Celebrating Black Love Through Art with RAFIKI (2018) By Constance Cherise

"I truly believe that the right to love is the most basic human right." - Wanuri 

Kahiu In a society where traditional roles are prevalent, RAFIKI (2018), translated as “friend” in Swahili, is a love story between two coming-of-age women in Nairobi, both choosing to be led by the unavoidable direction of their own hearts. When Kena (Samantha Mugatsia) and Ziki’s (Sheila Munyiva) eyes meet, sparks begin to fly. The tranquil and sensible Kena is introverted, while the extroverted Ziki is radiantly effervescent. Her exuberance combined with her rebellious nature, naturally propels Kena’s attraction. After their first meeting, Kena’s mother senses her daughter’s inner glow, which, of course, manifests as an outer glow.

When their relationship is unveiled, Kena’s father is untraditionally accepting, enveloping Kena in his warm embrace. Kena’s indoctrinated mother disapprovingly rejects her as Kena’s father admonishes his ex-wife, citing the alternative choice of compassion. Hands are laid upon Kena as she is prayed over to rid her of the demons that surely have possessed her being. But, Kena’s dismal circumstance is of no consequence. Kena is unapologetically in love.

Winner of two African Movie Academy Awards and a GLAAD Media Award, as well as a list of additional accolades, RAFIKI was inspired by Monica Arac de Nyeko’s 2007 Caine Prize-winning short story “Jambula Tree” and is directed by the progressive Kenyan filmmaker Wanuri Kahiu. The film is in a genre of film described and coined by Kahiu as “Afro Bubblegum.” Kahiu explains the classification as “fun, fierce and frivolous… the advocacy of art for art's sake.” However, the “ars gratia artis” motto famously surrounding MGM’s Leo the Lion is not the groundbreaking director’s only link (albeit a loose one) to classic Hollywood.

As of the release of the film, homosexual relationships were illegal in Kenya. Much like the scrutiny of the Motion Picture Production Code in early cinema, The Kenya Film Classification Board requested the conclusion of the film to be "more remorseful," according to Kahiu. Refusing to alternate the film, Kahiu stated, "I never wrestled with changing the ending." Subsequently, the film was banned in Kenya, and in turn, Kahiu sued the KFCB. In an effort to meet the seven-day screening requirement for Oscar consideration, restrictions of the film were temporarily lifted. Extra screenings were added as sold-out crowds packed theaters, and in May 2018, RAFIKI became the first Kenyan film to play at the Cannes Film Festival.

In the film, Kahiu creates a quietly powerful scene when the town outcast, a gay man, sits beside Kena after her secret is publicly known. Although it seems he wants to say something, they don’t speak. They don’t look at each other. He simply sits beside her. He knows words are not necessary. Their unfortunate and unspoken connection is apparent and with a slight turn of his head, as tears start to run down Kena’s cheek, he acknowledges the pain that is new to her but all too familiar to him.

The casting of this film is absolutely flawless, there is not one performer whose acting did not come across as genuine. Mugatsia, an untrained actress who Kahiu noticed at a party and immediately recognized as Kena, consistently hits every mark. Munyiva’s charisma permeates the screen with her multicolored dreadlocks and alluring smile.

RAFIKI did not win accolades for its subject matter. Lesbian films are nothing new. RAFIKI’S inclusive appeal is the beauty in which the story is presented, the joy of a hopeful ending, which, as classic film fans familiar with the Motion Picture Production Code know, the mere spark that a favorable ending could be possible under socially adverse circumstances is an ominous threat, for the fact that it can cause one to re-evaluate. Kahiu sweeps away the sand to reveal the pearl, notably capturing what is most precious, and because she accomplishes this with such gentle precision, it is clear why the film was banned.

You do not walk away from RAFIKI regarding it as a lesbian love story, you walk away merely seeing it as “a” love story, and you don’t need to be part of the LGBTQ community to recognize or relate to it, you simply need to...be.

Island in the Sun: ‘One Drop’ in the Ocean By Theresa Brown

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:

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:

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.

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.

Carole Lombard and William Powell: Friends, Lovers and Co-Stars By Kim Luperi

Some people might find it hard to work alongside an ex-spouse. Especially in a movie that requires their characters to fall in love. But that’s exactly what Carole Lombard and William Powell did in the highly acclaimed screwball comedy MY MAN GODFREY (‘36). Lombard and Powell’s Oscar-nominated performances rank among their best, but while their characters meet at the start of the picture, the actors themselves had been good friends and lovers for a number of years.

William Powell had spent almost a decade in Hollywood by the early 1930s. The suave actor transitioned into lead roles with the arrival of talkies and early was best known for playing detective Philo Vance in films such as THE CANARY MURDER CASE (‘29). Powell palled around with a close group of male buddies, but his social activities appeared to slow as he approached 40.

The opposite seemed true for outspoken Carole Lombard. In her early 20s at the start of the 1930s, Lombard was razor focused on her career and enjoyed hitting Hollywood hotspots. With over 40 features and shorts under her belt, several for comedy legend Mack Sennett, Lombard was slowly rising up the Hollywood ranks, though she had yet to establish the spirited screen personality she’d grow into.

Powell and Lombard were two people probably not destined to make each other’s acquaintance without the help of Hollywood; even when they did, some worried his more refined nature would clash with her blunt personality and language. So, when the actors reported to set for MAN OF THE WORLD (‘31), in which Powell plays a blackmailer who targets Lombard and her uncle in Paris, a meeting was arranged before cameras rolled to discuss the picture and test their compatibility. In reality, no one needed to have worried. As recalled in Michelle Morgan’s book Carole Lombard: Twentieth-Century Star, Powell told a reporter: “The day I met Carole I had the same feeling as a 16-year-old boy on his first date. I was embarrassed and fidgety. I worried over whether or not I was making a good impression on her.”

Powell may not have won Lombard over in MAN OF THE WORLD, but their palpable chemistry spilled off-screen. They were “torridly fascinated with each other,” Picture Play reported. Seeking to capitalize on any free publicity their romantic relationship offered, Paramount quickly paired the lovers in LADIES’ MAN (‘31), released about a month after their first picture. Once again, Lombard falls for an unscrupulous Powell, but they don’t end up together at the end.

That 0-2 streak onscreen paralleled their real-life relationship at that point. “I think I asked Carole to marry me on average of every half hour,” Powell quipped. He initially wanted Lombard to quit acting, but she certainly wasn’t going to give up her career, so she continued to resist his proposals. Once Powell changed his tune and committed to fully supporting Lombard’s endeavors, she agreed to marry him, and they wed on June 26, 1931.

Lombard tried to be the wife Powell wanted and he became her greatest advocate, but their personalities and priorities proved too fundamentally different, and the pair split amicably in July 1933. Lombard explained to Movie Mirror: “We couldn’t make each other happy because there was never complete contact between our minds and our natures… And even though we were devoted to each other and still are, our marriage was doomed to failure.” The fondness the actors openly showed each other led to speculations of reconciliation, but friends they remained, and they eventually moved on to new relationships.

Curiously, the year following their divorce became a key one for the ex-lovers. Powell’s move to MGM and subsequent popular pairing with Myrna Loy in MANHATTAN MELODRAMA (’34) followed by THE THIN MAN (’34) changed his career. Meanwhile, Lombard found true stardom in TWENTIETH CENTURY (’34), a foundation of the screwball comedy genre.

If TWENTIETH CENTURY verified Lombard’s comedic prowess, two years later another quintessential comedy, MY MAN GODFREY, solidified her as one of screwball’s queens. Amusingly, it was her ex-husband who pitched her for the part of the scatterbrained socialite Irene. Detecting parallels to their own romance in the characters, Powell refused to take the role of forgotten man-turned-butler Godfrey if Lombard didn’t play opposite him. Though the whole experience proved joyous and successful for all involved, it turned out to be the last time Powell and Lombard shared the screen.

The actors retained a fierce friendship off-screen, supporting each other professionally and personally. “I admire him as an actor and a man,” Lombard said of their platonic relationship. “I know that we are vital to each other. We have a mental balance founded on respect.” That they did, and the stars remained close until Lombard’s death in a 1942 plane crash, a tragedy that shocked the film community and particularly devastated Powell.

TEA AND SYMPATHY’s (’56) Battle from Stage to Screen By Kim Luperi

Robert Anderson’s Tea and Sympathy debuted on Broadway in 1953 to glowing critical acclaim. Fittingly, this reception scared the living daylights out of Hollywood, especially those involved with the Production Code Administration (PCA). Popular plays naturally attracted Hollywood’s attention, and this one, centering around Tom (John Kerr), a private school student who faces allegations of homosexuality and receives intimate support from a teacher’s wife, Laura (Deborah Kerr), posed a “major problem” – namely, that homosexuality and adultery were forbidden under the Production Code.

According to TEA AND SYMPATHY’s PCA file, sure enough, several studios inquired about adapting the hit, and as expected, the PCA detailed numerous Code violations from the get-go. In fact, PCA head Joseph Breen wrote Production Code co-author Martin J. Quigley in October 1953, “It is our considered judgment here that this is, possibly, one play wherein we will be compelled to withhold any consideration for it. If the basic element of the story is changed, and the ending is rewritten, then, I fear, they will have no story.” But MGM was willing to take the risk, and the studio ultimately paid Anderson $100,000 for the rights – and to engage in an inevitable battle with the PCA to adapt TEA AND SYMPATHY (’56). (According to a 1954 Variety article, the playwright stood to earn $300,000 more if he could deliver a PCA-approved script.)

Quigley proposed handling the play’s suggested homosexuality as they did with THESE THREE (‘36), based on Lillian Hellman’s play The Children’s Hour, in which a homosexual love triangle was replaced with a heteronormative one. That obviously wouldn’t work here though, nor would Robert Anderson let it. In a story conference with the play’s Broadway director, Elia Kazan, and others in October 1953, Anderson outlined the minimum requirements he’d accept of any screenplay based on his work: Laura had to offer herself sexually to Tom and his troubles, including an attempted suicide, had to stem from accusations of homosexuality.

As Anderson insisted in a note: “It would be unacceptable to the author that the charge be tampered with or compromised so that the boy be accused of being a ‘sissy,’ and the clear-cut issue of homosexuality be glossed over.” But as much as Anderson tried, overt acknowledgment of homosexuality on-screen simply wasn’t allowed in the mid-1950s. As a result, MGM, the PCA and Anderson went back and forth for a year discussing and rewriting the story, tossing about many suggestions, including one in which Laura’s husband assaults Tom but he finally stands up for himself, and another positing Tom as a “non-conformist.”

By April 1955, the revised script for TEA AND SYMPATHY included an epilogue that takes place years later in which Tom returns to the school to find a letter from Laura, now divorced. In her note, she explains the repercussions of their actions and chastises Tom for inaccurately portraying their ‘romance’ in a book he wrote about his school years. By this time, changes had also been made as to not explicitly blame Tom’s issues on accusations of homosexuality; however, the PCA still felt an “inescapable inference” of that in the story. Thus, the organization refused to approve the script. MGM filed an appeal, to no avail, prompting a page by page review of the story focusing on insinuations of homosexuality. Following this intense process, MGM got the OK to proceed – as long as the picture was filmed precisely as written.

But the issues didn’t end there. The Catholic Legion of Decency, which had voiced concerns previously, proposed numerous changes to Laura’s closing letter, including moralizing statements that she answered Tom’s cry “unhappily, the wrong way” and that she’s taken “much needed comfort in the thought that we have both chosen to learn” from their misdoing. The only suggestion MGM accepted was the line, “I was so pleased to read that you are married.” Perhaps still miffed, the Legion bestowed TEA AND SYMPATHY a “B” rating, meaning “morally objectionable in part for all.” At least it wasn’t condemned!

While critics noted (and some denounced) TEA AND SYMPATHY’s toned-down modifications to make it more palatable for the screen, many still praised the picture as an impactful, sensitive adaptation. The New York Times also observed that it seemed the Code was starting to relax as the publication applauded the PCA’s wise “willingness to be appreciative of the integrity of the drama.”

That drama included an exploration of many themes, including compassion, tolerance and manliness. In a letter to director Vincente Minnelli, Anderson commented on the play’s various meanings, contending that the main one remains “we must understand and respect differences in people.” It’s a shame that this central concept was diluted and undermined by the PCA’s harsh suppression of TEA AND SYMPATHY’s story elements as it made its way to the screen.

LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON: Hoisted By His Own Petard By Theresa Brown

#MYTRIBE of “old movie” weirdos and classic film fans don’t need a pandemic to get us to hunker down in the house and watch a classic film. We’ll try to share it with you, but most likely we are self-isolated with some chips, drinks and alone time with the movie. And, though we ARE in a pandemic now, I’m hoping you have TCM to cheer you up in these trying times. Keep an eye out for Billy Wilder’s LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON (‘57), a cute one from one of the master directors of classic film.

There are a number of movies that depict the “May-December romance” or attraction of those with considerable age difference: MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT (‘59), VERTIGO (‘58), THE MISFITS (‘61), PUSHOVER (‘54), ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS (‘55), A GUY NAMED JOE (‘43), THE WOMAN ON THE BEACH (‘47), THE BACHELOR AND THE BOBBY SOXER (‘47), TEN NORTH FREDERICK (‘58), LOVE AND PAIN AND THE WHOLE DAMN THING (‘73) or any number of movies teaming Bogie and Bacall simply by virtue of their age difference. With any of these movies, the age difference is notable as the story goes along, but not necessarily the subject of the story. Billy Wilder weighs in on that score, but in this film it’s not so much the age factor as it is Experience vs. the Virgin. This is a David vs. Goliath situation.

In this corner we have the mighty Goliath...Gary Cooper (56 years old), his character is the Experienced, Older Man. It is almost comical how Wilder portrays this roué’s sexual exploits...plastering accounts of it all over newspapers from different countries around the world. From stewardesses to geisha girls, married or unmarried...Coop beds a girl in ev’ry port. Marriage? It’s the furthest thing from his mind. Soppy goodbyes? Puhleeeeeze...don’t even. His character’s philosophy for relationships is probably a familiar one:

The way Cooper navigates this minefield is for everyone to be adult enough to get into the ring, have their fun and then return to their respective corners. No harm, no foul. But I kind of have to laugh a little at his technique. He’s always got a four-piece band in his hotel room with him, playing the song “Fascination” as accompaniment to his conquest. He carries these musicians with him wherever and whenever he’s “in the mood for love.” I kind of have to laugh at “Goliath.” I wonder if laughter was Wilder’s intention; look at all the trappings this older man needs to make love to a woman.

And who butts up against this philosophy? Why it’s 28-year-old Audrey Hepburn.

She is our virginal, brown-eyed, doe-eyed “David”, ready to win over the mighty Goliath with her goodness and innocence. Her character is the daughter of a widowed detective, played by Maurice Chevalier, whose work focuses on adultery. She has no life experience herself, Dad probably being a bit protective of her after all HE’S seen; but she gets a heckuva education by reading the sexual dossiers he files away. She meets Cooper in a “meet cute” kind of way. That very night, he wines and dines her, and we know what happens when Coop’s band finishes “playing.” Wilder is so subtle and adult showing “the morning after” as ‘later that evening’ with Hepburn in the mirror fixing her hair next to the bed. We’ve heard his philosophy; she’s a goner. That’ll be her downfall. When she looks up at him with longing big brown eyes, how could he not want to take her in his arms and sweep her away. She’s so darling and adorable. But that ain’t him. Goodness and innocence will not win him over. So, tell me, how DO you get a man who doesn’t want to get got?

You’ve got to see how Hepburn plays Cooper...like a violin. Hey, she plays him like the main musician who plays the violin in that love troop and has to be able to read Cooper’s tell-tale signs of readiness. When she presents herself as a woman of the world who is like the man HE is, it’s like putting out a fire with gasoline. And there’s no better arsonist than Billy Wilder.

Standing in the wings and realizing what is happening to his inexperienced daughter is her detective father. So interesting to cast Chevalier, sans mugging, in this protective paternal role considering all the saucy, randy characters he played in Ernst Lubitsch’s earlier, sexually charged films. He knows she is playing with fire. He knows she will be badly burned by this man of the world. This is my favorite performance of Chevalier. He’s lovely with Hepburn. He puts a lump in my throat as he tries to protect his daughter, telling Cooper:

I know Cooper is not everyone’s glass of champagne for this role. I’ve made my peace with him and I suspect Wilder—who could have any actor he wanted—specifically wanted what Cooper could bring to the role. Coop was a ladies’ man off-camera back in the day. But don’t be distracted. Trust Wilder knows what he’s doing. And this is a charming story. What man can look into the longing brown eyes of Audrey Hepburn and not sweep her in his arms? Cooper’s so commanding in the end when he whispers to her: “Be quiet Ariane. Be quiet.”

He’s a man hoisted by his own petard.

I Could Have Danced...Danced...Danced All Night By Theresa Brown

No one can show sensual longing or manic desperation like Jennifer Jones. It’s all on full display in Vincente Minnelli’s MADAME BOVARY (‘49). For my money, Jones is one of the most underrated actresses of the classic era. Now, if you listen to the film’s trailer, the narrator will describe her as:

“Emma Bovary, this corrupt, loathsome, contemptible creature...this woman of insatiable passions...this monstrous creation of a degenerate imagination.”

That’s a bit rich. I’m not trying to sugarcoat anything, but I’ve got to go the “glass half-empty / glass half-full” route with Emma. I disagree with what the narrator describes; I think she is a fascinating example of the lengths a woman will go for happiness in mid-19th century France, where all cobble-stoned streets are paved with roadblocks for women with few avenues for success laid out unless through a man. I think all women can relate to Emma, especially the women in the time period this MGM film is released. It’s 1949 and men have been coming back for their jobs after the war and Rosie the Riveter has to go back into the kitchen to bake cakes.

Emma’s lot in life as a peasant’s daughter offers no advancement in class and society, though she is “cruelly” blessed with uncommon beauty. (Jennifer Jones is absolutely beautiful!) Being fed romance novels and poetry in the convent, nothing is preparing her to make a living. Seeds of an unrealistic view of life are planted. When she’s back home, she’s like an 1850’s teenager with posters on her wall from Tiger Beat magazine – dashing illustrations of being swept away by love. Her view of reality is a bit skewed. When Charles, a new local doctor (Van Heflin) arrives to care for her father, it’s love at first sledgehammer for him...and an escape hatch for her. He is the first of several men she seduces and uses via withholding before submitting.

She’s terribly unhappy in her new married life. She gives it the good ol’ college try, fixing up their humble abode, charging materials from the local merchant – the start of living above her means via the merchant as ‘pusher’ who provides all...but then demands payment aka blackmail. Charles, the doctor/husband, cannot give her what she truly craves: riches, high society, passion. “Craves” is an understatement and his love for her is not enough. In one of her manic moments of breaking down, she desperately implores:

“Charles, I want a child. I want a boy, Charles. A boy grows to be a man. A man can be free. If he doesn’t like his life he can change it. If there’s anything beautiful, if there’s anything grand anywhere in the world, he can go out and find it. I want a baby, Charles. I want a boy.”

How sad. I’d love to say it’s the desperation of motherhood fueling her mania, but it’s really the desperation of wanting to escape. No suburban housewife could ever put herself in those shoes, right? Emma’s only hope is to live vicariously through a baby son.

So, of course, fate hands her a daughter.

Fate also gives Jones and Heflin an invitation to a fancy dress ball—the impetus of the story hence my title—where the die is really cast for her. See, it’s one thing to wish for things you never had. But when you are given a taste of something that is snatched away, can life be any crueler? Minnelli crafts a pivotally fantastic scene at this ball where not only is the full Monty of Emma’s beauty revealed, but it serves as a metaphor for so many things.

With its stunning production values, the scene is opulent and men can’t take their eyes off her. She’s sought for dances. But poor Charles is shunted off to the sidelines, never being allowed entry into the inner circle of the elite to spoil Emma’s illusion...delusion. He’s even looked down on by a waiter, while Emma is elevated to the belle of the ball. And right then and there, she is suddenly swept off her feet by the handsome and rich Rodolphe played by the drop-dead gorgeous Louis Jourdan in only his fourth American movie. Did I say gorgeous?! She is living the dreams she dreamt...being the center of attention, picked to dance by the handsome ‘prince.’ That whole dance sequence of Minnelli’s is a dizzying scene, serving as a sexual stand-in. And when the windows are broken...

Her beauty is her only currency. She seduces men. She pays the price for that. One man tells her:

“I am a fairly courageous man, Emma but I was afraid of you. You ask for something that consumes while it burns...that destroys everything it touches. I didn’t want to be destroyed.”

Should a woman be satisfied with her lot in life? She is trapped, with fleeting escapes that lead her right back where she started. Things close in on her. She’s in over her head. Everything is about to come crashing down on her. Jones does a fine job portraying a woman who is coquettish, calculating, seductive and trapped. She got me wondering if she could have played Blanche DuBois in Kazan’s capable hands. She only made 27 movies. She was a five-time Oscar nominee, winning her Best Actress Academy Award once for THE SONG OF BERNADETTE (‘44). She’s as different there as she was in CLUNY BROWN (‘46), as she was in the overwrought DUEL IN THE SUN (‘46), as she was in LOVE IS A MANY SPLENDORED THING (‘55) or as she was in my personal favorite, LOVE LETTERS (‘45). There’s a quality of vulnerability, sensuality and mania about Jennifer Jones. Yeh, I’m a fan.

I’ve finally come to respect Van Heflin though it took a long time. (Better late than never.) He could play so many different shades of men, I have newly come to appreciate him in SHANE (‘53), THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (‘46), ACT OF VIOLENCE (‘49), THE PROWLER (‘51), EAST SIDE, WEST SIDE (‘49) or his Oscar-winning performance in JOHNNY EAGER (‘41). In MADAME BOVARY, he’s besotted by her, defeated by her, stern with her and wants to care for her. But ultimately, she is too much for him.

The movie is peppered with character actors we all know, like Gene Lockhart, Henry Morgan, Ellen Corby and John Abbott. Like my good friend always says about classic movies: Everybody worked. And you need only to IMDB director Vincente Minnelli to see the depth and breadth of his talent. He could direct a film taking place in modern times as with UNDERCURRENT (‘46) or the turn of the century like in MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS (‘44). He could do comedy as with THE LONG, LONG TRAILER (‘54); drama with THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL (‘52); and the light touch of musicals like in CABIN IN THE SKY (‘43), AN AMERICAN IN PARIS (‘51) and his Oscar-winning GIGI (‘58).

Hope you make the time to watch MADAME BOVARY. You can live vicariously through her, so you don’t make the same mistakes she made.

Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner Meet in The Great Sinner by Jill Blake

Long before his most popular and Academy Award-winning role as the stoic and honorable single father and small Southern town lawyer Atticus Finch in TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (‘62), Gregory Peck had established himself as a versatile leading man. It all goes back to 1944, when Peck made his feature-film debut in Jacques Tourneur’s Days of Glory, which outside of Peck being quite young and handsome, is an otherwise forgettable film and performance. But despite a rather unimpressive start, Peck rebounded, and by 1950 had earned four Academy Award nominations for performances in THE KEYS OF THE KINGDOM (‘44), THE YEARLING (‘46), GENTLEMAN’S AGREEMENT (‘47) and TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH (‘49). While he often joked throughout his career that it always seemed like he was only offered movies passed on by his good friend Cary Grant, by the end of the 1940s Gregory Peck was considered one of Hollywood’s best and most popular leading men.

Meanwhile, Ava Gardner was also finally finding her stride in her career, just three years after her breakout performance in the film noir THE KILLERS (‘46), directed by Robert Siodmak. Prior to that role, Ava had been featured mainly in shorts and uncredited roles in feature-length films, but was unfortunately better known for her personal and romantic life, which included a brief marriage to Mickey Rooney, which was exploited for publicity by MGM and served as fodder for the tabloids. However, by the end of the 1940s, Gardner was well on her way to securing a spot amongst the top leading ladies of the day.

In 1949, the same year as his Oscar-nominated performance in Henry King’s TWELVE O’CLOCK HIGH, Peck was cast in THE GREAT SINNER, directed by Robert Siodmak and featuring an all-star cast, including Gardner, Melvyn Douglas, Ethel Barrymore, Walter Huston, Frank Morgan and Agnes Moorehead. Peck is Fedja, a writer who is interested in studying and writing about the culture of gambling and gamblers in the German city of Wiesbaden. It is there where Fedja meets the beautiful Pauline Ostrovsky, who is engaged to Armand de Glasse (Melvyn Douglas), the owner of a casino. Their engagement is not one of love, but out of desperation: Pauline’s father owes a considerable amount in gambling debts to De Glasse and her arranged marriage will serve as payment. During his research of the gamblers in the casino, Fedja remains an outsider, merely observing patterns and behaviors. But once Fedja learns of Pauline’s fate, he intervenes, and begins gambling with the sole purpose of winning enough to buy her freedom from De Glasse. Of course, gambling has a stronger pull than Fedja had anticipated, and he finds himself falling victim to the thrill and desperation that often accompanies it.

Based on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s novel The Gambler, published in 1866, and with an adapted screenplay by Christopher Isherwood, THE GREAT SINNER fell short of capturing the essence of Dostoevsky’s original story. Originally a project for Warner Brothers several years prior, MGM obtained the rights to the story and hired Robert Siodmak to direct. The production was long and difficult, with the first cut of the film being three hours long. Siodmak was under immense pressure by the studio to make sure the film was high quality and prestigious—no doubt to entice Oscar voters come time for awards season. After a first round of edits that significantly reduced the runtime, MGM ordered Siodmak to helm a series of reshoots emphasizing the love story between Gregory Peck’s Fedja and Ava Gardner’s Pauline. Siodmak wanted no part of it, forcing the studio to go with another director, Mervyn LeRoy.

Many of LeRoy’s reshot scenes made it into the final movie, but he remained uncredited for his work. Ten years after the film’s release, in 1959, journalist John Russell Taylor spoke with Siodmak for Sight and Sound magazine. The director spoke about his experience making THE GREAT SINNER and expressed frustrations with the finished product saying, “When I eventually saw the finished film, I don’t believe that a single scene was left as I had made it.” THE GREAT SINNER failed to be the prestige picture MGM had hoped it would be, resulting in both a critical and commercial misfire.

While THE GREAT SINNER was a box-office failure at the time of its release, it’s not a terrible film, especially given the incredible talent involved. Actually, it’s quite a solid, second-tier studio picture. Not exactly what MGM had originally envisioned, but it’s fair to say that it has benefitted a bit from the passage of time and a reassessment by modern audiences seeking out the work of Siodmak and the all-star cast. It’s always a joy to see the likes of Peck, Gardner, Huston, Douglas, Barrymore, Morgan and Moorehead at work. While the film has largely been forgotten, even amongst those in the classic film community, it was a significant film for both Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner, and fans of both actors should definitely watch their performances in this film. Why?

While not particularly influential for Peck and Gardner’s careers individually, it kicked-off an on-screen partnership between the two that resulted in them starring together twice more in THE SNOWS OF KILIMANJARO (‘52) and ON THE BEACH (‘59). It was also the beginning of a close friendship between them that lasted until Gardner’s death in 1990. Of all his many leading ladies, which included Sophia Loren, Audrey Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, Deborah Kerr and Lauren Bacall, Peck always said that Ava Gardner was his favorite. Peck recalled his professional relationship and friendship with Gardner saying, “She was much better than she thought she was. She had no vanity about her talent, but she will stay in the minds of millions. ... She did nothing that lowered her standards as an actress or as a lady. ″

THE GREAT SINNER might have not been the film that director Robert Siodmak or MGM had originally envisioned, but it brought together two beautiful and talented actors for the first time. And while it would be of interest to see Siodmak’s uncut version of the film, one must be grateful for Mervyn LeRoy’s reshoots, incorporating more “romantic” elements, as it brought us a few steamy moments between Peck and Gardner—GIF’d for your enjoyment—Dostoevsky’s story be damned.

RANDOM HARVEST Keeps on Giving by Kim Luperi

Classic film fans who are also wise enough to follow Carl Reiner on Twitter may have noticed that he extols the virtues of RANDOM HARVEST (‘42), his favorite film, on a regular basis. Actor Gene Wilder considered it one of the most romantic movies of all time.

Upon filming the last scene of the film, star Ronald Colman commented to director Mervyn LeRoy: “This is one picture I hate to finish!” Even fellow star Greer Garson called it her favorite of all her movies – the “happiest” one she ever made. “I know I am prejudiced, but I think it is one of the half dozen greatest love stories,” she said in an interview quoted in Michael Troyan’s biography A Rose for Mrs. Miniver: The Life of Greer Garson.

RANDOM HARVEST begins with amnesiac WWI vet Smithy (Colman) fleeing the asylum he’s been recuperating in when peace is declared. During the revelries, he meets dance hall girl Paula (Garson), and they fall in love, marry and have a child. Soon thereafter, a freak accident Smithy suffers restores the memory he previously lost and wipes all recollection of Paula and their life together. As the wealthy Charles Rainier, he returns to his family and their business. But fate works in mysterious ways, especially as engineered by faithful Paula, who takes a job as Charles’ secretary in hopes that he’ll remember her.

Based upon James Hilton’s 1941 best-selling novel, RANDOM HARVEST had ‘hit’ written all over it. The Hollywood Reporter predicted it would break box-office records, and that it did, in particular a big one: RANDOM HARVEST ran for 11 weeks at Radio City Music Hall, screening as many as seven times a day, starting as early as 7:45am. (The picture broke the 10-week record set earlier in 1942 by MRS. MINIVER, another Garson vehicle.) RANDOM HARVEST went on to earn over $8 million, making it the third highest grossing movie of the year. One New York exhibitor even expressed regret that they weren’t able to extend the film’s run, calling it “a great audience picture, which made its own way into the hearts of the people.”

Garson and Colman’s delicate, compassionate performances along with the warmth and refinement imbued in the script and Mervyn LeRoy’s sensitive direction won the movie mostly rave reviews. “One of the truly fine motion pictures of this or any year is ‘Random Harvest,’ an emotional experience of rare quality,” The Hollywood Reporter commented, further praising the “great, enduring love story it stirringly brings to life.”

But what accounted for the film’s massive success? A superior production, of course, and romantic idol Colman and Garson at the zenith of her popularity didn’t hurt either. But I think timing played a large part. In Ten Movies at a Time, John DiLeo called RANDOM HARVEST an “essential piece of escapism for the home-front audience.” Just as Smithy and Paula experienced personal tragedies as a result of war, so many in America did as well. But like the characters onscreen, viewers had to keep pushing forward during tough times. 

In RANDOM HARVEST, Garson portrayed a woman that WWII-era viewers had come to know her as: a composed, valiant presence, privately suffering yet steadfast in her faith—in this case, faith that Smithy’s memory comes back. That brand of stoic devotion, loyalty and optimism was not only highly relatable to wartime audiences, millions of whom were filled with the same emotions awaiting the return of their loved ones fighting overseas, but it also hit a chord with those protecting the country, too. In A Rose for Mrs. Miniver, Troyan shared excerpts from a letter a Navy Officer wrote Garson lauding the picture and her performance for epitomizing “the sailor’s dream: a happy home, a family, and a good wife.”

While the reality of WWII is far removed from ours in 2019, I think the romance of RANDOM HARVEST plays a role in why the film remains so beloved today. Yes, the fact that Smithy loses his memory and regains it twice is rather far-fetched, but that makes Paula’s devotion, even though she’s told he may never remember her, all the more dramatic, engaging and endearing, especially since the audience is rooting for them both. I believe people want to think that there will be someone as devoted to them, with a love just as strong, who would fight like Paula did for Smithy after their tragic separation—despite the odds being stacked against her.

With such a far-flung plot, RANDOM HARVEST could easily have teetered overboard into full-blown soap opera, but the restraint shown in the production and the gentle performances relieve the story from such a fate. The tender way in which this tale was told and the sincere emotional reaction RANDOM HARVEST still elicits today serve to showcase love—and classical Hollywood filmmaking—at their finest.

The Romance of Murder...The Murder of Romance by Theresa Brown

George Stevens— director of SHANE (‘53), GIANT (‘56), GUNGA DIN (‘39) and WOMAN OF THE YEAR (‘42)—won the first of his two Best Director Academy Awards for A PLACE IN THE SUN (‘51), one of the iconic screen classics that started off the 1950’s. (His second Oscar was for the epic GIANT). A PLACE IN THE SUN is truly textbook filmmaking at its finest. The movie has six Academy Awards to its credit. Stevens takes us by the hand and masterfully lays down bread crumbs for us to follow. His filmmaking here is romantic with scenes flowing seamlessly from one into the next, using a few wipes and many super slow dissolves. Superimpositions linger onto the next scene like ghosts. His slow dissolves make me swoon.

A PLACE IN THE SUN is based on a Theodore Dreiser novel and is a remake of the 1931 film directed by Josef von Sternberg. Stevens’ version stars Montgomery Clift, Elizabeth Taylor and Shelley Winters, all three acquitting themselves very nicely in a morally ambiguous triangle. Frankly, I’m torn. I want to be a good and ethical audience member of society...but I’m swept up by the romance of the film.

Montgomery Clift gets an utterly fantastic intro into the movie. Underneath the film’s credits with great musical fanfare, the movie starts with a young man hitchhiking on a highway. Thumbing for a ride, he backs up into the camera and after George Stevens’ director title card disappears, Monty (if I may be so informal) turns to face the camera. Stevens slowly dollies into a close-up of him. My God! That beautiful face of Clift’s fills up the entire screen. Man or woman, if you’re not a goner by that point, then you need more vitamins. 

And that’s just the first five minutes of the movie! Maybe THAT’s the lure...and the danger of this film – the beauty of Montgomery Clift’s face. (Or maybe it’s just my moral code that’s a bit askew.) His character seems like an unassuming young man. He’s in town to get a promised job from his rich uncle. He’s shown to be the type to work for what he wants; willing to start at the bottom. He’s not looking for something on a silver platter. He doesn’t seem manipulative or calculating. When he meets his rich relatives, they barely hide their condescension. At one point, he’s at the front gate of the “big house” during a party of arriving guests. He wants but has no entry into this world.

It’s kind of amazing through Stevens’ direction how unseen Clift’s George Eastman is. At one point, when he is invited to a big party, in his best blue suit, the camera follows him into the mansion. The butler doesn’t acknowledge him. He’s not greeted by his cousins. No one talks to him. He wafts through conversations with nary a person turning their head. The hoi polloi doesn’t see him. He is alone amidst a crowd of people. He goes off to play pool by himself. He’s unseen until...

Look who does see him when he goes to work at the family business; all the gals on the assembly line. They make with the wolf whistles. Working class women see him. Here, Stevens introduces us to another leg in this triangle: Alice Tripp. Let me give a hand to the great Shelley Winters, who didn’t shy away from unflattering roles. Here, in a nowhere job, she lives alone in a rooming house, goes to the movies alone. A cog in the wheel of life. She’s a nice girl...a nice enough girl. She eases into a relationship, of sorts, with George. They drift together, keeping company. 

Stevens does something interesting when trouble begins for George. He keeps him in the dark: keeps him hidden. He keeps us from seeing him. When George makes his “Valentino” moves on Alice with the help of a loud radio and her living on the ground floor (easy access?), they’re both hidden in the dark and slightly out of frame when he takes her to bed. We see this motif again when George comes over to Alice’s place (finally) to celebrate his birthday after his dizzying night in the arms of an angel. We don’t see either of their faces when she has to tell him she’s in ‘trouble.’ Interesting set-up the way Stevens blocks the scene – he has Shelley’s back to the camera AND her body obscures Monty from our view. Another time he’s in darkness is when Winters goes for that god-awkward doctor’s visit (“I... cannot...help...you”). George waits in the car’s darkness to find out what the doctor can “do” for her. Why is he not seen?

Alice’s desperation is palpable. She demands he marry her. That’s understandable. So why am I not sympathetic to her? I’ve tried several viewings to suss “why” from my psyche. They would have gone on to have a pleasant and unremarkable life together. He would never know what he’d missed out on. But there is that nail in his coffin...and a most beautiful nail it is.

When George is fully and finally SEEN, it’s by an Angel.

To say Elizabeth Taylor is beautiful is quite an understatement. She plays Angela and she is absolutely a ravishing thing of beauty. We see her when George sees her earlier in the movie. He is not registering on her radar, even though she was on his. And since there’s none so blind as those who cannot see, she has not seen him, though he has seen her several times during the movie. It’s him making that pool shot that finally catches her attention. (“Wow!”) She is quite a vision floating into that billiard room in a stunning Edith Head dress (who won an Academy Award for Costume Design), as though she’s on a white chiffon cloud. It’s love at first sight. Instantaneous, magic. 

We can see they’re right for each other. She’s his passport to getting recognized. No no, he’s not using her. His own idea for a cost proposal for his uncle gets him kicked upstairs into an office and out of the factory line. Angela adores him, gives him entree into her world. She takes him by the hand and pulls him out of that lonely room into the party. As they’re embraced in a dance, Angela notes the intrusion of us, the audience in the dark: “Are they watching?” They are dreamy. They are beautiful.

But there IS an intrusion, a very real one, when Alice confronts George with her pregnancy. She stands between him and paradise. Is it murder if you merely wish someone dead? Yes, Monty should do the right thing. Make a clean breast of things. Would he be forgiven? Would he lose everything? The thought of paradise lost is unbearable. I’ve tried to put myself in Alice’s shoes. But it’s heart over head; emotion over logic. Who doesn’t want what they want? Perhaps I struggle because I wonder, how COULD I give up the thing I want most in the world, the thing just within my grasp. Could you?

A PLACE IN THE SUN is a masterpiece of filmmaking, acting and checks all the boxes. But we were set up! I think the movie is a set up for George and for us. Sound is used effectively in this. The loons...the dog’s bark permeating...the radio news of a drowning is itself drowned out by the roar of a speedboat. Franz Waxman’s Academy Award-winning music in this does me in, whether it’s romantic, foreboding or narrating Monty’s inner dilemma. Waxman’s love theme puts me in a trance. William C. Mellor’s cinematography wins him an Academy Award with breathtaking scenes. In the movie, there is a moment in the woods between Monty and a Ranger that stops me as dead in my tracks as it stops George. I can’t even describe HOW it’s lit, but it looks unlike anything else in the movie. I wait for it. William Hornbeck won an Academy Award for Film Editing and the screenplay by Michael Wilson and Harry Brown also won an Oscar.

But I put the onus and blame on George Stevens for breaking my moral code. He set us up for failure by putting the beauty of Monty and Elizabeth in our path. I’m not a bad person...I want to do the right thing by society...one should face consequences for their action. But Monty and Elizabeth together; she holds out all one can dream for and paints a picture of a loving paradise he fears will slip through his fingers.

Now I ask you: is that fair?

I See A Dark Stranger: I See A Quirky Spy Comedy by Kim Luperi

When prompted (and sometimes not), I love telling folks about one of my favorite movies, I SEE A DARK STRANGER (‘46), released as The Adventuress in America. The little-remembered British flick stars Scottish actress Deborah Kerr as a headstrong Irish lass who grew up hating the British so much that she accidentally ends up a German spy during WWII.

Yes, it’s a comedy. And a thriller. And a romance.

You’d think a British film about a girl filled with such hatred towards the Brits that she works with the Germans against them would be a tad hard to swallow after the war, right? The comic liberty taken with the subject is one reason I’ve always admired I SEE A DARK STRANGER. Upon watching it again recently, I was also rather startled to find how contemporary it is—particularly the fact that the main character, Bridie (Kerr), blindly hates an entire group of people for no legitimate reason.

Filmmaking team Frank Launder (writer/director/producer) and Sidney Gilliat (writer/producer), authors of Alfred Hitchcock’s THE LADY VANISHES (‘38), wrote I SEE A DARK STRANGER near the end of WWII. Filming in Ireland and England took place for several months throughout the latter half of 1945, with the picture debuting in the UK in 1946 and the US in 1947. As Bruce Babington observes in his book Launder and Gilliat, that post-war release allowed the writers to make light of tense subjects despite being less than two years removed from the action. In fact, most reviews domestically and abroad lauded I SEE A DARK STRANGER, and curiously, few English critics voiced an issue with Bridie; most focused instead on the film’s comedic angles.

One reason for the picture’s positive notices is the precarious balance Launder and Gilliat pulled off, particularly in the film’s tone and Bridie’s character. Jerry Vermilye commented in The Great British Films that the movie “could hardly have emerged the winningly offbeat lark it remains—so cleverly skating the thin ice of Anglo-Irish satire and the seriousness of wartime espionage—without the teamwork of Launder and Gilliat.” The writers maintained an equilibrium between those tense spy segments and the story’s sardonic humor, smartly restraining the seriousness of Bridie’s actions… until she realizes their potential consequences, which keeps her sympathetic.

Indeed, Bridie’s intentions remain squarely anti-British as opposed to pro-Nazi, and the comical bits generally arise from her surroundings and misplaced patriotism. For instance, a particularly entertaining early scene finds Bridie sharing a train compartment with a nice-looking gentleman. Her inner musings of him flow from intrigue to attraction to doubt to hatred when she detects his English surname. Game over, for now, because he just so happens to be her Nazi recruiter. Kerr, top billed for the first time, displays impressive range and command of her role, balancing Bridie’s headstrong naïveté and her youthful impulsiveness with the severity of the events occurring around her. (Kerr won the New York Film Critics Circle Award jointly for this picture and 1947’s BLACK NARCISSUS.) Babington emphasized that Bridie’s “composite of wilful (sic) child and resourceful heroine, winsome sweetness and transgressive boundary crosser” is “essential to the film’s strategies.” It’s hard to believe Launder and Gilliat aimed to generate sympathy for a German spy, easily an objectionable notion for Brits, but Kerr’s candor, unsophisticated charisma and dry humor cause you to root for a happy ending—for her and the British!

One scene that finds Kerr amusingly oscillating, in this case between brusque anger and inexperienced flirtation, involves British officer David Baynes (Trevor Howard), whom she’s tasked to detain while other spies break a prisoner out of jail. When given her orders, she balks; as a Brit, Baynes is automatically the enemy. It’s a riotous scene watching Bridie try to suppress her aversion as she feebly attempts to keep Baynes occupied with her feminine wiles. How he sticks by her is beyond me!

That raging, blind hatred Bridie shows feels very relevant today. Her gullibility and baseless revulsion for another ethnicity fuels her actions and ensnarls her in something that she eventually (thankfully) realizes can hurt her own people; in fact, that animosity is the basis for this entire film. And to think: All of it started with misinformation passed down by her father. Without proper education or access to the facts, Bridie almost got herself, and many others, killed. If it weren’t for the clearly satirical slant of her character, Bridie could truly be a terrifying soul.

But as it goes, Launder and Gilliat took a potentially provocative subject and characters and turned them on their head during a time when many were in desperate need of laughter. If you’re in the mood for a quirky gem filled with witty dialogue and colorful characters, I highly suggest seeking out I SEE A DARK STRANGER.

How THE BARBARIAN (’33) helped Ramon Novarro Realize His Dream by Raquel Stecher

The year 1933 found actor Ramon Novarro at a crossroads in his life. After a successful career in silent movies and a fluid transition into talkies, he was offered a lucrative contract with MGM. It would be his last movie contract and he knew his days as a leading man were coming to a close. Acting wasn’t Novarro’s true passion. Instead, he dreamed of becoming an opera singer, a vocation highly regarded in his native country of Mexico. By the mid-1930s, he was essentially keeping up the movie gig to help finance this dream. According to Novarro biographer Allan R. Ellenberger, “Ramon was entertaining the idea of leaving films and devoting himself entirely to his music… his love of music was still not enough incentive for him to quit. He wanted to secure the financial independence of his family before abandoning films for good.” Novarro agreed to star in MGM’s THE BARBARIAN (’33) with plans to leave immediately after production for a European concert tour.

Novarro became an overnight sensation in Hollywood with Rex Ingram’s THE PRISONER OF ZENDA (‘22) and secured his legacy with the lead role in director Fred Niblo’s biblical epic BEN-HUR: A TALE OF THE CHRIST (’25). He was one of the celebrated “Latin Lovers”, a trio that included Rudolph Valentino and Antonio Moreno. Novarro wasn’t on the same level as Valentino or matinee idol John Gilbert, but he had on-screen charisma, box office appeal and an exotic yet accessible persona that garnered him legions of fans. The Mexican star rarely played actual Latino characters. Instead, Novarro became a veritable chameleon playing everything from French, German, Spanish, British, Italian, Austrian, Russian, Israeli to Persian, Chinese, Indian and Native American.

THE BARBARIAN saw Novarro reprising his previous role in Rex Ingram’s THE ARAB (’24). The story was based on Edgar Selwyn’s play The Arab which enjoyed a successful run on Broadway in 1911 and was later adapted to film by Cecil B. DeMille for Paramount Pictures in 1915. Riding the coattails of the phenomenal success of Valentino’s THE SHEIK (‘21), MGM again Selwyn’s story with Novarro as their star. However, by 1933 the story was already considered old-fashioned. Writers Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett took a stab at adapting Selwyn’s play but gave up with Hackett proclaiming, “It was all so false, all hooey.” The script was eventually handed over to writers Anita Loos and Elmer Harris who took on the task of bringing the story up to date and adding the sensational touches that Depression era audiences craved.

In THE ARAB, Novarro plays Jamil, the disgraced son of a Sheik turned dragoman (tour guide) who falls in love with the daughter of a Christian missionary. Novarro’s leading lady, Alice Terry, was white and the threat of miscegenation, a big no-no in early Hollywood, was thwarted by allowing the audience to imagine a future reunion essentially pausing the romance but avoiding a sad ending. The writers took a few elements of Selwyn’s story but essentially fashioned a completely new tale of an Egyptian dragoman who seduces white women out of their precious jewels. MGM assigned their new leading lady Myrna Loy in the role of Diana, Novarro’s love interest. The writers fixed the miscegenation issue by having Novarro’s leading lady Diana reveal herself as half Egyptian.

THE BARBARIAN did well at the box office and according to film historian Lawrence J. Quirk, it was “well received and slightly arrested [Novarro’s] downward slide.” In the film, Novarro showcased his singing skills with Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freed’s original song “Love Songs on the Nile,” which Novarro sung in both Arab and English.

Novarro and his co-star Myrna Loy became fast friends. Loy saw him off at the train station and a photograph of the two parting ways made headlines. To give the film a boost, the MGM publicity team used this to spread a rumor about a romance between the two stars. In her memoir Being and Becoming, Myrna Loy said, "it was preposterous. Ramon wasn't even interested in the ladies and I was seeing Arthur [Hornblow, Jr.] exclusively, so the publicity department had chosen a most unlikely pair."

THE BARBARIAN was scandalous enough to be banned from a re-release in 1934 once the Production Code was fully enforced. It’s best known for a tantalizing scene depicting Loy nude in a bath adorned with flowers (in reality she wore a nude body stocking). As for Novarro, he left Hollywood behind, not for good, but for 20 glorious weeks as he got to live out his dream of being a professional singer. He made 34 stops on his concert tour and his devoted fans flocked to see him perform.

Consolation Marriage by Kim Luperi

I will watch the effervescent Irene Dunne in anything, no matter the role—especially if it’s a pre-Code or comedy; she exudes a natural charm that makes her performances satisfying. So, choosing to view CONSOLATION MARRIAGE (’31), an unfamiliar pre-Code dramedy, was a no-brainer for me. In the movie, Mary (Dunne) and Steve (Pat O’Brien) befriend each other while wallowing in misery after their respective sweethearts marry others. Their shared heartbreak and burgeoning friendship lead them into matrimony… on the condition that they are free to see other lovers, which makes things interesting as their feelings develop and their exes re-enter their lives.

Aside from my self-professed love for Dunne, I appreciated this movie’s progressive portrayal of relationships before the inevitable happy ending, and I actually found the movie more enjoyable than anticipated, given its rather mediocre reviews from modern audiences. In fact, surprises abounded both within CONSOLATION MARRIAGE and outside the film, specifically having to do with O’Brien and Dunne’s chemistry and the movie’s censorship history.

The unexpected commenced right when I spotted O’Brien’s name. ‘What an odd pairing,’ I thought. At the time, I was more familiar with the actor in tougher, snarkier roles (1933’s BUREAU OF MISSING PERSONS, for instance) and had never thought of him as a romantic lead. Well, CONSOLATION MARRIAGE changed that, as O’Brien’s easy rapport with Dunne made them an absolutely delightful pair. Though classified as a drama, certain scenes in the picture, many occurring before they wed, played with a frothier air, which is where the leads’ wit shined and their chemistry became palpable—it really seemed like they were pals just having a grand old time. (Incidentally, Dunne and O’Brien were friends in real life, and Dunne was even godmother to O’Brien’s son, Terry.) To be honest, without Dunne and O’Brien’s proficiency in both drama and comedy, I’m not sure the script’s swings in tone or occasional sappiness would be as palatable as I perceived them to be.

Another revelation came with the fact that both Dunne and O’Brien made their Hollywood debuts in 1930, one year before CONSOLATION MARRIAGE hit theaters. Despite this movie receiving mixed reviews, outlets such as The New York Times and Film Daily made mention of the picture’s human quality, a point I would give credit for to the story, direction and certainly Dunne and O’Brien, who skillfully imbued their characters with those attributes so early in their respective careers.

An additional surprise arose when I opened the film’s Production Code Administration (PCA) file at the Academy’s Margaret Herrick Library. With adultery an expected outcome to this marriage of convenience, I was sure the Studio Relations Committee (SRC), the precursor to the PCA, would have cautionary words for this movie; I mean, doesn’t the fact that they invite each other to have an affair disrespect the sanctity of marriage? I guess not, because to my shock, no issue was taken with the portrayal of matrimony. In fact, the office bestowed the film a glowing review: “This picture is utterly charming from start to finish. The dialogue is fresh, amusing, whimsical while beneath this surface flippancy lies a human and appealing story made more real and vivid by the sincerity of the acting. Family audience.” Ironically, the movie faced more heat over the fact that verbiage pertaining to childbirth was so direct. The office recommended to edit the lines “We had a baby last week” and “You’re having a baby,” indicating the SRC found this natural, normal marital occurrence more insidious than the sham union of the central plot. It seems that the censors were blinded by the film’s charm; the characters could talk the talk, but since they didn’t walk the walk and eventually came around and respected their bond in the end, it was all good… apparently.

CONSOLATION MARRIAGE is by no means a perfect picture—the whole situation is a bit contrived, there are lulls in pacing and some maudlin dialogue—but the movie took me by surprise, and I was utterly taken with the charms of the performers, particularly Dunne and O’Brien. And to me, that’s usually worth more than textbook perfection.

Greta Garbo in ROMANCE ('30).

Doris Day’s Accidental First Film Role by Jessica Pickens

While some actors have to muddle through bit parts and uncredited roles before they reach stardom, others get lucky enough to land a starring role in their first film. One of those fortunate performers was Doris Day. This may sound like a dream come true, but Day was initially a reluctant movie star. Day started her career in 1939 as a singer for big band leaders such as Les Brown and Bob Crosby, brother of Bing Crosby. 

By 1945, she had her first hit song with “Sentimental Journey,” a tune that resonated during World War II with servicemen and women far away from home. “In a sense, ‘Sentimental Journey’ became the serviceman’s theme song,” Day wrote in her autobiography, Doris Day: Her Own Story.

Before heading back east after a visit to Los Angeles, Day was convinced to attend a party at the home of American songwriter Jule Styne. When everyone started performing songs at the party, Day began to get uneasy. “These people loved singing for each other but I am painfully shy at parties, and particularly shy about performing impromptu,” she wrote. She was convinced to sing the chorus of “Embraceable You.” Styne and his partner Sammy Cahn were so impressed by Day’s rendition of the Gershwin tune, that they helped her land her first film role, as the star of the Warner Bros. musical comedy, ROMANCE ON THE HIGH SEAS (‘48). 

“Acting in films had never so much crossed my mind. I was a singer…” she wrote. “They kept telling me how lucky I was to be testing for the lead in a major musical and how many girls would die to be in my shoes, but I was sitting glumly looking out the window, only half listening.” Day’s attitude was partially due to the fact that she was going through a divorce with George Weidler, a saxophonist and brother of actress Virginia Weidler.

Day wasn’t the first pick for the role. Judy Garland was initially slated to play Georgia Garrett and then Betty Hutton was announced as the lead, but she had to drop out due to pregnancy, according to Day’s autobiography. The plot follows newly married Elvira Kent (Janis Paige) and Michael Kent (Don DeFore), who both suspect each other of infidelity. Georgia Garrett, played by Day, is a nightclub singer and frequents a travel agency planning imaginary trips. Elvira meets Georgia while booking a cruise to South America. She hatches a plan for Georgia to go to South America in her place so she can stay home and spy on her husband. In turn, Michael sends private detective Peter Virgil (Jack Carson) on the cruise to spy on his wife. Georgia, while posing as Elvira, falls for Peter, and Peter thinks he is going to lose his job as he believes he’s falling in love with the boss’s wife. Day was made to resemble Betty Hutton and she was encouraged to sing in Hutton’s signature energetic style during the test.

After the film became a hit, Day signed a contract with Warner Bros. The film also introduced another hit song for Day, “It’s Magic.” However, it was an adjustment seeing herself on screen as a star. Her personal style was casual and she didn’t like the ultra-glamorous look she had in the film. The character of Georgia Garrett is a fast talking, cigarette smoking, flirtatious nightclub singer. The role is fairly different than Day later played, so it’s delightful to see her with a bit more sass.

Along with the main cast, the movie has top notch character actors, such as S.Z. “Cuddles” Sakall, Oscar Levant and Eric Blore. Paige and Day would later co-star again in PLEASE DON’T EAT THE DAISIES (‘60). Carson starred with Day in her next two films IT’S A GREAT FEELING (‘49) and MY DREAM IS YOURS (‘49).