Classic Film Chemistry 101

It brings a smile to my face when I see the great movie couples onscreen. Every scene they have together crackles with a wonderful energy: tense, sensual yet with a sense of humor. All of these attributes go goes beyond mere flirting. I haven't a clue about what makes chemistry what it is, but I can say that it's at least a bona fide understanding of one another's tendencies. Sure, two of the three were actual couples offscreen, but even if you're new to classic film and didn't know that, you'd probably say to yourself "These two have to be married!" There are many notable movie couples in the Golden Age, but the three represented here are the best that ever were, or will likely ever be. If you want a real laugh, say aloud the names "Tracy and Hepburn" and then, if you can, pick out two of today's "big stars" and then say their names out loud. Funny how the newbies don't compare, isn't it? Actually, it's pathetic and sad. But who cares? We deal in magic and dreams here at Hollywood Dreamland, but also chemistry.

Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn: These titans appeared in nine films together. You should watch them all, but start at the beginning with Woman of the Year (1942) and see how Tracy is the quintessential American male and how Hepburn is well into her liberated woman stage--which spanned her entire life. Still, her role as Tess Harding is among her best. She, as always, has a timeless appeal. Now skip ahead to Adam's Rib (1949) and see them as married lawyers--the two are at their peak in terms of their onscreen rapport. Finally, jump to the preachy, mawkish, and cheap-looking Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? (1967) Criticisms aside, the duo are wonderful in this, Tracy's final film. I've always viewed these three movies as chronicling the beginning, middle, and end of their onscreen partnership, as if it were the same couple in all three films. That relationship is summed up by Tracy's speech at the end of Dinner. If that speech doesn't bring a tear to your eye, have someone in the room call a coroner, 'cause you're dead, pal.

Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall: It begins with To Have and Have Not (1944) He was forty-five and she was...nineteen??? That's no girl, that's a real woman! I still watch in amazement when I watch their scenes together. Bacall mesmerized both Bogie and director Howard Hawks, who both knew a real woman when they saw one. Bogart got the girl and they married in real life. Now take a look at Key Largo (1948) The couple barely have any dialogue with each other, but they say more with smouldering glances than any other pair I've seen. Readers of this blog should know by now how much I appreciate understatement in acting, and that what's implied and unsaid is so much more effective than the mere obvious act of just speaking the lines. Take that, Johnny Rocco!

William Powell and Myrna Loy: Of the couples here, this one is what I'd call "The Well-Oiled Machine." They hadn't the slightest romantic notion towards one another and were often involved in tragic or failed relationships while working together, but these two professionals are probably the best ever, because what they did was act. Show business pros like no other. Watch them in The Thin Man (1934), and note the scene in the kitchen, when Powell is taking a tray of cocktails out and he gives Loy a peck on the cheek as he's leaving. Her reaction looks like the bit was improvised, but the scene is perfect for Nick and Nora's characters, and both actors knew it was part of their magic onscreen. In all, Powell and Loy did fourteen films together, but this series remains their legacy.

Now, go and watch these masters at work. Or if you're already familiar with them, go and watch them again--I know you will.

Gary Cooper in High Noon (1952)

"If I'm a Man, I Must be Brave": Gary Cooper is Marshal Will Kane.

In the seven months that I've been scratching out this blog, I've somehow neglected to mention one of my all-time favorite stars--Gary Cooper. I never did do a 20 Favorite Actors list, but Cooper (1901-1961) would be a sure-fire member of that group. Once the most popular and highest-paid man in America, Cooper's legacy hasn't proven to last like many long-dead stars. He's not the object of some girl's pre-pubescent crush like 1950s icons Brando, Dean, or even Clift, and you won't find a silkscreen t-shirt of him at the mall like one would with John Wayne.

I got interested in Gary Cooper initially because he was a good friend of another highly-regarded icon of mine, writer Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) ("Papa" to his devotees). When I was exploring Hemingway's work, Cooper figured in many of the author's movie endeavors. He was Frederick Henry in 1932's A Farewell to Arms and Robert Jordan in For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940). Hemingway often said that Cooper embodied the Hemingway hero to a fault and though Papa despised most every film adaptation of his work, he always praised Cooper for his portrayals, as well as his personal character, as the actor was a true outdoorsman, just like the rugged author. The two often hunted together in Sun Valley, Idaho or Billings, Montana and had a morbid, running joke about who would die first, or as they put it, who would "beat the other to the barn." The Hemingway association built Cooper's reputation in my eyes, so I was off to discover his movies.

In 1997, I saw High Noon for the second time. The first time I had been a kid and didn't have the background on Cooper then. After seeing the western classic a second time, it became an obsession. I watched the film dozens of times, finding all kinds of meaning in Coop's Oscar-winning performance as Marshal Will Kane. I had read that High Noon was a not-do-thinly veiled commentary on HUAC (House Un-American Activities Committee), but I loved the movie because it was a statement about the individual, which was obviously something Cooper saw, too.

For those who haven't seen it, High Noon concerns newlywed Hadleyville Marshal Will Kane and his young wife, Amy (Grace Kelly) who are to start their new life together, but on their wedding day, word comes that a killer Kane put away is out of jail and coming back to enact bloody revenge. The Marshal decides he must stay to defend the town he himself cleaned up. However, the townsfolk are spineless and complacent. They've forgetten the man who brought the town peace and don't want to be involved, each with their own tidy, gutless excuse. Kane alone who must take on the killer and his gang. The simple message of standing up and acting when danger is imminent resonated with me. I even went as far as to look for people in my day-to-day life acting like the spineless Hadleyville residents in their lack of courage in the most trivial things. I probably took my love for this movie too far, but that's what I do.

High Noon is a classic on many levels, not the least of which is Dimitri Tiomkin's haunting theme song Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin', one of the greatest songs ever written for a film. Coupled with the spare song, is the minamilist direction of the movie's opening sequence, which is equally brilliant. The song is told from Kane's point of view and the weight of its power factors into Cooper's wonderful portrayal. It should be noted that this western, that most American of genres, was directed by a German, Fred Zinneman, with music composed by a Russian, Dimitri Tiomkin. That's America to me!

But it was Gary Cooper's career-defining performance that I loved over everything else. I saw his technique of letting the spaces between his dialogue say what words couldn't, and he communicated what he and the audience felt. It's every bit as important as how an actor says his lines. There's a Hemingway connection with Cooper's acting style, in that the author's "Iceberg Theory" lets the reader know what's going on with just a bit of dialogue, but what's unsaid is much more substantial, and it's so obvious when I watch High Noon. I loved it when Cooper is arguing with his oversexed deputy, Harvey Pell (Lloyd Bridges) and when Pell says that Kane should just leave town, Coop respons with "I want to, Harv; but I can't do it." As silly as it sounds, I used to rewind to the part Cooper said "I can't do it" several times because the way he said it spoke volumes. You knew that he thought long and hard about up and splitting that ungrateful town, but his conscience and character wouldn't allow that. He also says the line with the subtlest of anger and the greatest conviction. I think I'm the only film nut who harps about that bit of dialogue and its delivery, but it remains one of my favorite movie moments. Not bad for simple country boy Cooper, who could teach more to Lee Strasburg's students in High Noon than a lifetime of classwork could ever instill.

I haven't seen High Noon in quite some time, and don't even have the DVD, but the movie is burned (branded?) into my brain. I need to go and revisit that old icon, Cooper, whose simple, understated performance captivated me and more than lived up to the legend bestowed upon it. Funny that it took me so many words to discuss Cooper, a man of few words. Oh, the irony...

Ginger Rogers: Tender Comrade (1943)

Tender Comrade (1943) was a Ginger Rogers vehicle showcasing the recent Oscar winner and RKO top draw. Tender Comrade costarred one of the studio's up-and-coming talents, Robert Ryan, who in 1947 would play his defining role in Crossfire. Both films were directed by future Hollywood Ten blacklistee Edward Dmytryk, while fellow future persona non grata, writer Dalton Trumbo, penned this World War II propaganda piece.

Tender Comrade--don't worry, no spoilers-- chronicles the lives of Jo Jones (Rogers) and her husband Chris (Ryan), Chris ships out overseas and Jo, who works at a defense plant, decides to pool her financial resources by sharing an apartment with two coworkers, and run in it "democratically." We are then teated to numerous propagandistic and emotionally manipulative plot elements, and heart strings are duly tugged. There's nothing really "red" about the film itself--other than the use of the word "comrade" in the title--considering the pro-democracy rhetoric that is laid on with a trowel, but Ginger's mother, Lela, objected to what she saw as socialistic dialogue. The dialogue was cut at her behest, and Tender Comrade succeeds at being nothing more than a homefront propaganda piece about "keeping one's chin up" during the tough times. Mrs. Miniver and Since You Went Away are similarly-themed films.

Since so much of Ginger's work is unavailable on DVD, this WWII curiosity is unlikely to get a release anytime soon. I think Rogers and Ryan made an interesting-looking couple, and wouldn't have minded seeing the two together again. It's also fun to see the pre-Crossfire Robert Ryan being so...nice! However, seeing Ginger in so many soapy tearjerkers in the post-Astaire years only makes me wish she'd have made some musicals of her own.

Poll Results: James Cagney

“There you go with that wishin' stuff again. I wish you was a wishing well. So that I could tie a bucket to ya and sink ya!”

~Tom Powers (James Cagney) in The Public Enemy (1931)



The results (44 votes total):

James Cagney- 29 (65%)
Edward G. Robinson- 8 (18%)
Humphrey Bogart- 5 (11%)
George Raft- 2 (4%)

Warning: spoilers ahead!

Was there any doubt as to the outcome? James Cagney won our poll-- Who is the greatest gangster of the Golden Age of Hollywood-- and the voters shoved a grapefruit into the face of Cagney’s collective opposition. I can see how he won so easily. Cagney’s gangster characters were more ferocious and intimidating than his contemporaries, because at any given moment you never knew when a Cagney gangster would lash out. He is part of Hollywood lore with two immortal moments in two of his best-known gangster films, The Public Enemy (1931) where Cagney’s Tom Powers is rotten to the core, shoves citrus in Mae Clarke’s mug, and drops dead in a rain-drenched gutter. Later, in the 1940s, Cagney is nihilistic gangster Cody Jarrett in White Heat (1949) with an Oedipus complex as he goes up sky high, but not before uttering one of the most famous lines in cinema history: “Made it ma, top of the world!!!” But as bad as his character is, he’s still nobler than amoral rat fink S.O.B. Edmond O’Brien, who drops a dime on our boy Cody after infiltrating Jarrett’s gang and gains his trust; I still get ticked off about that every time I see White Heat! That’s testament to Cagney’s likeability and sheer screen magnetism. I half-jokingly tell anyone who’ll listen that I’d pay real money to reenact Cody Jarrett’s prison cafeteria meltdown when he learns that his “ma” has died.

Cagney’s competition in this poll were all notable tough guys, and all played gangsters in their own special way, but none of them have the fury, rage, and potential for sudden unpredictable violence as Cagney’s characters do. Edward G. Robinson was menacing, Humphrey Bogart had the stare, and George Raft had that coin-flipping prelude to putting some mug’s lights out. But they don’t have—forgive me—the white-hot rage and mayhem of a Cagney character. No one does. They also didn’t get such memorable writing and visuals that are associated with James Cagney’s most frightening characters.

By the way, my fedora’s off to the two of you that voted for George Raft. You guys must be really tough to take a beating like he did in this poll, which tallied the most votes since we started doing this error-free, unscientific, Hollywood Dreamland poll.

Say it with Me: "Made it, Ma! Top of the world!!!" Boom.