune ironically played out like a classic Hollywood script, much like the beginnings of Day’s career. A devotee of Day since childhood, threads of fate connected and Barothy would find herself rubbing shoulders with Hollywood’s elite, astonishingly becoming Day’s live-in secretary, maintaining an active friendship from 1967-1974. 

What was a typical day with Doris like?

Mary Anne Barothy: I lived with Doris in her Beverly Hills home after her TV show [The Doris Day Show] filming ended - December 1972 and ran through June of 1973 on CBS. Her bedroom was just opposite mine in the back. Mine was the front bedroom. She slept with seven of her dogs, and I slept with the other four – Bobo, Charlie, Rudy and Schatzie. She would get up and come into the kitchen where I often fixed her breakfast. Doris loved her dogs and spent time playing with them both indoors and out. Many days she would get ready and bike down to Nate ‘N Al’s Deli for a late breakfast and many times would meet someone, or we would go together for breakfast. Doris loved her fans, and she was very good about answering her fan mail. 

As you know, her passion was animal welfare and she kept up with Actors & Others for Animals and frequently attended board meetings. I went with her and was also a proud member of Actors & Others for Animals. In the summer she would swim in her pool on occasion. She would call friends and once in a while meet someone for lunch or dinner. After dinner, sometimes we would sit in one section of her living room and watch the news. Doris was very down to earth; as I said, she was like a big sister to me. To me, this was an incredible dream come true! It is still hard to believe that I had this awesome opportunity to spend precious time with my idol, Doris Day!

The designer Irene dressed her in high fashion. Did she have a favorite costume/gown?

MB: She never spoke about that, but she looked good in a bathrobe. She just had a way of radiating, looking beautiful no matter what she had on. She always said CALAMITY JANE [‘53] was her favorite movie because she was kind of a tomboy. She never came across that way except for in movies, but she liked to be comfortable. She would ride her bike with shorts on and look very casual and comfortable. I always told her she could put on a paper bag and look good! 

Now that she’s passed, what would she want the world to know about her if anything?

MB: She was a down to earth person and I think some people think celebrity is high and mighty because they are in the movies, and I’d say a religious person without talking about church all the time. She had a passion for animal welfare and that was very important to her and she’d been that way apparently since she was a young person. She just enjoyed life and her friends. She wasn’t one for “I’ve got to be seen here and I’ve got to do this.” Her work was her work, she’d go to the studio to do what she had to do and that was it. 

Your book recounts so many extraordinary memories including that of a conversation with Elvis. If you had to choose one pinch-me moment, what would it be?

MB: When Doris called me and asked me to come work with her. The Christmas she invited me to stay. The fact that she trusted me was so special.

What was it like waking up in your idol’s home walking outside of your room and thinking I live here now?

MB: It was surreal because I wasn’t just staying a night or two, I’m staying here to the fact that I changed my address over. It was all like a movie. Here I am, actually living with her! It was meant to be. She was like a big sister. She made me feel welcome.

Do you have any memorabilia? 

MB: I have some clothes she gave me. My favorite one is the hat she wore when she met me. She gave it to me and then another hat from a movie, a skirt, and top from THE GLASS BOTTOM BOAT [1966]. She gave me a ring and an autographed Christian Science book, and that is special. I’ve got many letters and cards she gave me over the years. (Barothy reads a card) “Thanks for doing your own Christmas shopping. I love you Mairzy Doats, you’re the best there is! Always, your friend Clara.” And on the other side, it says, “Merry Christmas from the kids too!” – the dogs. “Mairzy Doats,” she’d sing that once in a while. I’ve saved a lot of these things. Of course, when I do my talks, I use copies. 

What was Beverly Hills like then? 

MB: To me, Beverly Hills, when I lived with Doris Day in her home, was a much more  relaxed city, almost small townish. Doris could ride her bike from her home four blocks down to either Bailey’s Bakery or the classic Beverly Hills deli, Nate N 'Al’s on Beverly Drive. No paparazzi – that would never happen today. I would see Barbara Stanwyck and Fred Astaire at the Beverly Hills Post Office, saw Rosalind Russell at Ralph’s grocery, and would see Loretta Young at Good Shepherd Catholic Church. People appeared to live pretty normal lives. Beverly Hills was a welcoming community and a fun place to be, especially since I was living with Doris in her home.

What would Doris think of the world today?

MB: I think Doris would be concerned about the direction we seem to be going in. Doris was a very religious person without going to church. I learned a lot from her. With people being out of work these days, I think Doris would be very concerned about the welfare of dogs and cats and all animals. As you know, she was a strong animal advocate and was one of the founders of Actors & Others for Animals. When she moved to Carmel, California, she started her own foundation, The Doris Day Animal Foundation, and animal welfare was her number one priority.

Looking back, does it seem like this all really happened to you?

MB: Yeah, it kinda seems surreal, and friends that are big Doris fans, just say, how did that happen? I just followed my dream and that is why when I give talks, I tell people to follow your dream, don’t say oh I could have or I should have; if you really believe in something go for it. All I can say it was meant to be. I drove my parents crazy and drove my teachers crazy, but I got what I wanted. I never would have dreamed that all of this would happen. I mean talk about a dream come true…unreal! “It really happened, I’m not making it up, I’ve got pictures to prove it!”

What are your plans for the future?

MB: I look forward to getting back on the road again to share my “Dream Story With Doris Day” presentations. Due to the pandemic last year, I was not able to do them as people were in lock down. Now, things are opening up and I am doing Zoom but really prefer the in-person talks where I share many photos I’ve taken of Doris over the years, as well as scripts and other Doris Day memorabilia. It’s a fun “sentimental journey.” People can contact me through my website. 

To hear Richard Benjamin tell it, MY FAVORITE YEAR was a charmed production. For his first film as a director, he had been looking for a comedy (“I’m just kind of bent that way,” he jokes) and the stars aligned to bring him a script that, he says, was everything he knew. He had Mel Brooks as the film’s guardian angel. He had a bona-fide movie star that his wife, Paula Prentiss, recommended after another actor regretfully declined the film’s plum role. And he heeded Carl Reiner, who gave him succinct advice about making a comedy: “Get funny people.”

Which he did. The film is character actor heaven, with Joseph Bologna, Anne de Salvo, Selma Diamond, Adolph Green, Basil Hoffman, Lainie Kazan and Bill Macy.

MY FAVORITE YEAR is set in the mid-1950s when television was live and comedy was king. Mark Linn-Baker stars as Benjy Stone, a young comedy writer on a variety show reminiscent of Your Show of Shows, where he ardently pursues the show’s not-amused production assistant (Jessica Harper). During one life-changing week, he is assigned to chaperone the show’s guest star, his idol, former swashbuckling screen hero, Alan Swann (Peter O’Toole in an Oscar-nominated performance), who has a penchant for drink, womanizing and otherwise behaving badly. 

Benjamin spoke with TCM about casting O’Toole, trying to pin down Mel Brooks and why you should never end a comedy in a graveyard.

To quote Alan Swann’s great line, dying is easy, comedy is hard. With MY FAVORITE YEAR, you make it look so easy. How did the project come to you?

Paula and I were in New York. My agent, David Gersh, sent the script by Norman [Steinberg] and Dennis [Palumbo, credited as co-writer due to the Screen Writers Guild arbitration]. I remember reading it in the hotel room and as I finished, I said, ‘This is everything I know.’ I was in high school when Your Show of Shows was on. I would get on the phone with my friend Shelley Berger, who I am still close to, and we would do all these routines they had done on the show on Saturday night. I grew up loving Errol Flynn and those swashbuckling movies. I had also worked at 30 Rockefeller Plaza [the film’s setting] as an NBC page and guide, and I knew every inch of that place. [The script] was right up my alley, as they say.

Brooksfilms produced the film, and Mel Brooks was a writer on Your Show of Shows. Did he serve as the film’s guardian angel or offer any input?

Guardian angel’s good. He kept saying he would give Norman and I two full days to sit down and go over the script to see if we could make it even funnier. The truth of the matter is that the script didn’t need much of anything, but he promised that. Trying to get Mel to stop moving is a feat. We went to his house, and he invited us in and then said he was going out. He said he had to walk the dog. Then he comes back, and he said he had to go, that there was a crisis at Fox. I said, ‘No there’s not,’ and he said, ‘Well, there could be.’ So, what he ended up giving us was two hours, but it was a great two hours. And the next thing you know, he was gone.

But Norman and I came up with one of the best jokes in the movie while we were standing in his driveway watching him drive away. It’s the one where Swann falls off the roof and plummets past the two elitist guys. And one says, ‘I think Alan Swann’s beneath us,’ and the other guy says, ‘Of course he’s beneath us, he’s an actor.’

I cannot imagine anyone but Peter O’Toole as Alan Swann. Was he the first choice?

Albert Finney had been offered the role, but he had not committed. He was up in Sausalito making SHOOT THE MOON [’82]. They told me I had to go up there and convince him to do the film; otherwise they couldn’t make the movie. The list of people M-G-M would go with was very short, because who are you going to believe with a sword in their hands? So, I’m on this mission, because if he says yes, I’m going to get to make a movie. We arranged to have lunch together. He’s completely charming. I get ready to ask the question – which could change my life, by the way: ‘Will you do it?’ He said, ‘Well…,’ and I could tell it was going to be a no. He thought the script was really good, but he had done two or three movies in a row and he said he wanted to get back to the theater. Then he said to me, ‘Why don’t you get O’Toole?’ He said, ‘We do this all the time. I turn something down, he does it, he turns something down, I do it.’ When I got back home, Paula who had made WHAT’S NEW PUSSYCAT? [’65] with Peter, said, ‘Get Peter. He is perfect for this.’ Finney said it, Paula said it. And I asked [co-producer] Michael Gruskoff if M-G-M would make the film with O’Toole, and Michael said yes.  

What was the meeting with Peter like?

(Laughs) That meeting! That meeting was quite something. First of all, we couldn’t find him. We could tell we had the right person because the behavior was just like the character. He had a farm in Ireland with no phone. You had to call this pub to get a message to him. I called the pub and they said Peter wasn’t there. His agent didn’t know where he was. I called his manager and said, ‘We’re trying to find your client.’ He said, ‘He’s at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. He’s been here for a week.’ 

So, I’m actually talking to Peter O’Toole, and he said he had heard about the project and to send him a script and we would get together the next day. I go over and there he is in a beautiful suite wearing a smoking jacket; he is the character. He said, ‘Here’s the thing…’ and I thought, ‘Here we go again.’ He said he liked it very much, but he hadn’t read the last ten pages and to please indulge him and he would call tomorrow. The next day, on the dot, he called and he said to turn to the last page of the script.

Now, in the original script, there’s a scene which I shot that would have played after what’s in the movie. It took place in a Hollywood cemetery, and Benjy is walking past the gravestones. He says in voiceover that Alan Swann made him promise he would do something on his birthday every year. Alan has passed away, and Benjy comes to his grave, kneels down and pours a bottle of Courvoisier over the tombstone. That’s what’s on the last page. Peter asked me to read the date that was on the tombstone. It was Aug. 2. He said, ‘Aug. 2 is my birthday; did you know that?’ I asked Norman if he knew that, and Norman said no, he had made it up. And Peter says, ‘Therefore, I must do the film.’

What happened to that scene?

I was terribly reluctant to take that out because Peter did the movie because of it. But people at M-G-M said I couldn’t end a comedy in a cemetery. We had two audience screenings, one with that ending and one without it. In the screening with it, the audience enjoyed the picture, but the scene put a pall over things. Then we had the screening without it and the audience was very enthusiastic and very up as they came out.

How did you find Mark Linn-Baker?

Our casting director Ellen Chenoweth said the first person to get was Mark Linn-Baker. Mark came in and read and was terrific. I said, ‘This is my first movie, I can’t cast the first person who walks in here.’ I saw maybe 25 to 35 more—some really good people—but she was right, so after all of that, I said to get him.

Peter and Mark had great chemistry.

They seemed to hit it off right away, but later, back in L.A. after we shot the long scene on the roof, which played like a mini-farce, Peter came up to me and said, ‘I like the lad, you cast him well.’

Was Peter game for the physical stunts?

I couldn’t stop him from doing them! The bathroom scene required him to fall headfirst into the wall. I came to him before we shot and I said, ‘The camera is so close, I can’t pad this wall.’ He said, ‘I was brought up in music hall. I can do this all day. Don’t concern yourself.’

Director Howard Hawks once said that a good movie was three or four good scenes and no bad scenes. I lose count watching MY FAVORITE YEAR of how many great scenes there are in it. Between those driven by comic banter, the TV sketches, the physical comedy scenes, the quieter romantic scenes and even the dramatic confrontations, did you have a favorite type to direct?

I can’t say there was a favorite. It’s all of a piece. I will tell you that one of the scenes I like is in the Stork Club and getting to do something that reminded me of all these kinds of wonderful comic movies I loved growing up. I do remember that one of the first things we shot was the scene in Central Park where Alan Swann mounts the horse. It just seemed to lack energy. And I was thinking, ‘I have to go tell Peter O’Toole that he has to pick up the pace and it has to be lighter.’ I went up to him and said, ‘It’s good, but…’ and before I could finish, he said, ‘You want it faster and funnier.’ I said, ‘You’ve got it,’ and he said, ‘And you shall have it.’ And I thought, ‘This directing thing is not so hard.’ (laughs)

Were there directors you worked with as an actor who particularly inspired you when you became a director? For example, you worked with one of the best, Mike Nichols.

Mike, yes. He directed me in the national company of Barefoot in the Park and [the film] CATCH-22 [’70]. Mike’s thing was he’d come up to you very quietly and say, ‘Just like in real life.’ That was his main thing. It meant that there should be no ‘acting’ here; your character responds to situations as they would in life. It’s like what [critic] Walter Kerr once said about Neil Simon’s jokes: They have the truth in them. This is what funny people know: You can’t try to get a laugh, because you won’t get it.  

At one point, Alan Swann says that doing the TV show was the most fun and the hardest work since the world was young. Was that what making MY FAVORITE YEAR was like for you?

It was the most fun, there’s no question of that. It was a magical experience because of the screenplay and everyone involved. Everyone’s game came up because of Peter. You don’t need many takes with him, that’s for sure. But how all of this came about and got to the point where I would be offered this, and what has to happen in your life to come to that moment – you can’t make it up. And when that moment comes, you’re hopefully ready. I was really fortunate.

Born in Hollywood to a show business family, it seemed like Dean Stockwell was destined to become a movie star, but Stockwell stumbled into the industry simply by chance. In 1942, his mother Elizabeth “Betty” Stockwell, a vaudeville performer, and his father Harry, a stage singer best known for being the voice of the Prince in SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS (’37), heard of a casting call for children. Dean and his older brother Guy auditioned for roles in a stage performance of The Innocent Voyage. Though only landing a small part with just two lines, it was all that was needed to catch the eye of an MGM talent scout. Before he knew it, the nine-year-old Stockwell had a seven-year contract with the studio. He was exactly what they were looking for. With his mop of curly hair and prominent pout, he gave off just the right combination of innocence and petulance that would make him a perfect fit to play orphans and spoiled rich kids in a variety of MGM productions.

Dean Stockwell was off to a roaring start with plum roles in big productions like ANCHOR’S AWEIGH (’45), THE GREEN YEARS (’46), GENTLEMAN’S AGREEMENT (’47) and SONG OF THE THIN MAN (’47). He held his own with big stars like Gregory Peck, Gene Kelly, William Powell, Myrna Loy, Greer Garson, Robert Ryan and Lionel Barrymore and other child stars Peggy Ann Garner, Darryl Hickman and Margaret O’Brien.

He was an incredible asset to MGM. Stockwell could be counted on to cry in front of the camera, sometimes coaxed by a director who encouraged him to imagine a dying pet. Even with that, Stockwell developed a reputation as an intelligent and sensitive young boy who needed little rehearsal and minimal direction. They called him “One-Take Stockwell.” In interviews years later, he recalled “I had photographic memory when I was a kid. I still can memorize lines very easily.” Stockwell was a natural and the parts just kept coming. When he wasn’t working for MGM on films, his home studio would loan him out to RKO, 20th Century-Fox and Universal.

But Being a child actor took a toll on Stockwell. The studio system could be cruel to child stars and Stockwell often bore the brunt of it. In an interview Stockwell said, “[as a] child star… I didn’t have much privacy and I was working all the time. I couldn’t be where I wanted to be; I couldn’t play; so I needed to find anonymity, to just disappear.” He often worked 10-hour days six days a week, which included 3 hours of learning in the Little Red Schoolhouse on the MGM lot. He had to keep going for two reasons: 1.) his ironclad contract with MGM and 2.) a family to support, now that Betty was raising Dean and his brother as a single mom. Stockwell desperately wanted to be an average kid. He loved playing sports, dreamed of going to public school and loved spending time with his dogs, Thug and Thief. On the set of STARS IN MY CROWN (’50), he even declared to producer William Wright “I wish you’d fire me, so I wouldn’t have to work!”

During his seven-year contract with MGM, he made nearly 20 films for his home studio and others while on loan out. For the most part, Stockwell was miserable working as a child actor but there were two productions that he particularly loved. One was the anti-war drama THE BOY WITH THE GREEN HAIR (‘48) produced by RKO. In it, he plays a war orphan whose hair suddenly turns green, making him stand out from the locals. Stockwell identified with his character’s desire to fit in and the film’s pacifist message. When Howard Hughes tried to get him to deliver a pro-war statement, Stockwell stood up to the studio tycoon and refused. A few years later, he starred alongside Errol Flynn in KIM (’51), an adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s classic story. Flynn became a father figure of sorts to young Stockwell and the two got on like a house on fire.

As Dean got older, he entered into what he called the “awkward age.” He later said, “[MGM] couldn’t see how they were going to cast me now that I was turning 17. So they let me out of it and I just took off.” Dean finished high school, attended UC Berkeley and dropped out before finishing his first year. He didn’t know what he wanted but he did know he no longer wanted to be Dean Stockwell the child star. He donned a new identity, Rudy Stocker, and lived in anonymity as a day laborer. He made his way back to acting after a few years. Had it not been for his escape from Hollywood, a time period Stockwell referred to as “an education in living”, as well as the support of his mother, he might have gone down the wrong path as other child actors have done. Instead Dean Stockwell made an excellent comeback in the Leopold and Lobb inspired murder drama COMPULSION (’59). Reflecting on his past, Stockwell said “I have to know if people want me – for myself.” He would make several comebacks throughout his acting career and he learned an important lesson from his days as a child actor: be true to yourself.

Her title may have been executive secretary to MGM studio head Louis B. Mayer, but she “wields a scepter of power second only to that of her employer,” journalist Sheila Graham wrote in 1937. Indeed, Ida Koverman was one of the most powerful women in Hollywood during the 1930s and 1940s, but you’ve probably never heard her name. As a former Hollywood assistant myself, I’m paying homage this International Women’s Day to a woman who “rarely operated in the shadows, even if history has pushed her there,” as Jacqueline R. Braitman declared in She Damn Near Ran the Studio: The Extraordinary Lives of Ida R. Koverman.

Born in Ohio in 1876, Koverman grew up with a passion for the arts and taught herself basic business principles in her early jobs. After becoming a wanted woman in 1909 for initially failing to appear as a witness in a bizarre bribery case, she entered an apparent marriage of convenience to distance herself from her past and used her new surname to start over on her own in New York. There, Koverman became involved with a plethora of female-focused community initiatives and established Brooklyn’s Women’s Athletic Club.

By the early 1920s, Koverman moved out west and rooted herself in the political landscape of Southern California. The enterprising woman leveraged her ambition, loyalty and aptitude to become executive secretary for the presidential campaigns of Calvin Coolidge in 1924 and Herbert Hoover in 1928. By the decade’s end, Koverman constructed a far-reaching partisan network and established herself as an esteemed political operative within the Republican Party.

Mayer had political ambitions too, which is how he and Koverman met in the mid-1920s. It was she who played matchmaker – as she did with many – to facilitate his involvement in various Republican organizations. As Mayer must have noticed, Koverman’s strength for prioritizing a high workload, negotiating with big personalities, building relationships and harnessing public support made her a natural for the film industry.

According to Braitman, after Hoover’s inauguration, Mayer furnished Koverman with a desk and “told her to make a job for herself.” She did, and she’d remain with MGM until her death in 1954. Though she undertook typical assistant duties, Koverman also operated as an executive – one of the most powerful at MGM. She supervised Mayer’s schedule with daunting yet considerate authority as the “last and toughest obstacle” before visitors entered his office and did the same facilitating for other departments if needed. Koverman also served as Mayer’s advisor in the political arena; in fact, many publications touted her as his personal political expert. Thus, on any given day, she could secure a star’s Hollywood Bowl parking pass one moment and strategize with a Senator’s publicity director the next, according to the Christian Science Monitor in 1950.

Koverman became Mayer’s confidante, and he greatly respected and trusted her judgement and aptitude for identifying audience taste. She could (and did) take over when he was away from MGM, and her versatility proved crucial to studio operations; for instance, she fostered a family-like culture and highlighted employee accomplishments by establishing The MGM News in 1936, and her far-reaching connections made her indispensable in lobbying for MGM’s interests when she spotted proposed state legislation that could affect business. As noted in Variety’s 1942 article “The Women Who Run the Men,” “… there’s very little taking place on the lot that she hasn’t exerted some influence… and with the carte blanche she enjoys in the matter of executive decisions, she has a lot of pretty important gents tiptoeing around her with devout response.”

When it came to talent, Koverman possessed a knack for discovering and nurturing actors and musicians. Indeed, it was Koverman who saw the potential in Robert Taylor, promoted Clark Gable’s sex appeal and proved instrumental in Judy Garland’s discovery. Add to that list Lena Horne, Nelson Eddy, Deanna Durbin, Mario Lanza and others – the number of performers Koverman recruited and mentored is enormous. Her eminent position also meant balancing support for the actor offscreen with MGM’s expectations onscreen. In Garland’s case, when Koverman disagreed with Mayer’s dietary regimen for the juvenile star, she secretly directed the MGM commissary to be less draconian with Garland’s meals.

Koverman continued her cultural and political involvement at MGM, becoming director of the Screen Women’s Press Club and taking on various other community leadership roles. She also remained vocal in her beliefs, including her anti-communist rhetoric and support of the Moral Rearmament movement, which promoted spiritual uplift within movies. After almost 20 years with MGM, Koverman earned a promotion to head of public relations in the late 1940s, and the Los Angeles Times recognized her career achievements by selecting her as a Woman of the Year in 1950.

Koverman operated efficiently and openly behind the scenes, successfully executing her extensive duties while enabling the interests of high-powered people and growing her own influence. Gossip columnist Hedda Hopper observed that Koverman’s “special positions of power gave her a phenomenal chance to do good.” Indeed, Koverman told Hopper, “If you can’t help somebody, what are you put here on earth for?” Perhaps Koverman’s greatest impact was through the lives she touched, personally and professionally.

All month long in March, TCM will be taking a look at a number of beloved classic films that have stood the test of time, but when viewed by contemporary standards, certain aspects of these films are troubling and problematic. During TCM’s Reframed: Classics in the Rearview Mirror programming, all five TCM hosts will appear on the network to discuss these issues, their historical and cultural context and how we can keep the legacy of great films alive for future generations.

Also joining in on this conversation are four TCM writers who were open enough to share their thoughts on their love of classic movies and watching troubling images of the past. Special thanks to Theresa Brown, Constance Cherise, Susan King and Kim Luperi for taking part in this conversation. Continue the conversation over on TCM’s Twitter.

What do you say to people who don’t like classics because they’re racist and sexist? 

KL: There are positive representations in classic Hollywood that I think would blow some peoples’ minds. I always love introducing people to new titles that challenge expectations. 

That said, anyone who broadly slaps a sexist or racist label on a large part of the medium’s history does a disservice to cinema and themselves. That mindset keeps them ignorant not only of some excellent movies and groundbreaking innovation but history itself. 

I think people need to remember that movies are a product of their time and they can reflect the society they were made into a variety of degrees - good, bad, politically, culturally, socially. That’s not to excuse racism or sexism; it needs to be recognized and called out as such for us to contend with it today. But it’s important for people who say they don’t like classics for those reasons to understand the historical context. In particular, we need to acknowledge that society has evolved - and what was deemed socially acceptable at times has, too, even if sexism and racism are always wrong - and we are applying a modern lens to these films that come with the benefit of decades worth of activism, growth and education.

SK: I totally agree K.L. For years I have been encouraging people to watch vintage movies who keep proclaiming they don’t like black-and-white films or silent films. For every Birth of a Nation (1915) there are beautiful dramas, wonderful comedies and delicious mysteries and film noirs. 

 These films that have racist and sexist elements shouldn’t be collectively swept under the rug, because as K.L. stated they shine a light on what society was like – both good and bad. 

CC: First off, fellow writers may I say, I think your work is amazing. I’m continually learning from the talent that is here, and I am humbled to be a part of this particular company. Similar to the prior answers, for every racist/sexist film the opposite exists. Personally, classic musicals attracted me due to their visual assault, creativity and their unmistakable triple-threat performances. While we cannot ignore racist stereotypes and sexism, there are films that simply are “fantasies of art.” There is also a review of evolution. In 20 years, what we now deem as acceptable behavior/conversation will be thought of as outdated and will also require being put into “historical context."  What we collectively said/thought/did 20 years ago, we are currently either re-adjusting or reckoning with now, and that is a truth of life that will never change. We will always evolve.

TB: I would say to them they should consider the times the movie was made in. It was a whole different mindset back then. 

Are there movies that you love but are hesitant to recommend to others because of problematic elements in them? If so, which movies? 

TB: Yes, there are movies I’m hesitant to recommend. The big one, off the top of my head, would be Gone With the Wind (1939). The whole slavery thing is a bit of a sticky wicket for people, especially Black folks. Me, I love the movie. It is truly a monumental feat of filmmaking for 1939. I’m not saying I’m happy with the depiction of African Americans in that film. I recognize the issues. But when I look at a classic film, I suppose I find I have to compartmentalize things. I tend to gravitate on the humanity of a character I can relate to. 

KL: Synthetic Sin (1929), a long thought lost film, was found in the 2010s, and I saw it at Cinecon a few years ago. As a Colleen Moore fan, I thoroughly enjoyed most of it, but it contains a scene of her performing in blackface that doesn’t add anything to the plot. That decision brings the movie down in my memory, which is why I have trouble recommending it.

Also Smarty (1934), starring Warren William and Joan Blondell, is another movie I don’t recommend because it’s basically about spousal abuse played for comedy, and it did not age well for that reason.

SK: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961): Audrey Hepburn is my favorite actress and I love her Oscar-nominated performance as Holly. I adore Orangy as Cat, as well as George Peppard and Buddy Ebsen, who is wonderfully endearing. And of course, “Moon River” makes me cry whenever I hear it. But then I cringe and am practically nauseous every time Mickey Rooney pops up on screen with his disgusting stereotypical performance as Holly’s Japanese landlord Mr. Yunioshi. What was director Blake Edwards thinking casting him in this part? Perhaps because he’s such a caricature no Japanese actor wanted to play him, so he cast Rooney with whom he had worked within the 1950s. 

CC: I cannot necessarily state that I am in "love,” but, a film that comes to mind would be Anna and the King of Siam (1946). It is an absolutely beautiful visual film. However, Rex Harrison as King Mongkut requires some explanation. 

Holiday Inn (1942), and the Abraham number…why??? Might I also add, there were many jaw-dropping, racist cartoons.

How did you learn to deal with the negative images of the past? 

KL: I often look at it as a learning experience. Negative images can provoke much-needed conversation (internally or with others) and for me, they often prompt my education in an area that I wasn’t well versed in. For instance, blackface is featured in some classic films, and its history is something I never knew much about. That said, seeing its use in movies prompted me to do some research, which led me first to TCM’s short documentary about blackface and Hollywood. I love how TCM strives to provide context and seeks to educate viewers on uncomfortable, contentious subjects so we can appreciate classic films while still acknowledging and understanding the history and the harmful stereotypes some perpetuated.

SK: It’s also been a learning experience for me. Though I started watching movies as a little girl in the late 1950s, thanks to TCM and Warner Archive I realized that a lot of films were taken out of circulation because of racist elements. TCM has not only screened a lot of these films but they have accompanied the movies with conversations exploring the stereotypes in the films.  

CC: As a Black woman, negative images of the past continue to be a lesson on how Blacks, as well as other minorities, were seen (and in some cases still are seen) through an accepted mainstream American lens. On one hand, it’s true, during the depiction of these films the majority of Black Americans were truly relegated to servant roles, so it stands to reason that depictions of Black America would be within the same vein. What is triggering to me, are demeaning roles, and the constant exaggeration of the slow-minded stereotype, blackface. When you look at the glass ceiling that minority performers faced from those in power, the need for suppression and domination is transparent because art can be a powerful agent of change. I dealt with the negative images of the past by knowing and understanding that the depiction being given to me was someone else’s narrative, of who they thought I was, not who I actually am.

TB: I’m not sure HOW I learned to deal with negative images. Again, I think it might go back to me compartmentalizing.

I don’t know if this is right or wrong…but I’ve always found myself identifying with the leads and their struggles. As a human being, I can certainly identify with losing a romantic partner, money troubles, losing a job…no matter the ethnicity.

In what ways have we evolved from the movies of the classic era?

KL: I think we are more socially and culturally conscious now when it comes to stories, diversity and representation on screen and behind the scenes, which is a step forward. That said, while there’s been growth, there’s still much work to be done.

SK: I think this year’s crop of awards contenders show how things have evolved with Da 5 Bloods, Soul, One Night in Miami, Minari, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, The United States Vs. Billie Holiday, Judas and the Black Messiah and MLK/FBI. 

But we still have a long way to go. I’d love to see more Native American representation in feature films; more Asian-American and Latino stories. 

CC: There are minority artists, writers, producers, directors, actors with the increasing capacity to create through their own authentic voice, thereby affecting the world, and a measurable amount of them are women! Generally speaking, filmmakers (usually male) have held the voice of the minority narrative as well as the female narrative. I agree with both writers above in the thought that it is progress, and I also agree, more stories of diversified races are needed. 

TB: One important way we’ve evolved from the movies made in the classic era by being more inclusive in casting. 

Are there any deal-breakers for you when watching a movie, regardless of the era, that make it hard to watch? 

KL: Physical violence in romantic relationships that’s played as comedy is pretty much a dealbreaker for me. I mentioned above that I don’t recommend Smarty (1934) to people, because when I finally watched it recently, it. was. tough. The way their abuse was painted as part of their relationship just didn’t sit well with me.

SK: Extreme racist elements and just as KL states physical violence. 

Regarding extreme racist elements, D.W. Griffith’s Birth of a Nation (1915) is just too horrific to watch. I was sickened when I saw it when I was in grad school at USC 44 years ago and it’s only gotten worse. And then there’s also Wonder Bar (1934), the pre-code Al Jolson movie that features the Busby Berkeley black minstrel number “Goin’ to Heaven on a Mule.” Disgusting.

I also agree with KL about physical violence in comedies and even dramas. I recently revisited Private Lives (1931) with Norma Shearer and Robert Montgomery based on Noel Coward’s hit play. I have fond memories of seeing Maggie Smith in person in the play when I was 20 in the play and less than fond memories of watching Joan Collins destroying Coward’s bon mots.  

But watching the movie again, you realized just how physically violent Amanda and Elyot’s relationship is-they are always talking about committing physical violence-”we were like two violent acids bubbling about in a nasty little matrimonial battle”; “certain women should be struck regularly, like gongs”-or constantly screaming and throwing things.  

There is nothing funny or romantic about this.

KL: I try to put Birth of a Nation out of my mind, but S.K. did remind me of it again, and movies featuring extreme racism at their core like that are also dealbreakers; I totally agree with her assessment. I understand the technological achievements, but I think in the long run, especially in how it helped revive the KKK, the social harm that film brought about outdoes its cinematic innovations.

CC: Like S.K., Wonder Bar immediately came to mind. Excessive acts of violence, such as in the film Natural Born Killers (1994). I walked out of the theatre while the film was still playing. I expected violence, but the gratuitousness was just too much for me. I also have an issue with physical abuse, towards women and children. This is not to say I would not feel the same way about a man. However, when males are involved, it tends to be a fight, an exchange of physical energy, generally speaking, when we see physical abuse it is perpetuated towards women and children.

TB: I have a couple of moments that pinch my heart when I watch a movie. It doesn’t mean I won’t watch the movie. It just means I roll my eyes…verrrrry hard.

-Blackface…that’s a little rough; especially when the time period OF the movie is the ‘30s or ‘40s film.

-Not giving the Black actors a real name to be called by in the film (Snowflake…Belvedere…Lightnin’). I mean, can’t they have a regular name like Debbie or Bob?

-When the actor can’t do the simplest of tasks, i.e. Butterfly McQueen answering the phone in Mildred Pierce (1945) and not knowing which end to speak into. What up with that?

Are there elements they got right that we still haven’t caught up to? 

KL: I don’t know if the pre-Code era got sex right (and sensationalism was definitely something studios were going for) but in some ways, I feel that subject was treated as somewhat more accepted and natural back then. Of course, what was shown onscreen in the classic era was nowhere near the extent it is today, but the way the Production Code put a lid on sex (in addition to many other factors) once again made it into more of a taboo topic than it is or should be.

One thing I particularly hate in modern movies is gratuitous violence, and it perplexes and angers me how America weighs violence vs. sex in general through the modern ratings system: films are more likely to get a pass with violence, mostly landing in PG-13 territory and thus making them more socially acceptable, while sex, something natural, is shunned with strictly R ratings. Obviously, there are limits for both, but I think the general thinking there is backwards today.

CC: The elegance, the sophistication, the precision, the dialogue, the intelligence, the wit. The fashion! The layering of craftsmanship. We aren’t fans of these films for fleeting reasons, we are fans because of their timeless qualities.

I’m going to sound like a sentimental sap here, ladies get ready. I think they got the institution of family right. Yes, I do lean towards MGM films, so I am coloring my opinion from that perspective. Even if a person hasn’t experienced what would have been considered a “traditional family” there is something to be said about witnessing that example. Perhaps not so much of a father and a mother, but to witness a balanced, functioning, loving relationship. What it “looks like” when a father/mother/brother/sister etc. genuinely loves another family member.

I was part of the latch-key generation, and although my parents remained together, many of my friends’ parents were divorced. Most won’t admit it, but by the reaction to the documentary [Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, 2018], the bulk of them went home, sat in front of the TV and watched Mr. Rogers tell them how special they were because their parents certainly were not. We don’t know what can “be” unless we see it.