“If that don’t beat all. I never saw such a dog.”

Posted on March 11, 2013 by Sarah under child stars, classic disney, kiddie faves, lit adaptations, maudlin mondays, sarah's faves

This week, I bring you an animal edition of Maudlin Monday. I can be deeply moved by films about wars or tragic romances, but few things disturb me greater than stories about innocent, loving animals that lose their lives. Animals have brought me so much joy in life, whether I’m running in the yard with my happy-go-lucky dog or cuddling with my affectionate cat. It is my sincere belief that if everyone had an adoring pet in their lives, the world would be a much better place. There have been so many touching films about animals–The Adventures of Milo and Otis (1989), The Fox and the Hound (1981), The Three Lives of Thomasina (1963)–but none demonstrates the loyalty and friendship shared between human and animal quite like Disney’s 1957 film Old Yeller.

The story begins with a Texas frontier family whose father, Jim (Fess Parker), leaves Travis (Tommy Kirk), his oldest son, in charge of the farm and home as he goes to drive cattle. Travis is a young boy who takes on the responsibility of protecting and caring for his younger brother Arliss (Kevin Corcoran) and their mother, Katie, played by the beautiful and serene Dorothy McGuire. As Jim says his goodbyes to his family, his son reminds him that he wants a horse.

Travis: “Now, Papa, you know I been achin’ all over for a horse to ride. Now I told you time and again.”

Papa: “What you’re needin’ worse than a horse is a good dog.”

Travis: “Yessir, but what I’m wantin’ worse is a horse.”

Papa: “Alright boy, you act a man’s part, and I’ll bring you a man’s horse.”

The father has not even been gone more than a day when Old Yeller shows up on the family farm causing trouble. He frightens Jumper the mule while Travis is plowing the field, which causes the mule to drag Travis and knock down the fence. Old Yeller has unknowingly made himself an enemy. Travis is convinced that the dog will be nothing but trouble: “I know one thing: that old dog better not come around here while I got me a gun in my hands!”

When younger brother Arliss meets the dog, he instantly falls in love with the prospect of a new friend. Mama scolds Travis, explaining to him that his younger brother is lonely without a companion to entertain him. She reminds him that he had a dog when he was Arliss’s age.

Younger brother Arliss and Old Yeller become inseparable. Yeller becomes the boy’s companion, swimming, hunting, and even fishing with him.

The faithful dog dives into the pond to catch a fish for Arliss. Arliss thanks the dog, and then proceeds to tell his mother that he was the one who caught the fish in a fantastic tale:

Arliss: “Mama, Mama, look at this fish that I got; ain’t he a whopper?! … I had to dive way down deep under to catch this fish. He was way down deep under … there was this cave and it was real dark and muddy. And there was about a million other fish, and they all tried to eat me! And I had to throw rocks at’ em, and then there was these two big snakes …”

Travis: “Mama, you know them is just big windies Arliss was tellin’.”

Mama: “Now, Travis, let him tell his stories the way he wants to.”

Travis: “But Mama, I just seen that old yellow dog catch this fish.”

Mama: “Arliss is just a little boy with a big imagination. Won’t hurt him to let him use it.”

Travis: “We keep that old yellow dog much longer and it’s going to make Arliss the biggest liar in Texas!”

Travis is not a fan of the dog, believing him to be a bad influence on his younger brother. But Travis finally changes his mind about the dog when Yeller saves Arliss from an angry mother bear. Arliss tempts a young cub with bread, then attempts to capture it. The mother bear hears the cub calling for help and comes charging toward the small boy. Although Travis and the mother come running to Arliss’s aid, it doesn’t seem like it would have gone well for the child had his courageous dog not intervened and fought off the mother bear.

Once Travis realized the dog’s bravery in defending Arliss, he allows the dog to begin sleeping in bed with him and his brother. Unfortunately, it isn’t long after the event that Travis learns from a neighbor, Elizabeth Searcy, that Yeller is indeed the thief that he originally believed him to be. She explains that she has seen Yeller stealing food from her family, but she promises not to tell on him.

Elizabeth: “I didn’t want to tell you at the house … but it was him what done it …what stole all the eggs and bread and meat and stuff … I seen him swipe a pan of grandma’s cornbread, too. But I ain’t gonna tell.”

Travis: “I bet you do.”

Elizabeth: “No, I won’t. Wasn’t goin’ to, even before I knowed it was your dog.”

Travis: “How come?”

Elizabeth: “Because Miss Priss is gonna have pups, and your dog will be their papa, and I wouldn’t want him to get shot for stealin’.”

Elizabeth Searcy isn’t the only person who has heard of Old Yeller’s thievery. At one point, the dog’s former owner comes to claim him. He tells the family that although the dog robs everyone blind, he’s great help to him. Arliss refuses to allow the stranger to take Old Yeller back, throwing rocks at him and demanding that he leave the dog. Luckily for the family, the man is kind and allows Arliss to keep Old Yeller, trading him a toad and a warm meal.

The kind Mr. Sanderson warns Travis that he has seen multiple cases of hydrophobia (rabies) in the region. He instructs Travis that he will have to act quickly in killing any animal that he suspects is infected.

One day, Travis and Old Yeller go on a mission to mark the Coates family hogs. Old Yeller does a fantastic job herding the hogs for Travis, but when Travis falls from a tree, he is viciously attacked by one of the hogs. The hog rips his leg to the bone, but Old Yeller comes running to save him. Travis is able to get away, but poor Old Yeller is injured even worse. The family nurses the pair back to health, and Old Yeller has once again successfully saved a member of the Coates family.

It isn’t long before Old Yeller has saved every single member of the Coates family. While Mama and Elizabeth are standing next to a fire, burning the carcass of the rabies-infected family cow, they are jumped by a rabid wolf. Luckily for the women, Old Yeller comes to their defense. Travis is able to shoot the wolf, but not before it has bitten and scratched Old Yeller repeatedly. Mama believes that no healthy, sane wolf would have attacked them, and therefore she fears that they will have to kill Old Yeller, as he is likely to have been infected as well.

Mama: “I’ll shoot him if you can’t, but either way we’ve got it to do.”

Travis: “Mama, listen, Old Yeller just saved your life, and Elizabeth too, and he saved mine and Arliss’s. We can’t; we don’t know for certain. I’ll pen him up where he can’t get out, and then we’ll wait. We can’t just shoot him like he was nothin’! Don’t you understand?”

Mama: “Alright, son, if you think there’s a chance.”

After two weeks of keeping Old Yeller penned up, he shows no signs of the suspected infection. The family is hopeful that he is not suck. But a few days from when the family plans to release him from his dog prison, Travis brings Yeller some food, only to discover the dog growling maliciously. Travis tries to deny to himself and his family that the dog is ill, but when young Arliss sneaks out at night to try to set the dog free, the family is forced to confront the heartbreaking situation. Mama gets the gun, knowing what painful but necessary event must unfold.

Travis: “No, Mama.”

Mama: “There’s no hope for him now, Travis. He’s sufferin’. You know we’ve got to do it.”

Travis: “I know, Mama, but he was my dog. I’ll do it.”

With a single blow from the shotgun, Old Yeller is gone, and a young boy is devastated.

Following the heart-wrenching scene is a happy reunion, as Mr. Coates returns to his family bearing gifts and affection. His wife relates the story of Old Yeller’s impact on their family, and the father attempts to comfort his grieving son with a speech about loss:

“That was rough, son … but I’m mighty proud of how my boy stood up to it. Couldn’t ask no more of a grown man … Life’s like that sometimes. Now and then, for no good reason a man can figure out, life will just haul off and knock him flat, slamming him in the ground so hard it seems like all his insides are busted. But it’s not all like that. A lot of it’s mighty fine, and you can’t afford to waste the good part frettin’ about the bad. That makes it all bad. You understand what I’m tryin’ to get at? … When you start lookin’ around for somethin’ good to take the place of the bad, as a general rule, you can find it.”

Old Yeller is as maudlin as they come, demanding tears from all viewers, young or old. This was one of my favorite films as a child, and it is no less moving to me today than it was all those years ago. It teaches children about the importance of responsibility, about losing those we love, and about loyalty. It’s one of the saddest movies ever produced, but definitely one of the most important, in my humble opinion.

Old Yeller earns a big fat maximum of five (heaving, sobbing) teardrops on the Maudlin Meter.

“Madame has moments of melancholy.”

Posted on March 4, 2013 by Sarah under best.films.ever., maudlin mondays, sarah's faves

“Yes, this is Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, California. It’s about five o’clock in the morning. That’s the Homicide Squad, complete with detectives and newspapermen. A murder has been reported from one of those great big houses in the ten-thousand block. You’ll read about it in the late editions, I’m sure. You’ll get it over your radio and see it on television because an old-time star is involved–one of the biggest. But before you hear it all distorted and blown out of proportion–before those Hollywood columnists get their hands on it–maybe you’d like to hear the facts, the whole truth. If so, you’ve come to the right party.”

Joe Gillis (William Holden) is a struggling screenwriter. He hasn’t been able to land a contract for a film in quite some time, and he is behind in his bills. While this starving writer is attempting to outrun some repo men in his beloved car, he gets a flat tire and is forced to pull into the driveway of a home on Sunset Boulevard.

The setting gives this film its title: Sunset Boulevard (1950). It was directed by Billy Wilder; in fact, Wilder co-wrote the story (originally titled “A Can of Beans”) with Charles Brackett and D.M. Marshman Jr., and what superb writing it is. This was the last film that Wilder and Brackett collaborated on, and clearly the two were able to create magic: the film won numerous Oscars and Academy Award nominations. The dialogue in the film reads like a well-written novel.

Although narrated from the afterlife by Joe the starving artist, the main focus of the film is a forgotten silent film star: Norma Desmond, played by the powerful Gloria Swanson, herself a legendary silent film star. The part was perfect for Swanson, who had experienced a similar career shift as silent films turned to “talkies.” Many other real-life silent film-era stars make appearances in this film as Norma’s friends, including Buster Keaton and Anna Q. Nilsson; even director Cecil B. DeMille makes an appearance as himself.

“The poor dope, he always wanted a pool. Well, in the end, he got himself a pool.”

When Joe accidentally arrives at the dilapidated mansion on Sunset, he assumes it is uninhabited because of its poor condition: “It was a great big white elephant of a place: the kind crazy movie people built in the crazy 20s. A neglected house gets an unhappy look. This one had it in spades. It was like that old woman in Great Expectations: that Miss Havisham and her rotting wedding dress and her torn veil, taking it out on the world because she’d been given the go-by.” Indeed, Norma is quite similar to the reclusive and proud Miss Havisham. Both women live in lonely and decaying homes; both were jilted–one by a fiance, the other by her fans. When Joe first meets Norma, she mistakes him for a casket-maker. Her pet chimp has died, and she means to bury him in her backyard. This isn’t the only unusual happening in this bizarre home on Sunset…

Before he leaves, Joe realizes that he recognizes the curious woman: “Wait a minute, hadn’t I seen you before? … You’re Norma Desmond. You used to be in silent pictures. You used to be big.”

“I am big!” she insists. “It’s the pictures that got small.”

The only other inhabitant of the once great estate is the faithful (and slightly creepy) butler, Max (Erich von Stroheim, yet another real-life silent film era actor and director). Joe believes him to be crazy as well, as Max clearly worships the woman: ”She was the greatest of them all; you wouldn’t know. You’re too young. In one week, she received 17,000 fan letters. Men bribed her hairdresser to get a lock of her hair. And there was a maharajah who came all the way from India to get one of her silk stockings. He later strangled himself with it.” Max is an incredibly loyal employee, and we discover why later in the film. He caters to Norma’s every whim and protects her from potential pain. It’s more than loyalty that drives Max: it’s guilt and, ultimately, love.

“Madame is the greatest star of them all.”

Joe and Norma begin a relationship as writing “partners” when she hires him to edit a screenplay she has written. Joe knows immediately that the screenplay will not be successful, but he needs the money, and she has plenty of it to spare. Norma is determined to make a return to the big screen, and she plans to star in the film. She is desperate for Joe’s help: ”She sat coiled up like a watch spring, her cigarette planted in a curious holder. I could sense her eyes on me from behind those dark glasses, defying me not to like what I read, or maybe begging me to in her own proud way to like it; it meant so much to her.”

After Joe agrees to help her, she becomes very demanding and possessive. She insists that Joe live in her house while they are working together. Although she pays many of his debts for him, she rarely provides him with cash, making him completely dependent upon her for purchases. She buys him a lavish new wardrobe, expensive watches, and accessories. She denies him his own transportation by allowing his car to be repossessed, insisting that Max can chauffeur them in her luxury vintage car. In return, Joe is not only an editor to her screenplay, but a companion to her in her loneliness. She insists that they watch her old films for hours: “They were always her pictures. That’s all she wanted to see.”

“Oh, those idiot producers! Those imbeciles! Haven’t they got any eyes? Have they forgotten what a star looks like? I’ll show them! I’ll be up there again, so help me!”

Norma’s desperation for fame drives her to be not only delusional, but also suicidal. Max explains that there are no locks in the home, as it is too dangerous to allow Norma to lock herself away: “Madame has moments of melancholy. There have been some attempts at suicide. We have to be very careful: no sleeping pills, no razor blades; we shut off the gas in Madame’s bedroom.” When Joe goes out to a party on New Year’s and leaves Norma at home, her desperation overcomes her, and Max informs Joe that she has taken a razor to her wrists. It is at this point, perhaps out of guilt, that Joe begins a romantic relationship with her.

Joe quits writing his own screenplays, and although the arrangement is rather suffocating, he seems to become fairly content in his pampered lifestyle; that is, until he begins working on a new film with twenty-two-year-old Betty (Nancy Olson). Betty is the fiance of one of Joe’s friends, and she works in the film industry as a reader. Although she has worked her way up to this position, she is dissatisfied with it, and wants to become a writer herself. The two begin to secretly work on a screenplay together, and naturally, a romantic relationship develops.

“Don’t you sometimes hate yourself?” “Constantly.”

When Norma discovers the relationship, she destroys it by calling Betty and explaining the nature of her own relationship with Joe. After the incident, Joe has had enough of the pampered lifestyle. As he attempts to leave her, Norma shoots him three times with the gun that she had recently purchased to end her own life. Authorities find his body floating face down in Norma’s swimming pool. It may seem strange, but I felt more sympathy for Norma in this case than her victim; there’s no doubt in my mind that she would successfully plead insanity in a trial.

The story was so successful and moving that it was adapted into a musical and performed in London and on Broadway. A score was written for the musical by none other than the incredible Andrew Lloyd Webber, and although the show received seven Tony Awards, it ended its run in 1997.

“You see, this is my life! It always will be! Nothing else! Just us, the cameras, and those wonderful people out there in the dark! … All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.”

This behind-the-scenes story of an aging and forgotten star, once worshiped by so many, is a sometimes acerbic, witty, and biting satire of Hollywood. But there is also something inherently nostalgic and moving about Sunset Boulevard that makes it an appropriate subject for this series. Although I can’t say that this film made me cry, its dark themes of failure and loneliness allow it to be classified as a wonderfully maudlin piece, for despite her narcissism and snobbery, Norma’s heartbreaking desperation to be loved once more surely must pull at the heartstrings of even the most cynical viewer.

Sunset Boulevard merits a three on the “Maudlin Meter” tear scale.

Revisting The White Cliffs of Dover (don’t forget the tissues).

Posted on August 27, 2012 by Sarah under maudlin mondays, melodrama, sarah's faves

The White Cliffs of Dover is a 1944 film starring Irene Dunne and Alan Marshal. This film shares the story of the life of an American woman living in England during both World War I and World War II.

Filming this flick must have been quite a challenge for the beautiful and talented Dunne, who was also starring in A Guy Named Joe simultaneously (production on Joe had been delayed due to that film’s star, Van Johnson, being seriously injured in a car accident–funnily enough, he recovered in time to play a supporting role opposite Dunne in this film, too!). Nonetheless, Dunne’s performance is flawless. One can’t help loving with her and grieving with her as she undergoes life’s trials. The movie is the very definition of star-studded, featuring a healthy mix of stars young (Elizabeth Taylor, Peter Lawford, Roddy McDowell, June Lockhart) and not-so-young (Dame May Whitty, Frank Morgan, C. Aubrey Smith, Gladys Cooper). Although sneered at by some critics for its rather forced political theme, this film was well-received in both the United States and England. I watched this movie years ago, but found it was even more charming and moving upon this second viewing.

The film starts with Susan (Dunne), a WWII nurse, anxiously staring out into the night from a hospital window. A fellow nurse comes in to bring her a welcomed cup of tea.

Margaret: “Why don’t you take your cap off and lie down for awhile?”

Susan: “We were told to stand by. There must be some very good reason. It helps to be doing something.”

Margaret: “You’re worried?”

Susan: “Who isn’t, nowadays?”

Margaret: “I thought your son was to stay the week with you?”

Susan: “He called to say his leave had been cancelled. I haven’t heard anything since. It’s been five days now. I’m terribly worried.”

Margaret: “So when we were told to stand by for emergency, you made up your mind he’d be in the thick of it?”

Susan: “Yes, Margaret, I’m afraid I did.”

Margaret: “Well, you can be wrong, you know. I hope you are. Do try and rest.”

The hospital receives a message from the surgeon general that an expected 5,000 casualties will be arriving within 24 hours. Susan is terrified that her son will be among them. As she thinks about how this came to be, we are taken to a flashback of when Susan first came to England. As a young woman, she arrived on a boat from America with her ornery father, a newspaper man. Susan is obviously excited. She has never traveled before, and she is enthralled by the history that England offers. Hiram Dunn (Frank Morgan), Susan’s father, is a rather spirited (grumpy) man. He constantly complains about the rain and chill: “It’ll be like this the whole time we’re in England!” Unfortunately for him, he becomes ill for the entire two weeks that they are to stay in England. Susan is unable to see much of the country, but she is thrilled when she is invited to a ball on the last night of their stay. A friendly elderly man invites her to join him, and he even goes so far as to hunt for a young man for her to dance with. He makes a smashing choice in the dashing young Sir John Ashwood (Marshal). Sir John is immediately taken by Susan the moment he sees her. They spend the evening dancing and talking in the moonlight.

John begs her to stay in England for longer, but she tells him that she must return with her father. While Susan and her father are packing to leave, Sir John arrives at their boarding house to ask her father’s permission for Susan to stay behind. At first, her father is very protective and against the idea; however, John is extremely persuasive and persistent. Susan spends a week with Sir John and his aristocratic family. They take long walks in the gardens and spend time getting to know each other. One night, while Sir John is showing Susan the family portraits, he points out an open space for the portrait of his future wife.

Susan: “You must have often wondered what she’d be like.”

John: “Yes, I have, until a few days ago. Then, I began to hope she’d be tall and fair, with a mind of her own, and that when my great-grandson showed visitors her portrait, he’d say, ‘This is my great-grandmother. Lovely, isn’t she? She was an American.’”

Susan: “John …”

John: “You must’ve known. I’ve been out of my mind since I first saw you in the Adam Room. I meant to wait, give you more time, but it’s out now … Don’t say no, Sue. If you can’t give me the right answer, pretend I haven’t spoken.”

Susan: “May I do that John, for these few days? I don’t want to make decisions; I just want to live and be happy.”

John: “You are happy, Sue, happy here?”

Susan: “When we are together, yes, when we are alone.”

John: “What does that mean?”

Susan: “Please don’t ask me. It’s just that, it’s all so strange, this place, your family.”

Susan is correct in her perception of tension within the family. While Susan and John are quite busy falling in love, his family is not pleased with their courtship. Even though they are clearly aware that Susan and John are interested in each other, they speak openly in front of her of their wish for John and family friend Helen to marry. Susan feels this tension and lashes out against them. Her outburst seems to make them feel guilty and treat her kindly: “It’s a compliment not to be like an American? How insulting! … I came here loving England and all it meant to me. I was happy to come here, I was so sure I would like you all because of John. I hoped you would like me. But I was an outsider, I didn’t belong. You made that perfectly clear!”

Ahh, young love.

Although the family apologizes, Susan is utterly embarrassed at her outburst. She leaves a goodbye message for Sir John and leaves on the morning train. When she gets off the train to find her boat, she is surprised to find John waiting for her. She tries to argue with him that she should return to America, but once again, he is quite persistent. He talks her into marrying him, and they seem quite happy.

Unfortunately, the happiness is short-lived. On their honeymoon, they learn that England has gone to war. Because it is tradition in the Ashwood family that the males join the military, John learns that he must go to war, almost immediately. The couple is separated for three years while John fights in WWI with his regiment. Susan lives in a constant state of fear while John is away. She worries from day to day that he may never return. When she visits him in France, they stay at a hotel with a beautiful, quaint bandstand visible from their balcony overlooking the sea.

It is on this visit that she becomes pregnant with their son, whom they name John, even though it goes against the Ashwood family tradition of naming the first male Percy. Unfortunately, when baby John is only an infant, his father is killed in action. Susan is devastated, and ignores her mother-in-law who tries to convince her to go on with her life.

“Enough happiness to last us the rest of our lives …”

When young John grows a little older, Susan attempts to move with him back to America so that he will not go into England’s military as his father had done. She tells her mother-in-law that she will teach her son to run when he hears cannons so that he will not die as his father had. Young Sir John is much like his father, however, and persuades his mother to stay and allow him to continue the Ashwood family traditions. This scene is especially heartbreaking, as we know from the beginning of the film that he does end up in harm’s way as a soldier in WWII.

This film is heartbreaking. We watch as Susan grows from a carefree young woman in love to a grieving widow, scared of also losing her only son. This film is about family. It is about the most important parts of our lives, and it is about the tragedy of war and dying young. It brings out our greatest fears of losing those that we love the most.

The White Cliffs of Dover is definitely a five on the “Maudlin Meter” tear scale!

A newbie goes singin’ in the rain.

Posted on July 14, 2012 by Sarah under best.films.ever., big-screen viewings, magnificent musicals, sarah's faves

Thursday night, as part of a nationwide event sponsored by TCM, NCM Fathom, and Warner Bros., I had the pleasure of seeing Singin’ in the Rain (1952) on the big screen. Although I am very familiar with one of the happiest songs ever produced, I had never before seen the musical that it inspired. As it was my first time seeing the film, it was an especially exciting event, and I was not disappointed.

The film began with an introduction by Robert Osborne; he interviewed the star of this film, Debbie Reynolds. She was just as spunky as when she was eighteen and playing the role of the feisty yet innocent Kathy Selden. She believes she received the role on account of her innocence: “There were a lot of virgins in those days,” she explained. She explained that she didn’t know how to dance when she received the part and that she trained for months and months before filming began. Watching the film, it’s hard to imagine; her performance seems flawless.

I had no idea that this film was going to be so funny! I was smiling and laughing almost the entire movie. This was truly some of the most fun I’ve ever had at the theater. I loved the scene where Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) and Cosmo Brown (Donald O’Connor) are at a training session with a voice coach to prepare for Don’s upcoming “talkie” film. While I’m still not quite sure why they covered the voice coach with trash and furniture, I found their rhyming song charming. In fact, the entire film seemed to spew with charm. Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen), while beautiful, had the most nauseating voice. At one point in the film, when she squealed in her nasal tone, “Do they think I’m dumb or somethin’?!” a woman in the audience yelled, “Yes!” I went in assuming that people in the audience would sing along; however, the audience was fairly quiet, aside from laughter and clapping at the close of each major dance sequence. I have to say, as someone who doesn’t generally enjoy dance (it’s the Welsh in me!), I found this thoroughly entertaining. I was so impressed with the actors’ ability to stay synchronized with each other. I can only imagine how many times they had to shoot these scenes. (Debbie Reynolds complained in her interview that her shoes would often be bloody after repeating the dance sequences so many times each day during filming.)

There wasn’t a poster at the theater for SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN, but I thought this one had a similar spirit. “Gotta dance!”

Although some of the film seemed to be “filler,” it was all superbly entertaining. The “long veil” scene within the “Broadway Melody” number (while not really necessary to the film) was breathtaking. I can’t even imagine how long it took the crew and cast to nail it. Again, it seemed flawless.

I can’t say enough good things about this film. I am so grateful for the opportunity to see Singin’ in the Rain on the big screen; it has definitely found its way among my favorite films.

[Special thanks to Mallory at Pure Brand Communications and NCM Fathom for the tickets to this event!]

Gaslight(s).

Posted on July 9, 2012 by Sarah under blogathon, sarah's faves

In the early 1940s, two different film versions of Patrick Hamilton’s play Angel Street were produced. The first version was released in 1940 and titled Gaslight. The second version of this film, which kept the same title, was released just four years later. Although both films were based on the same play and follow the same basic plot line, the 1944 version of Gaslight is superior, in part due to the strong cast and Hitchcockian elements.

Directed by Thorold Dickinson, the first version of Gaslight (1940) begins with a gloomy night. The darkness and fog create the perfect setting for a gruesome murder.

It’s a lovely night for a murder…

While an elderly woman peacefully sews, a faceless man comes up behind her and strangles her. We do not see the face of the killer; we see only his hands and his shadow as he searches the house; we watch his feet as he runs up and down the staircase. Eventually, a maid finds the body and screams for the police. In the next scene, the camera zooms in on a headline in a newspaper (a very Hitchcockian element) that reads: “DREADFUL MURDER IN PIMLICO SQUARE: BARLOW RUBIES MISSING.” Thus, the story begins.

After what seems to be a long amount of time, a young couple moves into the house where the murder took place. From the very beginning, Paul Mallen (Anton Walbrook), the husband, is a rude, unpleasant person. We never witness a great deal of love shown toward his wife, Bella (Diana Wynyard). In fact, while enraged with his wife at one point in the film, he tells her he hates her. He flirts with the maid, Nancy (Cathleen Cordell), in front of his wife. At one point in the film, Paul even goes so far as to take Nancy to a show and kiss her.

Paul Mallen and Naughty Nancy

Paul disappears at night to “work.” Mysteriously, each night, the gaslight dims as if someone were turning it on from another part of the house. Bella hears footsteps each night in the attic, which is supposedly not in use. Whenever Bella complains of these mysterious happenings to her husband, he dismisses them and leads her to believe that she is dreaming or believing things that aren’t real. He attempts to convince her that she is going mad.

Hitchcock seemed to love the idea of the charming and refined sociopath: a character idealized at the beginning of a film who later turns out to be a villain. Unfortunately, one of this film version’s lacking points is that there is never any mystery that the husband is a very bad person. His treatment of his wife is appalling from the very beginning. Throughout the film, he manipulates his wife into thinking that she is losing her mind and that she is absentmindedly losing things, stealing things, and moving things around the house. He also alienates her from her family and community; he tells their neighbors that she is not well enough for social events.

The Not So Mysterious Killer

Also, there are no trains in the first version.

The remake of Gaslight in 1944 has proven to be much more popular. Granted, the all-star cast probably had a great deal to do with the film’s success.

Although the main characters’ names and some plot details change, the story is basically the same. The husband, Gregory Anton, is played by the debonair Charles Boyer. His wife, Paula Anton, is played by the innocent and charming Ingrid Bergman. A handsome neighbor who saves the day, Brian Cameron, is played by Joseph Cotten. Last but not least, making her very first big-screen appearance is Angela Lansbury, who plays the naughty parlor maid Nancy. Director George Cukor had a promising opportunity with this dynamic cast.

Like its predecessor, this version of the film also begins with a gloomy, dark night. The camera zooms in on a newspaper headline reading: “THORNTON SQUARE MURDER UNSOLVED; STRANGLER STILL AT LARGE.” A major difference in this film is that we witness a young Paula being taken from the home where her aunt was murdered. The next scene shows Paula all grown up, a decade after her aunt was brutally murdered. She is explaining to her singing instructor that she has fallen in love. Who is the lucky fellow? The young man who plays the piano while she sings. When the piano player, Gregory Anton, expresses his love to her, she tells him that she must take some time to think things over on her own. She takes a train to a vacation location. On the train, he meets an elderly lady (Dame May Whitty) who lives on the square where her aunt was murdered. Paula is surprised to find that Gregory is waiting for her when the train stops. (Stalker.) She marries him, and they honeymoon.

In this version, the husband is very charming and romantic at the beginning. On their honeymoon, he manipulates her into agreeing to move to her aunt’s home in London:

“Paula, if you won’t laugh at me, I should like to tell you something … it’s an idea, a silly idea that’s been with me for years. I was in London once in the winter. It seemed to me there was no city in the world that was colder for the homeless, but it could be warmer to the ones who had a home. How I used to long for a home of my own. One of those white houses in little London squares with a woman I would come to love.”

Paula tells him of her aunt’s murder, and she tells him that her aunt left the house to her. This, of course, he already knows.

Paula: “I’ve found peace in loving you. I could even face that house with you.”

Gregory: “Oh, no, no, Paula, beloved, I would not ask that of you.”

Paula: “Yes, yes, you shall have your dream. You shall have your house in the square.”

In the next scene, they arrive at the house. Gregory is still nice and comforting. He listens attentively as Paula shows him the house. When she gets upset, he tries to comfort her: “How would it be if we took away all these things that remind you so of her. The painting, all this furniture, shut it away so you can’t even see it. Suppose we make it a new house with new things, beautiful things for a new, beautiful life for us?”

Gregory asks, “Now where should we put all these things?” It is Paula who suggests that they keep it in the attic. Clever, Gregory, clever.

He snaps on her when she finds a letter sent to her aunt two days before her murder. This is the first time we see his dark side, and this is what makes the film so brilliant and delightfully Hitchy, for he seemed so wonderful at the beginning of the film. He seemed so charming, so accomplished, so handsome. Slowly and subtly, however, he begins to become colder and crueler. He tells everyone he meets that his wife is ill:

Nancy: “What’s the matter with the mistress? She don’t look ill to me. Is she?”

Elizabeth: “I don’t know. Not as I can see, but the master keeps tellin’ her she is.”

On a rare outing, Paula and Gregory go to the Tower of London to view romantic sights such as the guillotine. Gregory tricks Paula into thinking that she’s lost the broach that he gave her as a gift. He also interrogates her for bowing to a man who was smiling at her:

Paula: “I have no idea who he is, Gregory. He seemed to know me.”

Gregory: “Do you usually bow to people you don’t know?”

Paula: “No, I supposed I’d met him somewhere.”

Gregory: “Are you telling me the truth?”

Paula: “Of course, why should I lie? I don’t know who he is.”

Gregory: “Yet you smile at him. Why?”

Paula: “I tell you, I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know why I did it.”

Gregory: “Like the other things.”

Paula: “What other things?”

Gregory: “Oh. Nothing. Only I’ve been noticing, Paula, that you’ve been forgetful lately.”

Paula: “Forgetful?”

Gregory: “Well, losing things … and oh, don’t look so worried, Paula. It’s nothing. You get tired …”

Paula: “Yes, that’s probably what it is. I get tired. I’m tired now, can’t we go home?”

Gregory: “Oh, no! We still have the crown jewels to see. They’re in that building over there.”

Paula: “How do you know? You’ve never been here before.”

Gregory: “The guide told us inside. Are you becoming suspicious as well as absent-minded, Paula?”

The more perceptive Paula grows, the stronger his deceptive manipulation grows against her. Unlike in the 1940 version, where we are told from the beginning that the character is going mad, we can witness her descent into self-doubt in this version. Another classic Hitchcockian element, the transference of guilt, is extremely evident in the relationship between these two characters. When the nosy but friendly Mrs. Thwaites comes to visit, Gregory tells Nancy to tell her that her mistress isn’t well enough to see her. Paula is upset, explaining that she would have liked to have seen Mrs. Thwaites. Gregory pretends that he is confused, and acts as though he was attempting to spare Paula the trouble of receiving their obnoxious neighbor: “And you thought I was being cruel to you, keeping people away from you, making you a prisoner … haha.”

Haha … ha … oh.

While both films were Hitchcockian in tone and setting, the 1944 version, complete with a murder mystery, plenty of staircase scenes, a lovable sociopath, and plenty of dark gloomy nights (as well as a train scene!), truly could be mistaken as a genuine Hitchcock product. Frankly, I’m shocked that Mr. Hitchcock wasn’t involved!

This post is one of three contributions True Classics will be making to the “Best Hitchcock Films Hitchcock Never Made” blogathon, hosted by Dorian of Tales of the Easily Distracted and Becky of ClassicBecky’s Brain Food. Check out all of the wonderful contributions throughout the week!

An Invitation to Despair

Posted on July 2, 2012 by Sarah under maudlin mondays, melodrama, sarah's faves

For this week’s entry in the Maudlin Mondays series, I chose to watch the 1952 film Invitation, mainly because of its star, Dorothy McGuire, who plays the role of Ellen Pierce. A few days ago, I watched The Enchanted Cottage, also starring McGuire.

In The Enchanted Cottage, she plays a kind, plain-looking young woman who falls in love; in Invitation, she also plays a kind, plain-looking young woman who falls in love. Attention, Hollywood filmmakers: if you would like an actress to be “plain-looking,” don’t hire a woman who looks like this:

I don’t mean to say that McGuire should not have received the role. She was perfect as an innocent and kind young woman, nearly driven to madness after learning that her father (Louis Calhern) paid a man to marry her.

At the beginning of the film, we learn that Ellen’s father is a very rich and generous man; a fur coat is delivered to Ellen, which she hangs it in the closet, alongside many other fur coats. Ellen is worried that her husband Dan (Van Johnson, a.k.a. “The Voiceless Sinatra”) will become irritated with her father’s generosity:

Ellen: “Oh, Dan, you really hate it, don’t you?”

Dan: ”It’s been so much: the house, the car, the china…”

Ellen: “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Dan: “No, don’t. After all, your father’s got a right to be as generous as he wants.”

Ellen: “You see, Dan, he doesn’t realize that he doesn’t have to make up to me for anything anymore.”

Dan: “What do you mean?”

Ellen: “Oh, you know, he doesn’t realize that there’s nothing more he can give me because now I … I have everything.”

Ellen is a devoted wife. She sends her husband off to work with a kiss after his morning coffee. She promises to have a cocktail ready for him when he returns from work. In fact, her whole life seems to revolve around her husband:

Ellen: “Do you know what the excitement of my days is now? Every morning there’s the excitement of having my breakfast with Dan and getting him off on the 853, and then, nothing, until midday, which overflows with the excitement of planning dinner with Agnes, and then nothing. Until early evening, when there’s the excitement of Dan’s coming home. Oh, it is exciting, it’s terribly exciting; but it’s not the kind that’s bad for me. It’s the excitement of knowing, from a lifetime of having been sort of pitied and left out of things. This morning I poured a second cup of coffee for a husband of my own.”

Her father discusses his concern for his daughter’s health with Dr. Pritchard (Ray Collins). Ellen attempts to soothe his worry over her health by telling him, “You want everything there is for me … Please try to get it through your head that despite everything, I’m really very happy. The fact that you didn’t give me the thing that makes me so happy shouldn’t make any difference, should it?”

Her father gives Dr. Pritchard a knowing glance as he says, “No, I guess it shouldn’t.”

In the next scene, Ellen visits her old best friend, Maud (Ruth Roman). We sense the tension immediately as Maud retreats inside her house without saying hello as Ellen pulls up. Nevertheless, Ellen repeatedly tries to smooth things over with her angry friend.

Maud: “Please say what you have to say to me and go … Nobody knew better than you that I was in love with Dan, and suddenly, without any warning, he marries you … Well, let me tell you something, in some respects, the daughter of a professor of bacteriology may look a lot better than the daughter of Mr. Simon Bowker, but when it’s a struggling young architect that’s doing the looking, believe me, there’s nothing prettier than a capital dollar sign.”

Ellen is struck by Maud’s cruel words, but Maud seems relentless. She looks so calm as she smokes a cigarette while lounging on the couch, speaking these harsh words to her once-close friend with confidence. Her beauty and nonchalant hatred reminds me of the way that Maxim de Winter describes his infamous first wife in the boathouse scene in 1940′s Rebecca. Maud is indeed the evil vixen in this film; she is bound and determined to have Dan for herself, by any means necessary.

Maud: “Business seems alright for him lately, doesn’t it?”

Ellen: “You saw Dan?”

Maud: “Oh, don’t worry, I just happened to be in the building, and dropped into his office. Oh, he’s still yours, at least for the time being. I told you, remember, the day of your wedding, ‘I don’t give up so easily.’ Remember? I said, ‘The first round goes to you, or your father’s money … You can have Dan,’ I said, ‘for about a year on loan.’ And that’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? Because the year’s dwindling out fast. Only a couple of months left, and you’re scared to death. Well, Ellen, do you think I have given up?”

Rebecca de Winter, meet Maud.

When Ellen returns home and confronts her husband, he explains that he was never in love with Maud; however, he also says that he probably would have married her, had he not married Ellen. This seems to quell Ellen’s fears for some time.

Through a series of flashbacks, Ellen begins to put the pieces of the puzzle together. It is an invitation sent by Maud that is the catalyst for Ellen’s discovery. All in one afternoon, Ellen discovers that she has a potentially fatal medical condition, and that her father likely paid Dan to marry her. Obviously, this is a devastating discovery for our sweet and innocent leading lady. McGuire’s performance brought me to tears several times; my heart broke for her as she discovered that her husband had not married her for love, but for her father’s money. In the scene pictured below, Ellen telephones her father to confirm her suspicions about his influence over her husband. She learns all at once that she has little time left to live, and that her father made a deal with her attractive husband to allow her happiness in her supposedly short life. This is an especially painful realization for Ellen, as she has been ill almost her entire life. She had never had the attention of young men, and she wasn’t allowed much physical activity such as sports and games with her friends. She believed that her husband loved her, and she seemed so very happy as a doting wife. When she confronts her father over the phone, she repeatedly screams that she wishes for death. It is a moving and tragic scene.

Ellen: ”Explain?! Get well?! Who wants to get well?! I want to die, Father. Don’t you understand?! I want to die!”

Truly, it is the superb acting in this film which made it so memorable. Dorothy McGuire made my heart break alongside Ellen’s. Ruth Roman was entirely successful in making me fear husband-hunting vixens like the beautiful and cruel Maud. By the end of the film, Louis Calhern actually made me learn to love her misguided father, for although he makes some terrible decisions, ultimately, he loves his daughter dearly, and only wants her to have some happiness in her short life. Last, but certainly not least, Van Johnson stole my heart with his sincere devotion to his wife’s health and well-being: “I love you, Ellen … I love you so much more than I ever dreamed it was possible for me to love anyone.” With his freckled face and friendly attitude, who could resist his charm? If you’re a fan of Dorothy McGuire, Van Johnson, or Ruth Roman, this is a must-see film.

As a result of the excellent acting, Invitation is awarded three teardrops on our Maudlin Meter.

Like a fine wine…

Posted on June 25, 2012 by Sarah under best.films.ever., big-screen viewings, sarah's faves

Casablanca is my favorite film of all time. It’s one of those movies that I never tire of watching. In fact, one of my first dates with my husband was watching it while eating homemade pasta. Each year we have a tradition of watching this perfect film at least once together.

Last year (7/15/2011), he surprised me with tickets to watch Casablanca accompanied by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater, a venue that allowed us to bring blankets and watch the film from the lawn with a bottle of wine. It was a perfect summer evening; I had no idea what an amazing experience this would be. It was an incredibly moving feeling to be surrounded by hundreds of people who were laughing, crying, and cheering along with me. This film, which still has the power to move me after countless times watching it, had the same effect on so many others. The Atlanta Symphony Orchestra added a new and exciting element to the film. Because it was a live performance, there was no room for error. The Orchestra had a responsibility to maintain and enhance the sheer power of this film. I’m sure that any Casablanca fan would agree that one of the most important elements in this film is the music. Who can watch this film and not swell with emotion as Victor Lazlo commands the band to play “La Marseillaise” in an attempt to overpower the evil Major Strasser and his comrades? The Orchestra fulfilled my expectations in every way; it was indeed a compelling performance.

This year (6/14/2012) my husband and I watched Casablanca on the big screen at The Fox Theater in Atlanta. Because The Fox is designed in the theme of an Arabian desert, it was the perfect setting for Casablanca.

The Fox Theater

The previews for the movie featured a Looney Tunes version of the film: Carrotblanca. (The crowd seemed pleased with the choice of Pepe Le Pew to play Captain Renault.)

I sincerely hope that we are able to find another fantastic showing of Casablanca next year! I can’t wait to share my passion for this film with other fans all over again!

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