A Gent Plays the MASH Game

Wendymoon over at Movie Viewing Girl challenged the male classic movie bloggers to play this game first started by Ginger Ingenue at Asleep in New York. Anyway, here are my results and to be fair, I placed some jokingly bad things (Edsel, a hellhole in Michigan, Oklahoma, etc) and this is what I ended up with on my one and only try:

The five names I chose were: Ginger Rogers, Gail Patrick, Carole Lombard, Katharine Hepburn, and Myrna Loy. Myrna won. That's eerily accurate, especially if I look at it from the Nora Charles angle: New York City apartment, no kids (Myrna was childless in real life--huzzah!), and I'm a teacher, so it's all falling into place... I hope she and I solve some high-society murder mysteries, too. However, unlike Nick and Nora, Myrna and I will be childless. I also believe that she'll probably dump me for a coffee baron.

I love this picture. Myrna has such a wonderful expression; it's so sly and mischievous. She gives this look in After the Thin Man, when one of Nick's thug friends says to her: "When he [Nick] gives you the sack, let me know, will ya?" To which Nora replies, (out of the side of her mouth): "I certainly will!"

My, My Myrna

I wonder how often the MGM publicity machine used the title of today's post when it came to promoting Myrna Loy (aka "The Queen of Hollywood")? William Powell's nickname for her was Minnie.

Fridays tend to be the least-active days in the classic movie bloggosphere, but since I'm "hard at work" on a couple of Husband and Wife Detectives entries, I thought that this delightful photograph of Nora Charles herself would serve as divine inspiration to me. Ahh...it certainly will. The Marvelous Myrna deserves, and will receive, a full write up in these pages soon enough. But for now, her lovely visage will suffice.

Bill Mauldin

" I can't git no lower, Willie. Me buttons is in th'way."

Cartoonist and author Bill Mauldin (1921-2003) is one of my heroes. He's the creator of World War II's weary, sardonic, and just plain tired dogfaces, Willie and Joe. Mauldin's political cartoons won two Pulitzer Prizes (1945 and 1959) and his take on the WWII G.I. was respected by many who served. Mauldin's humor was not the laugh-out-loud kind, but the knowing, gallows humor that made the foot soldier nod his head in weary agreement. His cartoons for Stars and Stripes made Mauldin a hero among the dogfaces and reviled by the brass, including General George S. Patton who threatened to "throw his ass in jail" for "spreading dissent." The cartoonist followed the troops in the horrific Italian Campaign and his art reflected--albeit with a dark humor-- what every infantryman experienced. Mauldin was wounded during combat, a minor wound, and was embarrassed about receiving the Purple Heart. Mauldin's life was a fascinating one, with many ups and downs. I recommend his autobiography, The Brass Ring. Another excellent book of his, Back Home (1947) chronicles in words and cartoons the issues of the day like the housing shortage, the American Legion, the Red Scare, veteran's issues, and racism. Back Home is fascinating reading in that it's a diary of the United States as it was in the two years immediately after World War II.


Today being Memorial Day, I'm reminded of a story Mauldin told in a World War II documentary, America In the 40s, about a Memorial Day ceremony he attended. Mauldin saw an officer standing in a cemetery, speaking to the graves marked with crosses and Stars of David, and the officer broke down and wept, apologizing to the men for getting them killed. Mauldin vowed that after witnessing that moment, he'd never go to another Memorial Day ceremony. He wanted to--and would--remember that moment forever. Mauldin himself was in tears while recalling the tale.

Two movies were made based on the Willie and Joe characters. 1951's Up Front and 1952's Back at the Front. Both films failed to capture the gritty spirit of the comics and were largely played for laughs (AMC aired them many, many years ago and naturally I didn't record them). Mauldin began a short-lived acting career of his own, earning a role in John Huston's Civil War epic, The Red Badge of Courage (1951) and acquitted himself as an actor rather nicely.

Bill Mauldin: "I was born a troublemaker and might as well earn a living at it."

Forgive Me, Ingrid Bergman

I wasn't tagged or anything, but this "180" concept allows me the chance to tell you my tale of woe:


There was a time-- until fairly recently-- that I despised Ingrid Bergman, who is widely considered one of the great actresses and beauties of all time. I certainly didn't see her that way. I found Bergman harsh, shrill, and melodramatic. Couldn't stand her for years--decades. Not her personally, of course, but as an actress she just ground me to a halt every time I watched her in anything. I could tolerate her fleeting presence in Casablanca (1942), but that's mainly because Bogart carried that movie singlehandedly. Oh, Claude Rains gave the performance of a lifetime, too. Anyway, Bergman continued to grate on my nerves and sabotage every classic movie I saw her in. Then, one day, I grew up. So, forgive me Ingrid Bergman, wherever you may be, for doubting your talent, for dismissing your shining brilliance. I toyed with the idea of not thinking you a hack in Indiscreet (1958) but then you went ahead and captivated me, the Hemingway fan, in For Whom The Bell Tolls (1943) you were alongside the great Gary Cooper. You then smacked me with a tremendous performance in Gaslight (1944), which was directed by another highly-regarded Hollywood Dreamland icon, George Cukor. But it was your role in Notorious (1946) (in which you should have won an Oscar) that I was once and for all convinced of your brilliance.

Always Maria: Ingrid Bergman breaks my heart in For Whom The Bell Tolls (1943)