TV & Pop Culture | Cary Grant Won't Eat You

Schoolboy Fantasies: The Mannequin in Film

03/26/2016 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 2 Comments

One Touch of Venus (1948) is a combination of myth and the classic Pygmalion tale: What if a window dresser kissed a statue of the love goddess, and instead of getting institutionalized, became an object of the suddenly warm-bodied immortal’s affection?

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The execution of the film is as silly as the premise; the movie (a musical in its previous version) can’t decide what it wants to be, and a rom-com with a few singing interludes doesn’t quite cut it, nor can its star (Ava Gardner) figure out what form her acting should take (statue-like? goddess-like? human like?) (I suspect this is the film Beckinsale watched before The Aviator.)

But in spite of its unevenness, there’s something strangely fascinating about the film, something very meta in its casting, for example. Just a few years later Gardner would pose for a strikingly similar statue by a different artist in The Barefoot Contessa (1954), as if to confirm just how otherworldly her beauty was.

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Her gorgeousness is contrasted to Eddie’s (Robert Walker’s) awkwardness. His character (unlike the versatile actor himself) has very little charisma, wit, wealth, or personality to recommend him.

She’s attainable, boys, the casting director might as well have called out. Even this geeky window dresser can get her.

What’s odd is how frequently this statue story gets played out in film, and how similar the casting is in each case. The closest versions in terms of character dynamics came out in the 80s, Mannequin (1987) and Weird Science (1985). In each version, the unattainable beauty is not only attracted to an awkward, boyish goof, but pursues him: Venus chases Eddie when he flees, just as the mannequin-come-to-life Emmy (Kim Cattrall) seduces awkward store employee Andrew McCarthy in Mannequin (1987).

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Lisa (supermodel Kelly LeBrock) pouts at the abandonment of her creators, socially awkward Gary (Anthony Michael Hall) and Wyatt (Ilan Mitchell-Smith), in Weird Science (1985).

Beauty & the geek

Sex objects?

It is, in other words, a very transparent stick-it-to-the-cheerleader-who-snubbed-me schoolboy fantasy, and its pervasiveness in film culture is a testament to the power of denial.

What elevates One Touch of Venus beyond unintentional camp is the presence of Eve Arden as the smart-talking secretary of the store owner (Tom Conway) who bought the statue. Her responses to the absurdity of Venus’s (and by extension, Gardner’s) beauty are hilarious: her reaction to the siren’s tiny shoes, to the impact of her presence on the male body, to the inevitable comparisons a gal must draw to her own form after encountering the goddess’s.

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I also enjoyed the occasional winks to the audience, as when Eddie tries to make sense of Venus’s presence, and Gardner coos, “Now don’t ask a lot of questions, you’ll only get confused.” Or when he asks about former lovers Venus has converted to animal or inanimate form, then decides he doesn’t care: “You can turn me into a fire hydrant or a mountain goat if you want to, it’s worth it.” Such moments point to the funny parody this film could have been, with just a touch more consistency of style–and a lot less romance.

Elle King Wrote Mae West’s Theme Song

11/14/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com Leave a Comment

When my husband told me he’d heard Mae West’s theme song on the radio, I asked for an explanation; instead, he played me Elle King’s “Ex’s and Oh’s”:

“Ex’s and the oh, oh, oh’s they haunt me
Like ghosts they want me to make ’em all
They won’t let go
Ex’s and oh’s”*

And of course, I understood. Mae West could have written those very words. In every West film, and in her own descriptions of her life, all the men are after her…

And she’s not exactly clingy with them: “All discarded lovers should be given a second chance, but with somebody else.”

In “Ex’s and Oh’s”, all men want the singer because she’s “the best baby that they never gotta keep.” They “always wanna come, but they never wanna leave.” Sounds like West, huh?: “Men are like linoleum floors. Lay ’em right and you can walk all over them for years.”

Of course, when I heard the song, I instantly pictured Mae West surrounded by a throng of half-naked men. Apparently, King had the same thought when planning her video:

It’s hard to describe just how funny this video is: men wrestling over her, an obsessive climbing over rocks to get to her, two models on a see saw, Elle spraying nearly naked men with a hose, her kicking one out of a car because she’s done with him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a video so blatantly objectifying men–even Madonna’s. My favorite? The underwear-clad headstanders she dances around as she plays guitar:

The singer profiles certain affairs to illustrate her commitment phobia: “I had a summer lover down in New Orleans/Kept him warm in the winter, left him frozen in the spring.” The men longing for her are “climbing over mountains and a-sailing over seas.” Like West, who characterized marriage as a “last resort,” there’s no celebration of eternal love here–just of eternal lust.

King is more than just a performer. She co-wrote the song, just as West wrote her screenplays. The two temptresses even resemble each other: both voluptuous, blue-eyed blondes with lovely, pale skin:

I don’t know that West was one of King’s inspirations, but certainly, the two are united in spirit. I hope King’s enjoying West’s films right now, and that all of you West admirers check out this catchy, clever song, and the hilarious video that goes with it.

This post is part of my monthly West moment series.

*Yes, it bothers me too that a writer would think these apostrophes correct. Try to ignore them.

Female’s Heroine: 1933’s Amy (of Trainwreck), Samantha Jones, or Don Draper?

08/27/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 4 Comments

Given its plot synopsis, I expected Female to be shocking: a promiscuous executive casually sleeps with men until she finds the right guy. But I didn’t expect to gasp at its daring. A few of the heroine’s typical comments:

Falling in love: “To me, a woman in love is a pathetic spectacle. She’s either so miserable that she wants to die, or she’s so happy you want to die.”

Marriage: “No thanks, not me. You know a long time ago I decided to travel the same open road that men travel, so I treat men exactly the way they’ve always treated women.”

Husbands: “Of course, I know for some women, men are a household necessity. Myself, I’d rather have a canary.”

Then there’s a typical night. She…

1. Spots a handsome employee, feigns interest in his ideas, and asks him to come over to her house that night to discuss them.

2. Discourages business talk with flirtation, as when she says, “Are you naturally enthusiastic?” to a new hire, throwing a pillow onto a plush rug with a suggestive look.

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3. Orders vodka from her butler, who informs the rest of the staff of the Catherine the Great custom: serving it to soldiers “to fortify their courage.”

4. Exercises with vigor the next morning, clearly energized by the tryst, and comes up with new ideas for the business.

5. Rejects the romantic overtures of her one-night stand, annoyed by his flowers, then offers him a bonus as a kiss-off. She doesn’t want to deal with the moodiness of emotional men at work. (Women, how many times have films suggested this about us?)

At first, I thought the movie would be like Trainwreck, as Alison (Ruth Chatterton) certainly displays the same level of disinterest in building a romance with her one-night stands and blows off a guy after he calls her “ethereal” and otherwise indicates their lack of sexual heat:

Annoyed by his flowery (nonsexual) language
Amy and Alison have an impressive list of conquests, and not only express disinterest in matrimony and kids for themselves, but for others, as when Alison can’t be bothered to remember her friend’s husband’s name, or how many kids she has–much like Amy’s (Amy Schumer’s) scene at her sister’s shower. Both heroines are funny and mostly likable, as when Alison worries about her chauffeur, who has taken a punch in her honor: “Now listen, Puggy, things people say about me don’t bother me,” she says with a lovely smile. “Thanks just the same.”

But in terms of power–and what they do with it–there’s no comparison. After one-night stands fueled by liquor, Amy, hungover, struggles to get through the day.

Alison, in contrast, looks alert, pretty, and pleased with herself, and does a brilliant job at work afterward. The word “trainwreck” is about as far from Alison Drake as a term can be.

Like her more direct heir, Samantha Jones, Alison practically bristles with authority and confidence, but unlike Samantha, she has a whole auto factory full of employees.

One criticism of Sex & the City was that it never took the work as seriously as the characters’ personal lives, which made it less feminist than it could have been. Here, the heroine has no chance for tight friendships, but finds her work thrilling: “Oh, but I love it: the battling, the excitement; I don’t think I could do without it now.” I soon found myself as interested in the business–such as her decision to go with automatic transmission–as in the flings, not something I expected to experience with a romantic comedy.

Like Samantha, Alison wants to sleeps with her hot employees–only in Alison’s case, she does. (Samantha waits to fires hers first).

In fact, Alison has sex with so many of them that there are a flood of bonuses on the company payroll, like some kind of stud fee. Her leer at a new designer is as hilarious to witness as Samantha’s undressing looks. And as with Samantha, her vulnerabilities are evident–in her case, a fear that men are angling for her money rather than her personality or body (either would be fine).

While it’s easy to admire Alison’s moxie, she’s guilty of sexual harassment throughout the story, as when her secretary shows her too much affection after their affair, and she transfers him to Montreal. Promptly afterward, this lovesick conquest watches the latest one-night stand leave her office and calls, “I’ll see you in Montreal.” When Alison falls for Jim (George Brent), mainly because he’s hard to get, his anger at her regular nightly ploy earns our admiration; he won’t sleep with her to keep his job, he retorts.

While she initially decides to fire Jim’s secretary, assuming the two are involved, and then plans to overload her with work, she quickly reconsiders, deciding not to be petty. While she’s still in murky moral territory due to her liaisons with subordinates, she doesn’t reach full anti-villain status, since she won’t fire someone for turning her down or stealing her guy. Still, it’s hard to forget that shady transfer…and how much she reminds us of Don Draper with his secretaries on Mad Men.

I stopped the film multiple times as the end neared, fearful about whatever sexist cliché it was headed for. This character was simply too complex, and Chatterton too wonderful in the role, for me to watch some reductive conclusion.

I was right to be scared (though I feared it would be worse). Oddly, Jim, till then annoying in spite of his rebellion, demonstrated unexpected feminist leanings near the close. Too bad the screenwriters and director chickened out and tacked on totally unbelievable concluding lines.

Despite its shock value and fascinating lead, the film hasn’t reached the popularity or accessibility today it deserves. I could only locate it in DVD form on Netflix, and went for the free month trial of streaming with Warner Archive instead. Go to the effort; it’s worth it.

Top 10 Characters in Teaching Films & Shows

08/20/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 2 Comments

As the school year begins, I’ll be returning again to my favorite educational films–some inspiring, some hilarious. Here are the characters and performances I consider award worthy.

THE TEACHERS: 5 BEST CHARACTERS

5. Mr. Shoop in Summer School (1987)

Gym teacher Mr. Shoop (Mark Harmon) plans to vacation in Hawaii with his girlfriend for the summer, but when the English teacher wins the lottery and immediately quits, Shoop’s forced to teach remedial English. He is the most likable of the teachers I’ve chosen, easygoing and even tempered, good natured even when tried. Ultimately, his slacker ways convert into effort in the classroom, and because he relates to and has no illusions about his students’ disinterest, he’s able to reach them. Most importantly, he has rational expectations of them, and celebrates progress rather than any specific target, as any good teacher should (and would be able to, would the system allow it). Plus, the film is hilarious, and Harmon is so attractive in it.

4. Elizabeth Halsey in Bad Teacher (2011)

Cameron Diaz doesn’t always reach her comic potential, but when she does, as with Elizabeth Halsey (Cameron Diaz) in Bad Teacher, she’s something to watch. The montage of her avoidance of crying students and celebrating teachers makes me laugh every time, as does her unabashedly sexy school car wash and cruel honesty in speaking with her class and grading their work. She is a terrible teacher, but her narcissism and bluntness make her a very, very funny one.

3. Teachers in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986) & Peanuts

If pressed, I’d prefer Peanuts‘ gibberish teacher to Ben Stein’s gloriously boring one, but the two are closely tied. Obviously, both types are accurate portrayals of how instructors come across to students. I love how Stein has given upon class participation, simply saying, “anyone, anyone?” then answering himself. But Peanuts’ teacher may get the edge because I have this same reaction ANY time I encounter something I don’t understand. My car is being fixed, I’m listening to explanations of the U.S. debt, and I hear that waa-waa-waa of Peanuts’ comically confusing instructor.

2. Prez in The Wire (2006)

Season 4 of The Wire features the Baltimore school system, with former cop Roland Pryzbylewski, known as Prez (Jim True-Frost), teaching the students from neighborhoods he formerly policed. As a result, he knows what his students are up against, though he isn’t prepared for the challenge of teaching them. I’ve never seen a more accurate depiction of teaching in a difficult district. Prez’s use of gambling odds as an example to finally reach some of his students in the episode “Unto Others” is remarkably telling about their priorities–and squandered potential. We can only wish that those who had more influence in the system were as wise and compassionate as Prez.

1. Sir in To Sir, with Love (1967)

Sir’s (Sidney Poitier) school district in England is characterized as very challenging, even if it looks less so to us in 2015. We see him constantly thwarted, and frequently angry. His race becomes one more thing students have against him. His decision to throw out the lesson plan and begin anew is what any good teacher would do if it were allowed–the problem, of course, is that you only want good teachers doing so.

What I love about Sir is that he’s a reluctant instructor, only there because he can’t get a job in his field, and slowly, these rebellious kids win him over. He is a very flawed character, even socially awkward, and thus very real. Poitier deserved an Oscar for the performance. The theme song makes me tear up every time. And the film has such a lovely, perfect, subtle ending. The movie is inspiring without ever losing track of reality (as most teacher-centric films do).

THE STUDENTS: TOP 5 PORTRAYALS

5. Spicoli in Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982)

Spicoli (Sean Penn), the ultimate surfer dude. I don’t think this character requires any explanation (most would expect to see him as #1). While there is a shadow of this stoner in Amy Heckerling’s Clueless (1995), it’s in her earlier film, Fast Times, that she captured an iconic form of the type, mainly due to Cameron Crowe’s script. Spicoli’s (Sean Penn’s) battles with his teacher, Mr. Hand (who deserves an honorable mention in the list above), are perfect.

Bagel tucked in jeans, shirtless, Spicoli makes us laugh before he says a word. Penn gives him an awkward gait; a spacey expression; long, wordless pauses; and an inability to detect sarcasm. As a result, he is as lovable as he is annoying. Penn turned the surfer dude into comedy gold, and actors have been imitating him ever since.

4. The Frustrated/Bored of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off & Peanuts

There’s really no need to pinpoint an individual in the mass of disinterested students who are ignoring Ben Stein’s flat delivery of “Bueller?” as he calls the roll. The Peanuts characters’ confusion at their instructors’ seeming gibberish are similarly funny, though Charlie Brown’s panic is particularly funny. What’s unavoidably true is just how typical both the boredom and confusion are in any classroom, though hopefully with occasional relief! Beautifully rendered in both cases through the facial expressions of the students as the teacher drones on.

3. The Intellectuals of Better Off Dead (1985)

Most films portray the majority of students as inattentive and uninterested. This film subverts our expectations, with a class enthralled by comically difficult subject matter. They’re so enthusiastic that they groan when they have to leave the classroom, comforted only when their math teacher reassures them: “I’ll see you all tomorrow. Just remember to memorize pages 39 to 110 for tomorrow’s lesson.” It’s so obviously a teacher’s dream of what students would be like after watching too many inspiring education films that it always cracks me up. Lane (John Cusack), in contrast with his peers’ binders of work, takes out one sheet of paper with “Do homework” stuck together with gum. In this case, the slacker is the unpopular one. It’s a mistake not to watch the whole film, but at least catch this scene.

2. The Kids of The Wire, Season 4
I find it hard to write about the students in this season, as they’re far too real: Dukie (Jermaine Crawford), Randy (Maestro Harrell), Namond (Julito McCullum) and Michael (Tristan Wilds) struggle with the lure of selling drugs on the corner in Baltimore, with authority figures often encouraging or passively accepting their abandonment of education.

Watching Michael’s confrontation with a drug dealer.

It’s the most vivid and compelling portrayal I’ve ever seen of the weight so many students bear with them when they enter the classroom. The Wire, unlike 90 percent of cinematic portrayals of teaching, sees that the wider culture and systemic problems of the educational system are far greater forces than one teacher with a great idea (which Prez does have) can combat. Haunting.

1. Chainsaw & Dave of Summer School

All the students in Mr. Shoop’s (Harmon’s) class are distinctive. Their plan–to exchange bribes for trying in school–is diabolical and hilarious in itself. And with characters like these–the awful driver Mr. Shoop has to train, the kid who spent the summer in the bathroom, etc.–who can stop laughing? The most memorable students are obviously Dave (Gary Riley) and Chainsaw (Dean Cameron), the wannabee special-effects guys. Who comes up with such unique characters for a silly film like this one? The tension breaker of and “I don’t know anything” dream of Chainsaw’s before the big test are my favorite depictions of academic stress in any film, book, or story. (I should, though, give an honorable mention to John Travolta’s Barbarino in Welcome Back, Kotter.) Inspired by Chainsaw, I used to suggest to friends a university-wide tension breaker when I was an undergrad.

As the school year begins, I’ll be returning to these favorites to combat moments of frustration and refresh my love for teaching. I hope some of you will do the same.

A Legacy of Self-Amusement: Drew & John Barrymore

08/13/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 19 Comments

Charlie’s Angels (2000) is the epitome of how seriously Drew Barrymore takes herself: the hair flips, the silly punk rock past of her character, action sequences so absurdly, self-consciously over-the-top that they make you smile.

Playfulness seems to be Barrymore ‘s signature, what distinguishes her from her lesser rom-com peers. So it wasn’t surprising that this was a film she chose to produce, an ode to a dumb TV show celebrating sexism/female empowerment/both (depending on your point of view).

The show (1976-81)– for those younger folks out there–featured a wealthy but reserved guy (Charlie), who hired three beautiful detectives (the angels) for his agency. All we ever got of Charlie was his voice, as he never appeared in person and let all arrangements be managed by his assistant, Bosley. The term ‘angel,’ use of possessive, Charlie’s condescending voice, the quick rotations of actresses for the roles (suggesting they were interchangeable)—any of the four could make a feminist cringe. But the women were tough and smart, using their looks to blindside unwary men, much as Columbo used his folksiness.

The film is both a parody and tribute, using the TV show’s theme music, graphics, and basic concept, but mocking the silliness of it too. Cameron Diaz plays the supposed airhead (Natalie) to perfection. Lucy Liu takes on the kind of tough role she always plays, even imitating a dominatrix/efficiency expert in one ploy as detective Alex. As Dylan, Barrymore mocks the over-the-top femininity of her predecessors by embracing a badass, punk rock aesthetic. The strange connection the women have to Charlie is brought to the forefront when their client (Sam Rockwell) suggests that Dylan has daddy issues.

Thinking they get to meet Charlie in person...

Hopeful to meet Charlie in person…

Whatever part she’s in, Barrymore always seems to be playing herself, and part of what keeps us watching her is just how likeable she is, this woman who went through a painful past of abandonment and substance abuse as a kid, and emerged as a woman with empathy for those who contributed to the conditions that put her there. She is both the most tender of the three actresses onscreen—Barrymore always captures vulnerability effectively—and the most sarcastic. Perhaps hers is an earned playfulness, but Barrymore wears it lightly. (How else could you repeatedly perform with Adam Sandler, and more bafflingly, not only star with, but marry Tom Green? Tom Green!) While her acting never wows me, she does.

In Drew’s performances, I don’t see much of her forebears, that famous acting dynasty whose members mesmerize audiences still today. Only in her youthful roles did I ever see traces of the Barrymore family’s skill with drama. I would argue that Irreconcilable Differences (1984); an underrated film about a girl who wants to separate from her narcissistic, divorced parents (in an eerie foreshadowing of Barrymore’s own decision years later); was her strongest dramatic role. Perhaps it just was a part she knew really, really well.

But usually, the actress just prefers, and does better, at comedies. Certainly, Drew lacks the intimidation or gravitas of her great-uncle Lionel…

the nuance of her great-aunt Ethel…

or the presence of her grandfather John…

Of course, her troubled past brings to mind her grandfather’s. But it’s in her self-deprecating goofiness that I see the clearest link to the Barrymore dynasty. While it’s certainly not present in all of the Barrymores’ roles, I see it in John’s charming turn in Grand Hotel, and, of course, in his hilarious supporting character in the glorious Midnight (1939). There’s such a lightheartedness to his approach to the role of Georges Flammarion, and though he was already at the cue card stage of his decline, his humor, at least, had not reached the self-parody stage.

John Barrymore in Midnight

Such lightheartedness is key to Dylan’s (Drew Barrymore’s) character, even when she’s in the direst straights. In the best action sequence in Charlie’s Angels, Dylan has been tied up by her sleazy client, Eric Knox (Sam Rockwell), who has betrayed her after sleeping with her, and tried to kill her already. Knox departs to perform his nefarious schemes, leaving her to his five henchmen. After managing to get her lighter back, she spells out what she will do to escape, buying time but also revealing her confidence.

As she sits in her chair, she calmly explains, smiling at her adversaries all the while, “By the time this is over, every one of you is gonna be face down on the floor, and I’m gonna moonwalk out of here.”

As they rush toward her, she interrupts, looking at each man in turn, “You’re not listening to me. See first, you’re gonna help me out of my chair, and then I’m gonna leapfrog over you, before I break his nose…I’m gonna do all of this with my hands tied behind my back.”

She does exactly what she says:

And her moonwalk is a joy:

You can see the full clip here.

Any actress could have had fun with such a sequence, but there’s so much self-amusement in Drew Barrymore’s portrayal that I kept thinking of her grandfather in Midnight. Sure, he had much more range and talent than she does, but in self-amusement, the two are matched.

This post is part of the Barrymore Trilogy blogathon, hosted by Crystal of In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood. See the fantastic entries here!

The Man Who Knew Too Little: an Underrated Bill Murray Gem

05/28/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 2 Comments

The Man Who Knew Too Little (1997) received a 41% on Rotten Tomatoes. It was panned by critics as only moderately funny. Experts claimed it was undeserving of the talents of Bill Murray, relied on broad stereotypes, and centered around only one gag.

Most of these critiques are true. But the film is also hilarious.

To describe the movie as a parody of The Man Who Knew Too Much (the 1934 or ’56 version) would be a stretch. Call it instead a Hitchcockian parody, and you’ll have it. Hitchcock asked us all what becomes of a civilian when mistaken for a spy (North by Northwest), or thrown into a conspiracy once in contact with one (The Man Who Knew Too Much/The 39 Steps)? Director Jon Amiel and writer Robert Farrar extend the question: “and he is totally oblivious to what’s going on?”

A suspected spy arrives in London

Here’s the tissue-thin plot: Blockbuster employee Wallace Ritchie (Murray) shows up for a surprise visit to London. His brother (Peter Gallagher) sends him to a participant theater act called the Theatre of Life until after his business dinner. Ritchie answers the pay phone call that’s supposed to begin the show. But the call that comes in (a few minutes early) isn’t from the theater, but from the employers of Spencer, a hit man tasked with killing the defense minister’s mistress, Lori (Joanne Whalley). She knows too much about a conspiracy plot to reignite the Cold War and is blackmailing the minister with incriminating letters. Thus begins Ritchie’s confusion: he thinks he’s acting; the bad guys–and Lori–suspect he’s a spy undermining their plans.

Because there is essentially no storyline, Murray is let loose to be the playful, odd guy he seems to be in real life, at least according to encounters with strangers in clubs and in cabs. In fact, I’d argue that in some ways this film is more typical of Murray’s personality than any other: the man knows how to improv his way through life.

As Ritchie, Murray has a blast ripping on a number of tough guy acts–most notably, Clint Eastwood’s. Of course, he mimics “Here’s Johnny” from The Shining. He pauses before saving Lori to put on his sunglasses. He asks for retakes, explains his life of espionage to cops, applauds a corpse for the realism of his acting.

Impressed with a dead killer’s supposed acting

In a favorite moment, Ritchie creeps out some muggers by sobbing, “I got a couple of kids,” and then, embarrassed by his poor performance, abruptly trying another approach: “You know it’s getting so that decent people can’t even go out on the street anymore without scum like you trying to step on whatever’s decent in this world. Well you know something? Your type are just gonna be the kind of crap that sticks to the bottom of a good man’s loafer.”

Murray faux-beseeching

Imagine Murray’s fake crying (pictured above) and his enunciation of “a good man’s loafer,” and you’ll have a hint of just how hysterical this film can be.

The extent to which Ritchie remains deluded stretches belief, of course: he never catches on. But who is looking for realism in an unapologetically silly comedy? And, if we’re being honest, how plausible are Hitchcock spy stories and their ilk (Foul Play, Gotcha!, Frantic, The Tuxedo, etc.)? I think we can agree that all of us would live approximately 5 seconds if mistaken for a spy or harboring the secrets of one, a likelihood this parody clearly asks us to consider.

And truthfully, the film could be about anything. What matters is this: Murray is in almost every scene, and an hour and a half of Murray goofing off is about the best mood elevator I can imagine. I watch this ludicrous flick when I’m blue, scared, angry–and I never stop enjoying it. The critics gave it a 41 percent on Rotten Tomatoes; the audience gave it a 70. As usual, the critics are missing out on the fun to be had here; don’t make the same mistake.

A Beauty After All: Katharine Hepburn

05/10/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 17 Comments

This is an entry in the Great Katharine Hepburn blogathon. Check out the marvelous posts on her work.

“I’d rather look like Katharine Hepburn at 80,” Aunt Betty said, looking at the screen, “than myself at 30.” I looked at the old lady on the TV, then back at my aunt, confused. Maybe Betty was ripping on her own looks, as she often did. She couldn’t possibly be serious. As a fourteen-year-old who longed to resemble Helen Slater or Jamie Gertz, I found wanting to look thirty incomprehensible. Eighty?

My teenage definition of beauty

My aunt smiled at my bafflement. “Just look at that bone structure,” she explained, pointing at Hepburn. “She’s beautiful.”

Bone structure? That wasn’t on my list of attractive characteristics. I examined Hepburn’s face closely to discover what my aunt saw in it, but those wrinkles distracted me. I felt uneasy, as I always did when adults said something I couldn’t understand. I changed the subject.

I didn’t forget it though. Every time I saw Hepburn, the comment returned. She had always looked old to me. Having seen her first in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? I could never view her earlier films without seeing the imprint of her older self. Besides, Hepburn was angular, not soft and feminine, like Helen Slater or my earlier womanly ideal, Lynda Carter.

I wasn’t alone, of course, in devaluing Hepburn’s looks. Her employer David O. Selznick had been famous for it. Others, of course, appreciated that bone structure, hence that line about her cheekbones: “The greatest calcium deposits since the White Cliffs of Dover.”

I think I was past thirty myself before I started to understand Betty’s words. Of course, my definition of beauty had expanded by then, but my changing assessment of the actress’s looks was always more complicated than answering pretty or not? First, I noticed Hepburn’s breathless confidence of movement.

Then there were the clothes that suited her, rather than following any passing fashions. And the parts she chose, roles that could inspire women like me, and like my aunt: athletes, business leaders, pioneers, advocates for women.

She always imbued these characters with vulnerability as well as strength, helping viewers see powerful females as fully rounded human beings.

Hepburn’s real-life actions demonstrated the same moxie she expressed in film: fighting back after the box office poison label, establishing her own terms with The Philadelphia Story, and then using her new power to ensure good salaries for her Woman of the Year screenwriters.

In her private life, Hepburn managed to say what she wanted, avoid whom she wished, have a long-time affair with a married man without compromising her career. With her spirit, it’s not surprising that she continued to star as a romantic lead even in her forties.

Now I see in that erect posture of hers in her final years, those fierce expressions, her pride in a life well lived.

How many of us can follow our own standards consistently, passionately, for as many years as she did? No wonder my aunt found Katharine Hepburn so breathtaking at 80. I look at her later performances now, and see the same. Imprinted on Katharine’s Hepburn’s face, her carriage, and even her voice is the caliber of life she lived.

Look at her. Isn’t she beautiful?

The Hottest Woman around in Her 40s: Mae West’s Age-Defying Career

05/06/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com Leave a Comment

Amy Schumer’s hilarious skit about discrimination against middle-aged women in Hollywood has me wondering about Mae West. It’s true that modern films imply that women aren’t attractive enough past their 40s to be worthy of sex onscreen. But Mae West starred in Sextette in 1978; the film cast her as the object of all men’s desires in her eighties. While the movie was a box office failure, the simple fact is that no such film would be made today.

West’s role was hardly surprising, given that she was in her late 30s when her film career as a seductress began. She was, in addition, penning all of her own lines, and usually the whole screenplay. While many (Schumer among them) question why women haven’t made more progress in entertainment, few express the more disturbing possibility: Have we backtracked?

Mae West was a pioneer, it’s true. But pioneers are usually followed by those who accomplish more. The frontrunner’s courageous example and more hospitable times and environments usually lead to at least some progress. Maybe we all should be examining West, to figure out what this extraordinary writer/actress got right, what she still has to teach us. And why not? Who doesn’t want a regular dose of West?

Since her host of brilliant one liners overpowers me, I’ll highlight just one each month to savor it properly, starting with this bit from My Little Chickadee, co-written by West and W.C. Fields (the following scene is obviously of her creation).

The town’s school teacher has fainted after dealing with a class of “unruly” boys. Newcomer Flower Belle (West) has taken over the class for the day, and is attracting all of the hormonal adolescents (in her late 40s, I might add). She checks out the teacher’s lessons on the chalkboard. “I am a good boy,” she reads slowly. “I am a good man. I am a good girl.” She turns to the students: “What is this?” she asks. “Propaganda?”

The Nicholas Cage Syndrome: Is Taste More Crucial than Talent?

04/24/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 6 Comments

I was outraged by the choice of Keira Knightley to play Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice. “That woman,” I complained to my sister Rachel, “is known for her toned midriff, not her acting talent.” Although Knightley did a passable job in a decent film adaptation, I considered her subsequent Oscar nod an affront.

Rachel agreed with my assessment of the actress’s mediocrity, even if I couldn’t follow through with my plan to avoid her films. The problem was, Knightley kept selecting intriguing feminist roles, not the cheesy romantic leads her looks surely could have garnered her. The groundbreaking historical women she brought to life on the screen in The Duchess and A Dangerous Method led me to hours of fascinating research.

And then this year, an Oscar nod again, this time for an interesting biopic, The Imitation Game. When I grumbled about her second nomination, my sister disagreed. “I’ve changed my mind about her. Watch Begin Again. Two great films in one year. She has such good taste.”

And there it was, the trait so often ignored when we talk about acting: taste. Sometimes; as with Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Cary Grant; we get both: good films and incredible talent. But so often, we can’t select a movie based on the cast and assume we’ll enjoy it. Why? Because so many skilled performers have Nicholas Cage judgment.

Cage Syndrome: Good actor who stars only in trash

The Cage Syndrome: A good actor who repeatedly stars in trash.

Recall Halle Berry, still gilded from her Oscar win, choosing a bad Bond flick and Catwoman to cement her legacy. Or the previously reliable Morgan Freeman. His films since The Shawshank Redemption make me feel like a comet has crashed into my brain.

Is it possible that taste is more important than talent? I’m not saying that judgment trumps skill if the acting is bad enough to spoil the film. (I’m looking at you, Andie MacDowell.) But if the actor or actress is decent, might good taste matter more?

Let’s take another example: an actress even less versatile and skilled than Keira Knightley (who is admittedly rising in my estimation). Katie Holmes is better known for being the ex of Tom Cruise than for her acting. Her performances are largely forgettable, but her films are not. Even during her Dawson’s Creek years, Holmes displayed remarkable discrimination in her choices. The following are my favorites of her credits (the first and fifth I rewatch often):

Thank You for Smoking
Batman Begins
Pieces of April
The Gift
Wonder Boys
Go

By rarely starring and choosing movies that feature fine performers, Holmes has ensured I don’t need to rely on her skill to enjoy her films. Her mere presence in Woman in Gold is making me reconsider it despite lukewarm reviews. I trust her taste to impress as much as I trust Cage’s to disappoint. (I vowed during Snake Eyes never to watch his films again. Alas, I caved, remembering Raising Arizona, and even let my husband bring home Drive Angry, which did, in fact, make me angry.)

Of course, it’s hard to place the same kind of trust in the taste of classic film performers. Since studios held such tight reign over their stars, performers’ ability to select was limited. But now and then, you can, as in the interesting case of Norma Shearer.

She (conveniently) married the production head of MGM, therefore ensuring her pick of roles (to the envy of Joan Crawford, who must have enjoyed taking her husband away in The Women).

I’m not a big fan of Shearer’s acting, which I usually find too theatrical. That said, I always enjoy her films, even staid period dramas such as Marie Antoinette and antifeminist flicks such as The Women. But it’s her fight to play liberated women in the pre-Code era that makes me trust her judgment. A woman who would go to a photographer for sexy shots just so she’d be considered for parts like that of Jerry in The Divorcee? That’s an actress I can trust. And in pre-Code films, she relaxes the affectations and easy tears that occasionally mar her pictures. Shearer is never on my list of favorite film actresses, but just writing these words has made me long to see The Divorcee again.

Are there stars whose films you go to see in spite of the mediocrity of their acting? Which talented stars’ movies do you avoid due to the Cage syndrome? And what is up with Sandra Bullock’s love for Razzie-caliber roles?

The Epitome Of Teen Queen Cruelty: The Heathers Of Heathers (1989)*

04/16/2015 by leah@carygrantwonteatyou.com 23 Comments

This post is part of the second annual Great Villain Blogathon, sponsored by Ruth of Silver Screenings, Karen of Shadows & Satin and Kristina of Speakeasy. Click here to read about other fascinating villains!

The Three Heathers: McNamara, Chandler (queen), and Duke

Before there were Mean Girls, there were Heathers, the heroines of the late-80s teen flick. If you haven’t seen it since high school, watch it again immediately on Netflix. It’s so much funnier than you remember, one of the sharpest satires about group behavior you will ever see. Mean Girls (2004), entertaining though it may be, is just a pale copy of it.

There are multiple villains in this black comedy, but the wicked trio are my favorites, a group of snotty popular girls, all named Heather. One outsider, Veronica (Winona Ryder), is allowed to share their company. She narrates their cruelty (and her own) in angsty teen fashion until J.D., a new crush (Christian Slater), urges her into revenge.

Cliché as this group might be, the Heathers are so extreme in their behavior that they’re mesmerizing, with their lead, Heather Chandler (Kim Walker), the most interesting of the bunch.

To capture her fascination, I’m categorizing the queen Heather’s words, preferences, and actions below.

(Note: Some of the best lines are so profanity laced that I decided not to include them; the line ending in Mother Theresa is a favorite.)

Power Accessory
Heather’s red scrunchie is clearly one of the symbols of her dominance. It’s the first thing we see in the film.

Her School Armor
These shoulder pads speak for themselves:

Lunch-Time Polls & Other Bits of Wisdom

Heather creates a regular poll** for her fellow popular kids. One of Veronica’s pathetic minor rebellions is to insist they seek answers from those Heather considers “the scum of the school” as well, those who in the queen’s estimation won’t help them brush up on their “conversational skills” before a college party.

Representative Poll: “Now check this out. You win five million dollars from Publisher’s Sweepstakes, and the same day that that big Ed guy gives you the check, aliens land on the earth and say they’re going to blow up the world in two days. What do you do?”

I just love the level of importance attached to this idiocy in the movie.

Signature Aphorism: “Real life sucks losers dry.”

Idea of Fun—and Urgency
The two Heather minions (Duke and McNamara) tell Veronica she’s needed right away in the café. When she arrives, their queen huffs, “Veronica, finally…I need you to forge a hot and horny, but realistically low-key note in Kurt’s handwriting and slip it onto Martha Dumptruck’s (Carrie Lynn’s) lunch tray.”

When Veronica protests that she doesn’t have anything against the poor target, Heather responds, “You don’t have anything for her either,” then suggests (with typical color) that this will give the girl fantasy material for when she’s alone. The Heathers’ excitement in anticipating the results of this cruel plot is evident:

Sense of Furniture
“Veronica needs something to write on. Heather (Duke), bend over.”

Favorite Game
There’s really nothing like croquet for sociopaths; Heather Chandler has a loving ritual with her ball.

Just after it, she hits Veronica’s head with it in a dream sequence.

Her real-life game isn’t much more cordial. When her red ball knocks into Heather Duke’s green one, the latter asks, “So what are you going to do, Heather? Take the two shots or send me out?”

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?” the queen snaps. “First, you ask if you can be red, knowing that I’m always red.” She then proceeds to knock the ball out of play.

After Heather Duke miraculously manages to rebound, Heather Chandler gets a chance to ruin her chances again, and does.

“Why?” says Heather Duke.

“Why not?” her frenemy responds.

Self-Reflection
“Does it bother you,” Veronica asks Heather #1, “that everyone thinks you’re a piranha?”

The queen scoffs in response that of course she doesn’t, desired as she is. “I’m worshipped at Westerburg,” she explains, “and I’m only a junior.”

“You wanted to be a member of the most powerful clique in school,” Heather reminds Veronica when the latter protests bullying. “If I wasn’t already the head of it, I’d want the same thing. Come on, Veronica. You used to have a sense of humor.”

Insults & Threats

Her entire demeanor belittles those around her, but Heather Chandler really has some classic lines. Here are a few examples of this sweetheart’s empathy at work:

“Grow up, Heather (Duke),” she says as her friend is puking. “Bulimia is so ’87.”

“You blow it tonight, girl,” Heather warns Veronica before their party at Remington University, “and it’s keggers with kids all next year.”

“What’s your damage?” (when Veronica refuses to sleep with an annoying college guy)

“You were nothing before you met me,” Heather snaps after Veronica embarrasses her by not putting out and getting sick at the university party. “You were playing Barbies with Betty Finn. You were a Bluebird. You were a Brownie. You were a Girl Scout cookie. I got you into a Remington party. What’s my thanks? It’s on the hallway carpet. I got paid in puke…Transfer to Washington. Transfer to Jefferson. No one at Westerburg’s going to let you play their reindeer games.”

“Is this turnout weak or what?” (response to a friend’s funeral in a dream appearance)

Other Heathers’ Honorable Mentions

**Spoilers ahead***

The minions have their moments as well. Here’s Heather McNamara (Lisanne Falk), fixing her hair with holy water after her friend’s funeral:

And Heather Duke (Shannen Doherty), celebrating Heather Chandler’s death:

If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll remember that Veronica accidentally kills the queen, which leads to the latter becoming a martyr in the school, more popular than ever. Afterward, J.D. exploits the school’s fever for suicide, killing two football players and passing the deaths off as self-inflicted with Veronica’s unwilling assistance. And that’s just the beginning.

Much of the humor of the story comes from others’ reactions to the bloodshed, including Heather Duke’s. She dons her predecessor’s queenly mantle, even wearing her power scrunchie. Here’s her response after hearing her clique’s bullying victim attempted to kill herself: “I mean, Heather and Kurt were a shock, but Martha Dumptruck? Get crucial. She dialed suicide hotlines in her diapers.”

Why, Veronica asks, must Heather Duke be such a jerk?

The replacement queen smirks, “Because I can be.”

The film suggests with the interchangeability of the Heathers that the death of a clique queen just leads to another who may be worse. As Veronica says of her friend’s newly acquired status, “I’ve cut off Heather Chandler’s head, and Heather Duke’s head is sprouting back in its place….”

In terms of filmmaking, this movie spawned creatures such as Mean Girls’ Regina George, queen of the Plastics. We might no longer call the teens in them “Swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads,” but clique comedies are alive and well in the Heathers’ wake, which will probably be true as long as high schools continue breeding ugly class structures. As J.D. says about geography, but could just as easily apply to time, “Seven schools in seven states, and the only thing different is my locker combination.”

*1988 international release
**Mean Girls gave a nod to the film with a poll of its own. Did you catch it?