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Classic movies for phobics

Author: leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com

Sherlock Holmes Meets Paris Hilton: The Mad Miss Manton (1938)

03/16/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 12 Comments

This post is part of Movies Silently’s Sleuthathon. Check out other entries on her site!

Imagine pitching this story idea: a Paris Hilton type with a pack of tiny dogs solves a crime New York cops can’t. It sounds like a Beyond Balderdash card, doesn’t it? That couldn’t possibly be a real movie plot. Luckily for us, it is. The Mad Miss Manton stars Henry Fonda and Barbara Stanwyck, but as you might guess, it’s not of the same caliber as their later pairing.  The mystery is ridiculous, the plot convoluted, and the character development all over the place. But who cares? Just let the film be what it wants to be: crazy fun.

The Mad Miss Manton

The Mad Miss Manton

Melsa Manton is a society girl known for “pranks” she claims are in the name of charity. She and her bevy of like-minded friends are suspected of constant mischief, and when Manton finds a body that disappears before help arrives, the police and newspaper editor Peter Ames (Henry Fonda) cry foul. Manton sets out to solve the crime to redeem the reputation of her crew, and along the way, Ames falls in love with her. As you might expect, this loopy story leads to some sticky problems for the filmmakers, but never fear: Philip Epstein is the primary writer, so some of those problems end up being hysterical to watch, including….

The Heroine with the Vanishing Trait—and Pets
Barbara Stanwyck is my favorite actress. She can portray a character who is terrified (Sorry, Wrong Number), sinister (The Strange Love of Martha Ivers), funny (Ball of Fire), or heartbroken (Stella Dallas). But there’s one thing this tough Brooklyn-born actress could not do, and that’s act like a flake. The problem is, without that trait, the beginning of the film is incomprehensible, even in screwball land. You simply can’t buy this woman with a bunch of precious dogs, prancing around the city on pranks or building mansions for her pooches, as Paris Hilton did.

To make the “madness” of Manton plausible, you would need an actress who could play naïve, who could be as trusting as Carole Lombard’s character in My Man Godfrey or Goldie Hawn’s in Seems Like Old Times. Only an actress like that could have pulled off a heroine who is not lacking in intelligence, but is lacking in cynicism. At first, therefore, I thought Stanwyck miscast.

Clearly, I underestimated the audacity of Epstein and his uncredited cowriters as they developed Wilson Collison’s story. Fewer than 10 minutes into the film, Epstein conveniently erases the airhead tendencies that he created in the opening scenes. Now, it seems, Manton is simply misunderstood (forget the film’s title). From the moment she’s on the case, Stanwyck is in familiar territory, fast-acting and thinking, with the assurance she’ll bring to her reporters in Meet John Doe and Christmas in Connecticut.  To illustrate this change in Manton’s character, the screenwriters eliminate all of her dogs. Poof! No Fifis in her apartment. No Fidos tracking her along her crime-solving path.

The dogs in one of their last appearances

The dogs in one of their last appearances

I think I fell for this movie when they vanished. It reminded me of the kind of bravado later soap opera writers would emulate in developing their narratives, with conveniently erased back stories and children growing up at Chia Pet speed.

A Bewildering Plot
The Mad Miss Manton is only 80 minutes long, yet I could have sworn it ended twice before it actually did. I felt a little like I used to reading Agatha Christie novels, when she conveniently left out information I needed to solve the crime myself. Who are all these suspects? Why do some of them appear on the screen for a few minutes, then reappear twenty minutes later, without my understanding anything new about them? There are multiple crime scenes, attempts on Manton’s life, ranting scenes by the police lieutenant, a hospital visit, an effort to lure in the killer, and much clue following. And, of course, multiple clips of the suspects that are meant to be illuminating/mysterious. But every time the chaos begins to overwhelm viewers, Manton’s friends rush in and save the film, which brings me to….

An Amazing Crew
I love the “Park Avenue pranksters,” the group of women whose help Manton enlists to solve the crime. My favorite is Pat (Whitney Bourne), who keeps stopping to snack at the crime scenes, à la Shawn Spencer.

Who can beat a troop of friends, armed with flashlights and ermine, creeping through the window of a house the cops have inconveniently locked?

“I found a blood stain,” says one woman, perching on the floor.

“Oh, how can it be blood? It’s blue,” replies Manton.

“Maybe they shot Mrs. Astor,” retorts her friend.

Manton and her "pranksters"

Manton and her “pranksters”

Most of these accomplices are clever, and all are fun and fabulous company. They seem to live an endless string of parties and sleepovers. Unlike Blair Waldorf’s Gossip Girl minions, however, these women are sweet-natured without sacrificing their blistering wit, as when they mock their ringleader for starting to like Ames:

“You know psychiatrists say hate’s just a step away from love,” says one.

“Yeah, but it’s the lull in between that drives you crazy,” replies another.

The film suffers every time the crew leaves the screen.

Distracting Minor Characters
I did not feel the same delight in encountering Manton’s maid, Hilda (Hattie McDaniel). While her sassy replies to her employer are sometimes amusing, it’s difficult to view McDaniel in a maid costume without picturing Mammy from Gone with the Wind, the part she’d win an Oscar for a year later. While this is not the type of servile performance the actress would later be asked to defend, the role is not as progressive (and therefore her part less funny) than we might have hoped.

Hilda (Hattie McDaniel)

Hilda (Hattie McDaniel)

The police lieutenant (Sam Levene) sometimes distracts from the story as well. Like one of the suspects (Penny Singleton), Levene is stolen straight from After the Thin Man (which tells you how seriously the director, Leigh Jason, and his writers take the crime itself).

Unfortunately, Levene can’t turn off the beleaguered, badgering tone he used in the earlier film. While his attitude toward Manton initially adds to the humor, his grumbling soon becomes tiresome. Nick Charles could be just as withholding with clues as Manton, but never was treated with such disrespect. Wouldn’t the lieutenant’s opinion of her alter when he discovered her sleuthing skills, even with their class and gender differences?

The lieutenant (Levene) dismissing Manton

The lieutenant (Levene) dismissing Manton

Henry Fonda in Screwball Mode
The only actor who surprised me in this film was Henry Fonda. I’ll admit that I’ve never been a fan; I’d usually rather see someone else in his place: John Garfield in The Grapes of Wrath, Joel McCrea in The Lady Eve.  But Fonda is exuberant in The Mad Miss Manton, so at home with the one liners and silly antics that I kept checking the credits to make sure it was the same man. (Interestingly, Fonda himself disliked the part.) He’s surprisingly confident and attractive as Peter Ames, the editor in love with Manton, and it’s hilarious to watch him trying to romance her, while admitting that he’s enough of a pragmatist to appreciate that she’s rolling in it.

Manton (Stanwyck) and Ames (Fonda)

Ames (Fonda) and Manton (Stanwyck)

The relationship begins in hostility. He’s written an editorial dismissing Manton’s supposedly nonexistent body discovery as one of her group’s “escapades.” She slaps him with her hand and a libel suit on their first meeting. Of course, they start to fall in love from there.

The two take turns outwitting one another in His Girl Friday style (though at a less frantic pace). After Manton agrees to pretend they’re engaged to dupe a suspect, Ames comes to her apartment with champagne to celebrate. “Well, if I want to marry a fortune hunter,” she answers, “I can go to Europe and marry a professional one.”

“I’m determined to make you happy if I have to drag your name through the breach-of-promise courts to do it,” he answers.

It’s startling how suggestive the film is. The two are in her bedroom as she smokes in her nightgown and he gets flustered. She ties him up regularly, and once she even takes off his pants. The love/hate battle between them is exhilarating, and while much of the credit goes to Stanwyck, for once she has an equal sparring partner in Fonda.

As you can tell from my review, this is a far from perfect film. But I would encourage you to embrace it just the same: the disappearing dogs, the ever-changing heroine, the unlikely romance, the bizarre crew, even the occasional joke about communism.  It’s a bit “mad,” but it’s a lot of fun.

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Posted in: 1930s films, Blogathons, Film Noir/Crime/Thriller & Mystery, Romantic Comedies (film) Tagged: Barbara Stanwyck, blogathon, Henry Fonda, Paris Hilton, screwball comedy, The Madd Miss Manton

The Death of the Marital Rom-Com: Where Have All the Toppers Gone?

03/10/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 6 Comments

When is the last time you watched a rom-com about a married couple? Aside from the occasional indie and rare mainstream flick, Hollywood seems to have retired this subject matter, despite the success of TV shows such as Mad about You, Everybody Loves Raymond, and The King of Queens.

Yet I came up with this list of famous 30s and 40s rom-coms about married couples in just two minutes:

Married: Topper, Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House, My Favorite Wife, and I Was a Male War Bride
Separated/Divorced: The Awful Truth, The Philadelphia Story, and His Girl Friday.

Those familiar with these titles might notice that these are just some of the marital rom-coms starring Cary Grant. In comparison, I came up with three mainstream marital rom-coms in the past three decades altogether—with help.

Even if married couples in 2014 are more likely to attend animated flicks with their kids, as my husband theorized, that doesn’t explain what Hollywood is producing for those without kids. And I’m not buying that we’re all boring enough to only like films about ourselves. We don’t all cook meth in our basements or fight to the death in dystopian universes. We don’t watch The Walking Dead or Game of Thrones because they remind us of barbeques with our buddies. I discovered most of my favorite marital rom-coms when single. Is it possible that Hollywood thinks singles’ imaginations fertile enough to envision shooting webs out of their wrists or being born in Middle Earth, but not to conceive of being married?

Whatever the reasoning for the endangerment of the marital rom-com, the result is unfortunate: there’s a sameness to romantic comedies now that simply didn’t exist in the 30s or 40s. While there are only so many ways we can meet and fall in love, there is an infinite variety of methods for teasing, imitating, and torturing those we know well.

One of Cary Grant’s best marital rom-coms is The Awful Truth (1937), a film my friend Tonya introduced me to many years ago that I’ve been recommending ever since.  Grant’s and costar Irene Dunne’s impeccable timing and believable performances make this one of the funniest screwball comedies I’ve ever seen.

Dunne and Grant dazzling in The Awful Truth

Dunne and Grant dazzling in The Awful Truth

In the film, Jerry (Grant) and Lucy (Dunne) suspect one another of infidelity. Lucy decides to trust Jerry, anticipating Elvis’s famous song about suspicion in explaining her reasoning. Jerry, however, can’t trust her, and the two divorce. But since they’re both still in love, they can’t help sabotaging one another’s new relationships.

I have so many favorite moments from this film. One is when Jerry plays a song for his dog (during his custodial pet visit) to annoy Lucy as she’s meeting her new fiancé’s mom. In another Jerry pays the orchestra conductor to re-play a song just to watch his wife trip as her fiancé tries to lead her in a rambunctious dance.

Jerry appreciating the dance moves of Lucy's fiancé

Jerry appreciating the dance moves of Lucy’s fiancé

And there’s the scene when Lucy, aware of Jerry’s pride, shows up at his fiancée’s house pretending to be his wasted sister.

Lucy humiliating Jerry

Lucy humiliating Jerry

She begins the visit by demanding a drink and ends by performing a Marilyn Monroe-over-grate move for Jerry’s soon-to-be in-laws (years before that famous siren’s).

But perhaps the scene I enjoy most is when Jerry gushes about how much his hard-partying wife will appreciate Oklahoma, where her fiancé lives:

“Lucy, you lucky girl,” Jerry says. “No more running around the night spots. No more prowling around in New York shops. I shall think of you every time a new show opens and say to myself, she’s well out of it….”

“I know I’ll enjoy Oklahoma City,” Lucy replies stiffly.

“But of course,” he answers, “and if it should get dull, you can always go over to Tulsa for the weekend.”

Contrast these scenes with those in 1997 rom-com My Best Friend’s Wedding, technically a film of the single-gal variety, but adopting some situations from the marital rom-com. Yes, Rupert Everett is glorious in it, and Cameron Diaz and Julia Roberts are effective rivals.

Diaz confronting Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding

Diaz confronting Roberts in My Best Friend’s Wedding

But the message is appalling: you’ll lose the guy if you’re dedicated to your profession and unwilling to ditch your education/career for his. No matter, therefore, how funny some of Roberts’ antics seem, I can’t laugh at the antiquated, offensive cliché of the desperate single woman, as the film asks me to do. But I do laugh at the partners in The Awful Truth, both so anxious to get each other back that they’re willing to forgo pride to do so. Due to his unreasonable suspicions, Jerry looks like more of a buffoon than Lucy, but neither comes out of the experience unscathed. (Of course, since Lucy trusts Jerry, we don’t know whether he just likes his space, or has cheated and the filmmakers have given him a pass for sexist reasons.)

The Awful Truth is just one of many delightful 30s marital rom-coms. There are so many more. Until current Hollywood producers come to their senses and resuscitate the subgenre, you’ll be stuck with the half-attempts at marital rom-coms like My Best Friend’s Wedding, in which the humor is only at the woman’s expense. (Forget viewing films about long-term relationships between unmarried couples–an even rarer subgenre.) So give some classic marital comedies a try. You’ll be glad you did.

Incidentally, next Sunday and Monday (March 16 and 17th), I’ll be participating in a classic detective blogathon hosted by Movies Silently. Please check out my entry in this Sleuthathon at my blog next week. I’ll be reviewing The Mad Miss Manton (1938), featuring Barbara Stanwyck as a Sherlock Holmes-Paris Hilton hybrid. And be sure to view the entries of my much more knowledgeable blogging peers!

detective-blogathon-thin-man-small

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Posted in: 1930s films, 1990-current films, Comedies (film), Humor, Romantic Comedies (film) Tagged: Cary Grant, Irene Dunne, Julia Roberts, My Best Friend's Wedding

Three Hypocritical Oscar Moments

03/05/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com Leave a Comment

1. Ellen Insulting Her Wife’s Arrested Development Costar
I don’t know about you, but if my wife had been flayed in the press for her plastic surgery, I would avoid digs like the one Ellen gave Liza Minnelli at Sunday’s Oscars.

Perhaps pre-spat?

Kimmel’s Spoof Oscars Night: Perhaps Pre-Spat?

While Portia de Rossi didn’t seem offended, it’s hard to believe a woman who has written a book about the suffering she endured to look perfect would approve. I would have expected this kind of behavior from Seth MacFarlane, not from the usually affable Ellen. Talk about marital insensitivity.

2. Oscar Commentators Praising “Not Looking Old” and “Growing Old Gracefully” Simultaneously
The online attacks on Vertigo (1958) star and Oscar presenter Kim Novak for her looks were appalling, especially since this is a woman who left Hollywood at the peak of her fame and lived privately for decades because she couldn’t take the objectification she experienced as a bombshell in Tinseltown. She’s been lured back into the limelight in her eighties, and look how she’s treated. Because for what would we judge a woman who starred in the film now ranked best of all time but her looks?

Vertigo

Vertigo

Chicago columnist Mike Royko wrote that 1976 Oscar viewers were outraged about seeing silent film star Mary Pickford (who had “grown old gracefully”) on their screens because they wanted to remember her cute and pretty, like this:

Mary Pickford (right)

Mary Pickford (right)

Royko didn’t understand why people preferred “facial skin stretched out like a drumhead.” “They cheer the illusion of Zsa Zsa,” he wrote, “but they flinch at the reality of Mary Pickford.” In 2014 an elderly woman can’t get away with natural aging or plastic surgery unless her surgeon is some kind of Houdini. Novak had the right idea originally—just get out.

3. Bestowing Honor by Awarding on the DL
Do you feel honored for a lifetime of achievement if the Academy deems the moment you’re given the statue not exciting enough for the big night? I was reminded of host Chris Rock’s reaction in 2005 when the technical awards were given in the aisle and sometimes en masse instead of individually onstage: “Next they’re gonna give the Oscars in the parking lot. It’ll be like a drive-through Oscar lane. You get an Oscar and a McFlurry and keep on moving.”

I found the choice to separate the honorary and competitive awards especially disturbing given that the former are so often given to those the Academy considers unworthy of notice for years and belatedly realizes they unjustifiably snubbed; such as one of this year’s honorees, Steve Martin, and Cary Grant (yes, the only classic film star many people can name).

Steve Martin, honored at separate event

Steve Martin, honored at separate event

Unsurprisingly, honorary Oscars are frequently awarded to those who mainly appear in/write/direct comedies, so I thought Jim Carrey’s jokes and Bill Murray’s shout-out to Harold Ramis were timely reminders that comedians receive no credit unless they appear in dramas—and usually not then—until the Academy’s honoree-may-be-near-death-oops awards, honors that now aren’t even bestowed on the night itself. Classy.

What bothered you most about this year’s Oscars?

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Posted in: 1990-current films, Humor, Oscars, Uncategorized Tagged: Ellen, Honorary Oscars, Kim Novak, Liza Minnelli, Mike Royko, Oscars, Portia de Rossi, Steve Martin, Vertigo

No Oscar Love for Harold Ramis: The Academy, as Humorless as Ever

02/27/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 6 Comments

Harold Ramis, whom President Obama labeled “one of America’s greatest satirists,” died this week shortly before this Sunday’s Oscars. His list of co-writing credits is astonishing: Animal House, Stripes, Caddyshack, Ghostbusters, Groundhog Day. He also directed the latter, Caddyshack, and Vacation. I’m sure the Academy will clap enthusiastically this weekend when his face appears in the “In Memoriam” tribute, but they won’t express what they should: regret. Ramis never won an Oscar; in fact, he was never even nominated.

Harold Ramis: won A BAFTA, but no Oscar

Harold Ramis: won A BAFTA, but no Oscar

In the years the Academy snubbed Ramis, comedies did make appearances in the original screenplay category, including Private Benjamin, Splash, Beverly Hills Cop, Sleepless in Seattle, and Dave.  But many of the nominations were of grim films you didn’t know then, much less now. The following were the original screenplay winners the years Ramis could have been nominated:

Coming Home (Animal House), Melvin and Howard (Caddyshack), Places in the Heart (Ghostbusters), and The Piano (Groundhog Day).

Most Oscar nominees for original screenplay are not bad movies; the Academy saves their embarrassing choices for the best film category (Crash, anyone?) But have these screenplay winners stood the test of time? Have they influenced you—or anyone you know—in any way?

Here’s a test for you:

  • Can you quote from it?

Belushitoga

  • Do you adopt cultural affectations from it (perhaps Roman)?
  • Have you sung along with it?
  • Does it give you more understanding for the weak kid or the outsider, perhaps make you feel more comfortable challenging authority? (See this great Ramis bio.)

Stripes

  • Does it bring back childhood memories that make you grin, maybe your best Halloween costume ever?

Ghostbusters

  • Have you lost count of how many times you’ve seen it?
  • Do you (be honest) feel tempted to dance with a certain character’s nemesis during the closing scene?

gopherCaddyshack

Of course, the Academy—and critics in general—have long shown more appreciation for drama than comedy, failing to see in it the far subtler, and often more trenchant and artful cultural critique it can provide. In 1941, Preston Sturges, a writer/director who, like Ramis, was fond of what’s often dismissed as “adolescent” humor, wrote an entire film addressing the greater appreciation given to drama, Sullivan’s Travels. But unlike with the usual Oscar winners, this time, the case for comedies is much more persuasive.

It begins with a scene between a director (Sullivan, played by Joel McCrea) and his bosses (Mr. LeBrand and Mr. Hadrian). Sullivan has decided to write a serious film, which his bosses fear will be less profitable than his usual comedies. Why not do a sequel to your Ants in Your Plants of 1939 instead? they ask him. His movies are inspiring, they tell him. They don’t, as Hadrian puts it, “stink with messages.”

Sullivan (Joel McCrea in the middle) with his bosses

Mr. LeBland, Sullivan (Joel McCrea) and Mr. Hadrian

Sullivan tries to argue them into supporting his new effort, showing them a scene from his O Brother, Where Art Thou? (yes, Coen fans, that’s where they got it)

Sullivan: “You see the symbolism of it?….It teaches a lesson, a moral lesson, it has social significance.”

Hadrian: “Who wants to see that kind of stuff? It gives me the creeps.”

….

Sullivan:  “I want this picture to be a commentary on modern conditions, stark realism, the problems that confront the average man.”

LeBrand: “But with a little sex.”

….

Hadrian: “How about a nice musical?”

Sullivan: “How can you talk about musicals in a time like this, with the world committing suicide, with corpses piling up in the streets?…..”

Hadrian: “Maybe they’d like to forget that.”

After Hadrian convinces Sullivan he’s too inexperienced with suffering to direct movies about it, the latter decides to go on a quest to learn about poverty firsthand. A despondent LeBrand barks at his assistant, “Get me a copy of that O Brother, Where Art Thou? I guess I’ll have to read it now. Make that two copies.  Why should I suffer alone?”

By the end of the movie, Sullivan agrees with his bosses that he should keep directing comedies. He discovers that his movies, silly as they may be, have something to offer that dramas never will: “There’s a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that’s all some people have?”

In fact, Sturges begins the movie with a dedication that could have been written for Ramis: “To the memory of those who made us laugh….in all times and in all nations, whose efforts have lightened our burden a little….” Not a bad epitaph, from one comedic genius to another.

Incidentally, Sullivan’s Travels (1941) ranked on the AFI’s top 100. But you guessed it: Not a single Oscar nomination.

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Posted in: 1980s films, 1990-current films, Comedies (film), Humor, Oscars, Romantic Comedies (film), TV & Pop Culture Tagged: Academy Awards, Animal House, Bill Murray, Caddyshack, Ghostbusters, Groundhog Day, Harold Ramis, Preston Sturges, Sullivan's Travels, The Oscars

The Anti-House of Cards: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

02/20/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 1 Comment

I had been looking forward to the return of House of Cards for months. Frank Underwood’s (Kevin Spacey’s) skewering of his opponents is almost as fascinating to watch as his wife Claire’s (Robin Wright’s) icy machinations.

Frank and Claire Underwood, the creepy power couple

The Underwoods, DC’s creepiest power couple

But something about the nonstop snow, ice, and wind this winter has made me too blue to compound my already too cynical view of Congress. In months like these, I need to let some spring-tasting idealism in the room. In other words, I’m craving some Capra.

Many have seen It’s a Wonderful Life, and if so, they already have a feel for director Frank Capra’s conviction that the little guy/gal can make a difference. Capra clearly relished films that breathed hope, like those optimists who would follow him, Ron Howard and Steven Spielberg.

When I stared at a pile of snow two feet high today and knew my shovel was buried somewhere within it, a dose of hope was required, and few films can refresh mine as thoroughly as Capra’s brilliant Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939).

Smith (Stewart) inspired by the Lincoln Memorial

Smith inspired by the Lincoln Memorial

The beauty of the movie is that it lets us see the world—and its hero—through the eyes of world-weary Saunders (Jean Arthur). Tasked to assist Jefferson Smith (Jimmy Stewart), she can’t decide if he’s full of it or dim-witted. This guy insists on going to see the Lincoln Memorial when he arrives for his senatorial post, for crying out loud. He claims his primary goal is creating a boys’ camp for his state. Could anything be more suspicious to a DC insider?

Saunders' reaction to Smith's tourist plans.

Saunders’ reaction to Smith’s tourist plans.

Saunders begins by undermining him, inviting a bunch of photographers to capture him at his most foolish.

Smith inadvisedly demonstrating a bird call

Smith inadvisedly demonstrating a bird call for the press

But as she slowly begins to reassess him, we find ourselves losing our cynicism about his dogged honesty and downhome goodness along with her. Of course, poor Smith encounters his share of Frank Underwoods, especially crafty Jim Taylor (Edward Arnold), who calls him a “drooling infant.” Interactions with Taylor and his cronies will lead Smith to lose a lot of his innocence but help him develop some much-needed spunk.

Underwood (Spacey) and Taylor (Arnold)

Underwood (Spacey) and Taylor (Arnold)

The powerful filibuster scene at the center of the movie is so moving that reporters still reference it today as justification for allowing that congressional maneuver. The film came up as recently as the Affordable Care Act battle last September, when writers claimed Ted Cruz’s was a “faux filibuster,” and last summer, when Wendy Davis pulled the famous Jimmy Stewart move at the Texas state house for eleven hours straight.

Smith (Stewart) in the midst of his filibuster

Smith (Stewart) in the midst of his filibuster

Most days, the news convinces me that idealists like Smith will always be crushed by the powerful jaws of the Frank Underwoods among us. But somehow, I don’t feel that way today: I’ve been watching Capra.

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Posted in: 1930s films, Drama (film), TV & Pop Culture Tagged: filibuster, Frank Underwood, House of Cards, Jean Arthur, Jimmy Stewart, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

3 Classic Anti-Valentine’s Films for Sex and the City Fans

02/13/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 6 Comments

Single or attached, I’ve always loathed Valentine’s Day. When single, I’ve wondered why our couples-obsessed culture needs a day devoted to twosomes. When attached, I’ve pondered why I should celebrate en masse what’s supposed to be intimate. Therefore, my three recs today are for those who share my distaste for the day:

Female Bonding: Stage Door
For those who’d rather split a few bottles of wine with pals than brave pink-and-red-bedecked nightclubs this Friday, I recommend Stage Door, a film centered on women who live in an all-female boarding house as they try to make their big breaks on the stage.

The heroines’ choice to remain single (and have casual boyfriends only) is celebrated rather than reviled by the film. If anything, the film mocks marriage. But don’t just view Stage Door (1937) for its politics; watch it to see the phenomenal cast interact: Ginger Rogers, Katharine Hepburn, Lucille Ball, Eve Arden. (The latter you may recognize as the principal in Grease; in her youth, she was always the smart-talking sidekick.)

Rogers, Arden, Ball, and Hepburn

Rogers, Arden, Ball, and Hepburn

The dialogue is so slick and cynical and quick that you’ll have a hard time keeping up with the one-liners, as when wealthy Terry’s (Katharine Hepburn’s) haughty tone annoys her impoverished fellow residents. Jean (Ginger Rogers) is not one to let an insult slide. When Terry snootily states, “Unfortunately, I learned to speak English correctly,” Jean fires back, “That won’t be of much use to you here. We all talk pig Latin.”

While the more famous classic movie about female friendships, The Women (1939), favors marriage with unfaithful partners over relationships with backbiting friends, this feminist flick celebrates the humor and loyalty between single women. In fact, I would argue that Stage Door’s women are in some ways more liberated than those in Sex and the City. Watch and see if you agree.

More of a feminist: Jean Maitland or Carrie Bradshaw? (Ginger Rogers & Sarah Jessica Parker)

More of a feminist: Jean or Carrie?


Revenge as Art:  Gilda
I enjoyed Samantha Jones’s (Kim Cattrall’s) revenge on boyfriend Richard Wright for his infidelity in Sex and the City: the dirty martini in his face, the papering of the city with posters describing his behavior.

Samantha in revenge mode

Samantha in revenge mode

But this kind of takedown is kitten play compared to the work of Rita Hayworth in Gilda.

Gilda, who calls herself the "Bar Nothing," and her spiritual descendant, Samantha Jones

Gilda, the “Bar Nothing,” and her spiritual descendant, Sam

Like Samantha, Gilda (Hayworth) is in full command of her sexuality; it’s not difficult to discover why this WW II pinup was dubbed “The Love Goddess.” But her treatment of her ex, Johnny, is far more ruthless than her modern counterpart’s. First, she marries Johnny’s boss; then, she flaunts her affairs with other men to torment him further.

Gilda (Hayworth) torturing her ex

Gilda (Hayworth) torturing her ex

Gilda is so skillful a manipulator that you root for her to get what she wants, even if the ex she desires is no prize (and no mean manipulator himself).

Here’s an anti-Valentine’s Day conversation if ever there were one:

Gilda: “Would it interest you to know how much I hate you, Johnny?”
Johnny: “Very much.”
Gilda: “I hate you so much I would destroy myself to take you down with me.”

I think Samantha would be impressed.

Exploiting Men: Baby Face
In an early episode of Sex and the City, “The Power of Female Sex,” Carrie’s fling has left a tip on her bedside table and she’s feeling ill at ease with the implications. The four friends discuss whether it’s ever acceptable to use your sexuality to get ahead. Barbara Stanwyck’s character in Baby Face (1933) has no such qualms: She leaves her hometown for NYC with the aim of doing just that.

The shocks accumulate quickly as you watch Baby Face: Lily’s (Stanwyck’s) father has been prostituting her since she was fourteen. A grandfatherly figure in her dad’s speakeasy recommends she leave home to sexually exploit men for personal gain, quoting Nietzsche to back his case.  Once in New York, Lily takes quick steps to follow his advice, seducing the HR assistant in a bank to get a job, and then sleeping her way floor by floor to the top. (The camera helpfully pans up to highlight each floor as she ascends.)

Lily (Stanwyck) on the make

Lily (Stanwyck) on the make

You might expect the movie to make the heroine suffer for her behavior, given the date of this film, but she is unmoved by the heartbreak and eventual tragedy she leaves in her wake (among her victims is a smitten John Wayne). Men have used her all her life. Lily figures it’s her turn, and the film clearly sympathizes with her reasoning. She calmly goes about her business of seducing men, accumulating jewels and bonds, and sharing her successes with her best friend, Chico (Theresa Harris).

Chico and Lily admiring another woman’s wealth before Lily starts to advance

Chico and Lily scheming

Here’s a typical exchange with a discarded lover who stops by Lily’s apartment:

Ex-Lover: “It’s been brutal not seeing you.”
Lily: “Yeah, well you better get used to it.”

When he returns and offers marriage, Lily answers, “So you want to marry me, huh? Isn’t that beautiful. Get out of here….”

Lily's reaction to a marriage proposal from a discarded lover

Lily’s reaction to a marriage proposal from a discarded lover

This is a strange film with a number of flaws, but you won’t care; it’s too much fun to watch this predator in action. (Be sure to watch the pre-release version; it’s much better.)

What are your favorite anti-Valentine’s films?

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Posted in: 1930s films, 1940s films, Anti-Romance films, Comedies (film), Drama (film), Feminism, Film Noir/Crime/Thriller & Mystery, Humor, TV & Pop Culture Tagged: Carrie Bradshaw, Gilda, Samantha Jones, Sarah Jessica Parker, Sex and the City, Stage Door

Unhealthy Obsessions: Laura and Her

02/06/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 6 Comments

Her (2013) starts with an unoriginal premise: guy falls for an inappropriate thing, his society doesn’t judge him for it, and the audience is left to (a) reconsider their understanding of relationships and/or (b) fear a future in which falling for an operating system is acceptable.  (Substitute an android or doll for the operating system and you’ll find you’ve seen this film before.)

Her asks that you support this odd love, but the only time that has worked for me is with Laura (1944), in which detective Mark McPherson (Dana Andrews) becomes so enamored by others’ descriptions of and a portrait of a murder victim that he can barely function. The trick of the film is that it seduces the audience so completely that we cease to find this love creepy at all, something that never happened to me in the 126 minutes of Her.

Both Her and Laura benefit from the wise casting of their heroines. Scarlett Johansson’s voice is so sexy and Gene Tierney’s face so perfect that the audience’s first reaction is Of course! Who wouldn’t fall for her?

LauraTierney

It’s in the development of the hero that Laura succeeds and Her stumbles. There’s nothing wrong with Joaquin Phoenix’s open, touching performance. But the level of Theodore’s (Phoenix’s) romanticism is so extreme (he actually FEELS every word of the cheesy cards he writes for a living) and his enjoyment of his world so intense that you can’t help thinking this guy would fall for a Milk Dud.  We might like Theodore, but how could we possibly relate to him?

McPherson, on the other hand, is guarded in Laura, a much more common condition for those who’ve been burned by past relationships, as Her’s Theodore has been. When asked whether he’s ever been in love, McPherson quips, “A doll in Washington Heights once got a fox fur outta me.” As his passion for the murder victim, Laura (Tierney), increases, McPherson resists and denies it, trying to keep his professionalism intact. The audience can therefore empathize with his struggle, especially since some types of police work can demand obsession (mystery writer James Ellroy once claimed Laura was a favorite film of cops he knew).

DanaAndrews

Almost as problematic as the characterization of Her’s Theodore are the impressionistic scenes critics are applauding. Are they beautiful? Yes. But their lengthiness gave me too much time to think: Why would someone so outgoing primarily socialize with video games? Am I meant to believe people like those awful cards he writes? WHO SMILES THIS MUCH? Laura, at 88 minutes total, fits in the detective’s love AND the solution to the whodunit. It speeds along with such rapidity that the audience forgets that McPherson’s love is just as, if not more, disturbing than the affections of Laura’s former admirers.

It’s in depicting these former admirers/suspects that Laura really excels, especially with cynical Waldo Lydecker (Clifton Webb), whose one-liners keep the audience alternately laughing and cringing, often at the hero’s expense: “You’d better watch out, McPherson, or you’ll end up in a psychiatric ward. I don’t think they’ve ever had a patient who fell in love with a corpse.” Jonze’s film desperately needs a Lydecker, as its cloying mood soon becomes monotonous, and Amy Adams does nothing but bolster her friend’s feelings for the operating system. (Does Spike Jonze require screenwriter Charles Kaufman to avoid taking himself too seriously? Where is the light touch of Being John Malkovich?)

AndrewsandWebb

As it drifts along in its dreamy way, Her demands that you continue to contemplate its hero’s unhealthy love. Laura simply expects you to accept its. As a result, I felt drained by Her and intrigued by Laura. Unless you want sugar shock, I suggest you stick with the older film too.

Random thoughts:

The high-waisted pants on men have pained me in Laura and other 40s films. Could future fashion designers be so cruel as to bring back such an unflattering style and combine it with melon shades, as we see in Her? And if not, why did Jonze make me suffer through it? It takes a lot to make this man look unattractive:

JoaquinPhoenixJ

But Jonze certainly succeeded.

Vincent Price (the murder victim’s former fiancé) is such a wimp in Laura that it’s shocking to realize he scared whole generations of moviegoers and Michael Jackson fans.

VincentPrice

Apparently, fans of Philip Seymour Hoffman, Phoenix’s costar in The Master, also noticed Her’s dire need for sarcasm and did a fake promo for the film with Hoffman’s voice instead of Johansson’s. Listening to it was one of the few joys possible after hearing about Hoffman’s death (not PG rated, for you parents out there).

What are your thoughts on Laura and Her? (Please avoid bringing up anything in the second half of Laura, as I’d like to avoid spoilers.)

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Posted in: 1940s films, Drama (film), Femme fatales, Film Noir/Crime/Thriller & Mystery, Romance (films) Tagged: Gene Tierney, Her, Joaquin Phoenix, Laura, Vincent Price, Waldo Lydecker

Slacker Detectives: Psych and The Thin Man

01/30/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 1 Comment

Years ago, I tried without success to get my sisters into the TV show Psych.

“The mysteries are stupid,” they said.

“The mysteries aren’t the point,” I replied.

“You can’t ignore them!” they claimed.

But I have, and I do, and so did the viewers of The Thin Man series starring William Powell and Myrna Loy, in which the detective always has to be forced onto a case because he’d rather be partying or vegging out. Sound familiar, Psych fans?

The witty repartee between the starring couple, Nick and Nora Charles, is what so many writers have tried to imitate since—not the mysteries’ quality, or the sometimes painfully melodramatic performances of the minor characters. Likewise, the interaction between the detective pair on Psych is so much the focus that commercials give no hint about the actual content of the episodes, as in the characters’ classic Hall & Oates  spoof.

Compare:

Psych episode (“Let’s Get Hairy,” Season 4, Episode 8): Partners Shawn and Gus are dressing dolls up as their favorite 1980s WWF wrestlers before a match rather than drumming up detecting business.

Gus and Shawn (Dulé Hill and James Roday) playing before the rumble.

Gus and Shawn (Dulé Hill and James Roday) playing before the rumble

The first Thin Man:  Nora is trying to convince Nick into taking a case as he shoots balloons (and eventually a window) with a play gun she gave him for Christmas.

“Aw Nicky, take the case,” she says.

“You take it,” he answers. “I’m too busy.”

Nick and Nora (Powell and Loy) bantering in The Thin Man

Nick and Nora (Powell and Loy) bantering in The Thin Man

Pleasure before business? Check.
Adults acting like kids? Check.
Clever references? Check.
Perfect repartee? Check.

Nick proud of a bull’s eye; Shawn feeling suave thanks to his Miami Vice poster.

Nick proud of a bull’s eye; Shawn feeling suave thanks to his Miami Vice poster

I know some classic movie fans will find my comparison insulting to the more sophisticated films and the brilliant book that inspired them.  But such critics should give more credit to Psych’s dialogue, such as this exchange, which captures the show’s attitude toward the mysteries:

Shawn: “We came to investigate, catch bad guys and eat pie.”

Gus: “Not necessarily in that order.”

Shawn: “And it hasn’t been.”

Gus: “No.”

Shawn: “We started with the pie.”

Gus: “Always.” (Season 5, Episode 12, “Dual Spires”)

Even if you dislike Psych, don’t miss out on Nick and Nora.  Eighty years of fans. Five sequels (the last over a decade after the first). Scores of imitators. Observe the publication date on this NPR story discussing upcoming novellas of The Thin Man sequels. Sequels, mind you, which most of us try to forget, not commemorate decades later.

What are your thoughts on Psych and The Thin Man? Would you rather party with Nick and Nora, or Shawn and Gus? Did you like the first Thin Man best, or did the scene with Nick and the snoozers in the second make it your favorite? What other Nick and Shawn similarities have you noticed?

 

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Posted in: 1930s films, 1940s films, Comedies (film), Film Noir/Crime/Thriller & Mystery, Humor, TV & Pop Culture Tagged: Burton Guster, Nick & Nora Charles, Psych, Shawn and Gus, Shawn Spencer

Want to View a Hitchcock? Try Notorious.

01/23/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 1 Comment

Vertigo was recently crowned the best film of all time, but the objectification of its heroine is hard to take on an empty stomach. Rear Window, also beloved by critics, is slow paced and clever rather than frightening, known for being groundbreaking in style. For the slow-burning suspense the master does so well, I’d begin with Notorious.

Grant and Bergman in Notorious

Grant and Bergman in Notorious

Technically, this is a film about a spy tracking down a Nazi plot. Actually, it’s about highly dysfunctional relationships, including the romance between stars Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant, which you would find disturbing if the relationships between Bergman and the Nazi and the latter (Claude Rains) and his mother weren’t so much worse.

The spy (Rains) and his mother (Leopoldine Konstantin) making plans

The Nazi (Rains) and his mother (Leopoldine Konstantin) plotting

Bergman is in peril as the spy who marries the Nazi, and Grant’s hurt feelings get in the way of his assistance.  Watch it for the stars’ performances, your increasing fear about Bergman’s fate, and one of the creepiest mother-son relationships you’ll ever encounter. I haven’t been this horrified since I watched wholesome Angela Lansbury’s dangerous games with her son in The Manchurian Candidate (1962) or Lucille playing dress-up with hers in Arrested Development.

Buster (Tony Hale) and Lucille (Jessica Walter) in the “Motherboy XXX” episode

Buster (Tony Hale) and Lucille (Jessica Walter) in the “Motherboy XXX” episode

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Posted in: 1940s films, Film Noir/Crime/Thriller & Mystery, Romance (films) Tagged: Alfred Hitchcock, Arrested Development, Lucille Bluth, Motherboy

Like The Cutting Edge? Watch It Happened One Night.

01/17/2014 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 5 Comments
Kelly & Sweeney in The Cutting Edge.

Kelly & Sweeney in The Cutting Edge.

D.B. Sweeney, Moira Kelly, toe picks? If you haven’t seen this film, and you love romantic comedies from the 90s, hit your head against the wall for letting others jeer you out of it. A hunky (yes, I said it) hockey player, a snotty ice skating star, a try for the Olympics, and unbeatable chemistry.

More recent attempts at this genre of cutting-down-the-ice-cold girl have raised my feminist hackles. See: Sarah Jessica Parker post Sex and the City or Katherine Heigl and Jennifer Aniston in nearly anything. But if done well, these romantic comedies are about both characters coming to terms with their egos, and no one is more fun to watch wrestling with his own than Clark Gable, who was hunky himself in those pre-Gone with the Wind days.

Sweeney & Gable

Sweeney & Gable

Compare:

The Cutting Edge: D.B. Sweeney finally gains his mojo around Kelly, showing off his hockey skills. Remember? And she slams him in the face with a puck for it.

It Happened One Night: Gable’s destitute reporter tries to gain pride around Claudette Colbert‘s heiress, even showing her how to dunk her donut properly in coffee.

Gable’s dunking lesson in It Happened One Night

Gable’s dunking lesson in It Happened One Night

The most famous scene is when Gable gives her an enthusiastic demonstration of how to hitch a ride, with no results. “Do you mind if I try?” she asks, and lazily walks over, raises her skirt, and flags a car with one lovely leg. Watch Gable’s expression afterward, the mingled shame, annoyance, and desire for Colbert explaining for you why a million women swooned for him. And guess what? That’s not the best scene. Not by a long shot.

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Posted in: 1930s films, 1990-current films, Action & Sports Films, Romantic Comedies (film), TV & Pop Culture Tagged: Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert, D.B. Sweeney, It Happened One Night, Moira Kelly, The Cutting Edge
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