Tag Archives: preston sturges

“Sex always has something to do with it, dear.”

Posted on by under announcements, contributed post, hahas, screwball legends

My latest contribution to the ongoing Wonders in the Dark Comedy Countdown is live … at number 42, it’s the frenetic and fanatically funny Preston Sturges masterpiece, The Palm Beach Story (1942)!

Head on over to WitD to check out my thoughts on one of my favorite films of all time, and make sure to throw your two cents into the discussion in the comments! And keep checking in at Wonders every weekday as the countdown winds down to a close over the next two months–there are some truly fantastic films coming up on the list! (FYI: I’ll have my fourth contribution up next week!)

Hail to the conquering hero …

Posted on by under hahas, politics ... not as usual

“I knew the Marines could do almost anything, but I never knew they could do anything like this.”

Woodrow Lafayette Pershing Truesmith (Eddie Bracken) has, as you can probably tell by his name, a lot to live up to. His father, “Hinky Dinky” Truesmith, was a Marine who died at the Battle of Belleau Wood in 1918, the same day Woodrow was born. When the United States enters World War II, Woodrow enlists in the Marine Corp., only to be medically discharged a month later due to chronic hay fever.

Instead of going home and admitting the truth to his mother (Georgia Caine), Woodrow gets a job in a shipyard. One night at a bar, he orders a round of drinks for a group of six Marines who’ve just returned from Guadalcanal. Their leader, Sgt. Heppelfinger (William Demarest), fought in World War I beside Woodrow’s father, whom he respected greatly. The group of Marines listens to Woodrow’s story, and they come up with a scheme to pass Woodrow off as a returning hero to save face in front of his mother.

Unbeknownst to them, however, Woodrow’s mother tells the entire town that her “conquering hero” is returning home, and a huge reception awaits them at the train station–including Libby (Ella Raines), Woodrow’s true love. She is now engaged to the pompous mayor’s son (Bill Edwards) after having received a letter from Woodrow telling her that she shouldn’t wait for him.

Against his will (and better judgment), Woodrow is forced to go along with the charade, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his position as the new town hero. Things get exponentially worse when Woodrow is maneuvered into running for mayor against the incumbent, on a platform trumpeting the heroic qualities that make him a “perfect” candidate for the post.

Hail the Conquering Hero was writer/director Preston Sturges’ final film for Paramount, though it was released in theaters before The Great Moment (which had actually been filmed in 1942 before being delayed for multiple re-edits). Sturges’ contract with the studio actually expired before post-production was completed on Hero, though he later returned to shoot a new ending and finish editing the film.

Hero is a veritable laugh riot in its first half, but quickly devolves into a combination of tongue-in-cheek political satire and almost mawkish sentimentality by the end. Hero is staged initially as a screwball comedy, with an outlandishly farcical set-up (prototypical of Sturges) and rapid-fire, witty dialogue (again, a Sturges hallmark). But when Woodrow arrives home, the humor, though still packing a punch in places, wanes in favor of the film’s message: that hero worship, especially that of the proliferation of new American war heroes, can ultimately be blinding. Despite the heavy-handedness of the message, however, Hero is still a charming, funny film, anchored by an unmatched comedic performance from its leading man, Eddie Bracken.

When filming commenced on Hero, Bracken had just come off a starring role in The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, which had been released earlier in 1944. He’d made his film debut in 1940 in the film version of the Broadway musical Too Many Girls, repeating his starring role from the stage. Throughout the 1940s, Bracken was a huge star both on screen and on the radio, and though he retired from film in the 1950s, he made a comeback of sorts with his role as the owner of Walley World in 1983′s National Lampoon’s Vacation. He appeared in a handful of other films (Oscar in 1991, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York in 1992) before his death in 2002.

Ella Raines was presented with her first big starring role as Libby, but if not for Sturges’ defense of her, she would never have had the part at all. When her casting was announced, Paramount reportedly threw a fit, insisting that Sturges recast the part with a “name” actress. Sturges refused, a stance that contributed to the growing schism between the writer/director and the studio. Raines ultimately had a rather short-lived career in Hollywood, appearing in a number of films throughout the 1940s and then moving primarily into television roles through the mid-1950s.

As usual, the film features a lineup of wonderfully oddball characters from Sturges’ unofficial “stock company” of supporting actors, including Demarest as the determined Heppelfinger, Raymond Walburn as the ridiculously self-important Mayor Everett “Evvy” Noble, Franklin Pangborn as the frustrated chairman of the town’s welcoming committee, Georgia Caine as Woodrow’s mother, Esther Howard as the mayor’s deliciously daffy wife, Jimmy Conlin as Judge Dennis, and Al Bridge as the mayor’s adviser (“Save your voice, Evvy”).

Hero also features supporting turns by Elizabeth Patterson, perhaps best known as Mrs. Trumbull on I Love Lucy, as Libby’s aunt, and Freddie Steele, a former World Middleweight Boxing champion, as one of the Marines. Hero presented Steele with his first acting role, but since the film’s release was delayed, he actually appeared on-screen in several other films first (including a bit part in The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek). In Hero, Steele plays Bugsy, the Marine with “momma issues” and PTSD whose interference starts the chain of events that leads to Woodrow’s deception. Given his pugnacious attitude and take-no-nonsense film persona, his background as a world-class fighter comes as little surprise. Steele’s film career wasn’t long–he made his final film in 1948–but he made a name for himself with a series of military-type roles, including a part in 1945′s Story of G.I. Joe.

Sturges was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay for Hero. That same year, he was also nominated in the same category for the script for Morgan’s Creek. Funnily enough, he lost to Wilson (1944), a biopic of Woodrow’s namesake, President Woodrow Wilson.

Hail to the Conquering Hero, it can be argued, marks the end of Sturges’ most prolific creative period. After the release of Hero and The Great Moment in 1944, Sturges went the independent filmmaker route, and though he would go on to film a handful of other pictures in subsequent years, his career never reached the same heights as during his early 1940s heyday. By 1955, his career was over, and he passed away four years later while writing his autobiography (which was finally published in 1990).

CMBA Comedy Classics Blogathon: The Great McGinty (1940)

Posted on by under cmba blogathon, hahas, politics ... not as usual

“This is the story of two men who met in a banana republic. One of them was honest all his life except one crazy minute. The other was dishonest all his life except one crazy minute. The both had to get out of the country.”

So begins the directorial debut of Preston Sturges … and so begins a five-year run of unparalleled comedic cinematic brilliance.

By 1940, Sturges had become one of the most celebrated screenwriters in Hollywood. Sturges-scripted films such as 1933′s The Power and the Glory (recognized as a major inspiration for Orson Welles’ and Herman Mankiewicz’s script for Citizen Kane), Easy Living (1937), and Remember the Night (1940) were greatly successful. But Sturges was displeased with the way his scripts were being filmed by other directors, and he remained unhappy with the final on-screen results.

In 1940, Sturges approached Paramount with an intriguing offer: he would sell them the script for a political satire called The Great McGinty for a bargain price–one dollar–if they allowed him to direct the picture himself. In the end, Paramount paid him ten dollars and gave him a small budget of $350,000 and a mere three weeks to shoot the film.

Despite any qualms the studio may have had about their new, untried director, their money was well-spent. McGinty became a smash hit, and Sturges went on to win the first-ever Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. The movie was also the first in a string of hit comedies for the writer/director, including such screwball classics as The Lady Eve (1941) and The Palm Beach Story (1942), the controversial comedy The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek (1944), and the film that is arguably Sturges’ masterpiece, Sullivan’s Travels (1941).

It’s hard to classify McGinty as a straight comedy; its underlying themes are too dark for that. But Sturges deftly combines those less savory (and slightly uncomfortable) elements with witty dialogue, incisive observation of human foibles, and a dash of slapstick. In the process, the film pokes fun at the theatrical nature of the political machine in this country in a way that seems almost prophetic.

The film begins in a rundown bar in the tropics. Dan McGinty (Brian Donlevy), the scruffy, gruff bartender, prevents drunken patron Tommy from shooting himself. Tommy is despondent because, in his previous incarnation as the cashier of a bank, he had been tempted to steal money and had subsequently derailed his plans for the future. After saving Tommy, McGinty sits him down at the bar and flashes back to the story of his own ignominious downfall: after spending much of his life as a bum, he had risen through the ranks to become the governor of a state (implied to be Illinois), before corruption and his conscience got the best of him.

McGinty’s rise to political power begins when he figures out a way to milk the voter fraud system set up by the city’s political machine in support of Mayor Wilfred Tillinghast. At two bucks a pop, he travels across the city, voting at various polling stations under a series of false names. To the utter surprise of the man running the scam (William Demarest, known only as The Politician throughout the film), McGinty votes thirty-seven different times without getting caught. The head of the machine, known only as The Boss (Akim Tamiroff), is impressed by McGinty’s initiative and bravado—despite the fact that McGinty had disrespected him—and offers him a job as an enforcer, of sorts, collecting protection money from businesses around the city. McGinty shows a flair for the task, by turns sweet-talking and rough-housing his way into collecting the funds.

The Boss eventually makes McGinty an alderman. In the meantime, an outcry by the Civic Purity League leads to a shakeup at City Hall. The Boss (who is secretly in cahoots with the leader of the League) proposes that McGinty, a supposed “clean, typical American,” run for mayor against Tillinghast, and tells McGinty to get married right away (because “women got the vote now” and “they don’t like bachelors”). McGinty initially refuses to run under that condition, but after his secretary, Catherine (Muriel Angelus), tells him she’d be willing to enter an “in name only” marriage to further his career, he finally agrees … though Catherine waits until after the wedding to reveal that she has two children from her first marriage.

McGinty wins the election and institutes a series of civic improvements while continuing the same level of graft that had gotten his predecessor into trouble. McGinty and Catherine begin to fall in love, and he takes on a more fatherly role with her children. But when Catherine professes her unease at his business practices, telling him that she hopes that one day he’ll be “strong enough” to stand up to The Boss and “do some good” for his constituents, McGinty begins to think that perhaps he can pull away from the political machine, if only to make Catherine happy. McGinty campaigns for governor and wins and, upon reciting his oath at the inauguration, seems to take the words to heart. But this sudden change in perspective leads to a rather ignominious downfall, and his newfound lofty ideals ultimately become his undoing.

McGinty’s story is the prototypical tale of the bad-man-gone-good-thanks-to-the-love-of-a-good-woman. Still, McGinty is not an altogether “bad” guy to start with, and this is what ultimately makes him an appealing sort of anti-hero. He’s more opportunistic than outright deceitful; his movement up the political ladder comes not from his own ambition, but more from a kind of “go with the flow” attitude. When The Boss asks him if he wants to run for mayor, his response is, “Well, sure, I guess so,” delivered with an implied shrug.

Like his cronies, McGinty initially shows little remorse for his actions, nonchalantly explaining at one point, “You gotta crawl before you creep, don’t ya?” But later in the film, he begins to feel the pangs of conscience. In one notable scene, Catherine’s children stand in the doorway to his bedroom on election night and watch their mother put their drunken stepfather to bed. While Catherine apologizes for the children bothering him, McGinty’s only concern is that “they had to see me like this.” And for all of his aggressive worldliness, there is an endearing sort of innocence to the man, embodied in the scene in which McGinty reads a bedtime story to the children and, even though they have fallen asleep, insists on finishing so he can find out the ending of the tale.

The film takes an ultimately cynical and yet hilarious stance on the issue of political corruption. The idea of buying votes from down-on-their-luck bums doesn’t even cause a momentary pang of conscience on the part of The Boss: it’s just good business. Note the scene in which The Politician explains the voting scam to McGinty:

“Some people is too lazy to vote, that’s all. They don’t like this kind of weather. Some of them is sick in bed and can’t vote. Maybe a couple of ‘em croaked recently. That ain’t no reason why Mayor Tillinghast should get cheated out of their support! All we’re doing is getting out the vote!”

McGinty and The Boss are a match made in corruption heaven. They work well together because they understand one another. Both are physical beings, willing to duke it out in the heat of the moment, as they do several times throughout the film. Neither really has an overt conscience or any qualms about the illegal things they are doing. It’s only when McGinty begins to assert honesty that the partnership is broken. And even when The Boss goes into a rage and tries to shoot him, McGinty is unwilling to press charges, because he understands his former partner in crime so well, explaining to Catherine, “He ain’t a bad guy, honey, according to his way of looking at things. You got to remember, he took me off a breadline.” He knows how The Boss feels after everything they’ve been through together: “Why shouldn’t he [try to kill me]? Don’t you think I’d take a pop at a guy that slipped me the triple-cross?”

The movie presents an interesting twist on the Horatio Alger-esque idea of the “American dream,” wherein traditionally a boy makes good through hard work and virtuous honesty. When The Boss explains to McGinty the joys of living in America, the irony of his lauding of the “land of the free” is apparent:

“Yesterday you was a hobo on the breadline. Today you got a thousand berries and a new suit. I wonder where you’ll be tomorrow. This is a land of great opportunity!”

Of course, the only way McGinty is able to secure his garish new plaid suit and a thousand dollars in cash is through underhanded means. But neither The Boss nor McGinty see the (somewhat disturbing) humor in their particular situation.

There are scenes of slapstick and visual humor amidst the darker backdrop of the tale: McGinty and The Boss wrestling in the backseat of The Boss’ armored car, tumbling out onto the street when a valet pulls open the door; McGinty checking out Catherine’s legs before he’ll agree to marry her (“What’s that got to do with it?” she asks indignantly as he takes a peek); McGinty meandering drunkenly through his own election-night victory party and stumbling clumsily through his pitch-dark apartment afterwards, shattering glass and knocking over furniture. These moments serve to lighten the tone of the film, but also underscore the idea that politicians are little more than thugs, driven by the same impulses that drive most human beings. The story of McGinty is a twisted Pygmalion-like tale in which the final, shiny product remains unchanged underneath: in other words, once a bum, always a bum.

One specific scene in the film seems to sum up Sturges’ point of view in one pointed, definitive stroke. It is a particularly brilliant montage of two political rallies, one headed by The Politician in support of McGinty, and the other for his opponent, in which the two different perspectives of McGinty’s political career are relayed in a nutshell. For supporters, his spending of the city’s treasury money means more jobs, more money in circulation, and more prosperity for the majority of the citizens; for opponents, that same action means the construction of useless buildings and the proliferation of graft.

In the end, the election comes down to a single question of performance. Who presents the most appealing case? The Politician, a firebrand shouting rallying cries, or his opponent, who attempts to offer reason and facts in a more subdued display? It’s ultimately not surprising that McGinty wins the election. Watching such scenes some seventy-odd years after the film’s release (and in an election year, no less), it only goes to show that the more things change, the more things stay the same. Look at the theatrical nature of the recent proliferation of Republican debates. Listen to the rhetoric of the President’s annual State of the Union address. The entire electoral process is a matter of histrionics. Who speaks loudest? Whose message can be presented in the most appealing light? Facts? What are those?

Politics, as Sturges has basically foretold in The Great McGinty, is an animal that will likely never change. The cynicism behind Sturges’ portrait of the American political system is just as prevalent today. It’s enough to make one want to move to his own banana republic and escape the whole thing.

But at least we can derive some laughs from the process.

No matter how uncomfortable they may be.

This post is our contribution to the CMBA Comedy Classics Blogathon. Check out the CMBA website for the full schedule of participants.

Screwball essentials.

Posted on by under brandie's faves, nikki's faves, screwball legends, wacky wednesdays

We love comedy here at True Classics–the silent shenanigans of Chaplin and Keaton; the romantic sparring of Hepburn and Tracy; the subtle zingers of a good Wilder or Lubitsch script; even the absurdist spoofs of Mel Brooks and Monty Python–in their own unique, hilarious ways, we love them all.

But perhaps most of all, we love the screwball pictures–slapstick, all-out madness capped by farcical situations, innumerable misunderstandings, and more than one man in a dress by movie’s end. Some of the best comedies to emerge from Hollywood’s Golden Age fall under the “screwball” genre, and as such, we’ll be celebrating them every now and again in our Wacky Wednesdays series.

As for our favorites … well, that’s a matter that’s always up for debate. So to kick off our Wacky Wednesdays series, here’s a look at some of our individual picks, many of which we’ll be discussing more in-depth in future posts!

Brandie: Preston Sturges was the master of the screwball comedy, hands down.

In a handful of pictures, the uber-talented writer/director managed to both define and subvert the genre, and he did it with one of the most prolific, talented stock troupe of actors the world has ever seen. Stars like Joel McCrea and Eddie Bracken reveled in the insanity and produced some of the best work of their careers. Female actresses like Barbara Stanwyck, Claudette Colbert, and Veronica Lake were cast as some of the most well-developed female comedic characters in film history and they ran with them, resulting in amazingly deft performances (even from Lake, who, let’s face it, wasn’t exactly considered easy to work with, nor very talented to boot). And as the even-funnier “second bananas,” Sturges had comedians like William Demarest, Robert Dudley, and Frank Moran, character actors who stole the show from the bigger stars on a regular basis.

While I love most of Sturges’ films, my favorites are The Lady Eve, Sullivan’s Travels, The Palm Beach Story, Hail the Conquering Hero, and The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek. I also quite love Remember the Night, which was written by Sturges but not directed by him.

I’m also inordinately fond of Bringing Up Baby; this is the movie that introduced me to screwball back when I still thought black-and-white movies were the height of old-fashioned foolishness (ahh, the ignorance of youth). And I will shout to the rooftops about Bachelor Mother, with Ginger Rogers and David Niven, which I don’t think gets enough credit for being such an amazing, funny, adorable film–her undisputed best film (next to The Major and the Minor) without erstwhile dancing partner Fred Astaire.

Nikki: On top of My Favorite Wife, Bachelor Mother (and their remakes Move Over, Darling and Bundle of Joy respectively), and Bringing Up Baby (funniest movie EVER), I also love How to Marry a Millionaire and The Shop Around the Corner. 

How to Marry a Millionaire is probably my all-time favorite Marilyn Monroe film for two reasons: 1) she wears glasses; and 2) she takes a back seat to Lauren Bacall and doesn’t bowl you over with her good looks.  Bacall is brilliant (as usual) and William Powell makes an appearance as the wealthy JD.  If you haven’t seen it, you’re in for a treat.  The Shop Around the Corner is a great story about two people who have no idea they are perfect for each other and keep letting petty differences get in the way.  Starring Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullivan, with Frank Morgan (best known to today’s audiences as the Wizard from The Wizard of Oz), this film is sweet, funny, and a true delight.  If you loved You’ve Got Mail, which is a remake of this film, you’ll love the original.

*Side note: You may notice that Carrie’s comedy selections are not listed. Carrie is taking a brief break from blogging until life calms down a little bit in her neck of the woods. She’ll be back soon, though, so don’t despair! Nikki and I will still be here, holding down the fort in the meantime.*

Review: Preston Sturges (The Filmmaker Collection)

Posted on by under brandie's faves, dvd review, screwball legends

No film director in history had quite as deft a hand in crafting wild, outrageous comedy as Preston Sturges. The director also wrote and produced his own screenplays, in addition to dabbling in acting, songwriting, and playwriting, among other varied interests. A prototypical “Renaissance man,” Sturges brought a wide-ranging knowledge to his films, reflected in intelligent characterizations, sharp dialogue, and frenetic, furious comedic pacing.

The 2006 release of Preston Sturges: The Filmmaker Collection includes seven of the eight films Sturges wrote and directed within the five-year period of his greatest productivity as a filmmaker (1940-1944). The only title missing from the collection, 1944′s The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, is sorely missed, if only for its witty, somewhat saucy storyline (a young woman awakens after a party to find herself pregnant and married to a soldier whose name she has forgotten–it’s truly a wonder that this film even made it past the Hays Code!). The film’s exclusion from the collection amounts simply to a matter of ownership: the film belongs to Paramount, not this collection’s distributor, Universal. Thankfully, however, Miracle is available as a stand-alone title on DVD, and is generally inexpensive through Amazon.

Despite the missing title, the films in this collection serve as a wonderful representation of Sturges’ zany plotting and incisive social commentary, and demonstrate the thread of connectedness that links much of Sturges’ work through recurring characters and the reappearance of many of the same actors in consecutive films. In fact, Sturges was one of the first directors to build a loosely-conglomerated “stock company” of actors, including William Demarest, Max Wagner, Robert Dudley, and Frank Moran (to name only a few), most of whom would appear in almost every film Sturges directed during this time period.

Beginning with 1940′s The Great McGinty (for which he won an Academy Award for best original screenplay) and Christmas in July, and continuing through 1944′s Hail the Conquering Hero and The Great Moment, the movies presented here all have their respective charms. Allow me, however, to introduce to you the three highlights from the collection: 1941′s The Lady Eve and Sullivan’s Travels, and 1942′s The Palm Beach Story.

Though Sturges had been writing films since 1933 (beginning with The Power and the Glory), he was not given the opportunity to direct his own work until 1940, after the success of his last screenplay for Paramount, that year’s Christmas classic Remember the Night (reviewed here). Sturges first met Barbara Stanwyck while working on Night, and he immediately recognized her innate comedic talent. As Axel Madsen reports in his posthumous biography of the star, Stanwyck, the actress declared: “One day he said to me, ‘Someday I’m going to write a real screwball comedy for you.’ Remember the Night was a delightful comedy … but hardly a screwball, and I replied that nobody would ever think of writing anything like that for me … But he said, ‘You just wait.’”

True to his word, Sturges presented Stanwyck with the script for The Lady Eve one year later, and she signed on to do the film opposite leading man Henry Fonda. The film also features the inimitable character actor Charles Coburn as Stanwyck’s father, Eric Blore as Stanwyck’s “uncle,” and Demarest as Fonda’s suspicious caretaker/valet. Stanwyck plays Jean Harrington, a cardsharp who, with her father, the “Colonel,” cheats passengers on ocean cruises out of their money at the card table. When Jean meets a young snake expert and ale company heir (whom she nicknames “Hopsie”), her initial disdain quickly gives way to love. But when the naive Hopsie discovers the truth about Jean and her father, he spurns her, and she concocts an outrageous plan for revenge. Posing as the British Lady Eve Sidwich, Jean entices the confused but smitten millionaire into marriage, and delights in exacting her vengeance in a most creative way …

"See anything you like?"

Stanwyck plays Jean/Eve with a sly abandon, and her riffing monologue on Fonda’s hapless Hopsie, delivered as she gazes at him surreptitiously through her compact mirror, is one of the many highlights of the film. Fonda plays the bumbling, inexperienced young lover to perfection, and the supporting cast revels in the chaotic plot. The Lady Eve is, arguably, Sturges’ sexiest film, from the sharp, witty banter (barely disguising an unbridled sensuality) to the undeniable chemistry between its stars. It’s also likely Sturges’ best-crafted film: brilliantly directed, acted, written, and produced, and the cinematography can’t be beat–Stanwyck has never looked so luminous on film.

Eve was quickly followed in theaters by Sullivan’s Travels (actually produced in 1941 prior to Eve, but not premiering until January 1942), starring Joel McCrea as an idealistic director and Veronica Lake as his aspiring actress sidekick (who is not given a name in the script and is only referred to as “the girl” in the film). Lake was not the original choice for the role; Sturges initially wanted Stanwyck to star for him again, but she was unavailable. The role became one of Lake’s best-known (though rumor maintains that the director and cast, particularly McCrea, were less than fond of the temperamental starlet), and Travels provided Lake one of the few roles in which she could escape the “glamor girl” typecasting that hounded her career (reportedly contributing to her de-glamorization, Lake was six months pregnant during filming, which forced famed costume designer Edith Head to create a somewhat unsexy wardrobe–complete with hobo costume–that was baggy enough to conceal Lake’s condition). In addition to the two stars, Demarest and Blore also appear in this film, along with other members of the Sturges troop (Dudley and Moran among them). But the movie truly belongs to McCrea, and he gives one of his most effective film performances as John L. Sullivan, a comedy director anxious to produce a serious drama about the plight of the poor during the Great Depression (the proposed title of Sullivan’s opus, O Brother, Where Art Thou? would later be borrowed by the Coen brothers for their 2000 film of the same name starring George Clooney).

"I liked you better as a bum."

As Sullivan states, he wants his film to transcend the “silliness” of the romantic comedies and farces he had always directed: “I want this picture to be a document. I want to hold a mirror up to life. I want this to be a picture of dignity! A true canvas of the suffering of humanity!” Yet, as Sullivan travels around the country (disguised as a hobo, yet followed by a caravan of studio publicity) and experiences the life of a destitute man, he discovers that there are, perhaps, more important responsibilities for the filmmaker other than recording the “suffering of humanity.” Indeed, the movie’s initial dedication, shown as the film opens, seems to sum up Sturges’ ultimate point: “To the memory of those who made us laugh: the motley mountebanks, the clowns, the buffoons, in all times and in all nations, whose efforts have lightened our burden a little, this picture is affectionately dedicated.” Indeed, if the film shows its audience one thing, it is that there is sometimes nothing more healing, more inspirational, more valuable, than a damn good laugh.

The follow-up to Travels, 1942′s The Palm Beach Story, provides those damn good laughs in spades. Sturges takes the genre of screwball comedy to dizzying heights, and the film remains his most hilarious … and his most confusing, if one looks too directly at that crazy opening sequence (the significance of which film critics debate even to this day). The film stars McCrea as Tom Jeffers, a failing inventor, and Claudette Colbert as his wife, Gerry, who does what she can to force him to succeed despite himself. The film also features Dudley in the most well-known (and most side-splitting) of his roles for Sturges: the Wienie King (yes, you read that right), a “fairy godfather” figure who helps the couple throughout the film.

"You have no idea what a long-legged woman can do without doing anything."

When Gerry decides to leave her husband and marry a rich man who will finance Tom’s invention (which, adding to the hysteria, is an improbably-suspended airport that would float above a city), she hops a train to Palm Beach in order to obtain a quickie divorce. On the way, she meets John D. Hackensacker III (played by actor/singer Rudy Vallee), one of the richest men in the world, who falls for Gerry after hearing the story of her “brutish” soon-to-be ex. Upon reaching Palm Beach, Tom turns up and tries to convince Gerry to come back, but she introduces him to Hackensacker as her brother, at which point Hackensacker’s flighty sister, the Princess Centimillia (played by a hard-working Mary Astor), falls for Tom. And that’s only the beginning of an insane climax to an already screwy film. Pay close attention to this one; it’s a twisting ride, and you might miss something vital to the relatively intricate plot!

All in all, this is a great collection, though seriously lacking in extras. A documentary on Sturges, or some kind of retrospective or commentary, would be welcome, particularly as Sturges makes such an interesting subject. Still, the films themselves stand alone as well-written, beautifully-crafted examples of what made Sturges so effective a writer/director. The name “Sturges” is (deservedly) synonymous with “comedy,” and one need only watch the films in this collection to understand why.

Preston Sturges: The Filmmaker Collection is available on DVD at Amazon and TCM (though it’s currently almost half-off at Amazon!).

Upcoming TCM airings:

Christmas in July, December 24th, 9:45PM
The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, December 29th, 12PM
The Lady Eve, February 14th, 4PM
Hail the Conquering Hero, February 25th, 6PM

Tidings of comfort and joy.

Posted on by under brandie's faves, classic disney, holiday picks

As Thanksgiving has passed us by, it is officially the holiday season, and that means TCM will be bursting at the seams with Christmas flicks in the upcoming month. The usual suspects (A Christmas Carol … yawn) abound on the schedule, but I want to direct your attention to a couple of particular gems that, though you may not have seen them or even heard of them yet, are well worth your time.

These two films feature one of my favorite actresses of all time, the lovely and clever Barbara Stanwyck, playing opposite two of her more effective male co-stars, Dennis Morgan and Fred MacMurray. Stanwyck, who began her career in Hollywood playing the vampish man-stealer in naughty (by 1930s standards, anyway) pre-Code films such as Night Nurse (1931) and Baby Face (1933), had graduated to leading-lady status in the latter part of the decade following an Oscar-nominated performance as the self-sacrificing titular mother in the 1937 melodrama Stella Dallas (Stanwyck lost the Academy Award to Luise Rainer, nominated for The Good Earth). But as the 1940s loomed, Stanwyck began to make broader strides into comedy, a genre that clicked with her natural quick wit and comic timing.

Indeed, in 1940 Stanwyck deftly straddles the line between drollery and pathos in Remember the Night, a comedy-drama written by future director Preston Sturges (for whom Stanwyck would make a splash the following year in the sharp screwball comedy The Lady Eve). Playing straight man to Stanwyck’s wily shoplifter is MacMurray, in the first of his four pairings with the actress (the most notable of which is likely 1944′s Double Indemnity, in which both play against type as conniving adulterers determined to kill Stanwyck’s husband for the insurance money). Also notable in a supporting role in the cast is Sterling Holloway, a prolific character actor who would become known in later years for his voiceover work in Disney films such as Bambi (as the adult version of the skunk, Flower), Alice in Wonderland (as one of my particular favorites, the Cheshire Cat), The Jungle Book (as the snake, Kaa), and as the original voice of the silly old bear himself, Winnie the Pooh.

The film revolves around a young woman, Lee Leander (Stanwyck), who comes before the New York district court just before Christmas, accused of shoplifting. D.A. MacMurray delays her case until after the holidays, thinking it will give him a better shot at a conviction, but in a fit of remorse, he bails Lee out of jail and takes her home with him to Indiana for Christmas. Through a series of farcical mishaps involving cows, fire, and heavy snowfall, the two fall in love, and Lee finds a typically sentimental holiday redemption in her relationship with the young, upright attorney.

Though this sentimentalism becomes a bit heavy in the film’s final moments, it befits the Christmas setting, and Sturges’ witty script and the performances of the two stars keep the movie on track and prevent the characters from completely drowning in schmaltzy tepidity.

This little gem is finally getting a new DVD treatment, which is being released today exclusively as a part of Turner Classic Movies’ Vault Collection (check out the other titles available through the Vault–they’ve released some really amazing rare films over the past year!). Remember the Night will also be showing on TCM on December 6th at 2PM, and again on Christmas Eve at 8PM. Make sure you tune in; you definitely don’t want to miss this classic holiday treat.

Nor do you want to miss 1945′s wonderful Christmas in Connecticut, a more screwball take on the holiday season. This film features supporting turns by two of my favorite character actors of all time, Sydney Greenstreet and S.Z. “Cuddles” Sakall. Some may disagree with terming Greenstreet as a “character” actor, considering his (literally) larger-than-life persona on the screen. Greenstreet, however, was far from a typical leading man; he did not make his screen debut until his appearance as the “Fat Man” Kaspar Guttman in 1941′s The Maltese Falcon, at which time he was a robust 61 years old! In his very short career (Greenstreet would die only 13 years after his film debut), the actor only appeared in 24 films. Yet, what films they were–among them, the aforementioned Falcon, Casablanca, and Passage to Marseille all paired Greenstreet with, arguably, the greatest film actor in history, Humphrey Bogart, and Greenstreet’s portrayals of wily criminals often outshone Bogart’s nuanced tough-guy persona on the screen. Greenstreet’s supporting roles in these films were the essence of what makes a good character actor: he embodied his characters, putting that melodious English accent and genuine bonhomie to solid use and drawing the audience to even the most reprehensible of figures.

Like Greenstreet, “Cuddles” Sakall also created a niche for himself in Hollywood, impressive considering his sometimes indiscernible accent. But that was most assuredly part of his charm. His “hunky dunky” attitude and warm, open smile populated many notable films of the 1940s, including Casablanca (though he shared no scenes with his future Connecticut co-star Greenstreet), The Devil and Miss Jones, Ball of Fire (another gem starring Stanwyck), and Yankee Doodle Dandy. In the fifteen years between his American debut in 1940′s It’s a Date until his death in 1955, Sakall appeared in over 40 Hollywood films, making his mark in every one.

In the film, Stanwyck plays Elizabeth Lane, a writer who poses as a Connecticut farmwife in her monthly magazine column, though in real life she has very little aptitude for the domestic duties she espouses (particularly cooking). Stanwyck’s publisher (Greenstreet) sends Jefferson Jones (Morgan), a young sailor who had recently been rescued from his sunken ship, to Elizabeth’s “farm” for a Christmas visit, and decides to join them at the last minute. In order to keep her job, Elizabeth agrees to marry an old friend and use his farm as the backdrop for the visit. But borrowed babies, a wayward cow, a runaway sleigh, and a budding romance with the sailor continually get in the way of her upcoming nuptials …

The screwball comedy in Christmas in Connecticut flies fast and furious, aided by a well-paced script by romantic comedy veterans Lionel Houser and Adele Commandini (from an original story by Aileen Hamilton). The ensemble cast works really well together, resulting in a truly warm and familial sense of camaraderie that shines through the screen.

Christmas in Connecticut has been available on DVD for several years now (and is currently selling for an extremely low price of $5.79 on Amazon.com–go buy it!). I own this edition and, while it lacks any insightful extras, it’s still a wonderful transfer of the film–no noticeable glitches or scratches in the film itself, and the sound is wonderful. Plus, this is the original black and white–no icky, unnecessary colorization of this amazing little film!

TCM will be showing Christmas in Connecticut three times this month: December 6th at 12PM; December 17th at 8PM; and Christmas Day at 12:15PM. This is one you’ll want to watch with the whole family, so gather ’round!

I hope you enjoy both of these wonderful holiday films. And now that I’ve had my say, tell me: what are YOUR favorite little-known holiday delights? Post your comments below, and let us know what makes those films so special!