Tag Archives: ginger rogers

Getting to know Marilyn Monroe.

Posted on by under blogathon, hahas, summer under the stars

 

The legendary blonde bombshell, Marilyn Monroe, has for some time been a mystery to me. The handful of movies that I’ve seen of hers have left me unimpressed. While unarguably beautiful, she always seems to play an unintelligent, gold-digger type, which is unappealing to me (personally, I’ve always been more of a Katharine Hepburn fan: I like a strong, independent female lead). However, while researching more about the mysterious Monroe, I’ve learned that she may have been much deeper than she seemed on the surface. Monroe had a troubled childhood; her father abandoned the family, and her mother was mentally ill. She grew up in foster homes, and was said to have been abused and nearly raped at the age of six. Surely she was more intelligent than the characters she portrayed, as she took literature courses at UCLA and was said to have been well-read (from a literature teacher’s mindset, this is an obvious sign of intelligence). So why did Monroe continue to play the role of the sex symbol, the bubble-headed blonde, seemingly without fail?

Two of Monroe’s early screen performances set the stage for the persona that would ultimately define her career. In the humorous 1952 film We’re Not Married!, five couples discover that their marriages are not legal. Two years after ceremonies conducted by a senile judge were performed, the couples are informed by letters that their marriages are not official. The elderly judge is reprimanded; apparently, he was not officially in office until January 15, but he still married five couples between December 24 – January 14. Because he was not officially a judge when he performed those ceremonies, the couples involved were not legally wed. One such couple is Mr. and Mrs. Norris (David Wayne and Monroe).

When the judge and his wife recall the couple, the judge can’t stop talking about how cute the young woman, Mrs. Norris, had been: “Wasn’t she cute? Remember how she blushed about everything?” The husband, on the other hand, was remembered as a “jerk.” When we meet the couple, we see that things have changed for them: while the Mrs. is away competing in beauty contests, her husband is at home cooking, cleaning, and taking care of their infant.

Her husband is obviously very frustrated with this arrangement. When he answers the door in an apron, the postman says, “Where’s Mrs. Norris? At the office?” When Mr. Norris opens the letter that explains the couple is not legally married, he is thrilled. He immediately wires the Mrs. Mississippi committee to have her stripped of her title, since technically she is no longer a “Mrs.” He believes that this will allow him to share more of the domestic duties with her. Unfortunately for him, when he tells her the news, she is ecstatic. This means that she can compete in the “Miss Mississippi” contest instead of the “Mrs. Mississippi” contest that she’s previously been a part of.

“We’re not married!”

This is one of the few films in which I’ve seen Marilyn playing a married woman with a child. Although she is a beauty queen, she does not play the sex kitten that she has in the majority of her other films that I’ve seen. Also, although she is rather selfish and neglectful of her family, she is not the ditsy blonde that I’ve come to know as “Marilyn Monroe.” Instead, she is an ambitious woman who seems to work hard to reach her goal, which, for once, is not to bag a rich man.

Marilyn has another small part in the 1952 film Monkey Business starring Cary Grant and Ginger Rogers.

In this film, Dr. Fulton (Grant) attempts to create a fountain-of-youth drug. Thanks to a lab monkey, he is fairly successful. When he drinks the “miracle juice,” he begins to act like a young man. He goes out and purchases a new suit and a flashy sports car. Although he is married to the loyal Mrs. Fulton (Rogers), he spends time with a secretary who works at his company, Miss Laurel (Monroe). She seems to believe that he is romantically interested in her, and does her best to catch his attentions.

They spend the day together driving around in his sports car, roller-skating, and swimming at the community pool. After the drug wears off, he is no longer interested in the young, air-headed secretary. One of the most enjoyable parts of the film was watching Rogers threaten Monroe to stay away from her husband: “I’ll pull that blonde hair out by its black roots! … Put ‘em up! Put ‘em up! Put ‘em up!”

Although she fit the bill, I found Monroe’s character to be, once again, static. This is another Monroe film in which she plays a beautiful, yet ignorant blonde. She seemed to be the exact same character that she played in some of her other films, such as The Seven Year Itch (1955), Some Like It Hot (1959), and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953). Her performance in Bus Stop (1956) was slightly better, although she still plays a naive pushover who can’t seem to take control of the situation in which she becomes involved.

After reading her biographical information, I really want to become a Monroe fan, but I’m stymied by that overwhelmingly dizzy persona. In the relatively few films of hers that I have seen, Monroe just seems either unwilling or incapable of rising above the tired blonde stereotype. Was it fear? A sign of her inability/inexperience as an actress? Pressure from the studios? Or was she just more comfortable letting people see the facade as opposed to the “real thing?”

I’m convinced that there must more to her than meets the eye. Monroe fans, speak up! Are there Monroe performances out there that prove this? Can you help point this Monroe newbie in the right direction to find some performances that reflect the more cerebral, “real life” Marilyn?

 

This post is an entry in the “2012 TCM SUTS Blogathon” hosted by Sittin’ on a Backyard Fence and ScribeHard on Film. Check out the other Marilyn-centric posts that will be submitted throughout the day, and be sure to catch 24 hours of Monroe’s films all day on TCM.

Who’s that girl?: Helen Broderick

Posted on by under who's that girl

Her name may not be well-known to modern audiences, but her face is immediately recognizable to classic film fans. Throughout the 1930s and 40s, actress Helen Broderick appeared as the wisecracking pal of numerous Hollywood stars, always bringing a shot of well-timed droll humor to every role. In many ways, Broderick was the prototype for the sarcastic female sidekick, a persona that would later be filled (and taken to new, snarky heights) by such memorable character actresses as Eve Arden and Thelma Ritter. Her career in films amounted to a little more than two dozen pictures over the course of two decades, and even in the smallest of parts, Broderick was a welcome comedic presence.

Broderick had grown up determined to avoid show business due to a stage-obsessed mother, but when she left home at the age of fourteen, she found there was no better way to support herself than to reluctantly embrace the field she loathed. Broderick kicked off her career as a chorus girl on Broadway, appearing in the first Ziegfeld Follies in 1907 when she was barely sixteen years old. As one of the glamorous Ziegfeld Girls, Broderick shared the stage with some of the most notable performers of the day, including Will Rogers, Sophie Tucker, W.C. Fields, and Ed Wynn, among many others. Soon she moved on to the dramatic stage, understudying to popular Broadway star Ina Claire. When Broderick was forced to stand in for Claire one evening, her deliberately hilarious mangling of the play Jumping Jupiter made her a star. She went on to appear in a number of shows, most notably the Cole Porter-scored musical Fifty Million Frenchmen, which debuted in 1929.

Though Broderick had appeared in a handful of short films while living in New York, it was the big-screen adaptation of Frenchmen that ultimately brought her to Hollywood in 1931. In the movie, she reprises her role as Violet, a naughty American tourist. The film was not a strict adaptation of the stage show–the musical numbers were removed from the film before its release, as the public had reportedly grown weary of the genre by that time. The movie itself is relatively unremarkable, though The New York Times singled out Broderick positively in an otherwise lackluster review of the picture.

Broderick’s most notable roles may have been in the two films she made opposite Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire–and they just happen to be two of the dancing pair’s very best. In 1935′s Top Hat, Broderick appears as Madge Hardwick, exasperated wife of Edward Everett Horton’s Horace. Madge is good friends with Rogers’ Dale Tremont, who in a case of mistaken identity believes that Astaire’s character, Jerry–the man with whom she has fallen in love–is actually Horace. Broderick is hilarious as Madge, particularly when needling hapless husband Horton (when Jerry realizes that Dale has rejected his proposal because she believes he is married to her friend, Madge wryly replies, “Well, no wonder she said he was interesting”).

The following year, Broderick again partnered with Astaire and Rogers (as well as the subject of our last “Who’s That Girl?” profile, Betty Furness) in Swing Time. This go-round, Broderick plays Mabel, Rogers’ tart-tongued friend and confidant who gets caught up in the complicated romance between the two leads, as Lucky (Astaire) tries to hide his engagement to Margaret (Furness) from new love Penny (Rogers). Broderick gets some of the best zingers in the film–though most of them tend to reference her supposedly decrepit age (she was barely in her mid-40s at the time)–and she has a great rapport with costar Victor Moore, who plays Lucky’s older pal Pop.

Throughout the decade following her appearance in Swing Time, Broderick was featured in supporting roles opposite some of the biggest names in Hollywood: Barbara Stanwyck, Constance Bennett, Ann Sheridan, Dick Powell, Fred MacMurray, Adolphe Menjou, and Gloria Swanson among them. The actress also appeared in leading roles in several B-movies during that time as well, though she never broke through to mainstream leading-lady success. She eventually retired from the screen after completing the 1946 film Because of Him, in which she appeared opposite Deanna Durbin and Franchot Tone.

Though Helen Broderick may not be well-remembered today for her own career, she has a very special connection to a noteworthy Oscar-winning star. While still a teenager, she married fellow actor and vaudevillian Lester Crawford (who would go to appear with her both on Broadway and onscreen in Frenchmen), and in 1911, she gave birth to their son, Broderick Crawford (pictured to the right). And in 1949, Broderick won the Academy Award for Best Actor for his searing portrayal of Willie Stark in the film adaptation of All the King’s Men.

Helen Broderick passed away in 1959 at the age of sixty-eight. Though she had not wanted a career in entertainment, it found her nonetheless–and quite thankfully, for all of us who enjoy revisiting her films to witness anew her smart-mouthed charm.

“I guess rich people are just poor people with money.”

Posted on by under girls of summer, hahas

Alfred Borden (Walter Connolly) is having a bad day. His business is in trouble; his wife, Martha (Verree Teasdale), is cheating on him with another man; his son, Tim (Tim Holt), would rather play polo than work; and his daughter, Katherine (Kathryn Adams), is in love with Mike (James Ellison), the family’s disdainful, Communist-sympathizing chauffeur. Oh, and it happens to be Alfred’s birthday–which everyone but his secretary has forgotten.

Alfred takes a walk to Central Park and comes across a young woman named Mary (Ginger Rogers), who has lost her job. As a result of her troubles, Mary has a somewhat bitter outlook on the world. When Alfred realizes that Mary has nothing more to eat for dinner than a single apple, he asks her to accompany him to a fancy nightclub to celebrate his birthday and get a good meal. But things do not go exactly as planned–the pair gets roaringly drunk, and Alfred ends up with a black eye and his evening escapades plastered in the newspapers.

Martha is irritated by Alfred’s carousing–even though Martha herself had been at the club the night before with her lover–and becomes infuriated when Mary emerges from the guest room. Alfred decides to take advantage of his wife’s reaction to incite her jealousy further, and convinces Mary to pretend to be his mistress, inserting her into the household against the will of his family. Nothing at all could go wrong with that plan … could it?

Fifth Avenue Girl is not exactly what you would call a “memorable” entry in the list of films released during the storied year of 1939. It has been called a gender-reversed My Man Godfrey (1936), in that a virtual stranger is brought into the lives of a wealthy family, eventually changing things for the better. The thematic similarities in the film should come as no surprise, considering both were directed by Gregory La Cava, who also had a hand in writing both screenplays (though he was uncredited for these contributions). But while Godfrey is an undoubtedly classic screwball comedy with genuine heart and wit, Girl is a pale imitation of its predecessor, lacking that film’s warmth and humor. Rogers’ Mary is a dry, brittle counterpart to William Powell’s shrewd Godfrey, and the Borden family is not nearly as interesting as the clueless, careless Bullocks (with the possible exception of Connolly’s Alfred, who at times is almost on par with Godfrey’s fantastic patriarch Eugene Pallette).

Rogers is the center of the film–the character on which practically every element of the plot hinges–and yet she is perhaps the most lackluster character in the entire movie. Herein lies the problem with Fifth Avenue Girl. While part of Rogers’ charm as a comedic actress comes from her unparalleled ability to wield a tart tongue, that sharpness is typically paired with an innate vulnerability and a winking sense of humor that makes her standard characters appealing rather than off-putting. In this movie, however, there is nothing to blunt the edges of the character, and Mary comes across as wholly unpleasant and strangely drab in her utter unhappiness.

Though Mary indulges in snappy comebacks throughout the film, there is no spark to it. At times, her sense of humor even comes across as almost cruel and vaguely threatening (as when she tells the obnoxious Mike, “I think I’ll cut you a new mouth,” while picking up a knife). Rogers does her best with what she’s given, but in the end, there’s a kind of standoffishness to Mary, something beyond mere silent judgment of the other characters, that makes one wonder why La Cava and fellow writers Allan Scott and Morrie Ryskind ever thought she could be a sympathetic-enough figure to anchor the film. Compared to Rogers’ other major comedy that year–Garson Kanin’s delightful Bachelor Mother–Fifth Avenue Girl is relatively colorless, and the actress’ performance as Mary is completely overshadowed by her lovely turn as Mother’s equally poor, yet hopeful and exuberant Polly Parrish.

The problem with Mary is not the only issue here, however. Ultimately, it feels as though La Cava and company could not decide what they wanted this movie to be. Is it a romance? There’s not much that is strictly “romantic” about it–the film’s plot is based on falsehood and deceit, and the characters are (by and large) too selfish and lack self-awareness enough to really make the audience want to root for the couples. Is it a screwball comedy? The movie is missing a true element of slapstick-y humor that would anchor it firmly in that column. Is it an attempt at honest social commentary, contrasting Mary’s poverty and chauffeur Mike’s Communist leanings with the indolent Bordens? If so, it’s an ineffectual statement, because both characters are “rescued” (in the loosest sense) from their station by becoming members of the establishment–Mike marries into the family, easily abandoning his political principles in the process, and we are left to imagine that Mary, too, will find greener pastures as a member of the Borden family (at least, if Tim has his way).

And yet, with all of its problems, there is still something entertaining about the movie–and as I indicated earlier in this post, it all comes down to Walter Connolly. He was a noted character actor who began his Hollywood career with roles in a couple of silent movies in the 1910s before turning to Broadway, where he starred in a number of well-received productions. Connolly returned to film in the 1930s and went on to appear in more than fifty pictures during that decade, starring in some of the most notable and frenetic comedies of the period–movies such as It Happened One Night (1934), Twentieth Century (1934), Libeled Lady (1936), and Nothing Sacred (1937).

Girl presented Connolly with one of the actor’s rare leading roles. Here he plays a somewhat befuddled pater familias dealing with headstrong offspring and an inattentive (read: unfaithful) wife. In many ways, Alfred Borden is a more beaten-down–yet equally sly–version of Connolly’s Alexander Andrews from It Happened One Night. Both men eventually manage to manipulate their children into doing what they want them to do–while Andrews finally got his Ellie (Claudette Colbert) to marry the man he thought was best for her, Borden attains a simpler–though no less important–goal of merely getting his children to acknowledge his existence.

Fifth Avenue Girl was one of a handful of films Connolly made in 1939. Earlier in the year, he starred in MGM’s production of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, playing the “King,” one of the con men whom Huck encounters during his travels (incidentally, his partner in crime, the “Duke,” was playing by William Frawley of I Love Lucy fame). He appeared in two more films after Girl, the last of which, 1939′s The Great Victor Herbert (a musical in which Connolly played the title role) was released five months before his death from a stroke in May 1940.

Fifth Avenue Girl was a commercial success for its studio, RKO, though critical reception at the time ranged from dismissive to admittedly “charitable,” as film critic Frank S. Nugent stated in his 1939 review for The New York Times. He calls the movie ”cheerful and cheerfully unimportant,” clarifying that while it “may not be a strikingly good comedy,” Girl “isn’t militantly bad either.” Nugent’s somewhat damnable praise gets it exactly right. Girl is not a “bad” movie. It’s a middling one, at best. But slight though it is, it remains a mildly entertaining farce, and its redeemable elements (Connolly, the occasional witty rejoinder, a brief appearance from a ukulele-playing Jack Carson, and a welcome and amusing turn by Franklin Pangborn as the family butler) far outweigh the bad.

Ginger and Shirley and Christmas … Oh, My!

Posted on by under blogathon, holiday picks

This post is my contribution to the “Dueling Divas” blogathon hosted by Backlots. Go check out the other great entries that have been posted over the past three days!

Arguably, the two biggest dancing female stars of the 1930s–at least on the silver screen–were a sharp-tongued witty dame with legs to there, and a precocious, pint-sized charmer with precisely fifty-six curls on her head.

While Ginger Rogers hoofed her way across the screen in nine well-received films with partner Fred Astaire throughout the decade, Shirley Temple danced and sang her own way through a series of feel-good “lovable moppet” roles, becoming the savior of Twentieth Century Fox in the process. Both actresses had (and continue to have) immense fan bases, and both are remembered and cherished by film fans today for their respective dancing prowess and winning screen presence.

As Temple moved into more adult roles in the 1940s, and Rogers forged a very successful career outside of her partnership with Astaire (winning an Oscar for Best Actress for 1940′s Kitty Foyle in the process), the two of them would come together for their first and only film together, a Christmas-themed wartime melodrama called I’ll Be Seeing You (1944).

Mary (Rogers) and Zach (Joseph Cotten) happen to sit across from one another on a train at Christmastime. Zach is on furlough from a military hospital in the wake of a debilitating injury and shell-shock. Mary is also on furlough–from prison, where she has been serving a six-year sentence for manslaughter. Neither knows the details of the other’s “Christmas vacation,” but feel an instant attraction to one another. Mary goes to stay with her uncle’s family for Christmas, while Zach lies about visiting his sister in the same town so that he can see her again. Their feelings continue to grow throughout the week, and Mary’s aunt (Spring Byington) urges Mary not to tell Zach about her troubles. But Mary’s young cousin, Barbara (Temple) inadvertently tells Zach the truth about Mary’s life. Can Zach overcome his trepidation for the sake of their new-found love?

There is a touch of the maudlin to this film, particularly in the scenes in which Mary explains to Barbara exactly why she has been sent to prison. But this does not detract from what is ultimately an enjoyable little movie. There is an interesting dynamic between Rogers’ and Temple’s characters in that their prototypical roles are somewhat reversed in the film. Rogers usually plays the quick, tart-tongued worldly woman, but here she is meek and downtrodden, plagued with regrets for the things she has lost because of her misfortune. On the other hand, Temple has more than enough sass for both of them as Mary’s suspicious cousin. As opposed to her typical screen performances as the eternal optimist, here Temple is (at least at first) the sharp one, the cynical teenager who cannot fully accept her cousin’s presence until the truth behind her imprisonment is revealed.

There is an initial hint of rivalry between the cousins upon Zach’s arrival at the family’s home for dinner. Barbara stares at him longingly, shooting veiled, disapproving looks at Mary as though she feels her cousin is not good enough for the handsome soldier (as well she likely does). Of course, Barbara is far too young for Zach herself, but her obvious crush on him further colors her perception of her jailbird relation. Mary, for her part, strives to understand Barbara’s trepidation at having a convict for a temporary roommate, though it’s hard for her once she sees how Barbara has labeled all of the possessions in her room. But all indications of conflict are set aside once Mary explains the details behind her “crime.” And even though Barbara is ultimately responsible for driving Zach away by telling him about Mary’s past, it is the mistake of a child, born out of haste, not malice, and one that eventually leads to a positive denouement for the film.

I read an article several years ago that claimed that Rogers disliked Temple and loathed working with her on this movie, but I have not seen any evidence of that elsewhere. Who’s to say if the two really did have a fierce rivalry, or whether it was merely tabloidic speculation (yes, I’m aware I probably just made up a word)? Still, I thoroughly enjoy the combination of these two famous hoofers in this film–though, admittedly, real “hoofing” doesn’t play all that big a role in the movie. There is a YMCA ball near the end of the film, but neither actress gets a chance to really show off her skills.

Wouldn’t it have been beyond fascinating to see these two talents really hash out their perceived feud on the dance floor? I mean, seriously–it’s one of those interesting questions to ponder: who do you think would win in a head-to-head dance-off between Ginger and Shirley? Is that even a fair question?

(For the record, my money would be on Ginger, all the way. No offense, Shirls.)

Happy centenary, Ginger!

Posted on by under brandie's faves, natal day

Today marks the 100th birthday of the fabulous Ginger Rogers! I have to admit, I’m somewhat surprised that TCM is not marking the occasion with a day of Ginger-centric films—after all, there’s no dearth of great movies from Ginger’s extensive filmography. She could do it all: melodrama (1940′s Kitty Foyle), romance (1945′s Weekend at the Waldorf), physical comedy (1952′s Monkey Business) … the list goes on and on. And while I love (most of) Ginger’s pairings with Fred Astaire, for which she is perhaps best-known, I have always felt like the actress was a somewhat underrated comedienne, and therein lies her great appeal for me as a film fan.

So I will spend this evening watching three of my comedic favorites: The Major and the Minor (1942), Stage Door (1937), and Bachelor Mother (1939), all of which I’ve reviewed here on True Classics in the past. Admittedly, I’ve seen all three of these movies more times than I can count, to the point where I have most of the dialogue memorized. But every time I see these movies, and watch Ginger play an overly hormonal Swedish teenager, spar with Katharine Hepburn, or teach David Niven how to feed a baby, I laugh like it’s the very first time … the mark of a truly classic actress.

What are your favorite Ginger Rogers films, and why?

She’s a nice girl!

Posted on by under 3-star films, brandie's faves, hahas, screwball legends, wacky wednesdays

I’ve made no secret of my admiration for Ginger Rogers in the past–she’s an underrated comedienne, relegated in the minds of most moviegoers to a permanent place waltzing at Fred Astaire’s side. And while there is no shortage of entertainment to be drawn from the Fred and Ginger filmography, Ginger’s talent extends far beyond the dance floor.

In this installment of Wacky Wednesdays, we’re going to take a look at one of my favorite Fred-less Ginger Rogers roles: 1938′s hilarious screwball comedy Vivacious Lady.

Rogers plays Francey, a young nightclub singer in New York. When Peter Morgan (James Stewart) is sent to Francey’s club to retrieve his lovestruck cousin, Keith (James Ellison), Peter winds up falling for Francey. After a whirlwind night together, the two marry, and Peter takes Francey to his hometown, Old Sharon, where he is a botany professor at the local college. His father, Peter Sr. (Charles Coburn) and his former fiance, Helen (Frances Mercer) meet the pair at the train station, where Peter passes off Francey as Keith’s lover until he can find the right time to tell his father and his heart-attack-prone mother (Beulah Bondi) that he has married the girl. Cue the slapstick as Peter tries to clue in his parents, let down Helen gently, and find a way to consummate his marriage with his alluring new wife.

If this film is known for anything, it’s Rogers’ patio scrap with Mercer, a brilliantly-constructed fight that remains one of the greatest scenes in screwball history. Featuring all the hallmarks of the stereotypical catfight–hair-pulling, biting, kicking, name-calling–it builds to a chaotic crescendo as Helen, still unaware of Peter’s marriage, confronts the “interloper” in their relationship. Francey’s initial humoring of Helen is marked by Rogers’ trademarked brand of smart-assed repartee:

Helen: “Now are you going to mind your own business, or must I really give you a piece of my mind?”

Francey: “Oh, I couldn’t take the last piece.”

Helen, the self-proclaimed paragon of class, strikes first, slapping Francey across the cheek, and you know it’s on like Donkey Kong. All civilized talk gives way to a continued series of slaps and admonishments (“Shh!”) from Francey, two kicks from Helen, and, finally, a warning from a fed-up Francey to her tony opponent to “put ‘em up.” This in itself is hilarious, and yet Rogers kicks it up another notch, bringing to the scene a kind of dignified mortification at being caught in the act that makes her predicament ten times funnier. As the Morgans finally make their way to the patio, a sheepish Francey stares at Peter’s father in a brief moment of horror, then smiles, spits a rose petal out of her mouth, laughs with embarrassment, and tightens her chokehold. And when Helen decides to play dirty, poking her rival with a hatpin, Francey simply tosses the bitch over her shoulder and lays her out on the ground. Classic, feisty Ginger.

The fight itself is a blatant demonstration of the class struggle that is such a central theme to the film, as the forces of high class react poorly to the infiltration of the “common.” Peter, though deeply in love with his new wife, does not quite know how to introduce her to his family, and Francey fears she does not meet the requirements to be a professor’s wife and to fit into the Morgans’ stuffy world. Peter, Sr., repulsed by Francey’s perceived corruption and contemptible morality, almost destroys his son’s marriage due to his own preconceived biases. But as in most screwball comedies, the higher-class Morgans are shown to have just as many–if not more–issues than “average girl” Francey, and when the Morgans are brought “down to earth” (so to speak), love is allowed to win over class concerns in the end.

The solid casting of this film works heavily in its favor. Coburn and Bondi, as Stewart’s parents, are gifted comic sidekicks and stand out in their scenes on screen. Ellison, as sly cousin Keith, is a charming second banana. And Stewart, in one of his first major roles as a leading man, shows glimmers of the stalwart, capable performer he would become in the ensuing years. But make no mistake: Rogers run away with the picture. Lady is undoubtedly a showcase for its lead actress, designed to separate her from the specter of Fred in the minds of the moviegoing public.

Does the film succeed in that respect? For the most part, yes. After the initial nightclub scenes, in which we get a taste of dancing and singing Ginger, the film moves beyond the music and engrosses us in the comedy and the romance to the point that we don’t really miss the musical interludes so common in a 1930s Rogers film. And this film, combined with other Rogers solo vehicles such as Bachelor Mother (1939), Kitty Foyle (1940), Primrose Path (1940), and The Major and the Minor (1942), demonstrates that, unlike erstwhile partner Astaire, Rogers could actually craft a successful career outside the bounds of singing and dancing.

Will someone put this wonderful film on DVD already?!?!?

Uh-oh … it’s one of those monthly experiment-type things.

Posted on by under brandie's faves, carrie's faves, daily recommendation, tcm spotlight

So you may recall that February’s experiment in “let’s make a recommendation every day!” didn’t exactly work out the way I wanted it to. But as Fred and Ginger sang in one of their best, Swing Time, “pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.”

(Well, now I just need to post that clip.)

In that spirit, we’re going to try this again, this time with TCM’s Summer Under the Stars celebration, which makes August one of my very favorite months of the year despite the oppressive heat down here in Mississippi (can’t … breathe … need … A/C).

As most of you (hopefully) already know, every August, TCM dedicates each day of programming to the films of one star. There’s a great lineup this year, filled with the requisite “big” names (Bob Hope on the 8th, Katharine Hepburn on the 20th, Clint Eastwood on the 31st), some not-so-generally-familiar folks (Woody Strode on the 5th, Robert Ryan on the 13th, Thelma Todd on the 30th), and everything in between.

Carrie and I will each choose one film to recommend per day this month (except on those occasions on which we want to share the same film!). Some of these recommendations will be our favorite films from that day’s lineup, and some will be choices we have never personally seen, but will be watching ourselves for the very first time and dissecting later. Regardless, we hope you’ll join us in discussing these films and that you will feel free to share your own favorites!

Check back tomorrow for our first selections of the month!

March is a month of Ginger and spice.

Posted on by under 4-star films, ahh romance, brandie's faves, classic disney, hahas, screwball legends

Between mystery illnesses and miscellaneous bothers, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks, but hopefully we can get back into the swing of things this week.

Another 31 Days of Oscar celebration has come and gone, and my resolution to post a recommendation a day kind of fell apart there in the middle, didn’t it? Oh, well. There’s always next year. And in the meantime, TCM is celebrating a return to regular programming by anointing one of my absolute favorites, Ginger Rogers, as Star of the Month.

What makes Ginger so special, you may ask? Well, if you have to ask, you obviously have not seen very many of her films, or else you just know her from her very successful pairing with Fred Astaire in ten films. But if that’s your only exposure to the divine Miss R., this month’s film lineup can easily rectify that for you.

In my review of The Major and the Minor (still one of my favorite Ginger performances of all time), I touched on some of the reasons why I love this woman’s films. Yes, she was a remarkable dancer, but even now, she remains somewhat underrated as a performer, so intertwined is her film persona with that of Astaire. And while many casual movie fans remember other parts of Fred’s–other dancing partners, really, like Judy Garland (Easter Parade), Cyd Charisse (The Band Wagon), and Rita Hayworth (You’ll Never Get Rich and You Were Never Lovelier)–not many can easily recall a non-Fred-paired role of Ginger’s.

And that really is a shame, because her comedic skills outstripped her dancing prowess by a mile, at least in my opinion. Don’t get me wrong: I love watching those Fred and Ginger classics, particularly Top Hat, Swing Time, and Shall We Dance, my personal favorites. And when TCM aired all ten Fred and Ginger pics in a row recently, I was barely able to pry myself away from the television.

While there are quite a few treasures coming up in the next two Wednesdays (among them the screwball Vivacious Lady, the relatively racy Primrose Path, and the aforementioned Major), I particularly want to encourage you to catch one of Rogers’ best comedic performances, in 1939′s Bachelor Mother.

Ginger plays Polly Parrish, a single store clerk who has just been fired from her holiday sales job right before Christmas. On her lunch break, she walks by a foundling home and finds an abandoned baby boy on the front steps. The administrators of the home, mistaking Polly for the baby’s mother, resolve to return “her” child to her care, enlisting the help of Polly’s former boss, David Merlin. David hires Polly back and arranges for the baby to be delivered to Polly’s apartment that evening, much to her chagrin. But when David threatens to fire Polly if she does not accept responsibility for “her” child, she finds herself taking on the role of “bachelor mother” to the sweet little boy, losing her heart to him AND to the man who forced her into assumed motherhood in the first place!

In this film, you see the funny side of Rogers’ talent that had heretofore only been hinted at in her dance flicks and other films such as 1937′s Stage Door. Her timing is impeccable, her facial expressions perfectly sliding from quizzical amusement to relief, from confused anger to luminous adoration, in the blink of an eye. Watch as she skirts around her nervousness at dining with a group of tony dilettantes by pretending to be Swedish. Her joy at the charade is obvious, yet she slides into the sophisticated facade quickly and elegantly:

David Niven appears here in his first major leading role (after making a splash earlier in the year as Linton in Wuthering Heights). As the romantic lead, he induces the necessary swoons, but also many of the laughs as he reacts to the craziness surrounding him. In one scene, his character, the son of the store’s owner, tries to return a defective toy, despite Polly’s warnings that the store’s exchange department never exchanges anything. His growing frustration results in pure hilarity as the scene dissolves into utter chaos (complete with a great display of physical comedy from the rather dignified Niven).

The delightful Charles Coburn also appears in one of his many wealthy, fatherly roles, this time as David’s outraged papa. As John B. Merlin, Coburn gesticulates, yells, and plots, stealing the show along the way (and delivering one of the best lines, too). And Frank Albertson is just the right mix of bemusement and sliminess necessary to play scheming floor clerk Freddie, whose interference makes things difficult for David and Polly.

Also notable: the very important supporting role of Donald Duck, who plays a large role in uniting the film’s two lovers! You’ll have to watch the movie to see exactly how he accomplishes that.  :)

To my continuing horror, Bachelor Mother is not available on DVD, and the only versions available on videotape (rare as they are) have been–GASP!–colorized. No, thanks. I’d rather go swimming in a shark-filled pond wearing bacon pants than watch a pathetically-colored version of this fantastic movie.

Make sure you catch this one while it’s on, or DVR it for later viewing! It’s airing at 9:45PM EST on Wednesday the 24th, and again on May 9th at 6:30AM.

I hope you love it as much as I do!