I grew up resenting a lot of the rom-com fare on television and film. Always, it felt, the woman had to change to find love. Sandy in Grease was just the start: Learn to strut. Show that cleavage. Pull your hair out of the bun! Relax! Be feminine! Learn to bake or something.
Maybe that’s why I love Mae West so much: In her films, she’s the only one who never has to change. Anyone who doesn’t get her? They better start, if they want Mae’s company. (And they ALWAYS want Mae’s company.)
Mae’s unrepentant, very human, hilarious heroines are perfect, just as they are. Cleo from Goin’ to Town (1935) is just one example.
Cleo decides she wants a particular upper-crust guy. After her (literal) lassoing of him doesn’t win him, she decides to change herself over into a classy lady. Which pretty much means she convinces everyone she already is one.
**Some spoilers**
Oh sure, Cleo picks up some new hobbies: horse betting, husband collecting, and opera performances. But Cleo is Cleo. When she plots her rise, we all know she’s going to get there.
Favorite Moments
The fashionable ladies visit her after her fashionable marriage. Trying to insult her, they press her about her lineage:
Socialite: “Speaking of relatives, Mrs. Colton, have your ancestors ever been traced?”
Cleo: “Well, yes, but they were too smart, they couldn’t catch ’em.”
She says this, mind you, while intent on cracking nuts.
And, of course, who can forget the scene when Cleo plays Delilah? (Her description of Delilah is “one lady barber who made good.”)
While she sings in a high register (therefore, I assume, proving she has the pedigree to pull off opera), she does her va-voom hip shimmies between notes, proving that she’ll always be a dance hall girl.
And in a Mae West movie? There’s nothing better to be.
I’ve written before about how Mae can always pull me out of a bad mood. That’s why I chose to re-watch one of her films for the Classic Movie Blog Association’s fall blogathon, Laughter Is the Best Medicine. Don’t miss the other entries from my talented peers!
Have you ever wondered why Winona Ryder’s character in Reality Bites has friends? Or why Julia Delpy doesn’t have legions of men following her off the train in Before Sunrise? Or why every person in customer service doesn’t watch Clerks? So have we. Join my friends’ and me for our second series on our podcast, Nobody Knows Anything.
I read Of Human Bondage as a preteen/teen and was moved by the story of a would-be artist who eventually discovered that a simpler life of helping others was his route to happiness. As a wannabe artist myself, Philip’s journey was meaningful, even enlightening. His time practicing medicine for a poor community won the respect of his patients and his gruff superior—even crushed the snootiness that had marred the rest of his life. While Philip’s extreme sensitivity (related to his club foot) was what drew me as an angsty young girl, it wasn’t his only trait. He was funny, self-aware, compassionate—a fully rounded character.
What Hollywood would do to William Somerset Maugham’s reflective character I had a right to fear, especially since the 1934 version was known as Bette Davis’s breakout role. She played the extremely unlikable Mildred, a mean-spirited waitress who detours Philip on his journey. Mildred traps him in his lust for her, but never pretends to like or be faithful to him. She sucks away his time, energy, and money, and he’s too weak to resist.
She is, in short, one of Maugham’s complex female characters: fascinating, headstrong, real—the kind of role actresses are craving now, almost a hundred years later. And with an ambitious young Davis at the helm, sick of her milksop roles and ready for something meaty, what chance did Leslie Howard have for any attention (his starring role notwithstanding)?
No one can stand up to Davis in full chewing-the-scenery mode.
She doesn’t nail the accent, but Davis does fully personify this selfish woman, particularly her flirtatious nature and prickly pride. She shows how Mildred’s self-interest–her primary trait–can’t stand up to her destructive passions. Except for her trademark burning magnetism, Davis is nearly unrecognizable in the role: she BECOMES Mildred.
She famously only got a write-in nomination that year, but won the Oscar the next, most say in compensation for the MIldred loss. Bette’s (Cockney?) accent is regrettable, but everything else about her characterization is perfect.
I’m not sure if writer Lester Cohen decided the movie would be the Philip-Mildred show, given that part of the book’s high drama, or if director John Cromwell saw what he had in Davis and switched it accordingly. But poor Philip’s spiritual journey is reduced to a few scenes, with conversations with Mildred and his later love Sally (Frances Dee) meant to explain his transformation.
Basically, fans of the book can enjoy the fine sensitivity of Philip on screen, which Howard carries off. But Philip’s growing devotion to his career is off the screen. Somerset Maugham was a genius at empathy, and his semi-autobiographical masterpiece shows how Philip’s extreme sensitivity, such a burden as a child, led to his success and happiness as a humble doctor (just as Maugham’s sensitivity to his stutter may have made him a great writer). That theme is totally lost in the don’t-date-women-like-Mildred messaging of the film.
So as far as capturing the book, this film fails. But the movie does nail William Somerset Maugham’s trend of giving female characters their due. I’ve written before about how frequently actresses in his stories are nominated for (and often win) Oscars once his films are screened—including Annette Bening, who should have won for Being Julia.
Look at Davis: wins her Oscar for Dangerous because of her performance as Mildred, then gets nominated for The Letter, another of Maugham’s most famous stories, just six years later.
If that isn’t an advertisement for the continual reading of William Somerset Maugham’s body of work, I don’t know what is. And that–in my eyes–is what makes for a successful film adaptation.
Join my friends and me as we talk about conspiracy films in this conspiracy-laden moment in history! It’s such fun talking film with my witty partners, Michael Keenan Gutierrez and Brian Wilkins. And I think you’ll enjoy our strange journey–from an early Hitchcock to the present moment. The 39 Steps and Dr. Strangelove start us off. Check out our podcast, Nobody Knows Anything, or go directly to Spotify or Apple Podcasts to find us. We’ll be posting more in the coming days on our Twitter and Instagram accounts. We begin by thinking about the important things, like how attractive you have to be in order to seduce an international spy with haddock. (Answer: Robert-Donat-with-a-mustache attractive.) For excerpts from our conversation, click below!
Here’s a clip of our 39 Steps talk!And here’s a clip of our Dr. Strangelove chat.
So the devious, sexy spy of North by Northwest, Eve Kendall (Eva Marie Saint), is trying to elude dupe Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant). She gets a secret call from her evil lover, Phillip Vandamm (James Mason), while she and Roger are together and writes down an address for their rendezvous.
She carefully tears off the paper with the address, places it in her purse, and then—ready for this?—walks away without the notepad.
There’s that notepad, just a pencil trick away from exposing that address. Will she remember to bring it with her? Roger is watching!
Alas. She walks away.
Will she remember before she sneaks away? Of course, right? It was just a momentary oversight, her wits clouded by the sexiness of her target, Roger.
We see her pick up several other things.
(Oh, that sly Hitchcock.)
Then she leaves the room, SANS NOTEPAD.
Roger, having watched five minutes of television/film in his life, of course knows the pencil trick. He holds the paper this way and that….(Why? What does he think he’ll see?)
He takes out his pencil. He does the trick pant-less (in a kind gesture of Hitchcock’s, who knows his female fans).
There the address is. The super-secret address Eve was so anxious to hide.
How long have you known this trick? Were you six? Maybe seven? I’m pretty sure Encyclopedia Brown taught me. It’s the kind of spy craft a child can understand and appears in every detective/noir/suspense film or TV episode that assumes its audience is young/dumb/abysmally ignorant of pop culture. Frankly, I would have thought such a plot device beneath Hitchcock. But he never did like giving his heroines much credit, so of course, this spy who has supposedly fooled JAMES MASON must be outsmarted by a different man. Who has a background in….advertising. And lives with his mother.
Yes, our sexy spy was outfoxed by a trick that Micky Mouse might have taught me in the 80s, back when Disney was hawking his image on magic trick books, and I thought that a wand that lifted a playing card with a hidden piece of string was really something.
True, the pencil maneuver wasn’t QUITE as old of a trick when Hitchcock used it, but it wasn’t exactly fresh in 1959. (Though, as my friend points out, today it might become new again, with so few people using pencils.)
I used to roll my eyes when I saw this pencil-and-notepad trick, annoyed by the lazy writing. But now I laugh. Because the Coens offered a send-up of this trite scenario in their—appropriately enough—satire of/tribute to TheBig Sleep, The Big Lebowski. The Dude tries to outsmart a villain using the pencil trick. His excitement is intense at his own cleverness. But alas for the Dude, the “secret” isn’t what he expected. If you are of delicate sensibility, I wouldn’t advise it, but if you don’t mind some crude humor, enjoy this film clip and Jeff Bridges’ brilliance in it. (Watch that loopy run of his! And his “just acting natural” look at the end!)
There are many, many jokes about detectives in The Big Lebowksi. One of the most evident is that unlike those brilliant sleuths who with scant clues manage to figure out everything, the Dude can’t figure out anything—the mystery, which people are manipulating him, where his rug is. And unlike the driven fictional detectives who will sacrifice anything for the job, the Dude is pathologically lazy, sharing with them only some loose sense of ethics, questionable associates, and a love for alcohol (but with the Dude, of course, it’s not a hardboiled choice like whisky, but instead White Russians).
Yes, the Dude is not a good detective, and would be an even worse spy. But guess what, Hitchcock?
I can’t be bothered to root for a romance between anyone and Dennis Morgan, the heartthrob of Christmas in Connecticut. He always strikes me as smug, and his acting is pretty basic. His character in this famous xmas film doesn’t help: As Jefferson Jones, he’s entitled, dishonest, and smarmy—from promising an engagement to get steak, to seducing a married woman.
Not that Elizabeth Lane (Barbara Stanwyck) is a pinnacle of honesty. And she’s tempting Jefferson every step of the way. But were it for the romance, I would have ignored this perennial Christmas choice in favor of other films, especially for the far sweeter relationship between Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray in Remember the Night.
But this film gets serious props for all of its non-romantic elements, and that’s what keeps me coming back to it, year after year. In order of increasing importance, here’s why I love this film:
Reason 5: Elizabeth Lane’s (Barbara Stanwyck’s) hilarious ignorance about and disinterest in children. From not being able to remember the gender of her baby (calling the baby “it”), to her surprise that swallowing a big watch could be fatal, this woman takes on the men’s typical role when it comes to baby knowledge in romcoms—and it’s rare to see that even today.
I particularly love when she just throws the diaper after she puts it on wrong.
Reason 4: Watching Barbara Stanwyck flipping pancakes. The scene when Uncle Felix (S. Z. Sakall) is trying to teach Elizabeth to prepare pancakes is hilarious.
That pleased look when she unexpectedly succeeds at flipping her flapjack later on is so beloved that you’ll see it in almost any Stanwyck documentary.
Reason 3: Elizabeth buying a fur coat for herself. Sure, I wish it weren’t fur, but her decision to buy a luxurious present for herself and not wait for a man to do so is the top reason this movie is well loved by my aunt, and I can see her point. Elizabeth is an accomplished writer and has earned the right to show off her successes, without waiting for anyone else to give her her due.
Reason 2: Uncle Felix, as played by Sakall (better known as Cuddles). I could listen to him say “catastrophe” all day long. What a joy this man is to watch, in every film. (I just wish I could track down his autobiography–still trying to get ahold of it!)
Reason 1: Barbara Stanwyck. Classic movie fans are obsessed with Stanwyck, but she’s often forgotten in the wider community–with the exception of this film. Since I think she was among the, if not the, most gifted film actresses ever, I’m so glad that at least one performance keeps her on people’s radar—even if they never realize her comic timing, charm, and talent are what make them want to keep watching this film again and again and again.
I hope you’ll watch this great film this Christmas—or for the first time if you haven’t yet. Just forget about the “rom” of the rom-com, and you’ll love it.
This is part of the Happy Holidays Blogathon! Check out the great entries here.
I’m sorry, my readers, for being so tardy with my posts. I’m still recovering from an overloaded June. But while I was buried in projects, something very nice happened! Thank you, Brittaney of The Story Enthusiast, for honoring me with the Sunshine Blogger Award! It’s an award for those who inspire positivity and creativity in the blogging community, and I’m so grateful to her for considering me worthy of it.
Check out her creative, clever blog. Her answers to the questions she was asked alone show just why she deserved the Sunshine Blogger Award herself. I particularly like her unusual take on Carole Lombard in a recent post, which makes me want to check out some of that star’s dramatic films!
Those nominated for the Sunshine Blogger Award thank their nominator and link to his/her/their blog, answer the 11 questions their nominator asked, nominate up to 11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions, notify nominees via comments on one of their posts, and list these rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award logo in their post and/or on their blogs.
First of all, Brittaney of The Story Enthusiast, here are my answers to your great questions!
1. What British or International film would you recommend to a friend who has never seen one? The Red Shoes. It’s beautiful, haunting, and very weird. Can’t take your eyes off of it.
2. Which classic film director do you prefer and what is your favorite of their films? Preston Sturges, especially Lady Eve.
3. Which character actor or actress do you think would have made a great lead? Jack Carson. Charming, funny, handsome. Steals every scene he’s in.
4. What child actor do you believe should have had success as an adult but didn’t? Peggy Ann Garner. I adored the book A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and she managed to make me love the film too—quite a feat.
5. What film do you love, but dislike the ending? Wait Until Dark. It’s about to end well, then that submissive moment. Doesn’t fit. Doesn’t work. Makes me angry.
6. Whose onscreen wardrobe do you covet and would like to claim for your own? In theory, Shanghai Lily (Marlene Dietrich) of Shanghai Express. Because I want the style and moxie to pull off feathers and sequins during the daytime, and on the most trivial of occasions. (I would have liked to see her Zoom sessions in quarantine.) In real life, I’m more of a jeans woman, but that wardrobe looks FUN.
7. Which original film do you think could be improved as a remake and who would you cast? The Mad Miss Manton. So much wasted opportunity there. A young woman and her socialite pals solving crimes? That could be so much funnier than the original. Find some comedic actresses who have some versality as writers/directors/producers/musicians so that they they can ad lib–say Issa Rae, Awkwafina, Abbi Jacobson. Add in Melissa McCarthy, Bette Midler, and Christine Baranski as their wiser elders. Rachel Bloom writes and directs, with bonkers feminist musical numbers. And as for the Henry Fonda character? Not sure he’s needed.
8. Which classic film actor or actress do you think would be successful in today’s film industry? William Powell. He’s an amazing smartass on film, and everyone would love following him on Twitter/Instagram.
9. What film trope do you never tire of seeing? The witty female sidekick. Especially if it’s Eve Arden.
10. If you could adapt a piece of classic literature that has not yet been made into a film, what book would you choose and who would you cast in the main roles? Evelina would be fabulous onscreen. Given Elle Fanning’s performance in The Great, I’d cast her, and maybe Nicolas Hault as Sir Clement because he’d have enough humor to make those speeches (which would be abridged) funny as well as annoying. Carol Kane would make a great Madame Duvall. Lord Orville? Maybe James Marsden, who could be adorably perfect.
11. Which of today’s modern actors or actresses do you think would have been successful in classic films and why? Christina Applegate would have rocked classic screwball comedies. She has the presence, the timing, the zaniness, and the dry humor. She even has the look.
For this award, I am nominating film (or sometimes-film) bloggers I admire who are fairly new to me/whom I haven’t given tributes to yet. Thank you for your great work! (If any of you nominees don’t have the time to complete this Sunshine Blogger Award post on your own blog, just know that I am a fan and wanted to give you a shout-out.)
PBS produced a new documentary on my favorite movie wordsmith and feminist rebel, Mae West. Dirty Blonde is coming. Check out the preview to see the subjects talking about her (some welcome surprises), and to hear some of your favorite Mae West quips.