Gail Patrick: Deco Dame, Part II

"I'm an avid reader of 'Hollywood Dreamland' because it allows me to reflect on the era in which I lived..."


I’ve managed to find some wonderful Gail Patrick photographs lately. The amount of publicity stills--which I'll string along in future entries-- that exist even for her obscure films makes my mouth water! To think of the numerous mysteries, comedies, and westerns that she appeared in during the thirties and forties that *never* get aired on the premium movie channels! The fact that so few of her films are available only stokes the fire of my curiosity! Just how many roles did she play when she wasn’t the bad, “other” woman? The volume of publicity stills also drives home the fact that the studio system was all encompassing in its ability to promote even their second-tier performers. The selection of photographs shows various aspects of the actress' career. I hope to find many more. Enjoy. (click photos for larger view)

"In Character" Gail- From Disbarred (1939) locking horns with co-star Robert Preston. Judging from the IMDB synopsis, Gail's character, "Joan Carroll" is quite the accomplished, strong-willed career woman, even if she is an attorney fronting for a crime syndicate!

Huckster Gail- This 1937 card accompanying Union Tobacco has Gail looking every bit the girl next door--and well put together in some snazzy shoes!

Sultry Gail- from an Argentine press book. "Bellisma", indeed! I don't think that such a smoldering still would get published in an American magazine. It looks (but isn't) pre-Code.

Okay, so I haven't provided detailed analysis of obscure Gail Patrick films, but seeing as they are largely unavailable, I'll just have to will them into being! Here's hoping that Turner Classic Movies will someday dedicate some time to Gail Patrick via one of their "theme of the month" festivals and air some of her obscure films.

Recommended Reading: "On Cukor"

On Cukor, originally published in 1972, is screenwriter Gavin Lambert’s (Sons and Lovers; Inside Daisy Clover) series of wonderful interviews with Golden Age Hollywood director George Cukor (1899-1983). The interviews cover the director's entire career, from Cukor discovery Katharine Hepburn’s screen debut in A Bill of Divorcement (1932) to masterworks like The Women (1939), The Philadelphia Story (1940) and A Star Is Born (1954). Forgotten flops like Her Cardboard Lover (1942) and The Chapman Report (1962) receive honest appraisals from Cukor the interviewee, too. Included in the book are between-film “Interludes”, where the director candidly discusses actors (Katharine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy, Greta Garbo), directors (Cukor was amused and fascinated by Alfred Hitchcock), and well-known events in Cukor's career, like when Cukor was replaced as director of Gone With the Wind.

I credit this book with getting me interested in 1930s movies. I received it as a gift in 1999 and I'll admit that at the time, Cukor’s films were not the kind I usually watched. “Too many women’s pictures” I muttered, ignorant as Hell. I duly shelving the book without any clue that this book and this director would one day rank among my favorites. It was only three years ago when I finally admitted that the 1930s and 1940s were the greatest period in cinematic history. I had been a Film Noir enthusiast for some time, but 1930s films were largely unknown to me. As I worked my way through the book, I found myself becoming enthralled with Cukor's films. Yes, many of the movies had women as the protagonists, but these weren’t the usual women’s roles I had grown up being bored by. Thirties and Forties female stars---especially in George Cukor's work-- were so much smarter, sexier, and funnier than the bland homemaker types of the 1950s (and their "Va-va-voom!" counterparts), or the bewigged, overly-sexualized drones of the 1960s (I’m generalizing; there are exceptions to each decade, of course).

What makes On Cukor so memorable is the man himself. George Cukor was intelligent, witty, and sophisticated. He speaks honestly of his successes and failures but surprisingly says little about his Oscar-winning effort, My Fair Lady (1964). Cukor and Lambert work well together, with Lambert serving as a sympathetic, knowledgeable interviewer. He knows the director's work and this adds to the reader’s enjoyment. This book avoids any awkward moments which is a stark contrast to George Cukor: Interviews (from the Conversations with Filmmakers Series) which compiles numerous mainstream press interviews with Cukor over the course of three decades. Cukor comes off (or is portrayed as) guarded and even grouchy! Not so in the Lambert book, which contains the strongest series of interviews I’ve ever read with a filmmaker. Apparently, the newer edition of the book contains numerous photographs that were unavailable in the 1972 edition. I was also thrilled to learn that the republication in 2000 coincided with a PBS documentary of the same name from the American Masters series.

A hearty recommendation for On Cukor!

Life Imitates Art (Again)

First of all, nobody who appeared in this film ever dropped anyone off the side of a building! However, there's an important plot point in Manhandled (1949) that involves a "slip of the lip" which would later haunt one of the film's stars in real life. Manhandled's plot concerns a nasty private investigator, Karl Benson (Dan Duryea) who is hot for his boardinghouse neighbor, psychiatrist's secretary Merl Kramer (Dorothy Lamour). After Merl gently refuses Karl's unwanted advances, she blabbers about a patient(!), an unemployed writer who that day told Merl's psychiatrist boss about a dream he had where he kills his wealthy wife for her jewels. Inspired, Karl develops a plot to steal the jewels and and frame Merl for the murder of the writer's wife. It's up to good-guy insurance investigator Joe Cooper (Sterling Hayden) to save the day.

"Why don't you quit yer cryin' and get me some bourbon."

In a sad case of life imitating art, Manhandled star Sterling Hayden's own psychiatrist (in contrast to Lamour's rather innocent "loose lips" moment in the film) would inform on Hayden to the HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee) a huge violation of doctor-patient confidentiality that was typical of the Noir era. Hayden ended up testifying and "named names." To his credit, Hayden later wrote in his autobiography Wanderer (still in print!): "I don't think you have the foggiest notion of the contempt I have had for myself since the day I did that thing." In an interview later in life, Hayden sarcastically commented, "I castigated myself the way any proper person should." Ironically, Hayden was a patriot, joining the OSS (Office of Strategic Services; later known as the C.I.A.) before Pearl Harbor and operated as a gunrunner, helping Yugoslav partisans against occupying Nazi forces and earned the Silver Star for bravery. The fact that the partisans were Communists (and United States allies) didn't matter in those dark days after World War II, when paranoia and fear ruled the day.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Recommended Viewing:

The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

Naked Alibi (1954)

Johnny Guitar (1954)

Suddenly (1954)

The Killing (1956)

Dr. Strangelove (1964)

The Godfather (1972)

Monster Days Revisited

The first classic movies I ever became fascinated with were the Universal Horror films of the 1930s and 1940s. In 1976-77, our local independent station, WCIX-Miami would air Creature Feature on Saturday afternoons. I can still see the foggy graveyard and hear that disquieting music of the title credits. Creature Feature aired every classic horror (or "monster movie", as I called them). I believe that there was a Universal Horror Film Revival going on in popular culture, dating back to the 1960s, when films like Frankenstein, Dracula-- and particularly terrifying for me--The Creature From the Black Lagoon, which received seemingly continual broadcast on TV. There must have been a revival, because I had brand-new toys of the Mummy, Dracula, and Frankenstein's Monster. I remember them being rubbery and highly detailed. There was also a monster design toy for boys, called Mighty Men and Monster Maker, a horror counterpart to the fashion design plate-making sets that girls played with, where a potentially twisted boy could mix and match various monster segments: dragon torsos, wolfman heads, and dinosaur legs to create your own hybrid monster. You would place a sheet of paper over the assembled plates and make an impression by embossing it onto the paper when you sketched over it with a pencil. Guaranteed to provide minutes and minutes of fun! Anyone remember this?

My interest in classic horror films was intense, but brief. Stuff like The Six Million Dollar Man and Star Wars competed for my attention and benefitted using intrusive marketing. Plus, Creature Feature began airing unappealing dross like King Kong Vs. Godzilla and Gamera Vs. Zigra, which I never liked. I'd rather have watched I Was a Teenage Werewolf!