Satyajit Ray made Teen Kanya (THREE DAUGHTERS, ‘61) to commemorate the birth centenary of the Bengali cultural giant—poet, writer, playwright, composer, philosopher, social reformer, actor, educationist, painter—Rabindranath Tagore. It is noteworthy that Ray, a polymath himself, decided to concentrate on the three female protagonists of Tagore’s short stories from the volumes of poems, novels, short stories, dramas, essays and songs that Tagore left behind. May 2, 2021 marks Ray’s birth centenary and studying the expansive creative careers of both men often reveals several points of intersection.

Tagore’s women, like Ray’s, are complex—independent yet bound by tradition; inhabiting, as women do, the in-betweenness within a desire for boundless personal freedom and the socio-familial space that denies it to them. Teen Kanya is an anthology of three films: Postmaster with the young, orphaned protagonist Ratan (Chandana Banerjee); Monihara with the childless wife of a rich jute plantation owner Manimalika (Kanika Majumdar); and Samapti with the shrew-like “wild child” teenager Mrinmoyee (Aparna Sen). Incidentally, it is with Teen Kanya that Ray, too, found a seamlessness within his own creative pursuits, as he began to score music for his films.

Tagore’s “Postmaster”, written in 1891, tells the story of Ratan who works for her village’s Postmaster, the Anglophile Nandal from Calcutta (Anil Chatterjee). With Nandal’s arrival, Ratan, receives affection for the first time in her life. She learns how to read and write from him, makes him his meals and then takes care of him while he fights a bout of malaria. When, unable to tolerate village life anymore, Nandal hands in his resignation and Ratan’s world is robbed of the love she had begun to acclimatise to. While Tagore’s Ratan falls to the Postmaster’s feet, begging him not to leave her alone, Ray’s Ratan walks past Nandal and goes on attending to her household chores. Nandal breaks into tears as the potholed road ahead leads to his future back in the city; Ratan quietly lives out her destiny.

“Ray did not deny his women the right of choice. His women had agency. They were primary protagonists in their own right,” writes actor Sharmila Tagore who was 15 when she made her debut in Ray’s Apur Sansar (THE WORLD OF APU, 1959). Her words do not just ring true for Ratan but also for Manimalika and Mrinmoyee. The three women form the moral arc of the film, making the audience not just question the society but also the ways in which they, personally, inhibit women’s personal freedoms and ambitions.

Even within a horror story like Monihara, where the protagonist lives with a cavernous greed for gold and is probably unfaithful to her husband, Ray (and Tagore) divulge the psychology behind her greed. Manimalika feels judged by her in-laws because she hasn’t been able to bear her husband a child. As Sharmila Tagore says “Ray gifted his women protagonists the liberty which defied the cliché that the male desire is visual while the woman’s is sensory.” This obvious visual female desire, as heightened as it is in the protagonists’ sexual transgression in Charulata (THE LONELY WIFE, ‘64) and Ghare Baire (THE HOME AND THE WORLD, ‘84), finds a materialist incarnation in Manimalika’s unapologetic gold lust. When you reduce a woman to her womb, why should she find it in herself to be a holistic human being and not just a dehumanized, ever-widening lacunae of greed?

Her disappearance from her husband’s life does not leave behind a vacuum that he can fill with another wife who can perhaps bear him an heir. Instead, she haunts him, filling his existence with a hopeless wait and an obvious dread. It is not just a haunting of her husband’s life, but that of his ancestral home, the seat of long-standing patriarchy that perpetuates itself from one heir to another.

Aparna Sen, at 16, made her debut as Samapti’s Mrinmoyee, a bright-eyed, rebellious village teenager who wouldn’t toe the line of patriarchy and the way it expects “marriage worthy” young women to behave. When Amal (Soumitra Chatterjee) marries Mrinmoyee, only with the consent of her parents, she lashes out, refusing to bow down to a life of servile conjugality. Not only does she have a mind of her own, but she also insists upon sovereignty over her body, which is only its most authentic self when running through fields and sitting on swings. She runs away from her husband on the night of their wedding and spends it outdoors, sleeping on her beloved swing.

These women, and Ray’s later women like Charulata and Arati (MAHANAGAR, THE BIG CITY, ‘63), are well-versed in articulating a language of complex desire and longing through their bodies, even when they don’t have the verbal vocabulary for it. There is an insistence (in both Tagore and Ray’s works) of intellectual, economic and physical sovereignty by these women that, as pointed out by Sharmila Tagore, often predates the establishment of a formal women’s movement in India. They are the conscience of the texts they occupy, and this conscience is not a vague, moral or a spiritual one. Both Ray and Tagore embody this conscience within a female body that transgresses, fights and yet, always, desires.  

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.

“You react against the devaluation of cinema and movies by showing up,” Martin Scorsese remarked after accepting the inaugural Robert Osborne Award at the 2018 TCM Classic Film Festival. Scorsese’s nonprofit organization, The Film Foundation (TFF), has been showing up by promoting the preservation of our cinematic heritage for 30 years. This month, TCM salutes that anniversary by showcasing five evenings of TFF-supported restorations. Recently, I had the opportunity to ask the TFF team about their history and some of the unique programs and projects they’ve created and participated in throughout the years.

TFF officially launched in 1990, but the idea formed years before, evolving from studio meetings Scorsese took in the late 1980s with UCLA Film & Television Archive director Robert Rosen to advocate for protecting studios’ libraries “title by title.” Once TFF opened its doors, Scorsese and various board members (including filmmakers such as Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas), hit the ground running to secure funds and foster projects between studios and archives.

TFF worked to spread the word about the importance of preservation early on, collaborating on events like AMC’s 1993 on-air Film Preservation Festival, which featured interviews with archivists and showcased restorations like BECKY SHARP (’35), the first feature shot in three-strip Technicolor.

Technology now allows for photochemical and digital restoration practices, both of which TFF supports. It seems as if each project has its own tale, from TFF’s first digital restoration, in 2006, of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s THE RED SHOES (’48), a Technicolor film so damaged that it couldn’t have been corrected without digital tools, to Barbara Loden’s directorial debut and swansong WANDA (’70), for which the original 16mm camera negative was triumphantly saved from a lab in the process of closing, one day away from being destroyed.

With so many movies out there, it’s impossible to save them all. So, how are TFF’s projects chosen? While some archives suggest culturally essential titles in need of attention, other little-known titles are proposed by Scorsese or board members. TFF facilitates and promotes the resulting restorations, which are funded and carried out by studios and various rightsholders.

One project the team highlighted was Marcel Ophüls’ 1976 historic 278-minute documentary THE MEMORY OF JUSTICE, restored in partnership with the Academy Film Archive and Paramount Pictures. The 10-year process remains unprecedented in TFF’s history, and it involved a vast amount of rights clearances for exhibition purposes – a total of 386 clips and 24 music cues! Furthermore, when the original French, German and English recordings were located, Ophüls wanted to use them for the restoration instead of the English dubbing that viewers heard in 1976; thus, subtitles in all three languages were crafted, which the team said gave the film “new power and authenticity.”

TCM’s salute, spotlighting classics such as DODSWORTH (’36) and DETOUR (’45), represents a small percentage of TFF’s work. The organization’s goal stretches far and wide. In 30 years, they’ve aided in the restoration of over 850 silent and sound features, shorts, documentaries, avant-garde, independent and home movies from around the globe. In seeking to save work from underrepresented genres and filmmakers, TFF has supported the restoration of independent movies like Bill Gunn’s GANJA & HESS (’73), while also creating and funding the Avant-Garde Masters Grant in 2003 in partnership with the National Film Preservation Foundation to save experimental works that might otherwise fly under the radar, like several from women and LBGTQ+ directors.

With a worldwide lens, Scorsese started the World Cinema Project (WCP) in 2007 to help preserve film heritage in countries with limited archival resources, where movies face a higher risk of being lost forever. So far, the initiative has helped restore 42 films from 25 countries, and their exhibition and distribution, whether at global film festivals, on DVD or streaming, give these pictures new life by allowing audiences the opportunity to discover them. “It’s difficult for a movie to be any part of film history when it is unknown,” the team explained.

TFF’s most recent World Cinema Project restoration, in partnership with Cineteca di Bologna, was Mohammad Reza Aslani’s long thought lost Iranian film CHESS OF THE WIND (’76). The Islamic regime banned Aslani’s picture after its sole screening at the Tehran International Film Festival, but luckily, the original negatives were uncovered in a Tehran shop in 2015 and returned to the director, who helped oversee the restoration with his daughter. After being suppressed for so many years, the film has acquired new admirers at festivals worldwide thanks to this restoration.

In addition to salvaging gems from our cinematic heritage, TFF also supports a variety of educational initiatives. Not only has the organization presented preservation and restoration workshops around the globe, but they’ve also helped instill a respect for cinema through their free cross-curricular educational program The Story of Movies, established in 2005. As the first series crafted by film professionals in conjunction with educators, The Story of Movies not only teaches the cultural and historic importance of the medium but also guides students on how to apply critical thinking skills and “read” a film. In having reached about 10 million students across the nation (and with an international program in China), The Story of Movies continues to enrich learners’ minds and enlighten future filmmakers and scholars.

At year 30, The Film Foundation remains fiercely passionate about its purpose and intimately in touch with the challenges the industry faces. As preservation is a constant process, the team looks ahead with resolve and confidence, confiding in me that they’re “up for the challenge and excited to continue to discover great films that were feared lost.”

Let’s face it – America was not ready for Dorothy Dandridge.

Her beauty is undeniable. And, as Janet Jackson notes in her TCM tribute to Dandridge, Dorothy was a ‘triple threat’ with singing, dancing and acting in her repertoire. She just needed a chance to shine. Daughter of character actress Ruby Dandridge, Dorothy appeared in soundies and small uncredited parts throughout the 1940s. In BRIGHT ROAD (‘53) she plays a schoolteacher offering G-rated maternal love and understanding to her students in a rural school district. She really comes into prominence with Otto Preminger’s 1954 film CARMEN JONES. Sexy, sassy, fiery…dangerous, Dandridge swaggers like a gunslinger and sets the screen ablaze as the tempestuous Carmen. Her BRIGHT ROAD co-star, Harry Belafonte, is the hapless handsome soldier who tragically tangles with her. Dandridge was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role for her performance.

I rather enjoyed her next movie coming three years after CARMEN JONES, ISLAND IN THE SUN (’57). It’s sort of a PEYTON PLACE in the Caribbean with different storylines of politics, family secrets, murder and miscegenation weaving and wending their way around coconut trees and sugar cane plantations. May I offer one sticky wicket of a caveat? You’ll probably have to leave your 21st century racial perspective at home when you visit. The movie is 63 years old and does give a nod to all those antiquated racial tropes. My jaw dropped a coupla times.

Let me map out the scorecard for you. A Caribbean country is about to undergo the changeover from colony to independence. Pivotal in that change is union leader Harry Belafonte. Pre-dating Malcolm and Martin and today’s ‘social justice’ warriors, Belafonte’s character is interested in uplifting his people on the island. He has a casual relationship with Dandridge that doesn’t have enough fire to toast a marshmallow. What’s wrong with THAT picture? In the movie, he has history on the island with Joan Fontaine. There’s a tentative attempt to explore where they can go, but class and color are a bumpy road for them to hurdle (perhaps the script’s “convenient” way to keep them apart?). He’s more interested in power than romance. Gee, all that handsomeness gone to waste. I don’t know that Belafonte quite has any chemistry with Fontaine once you see Dandridge on his arm – or am I the only one blinded here? But Belafonte steps up his acting game opposite Academy Award-winner Fontaine.

Also in the cast, we have Stephen Boyd, ripe for the picking as the current governor’s son whose return to the island after months stationed in Egypt—without a woman in sight—is pointedly noted. He’s back on the island until he jets off to London. It’s said of him:

“A male, young, white, unmarried, titled and comparatively rich. Good heavens, what else do you think the girls would talk about.”

Boyd spots virginal-in-white Joan Collins at the Governor’s ball. Yes, you read that right – I said virginal and Joan Collins in the same sentence, and he’s interested. So is she. They start a slow-building romance. They don’t make themselves part of the island’s life. They’re into each other. Don’t worry, a freak-out lays ahead for them. Her brother is played by James Mason. They are heirs to the largest sugar cane plantation on the island and Mason’s a weakling. You know the type: the second son…ever second best…insecure…lots to prove. He has contempt for the islanders; suspects his wife of having an affair with the dashing, accomplished Michael Rennie; and decides to run as a political opponent to the popular Belafonte. Belafonte’s response:

“Wouldn’t it be fair to say the only reason you seek election is to revenge yourself upon the whites whom you now think despise you?”

Mason’s got a lot on his plate. (And it ain’t conch chowder).

When Dandridge first appears in the movie, she and Belafonte make a stunning couple entering the governor’s party. She immediately lets Belafonte know she has a mind of her own. She’s confident, truthful, tries to do herself some good pitching for a job in the governor’s office. She fits right into the tony setting with no apology…and wearing no maid’s uniform. She carries herself with quiet sophistication. She just is. She’s noticed by the governor’s military attaché (John Justin), and he immediately falls head over heels. I like Justin and Dandridge together. He’s not trying to keep their relationship secret. He might have one twinge of jealousy or discomfort, but all in all they’re fine together. You might think this interracial romance would be problematic as well but it’s not, compared to Belafonte and Fontaine. What’s the difference? Food for thought. But I think we all know why.

Justin: “Somewhere someone once said there’s always a point in the beginning of a love affair where a man can draw back. Where he’s still safe.”

Dandridge: “Is that what you want, to be safe?” 

Justin: “I’ve been in love. Funny, I don’t know anything about you.” Dandridge: “What would you like to know?” 

Justin: “All about you. Everything.” 

There is a moment with this couple I really like; it’s provocative in a non-provocative way. (No Spoiler!) Dandridge is lying fully clothed on Justin’s bed, reading his manuscript…with no shoes on. Big deal, right? I think it speaks tremendously to their level of intimacy. She’s at home in his space. When have you ever seen THAT in movies of the 50s…or 40s or 30s for that matter?

I like this Daryl Zanuck-production. It’s a colorful, lush, melodramatic production with racial and sexual tension, sexual restraint and good-looking people. Dorothy Dandridge is very easy to watch on film. Yes, she’s easy on the eyes, but she’s also not chewing the scenery and has a very natural presence on screen. You never see her act. I wish she’d done more. She’s not exotic. She’s just a woman…a human. She had many facets she could tap into to express different characters. I’m so glad TCM, with the guidance of acclaimed author Donald Bogle, spotlighted her career. This gets a wider audience to get to know her. No, America was not ready for Dorothy Dandridge.

But she wasn’t going to spend her time waiting for us.

He may have been born on April Fools’ Day, but don’t you dare call him a fool.

Toshirô Mifune was born on April 1, 1920 in Tsingtao, China (now Quingdao, Shandong), which at that time was under Japanese military rule. His parents, both Japanese citizens, were Methodist missionaries and had moved to Tsingtao as part of a largescale, coordinated effort by the Japanese government to encourage its citizens to move into the region to help maintain its military control. In addition to being a missionary, Mifune’s father was a photographer and owned his own shop where young Toshirô learned the trade. Because Mifune was a Japanese citizen, when he turned 20 years old, he was immediately drafted into the Imperial Air Force, despite never having stepped foot onto Japanese soil. (Which he did for the first time at the age of 21.) From 1940-1945, during World War II, Mifune’s photography training was put to good use with him becoming a sergeant in the Imperial Air Force’s Aerial Photography Unit. However, like many men who were forced into wartime service, Mifune was not at all cut out for a military career. When asked about his service during World War II several years later, Mifune recalled a time of great personal fear and hard, menial work saying, “These big laborer’s hands of mine are my unwanted souvenir of that time.”

After World War II, Mifune moved to Tokyo in hopes of finding a photography job. One of Mifune’s friends, who worked at Tokyo’s Toho Studios, encouraged him to apply for a position as an assistant cameraman. Instead, Mifune found himself auditioning for the studio’s “Wanted: New Faces” talent search. It was during this audition that director Akira Kurosawa discovered him. When asked about how he first met Toshirô Mifune, Kurosawa said:

“A young man was reeling around the room in a violent frenzy. It was as frightening as watching a wounded or trapped savage beast trying to break loose. I stood transfixed. But it turned out that this young man was not really in a rage, but had drawn ‘anger’ as the emotion he had to express in his screen test. He was acting. When he finished his performance, he regained his chair and with an exhausted demeanor, flopped down and began to glare menacingly at the judges. Now, I know very well that this kind of behavior was a cover for shyness, but the jury seemed to be interpreting it as disrespect.“

Akira Kurosawa saw the great potential in Mifune and convinced the studio to put him under contract. Mifune made three films for the studio in 1947, including his screen debut in Senkichi Taniguchi’s SNOW TRAIL (written by Kurosawa), followed by two for director Kajirō Yamamoto: THESE FOOLISH TIMES and THESE FOOLISH TIMES PART 2. In 1948, Mifune was cast in DRUNKEN ANGEL, his first collaboration with Kurosawa. This film was important for both men as it established Kurosawa as one of Toho Studios’ top directors and set Mifune on the path to be its biggest international star, as well as launched one of cinema’s most famous and beloved director-star collaborations, joining other legendary partnerships such as John Ford and John Wayne; Alfred Hitchcock and Cary Grant; Frank Capra and Barbara Stanwyck; William Wyler and Bette Davis; Michael Curtiz and Errol Flynn; John Huston and Humphrey Bogart; and Anthony Mann and James Stewart.

Over the next two decades, Kurosawa and Mifune’s names were intrinsically linked, perhaps even more so than their famous Hollywood counterparts. While Mifune often worked with other directors, including multiple collaborations with Senkichi Taniguchi, Kajirō Yamamoto and Ishirō Honda, the same could not be said of Kurosawa and his leading men. Of the seventeen films Akira Kurosawa directed from 1948-1965, all but one, 1952’s IKIRU with Takashi Shimura (another one of Kurosawa’s favorite actors), starred Mifune, who was undoubtedly his muse. 

While both Kurosawa and Mifune had success outside of their collaborations, the sixteen films they made together are widely considered to be the finest work of their respective careers and includes recognized masterpieces such as STRAY DOG (’49), RASHOMON (’50), SEVEN SAMURAI (’56), THRONE OF BLOOD (’57), THE HIDDEN FORTRESS (’59), YOJIMBO (’61) and HIGH AND LOW (’63). Unfortunately, Kurosawa and Mifune’s partnership came to an end with the production of RED BEARD (’65), during which they had a major falling out, leading to an estrangement that lasted the rest of their lives. Regardless, their work together and friendship could never be forgotten. According to actor Yu Fujiki, who worked with both men, it was clear how connected they were, saying "Mr. Kurosawa’s heart was in Mr. Mifune’s body.”

Outside of his work with Kurosawa, Mifune achieved considerable success, including starring roles in Hiroshi Inagaki’s THE SAMURAI TRILOGY (MUSASHI MIYAMOTO [‘54], DUEL AT ICHIJOJI TEMPLE [‘55] and DUEL AT GANRYU ISLAND [‘56]); Kihachi Okamoto’s THE SWORD OF DOOM (’66) and Kenji Mizoguchi’s THE LIFE OF OHARU (’52). Mifune also starred in several Hollywood films, including John Frankenheimer’s GRAND PRIX (’66), John Boorman’s HELL IN THE PACIFIC (’68) and Jack Smight’s MIDWAY (’76). Mifune also launched his own production company, Mifune Productions in 1963, which was behind the release of over a dozen films, including Kobayashi Masaki’s SAMURAI REBELLION (’67), in which Mifune also starred. By the 1970s, Mifune’s popularity with international audiences had faded, but he enjoyed a bit of a career resurgence, particularly with American audiences with his role as Lord Toranaga on the television miniseries Shōgun, based on James Clavell’s novel published in 1975. Mifune continued to work throughout the 1980s and well into the 1990s, with his final film being DEEP RIVER (’95), released two years before his death in 1997.

Mifune was not only one of the most recognizable faces in Japanese cinema, but he was also an inspiration in Western pop culture. He heavily influenced actors such as Clint Eastwood, who channeled Mifune’s rōnin character in YOJIMBO in the Sergio Leone’s Man with No Name trilogy. Filmmaker George Lucas was also heavily influenced by both Mifune and Kurosawa, which is clearly evident in STAR WARS (’77), with a storyline that is heavily borrowed from THE HIDDEN FORTRESS. Lucas even asked Mifune to star as the aging Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi or the menacing Darth Vader, but we all know how that worked out.

Of his work with Hollywood directors and actors, Toshirō Mifine was once asked, “Now [that] you’re working with foreigners. Dealing with them is easy for you?” With a smile on his face Mifune replied, “Well, people are people, regardless of nationality, so it’s no different to me.” That progressive approach to working with all kinds of people, as well his dedication to his craft and loyalty to his fellow collaborators, solidified his status as one of cinema’s most important and recognizable icons. Toshirô Mifune was an original; a unique trailblazer and the epitome of cool in a way that never has, nor will ever be replicated. His performances and characters have never been out of style, even when he played characters from a distant era – and that is why audiences still love him today.

Yeah, he’s definitely no April Fool.

IMAGE MAKERS: THE ADVENTURES OF AMERICA’S PIONEER CINEMATOGRAPHERS (2019) is a new original TCM documentary that celebrates the early visionaries who shaped and molded an art form into what it is today. The film focuses on seven early cinematographers who developed their craft through invention, practice and collaboration. These include Billy Bitzer (Intolerance [1916’], Way Down East [1920]), Charles Rosher (Sunrise [1927], The Yearling [1946]), Rollie Totheroh (City Lights [1931], The Gold Rush [1925]), William H. Daniels (Flesh and the Devil [1926], Anna Christie [1930]), Karl Struss (Sunrise [1927], Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde [31]), Gregg Toland (Citizen Kane [41], The Grapes of Wrath [40]) and James Wong Howe (The Thin Man [34], Hud [1963]). I had the pleasure of chatting with director Daniel Raim, who has directed the critically acclaimed Harold and Lillian: A Hollywood Love Story (2015) and Something’s Gonna Live (2010), about his new documentary.

Raquel Stecher: Congratulations on IMAGE MAKERS. Can you tell me a little bit about how this project started?

Daniel Raim: I had met up with James Harmon Brown, who’s the grandson of Harry Stradling, Sr., ASC (Pygmalion [1938], My Fair Lady [1964]) and James Harmon Brown’s close friend Curtis Clark, ASC. They had explained to me that 2019 will be the 100th anniversary of the ASC (The American Society of Cinematographers), and they’d love to produce a documentary honoring the generation of cinematographers, the early cinematographers like Jim’s grandfather. I was immediately engaged by this subject matter and knowing that there was a documentary made in ‘92 called Visions of Light, I wanted to do something very different from that and start from the very beginning and kind of make a documentary that, like most of my other films, sort of puts the audience in the shoes of these pioneer master craftsmen and craftswomen.

I said, “Let’s find out what archival materials we have access to.” Because I want to bring them to life in their own words. That’s the most important thing for me.

It was a process of discovery, but the criteria was it’s vital that we have access to their own words.

Stecher: How did you select the seven cinematographers to be profiled in the movie?

Raim: Out of the seven that we picked, we had access to archival materials. Billy Bitzer wrote an autobiography. Gregg Toland was never interviewed on tape because he died at the age of 44—he was quite young—from heart disease, but he left behind a substantial amount of archival print interviews. In the early stages, I learned that his daughter, Lothian Toland, is still alive and well. And I said, “Lothian, I’d love to interview you about your dad… we’ll come out to Palm Springs and interview you.” She said, “No, no. I’ll drive out to the ASC clubhouse because I want to be next to my dad’s camera.” … I really want the audience to feel Gregg Toland through the presence of his camera sitting next to his daughter.

David Totheroh, the grandson of Rollie Totheroh, also came to the ASC clubhouse. This was in the very beginning of the documentary making. I had no idea that this guy’s a walking encyclopedia of his grandfather… Rollie Totheroh was one of those fascinating stories about a third baseman baseball player, who out of nowhere is thrust into the middle of some of the most important moments in cinema history… and would become Charlie Chaplin’s closest collaborator.

The ASC had this incredible archive of audio recordings done by Kemp Niver, ASC. Dating back to the '70s. Our archival producer, Martha Winterhalter, was the publisher of American Cinematographer magazine for 30 years. During that time, she had digitized these recordings.

Stecher: What do you think are some misconceptions about the cinematographer’s contribution to the filmmaking process and the director’s contribution?

Raim: To a large degree, there’s very little study on the contribution of the early pioneer cinematographers until recently. We need to understand the directors and who they are, the artistic vision of the director. What we learn in IMAGE MAKERS is the pioneering cinematographers invented the language that became film grammar. That was an essential question I had when I first started working on this, where does the grammar of cinema come from? I certainly agree that a general audience is aware there’s a continuity. IMAGE MAKERS offers sort of a look at the puzzle…

You learn that Billy Bitzer taught D.W. Griffith about the components of storytelling. There’s action and comedy, and here are the genres. Here’s how we show it visually. Bitzer kind of invented the medium with Griffith. We don’t know anything about Bitzer or what he did. Then Griffith came into his own and was clearly a master visual artist in his own right.

Charles Rosher, who [was] Mary Pickford’s cameraman, is invited to UFA to show how he lights Pickford. Two years later, he comes back to Hollywood with Murnau and they do Sunrise (1927) together. Sunrise is one of those films I saw at film school that just blew my mind.

Then [there’s] James Wong Howe… a Chinese-American cameraman. Now suddenly you realize that this guy has an amazing sense of humor and artistry and an enormous respect from directors like Martin Ritt and impacts the ending of what John Bailey in our film calls the most important climax to any film… Hud (1963).

Stecher: IMAGE MAKERS includes illustrations by Patrick Mate, which help visualize some of the behind-the-scenes actions. Can you tell me about how you worked with Mate and why it was important to incorporate these illustrations in your film?

Raim: I’m having lunch with Patrick Mate and [writer] Michael Sragow. Mike tells us the story of Karl Brown remembering Fireworks Wilson… he was the head of pyrotechnics on Intolerance (1916). He had a stump for an arm and helped Billy Bitzer light the gigantic Babylon set with magnesium flare torches. There [are] no photographs of Fireworks Wilson. I thought there’s nobody better on planet Earth to draw and depict Fireworks Wilson than Patrick Mate, to bring to life this kind of extraordinary character who basically helped Billy Bitzer light the Intolerance night scene with those magnesium flare torches.

Patrick has this uncanny ability to inject drama and humor and personality into a historical depiction of an event and bring it to life on multiple levels. And certainly, that began in our collaboration with Harold and Lillian. In this case, we decided to go for a period look that is born out of the cartoon magazine illustrations of the time and looking at the cartoon of the Pathe Brothers from 1910… I thought it was important to use art. The criteria is I would only use an original artwork by Patrick if there were no historical photographs.

Stecher: Can you tell me about working with Kevin Brownlow and Leonard Maltin, two celebrated film historians featured in the documentary, as well as actor Michael McKean who narrated?

Raim: Working with Michael McKean with the narration [was] really great… first of all he’s a TCM fan… He is one of the great American actors who brought into his narration knowledge and love of film history. He’s so dynamic at drama and comedy. And he did all the voices as well as the narration of the different interviews. He did the voice of Billy Bitzer and William Daniels. And then there’s Kevin Brownlow… [with] his wealth of knowledge about silent film. I didn’t want to interview Kevin Brownlow just as a talking head. 

I wanted to interview Kevin Brownlow as someone who can share with us their passion and their insight. I’m interested in Kevin Brownlow as a character, not as an interview subject. I hope the film gives Kevin Brownlow the breathing space to really… connect with him as a character, and so I really try to make him comfortable to really be who he is and not edit around him but let him breathe, let the film really see him and spend time with him and not make it into sound bites. But, boy, can he talk about William Daniels.

Then of course, Leonard Maltin’s interesting because when he was 24 he came out to Hollywood for the first time to write a book that was published called The Art of the Cinematographer. I loved how just eloquent Leonard was bringing to life the contributions of Billy Bitzer, specifically, and Charles Rosher and spoke eloquently to the transition from silent to sound. He brought his own personality into it. I love the moment where he says, "And then comes sound, and all of that beauty and all of the luster of those late silent films vanishes as if a meat cleaver has been whacked down mercilessly on an art form.” For me, that’s just so much the essence of what I also want to communicate in IMAGE MAKERS: the passion that people like Kevin Brownlow and Leonard Maltin have for silent filmmaking.

Stecher: What do you hope viewers take away from Image Makers?

Raim: I hope is that when audiences continue to watch classic Hollywood movies on TCM, in this case, that they’ll be looking at the scenes with new eyes and going, “who is the cinematographer and what is the continuity of style? And how did he light this scene?” Then getting a sense of the kind of incredible contribution of the motion picture cinematographer, as well as sort of an appreciation of the art and the technology that enabled them to do what they did.