The Philadelphia Story Heals All Wounds

Last night, I was feeling sort of gloomy but wifey and I watched The Philadelphia Story ("TPS") two consecutive times and felt a heck of a lot better...Anyway, some things that came to mind that I may or may not have mentioned before:


Subtlety: What I love about this movie (and its "sister" film, Holiday) is the subtlety of the material. Time spent watching The Philadelphia Story reveals the movie to be a constant, unfolding joy. The most rewarding aspect about the film is its mature, sophisticated nature; the nuances you catch in the multi-layered performances. Every scene is worth watching and they demand your attention because the performers are giving so much, and there's so much going on! It's a real "actor's movie" without the melodramatic or scenery chewing. For some fine subtle comedic brilliance, get a load of the library scene where Stewart interacts with that librarian bit player--watch Jimmy's mug the entire time and enjoy yourself; he's always in character and reacting to what's going on. In fact, Stewart and Ruth Hussey's roles get better with each viewing. Stewart absolutely deserved his Oscar that year; he never did anything like this role and what a shame he never worked with Hepburn again.

Ruth Hussey-as-Liz under whelmed me the first few times I watched but recently I've grown to love her smart, world-weary, luckless-at-love characterization. She's fantastic in this and shame on me for dismissing her before!

Cary Grant: What's my blogger name again? His performance is covered here.

The famous opening of The Philadelphia Story--when Grant shoves Hepburn to the floor-- is jarring to today's audiences, who no doubt expect a belly laugh here, but as this film is all about subtlety, so the scene works because of what it was supposed to achieve. Despite having zero dialogue, it illustrates why Grant and Hepburn have split, and that domestic dispute shows the audience just how dire their relationship had become. In one brief segment we're told everything we need to know about their breakup and it's a fine storytelling device. The scene is *not* supposed to be funny, though Franz Waxman’s cue here *is* comedic, which prevents this bit from veering off into "serious drama" territory, thereby striking--no pun intended--a fine balance.

Poll Results: Fred Astaire

Hey, what happened to “trying hard to look like Gary Cooper”???

Fred Astaire easily wins the poll question “After Cary Grant, who’s the best-dressed man of the Golden Age?” I was tempted to include Cary in the poll, but I believed that he’d have won handily. Thus, the race for second best was on! Of the 77 votes cast, the results looked like this:


Fred Astaire 36 (46%)
William Powell 24 (31%)
Gary Cooper 9 (11%)
Robert Montgomery 8 (10%)

I’ve always marveled over how well Astaire was dressed in all of his films. His wardrobe in, say, The Bandwagon (1953) is simply to die for! However, it’s not just the clothes themselves that are amazing, but the way Astaire wore them. Tailored clothes tend to make everyone look better than they actually do, but Fred had that “cadaverous” physique that lent itself to looking great in clothes. . He wasn’t tall like Powell and Cooper or conventionally handsome as Grant, Cooper, and Montgomery but somehow Astaire’s overall appeal lay in his outstanding “ability” to wear clothes. Maybe it was his dancer’s grace, which manifested itself in his posture, balance, and gestures giving Astaire a fluid grace that no one—including Grant—could emulate. And no one—no one—looked better in top hat, white tie, and tails than Fred Astaire. Astaire’s wondrous appearance in clothes weren’t limited to tuxedoes or suits, as he even looked swellegant in casual or sporty clothes.

To me, the film that personifies Fred Astaire’s fashion acumen is the “Needle in a Haystack” number from The Gay Divorcee (1934), where Guy Holden (Astaire)--I love the names of Fred Astaire characters; they fit him perfectly, just like the names they give Elvis in his movies—is determined to find the girl (Ginger Rogers) he met fleetingly. As he’s singing the song, Astaire is choosing a necktie, putting on a jacket, and donning a bowler hat. The number is a wonderful coupling of song and dance with elegant 1930s fashion.

Ginger Rogers: THE Dress Revisited

"Ginger Rogers Swing Time Dress" is the most-popular search term here at Hollywood Dreamland and it stems from this post from February, 2009. Now, thanks to HD reader and commentor Dan, we can get an idea of what it takes to create Ginger's finest gown, as he has had a replica made for his wife! Dan already commented in the original post, but his fascinating commentary is reproduced here for your fashion benefit. Hey Dan, send us some pictures! Until then, we've provided these:

"I have now had THE DRESS copied for my wife, after considerable research. The original exists but is in a private collection, undisplayed. It was last seen in NYC at the MMoA [Metropolitan Museum of Art] in a special gown show in the late 70's.

My seamstresses made as close a copy as possible based on 220 stills taken from the dance sequence and a lengthy review of it with a professional costume designer who personally examined the dress in great detail the last time it was seen in public. Here are the facts on the dress as we now understand them:

It was silk georgette, two layers of fabric, forming two big circles. The material was cut on the bias. The dress was constructed in 22 panels with French seams, every other seam (in the skirt part only) held hand applied sequins. It had an under-structure similar to a 1920's bathing suit--with those short-short style legs. The original also had weights in the hem that were the size of half 50 cent pieces and made of something similar to a clear plastic. It was originally light pink and George Newman, RKO's costume director designed the gown. He surprised Ginger by doing it in her favorite color and she wrote in her book that she was greatly pleased. I had the dress copied in aqua for my wife as that is her favorite color. Those colors would have looked the same in black and white film. It took my seamstresses 85 hours to make the dress. My wife has worn the dress twice, first in LA at an Academy Awards party and later to a black tie benefit here at The Greenbrier Resort. It is not an exaggeration to say that this dress is dazzling to the eye. She has never received such complimentary comment."

Tremendous! Special thanks to Dan for taking the time to comment and especially for following up on the original post; it is appreciated.

Even Weary Bloggers Need a Break

It's off to Walt Disney World! The weather's due to be grand--the Disney Company has an exclusive deal with Mother Nature--and yours truly will drop his pretentious worldly sophistication and enjoy the Disneyfied creations that the Magic Kingdom offers. Please stop by and say hi! I'll be the adult-looking fellow crying because I'm cranky from the heat or upset that my wife won't let me have that eight-foot stuffed Pluto toy. Perhaps I'll have a nostalgia-fueled nervous breakdown in what's left of Tomorrowland since most everything I loved from it is in the Disney equivalent of Boot Hill. Ah, the whiff of diesel in our world of tomorrow...I also hope not to suffer from too much Johnny Depp Envy when riding my favorite attraction, Pirates of the Caribbean, which has been crassly co-opted blessed with the addition of Johnny's delightful visage.

Over the last week or so I've been studiously examining various past Walt Disney World guide maps from The Florida Project. This excellent site has scans of several WDW guide maps, making it possible for the deluded and bitter Disney fan to fret and harrumph over the many ill-advised changes that've been made over the years. Whether it be the destruction of a perpetually-broken down attraction (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) or an altered shop (Disneyana and Mickey's Mart), the olde maps are--to quote Barry Fitzgerald--sure to bring a tear to your eye. So after my blogging batteries are recharged from this trip, you can bet that I'll feel like a hundred Pesos again, ready to prattle on and on and on about Hollywood's Golden Age...

Missing Movies: The Macomber Affair (1947)

As a longtime Ernest Hemingway fan--note the badge at the bottom of this blog--I've wanted to see the 1947 film The Macomber Affair but it's never on TV. The one fleeting image I had of this movie was back in the mid '90s, when I first learned of this movie's existence it was the above still from a Hemingway coffee table book! The Macomber Affair is based on the brilliant story The Short-Happy Life of Francis Macomber, which is included in the author's short story collection, The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories. The movie stars Gregory Peck (who appeared in 1952's The Snows of Kilimanjaro), Joan Bennett, and Robert Preston.

The story is about a married couple (Preston and Bennett) out on a safari with "Great White Hunter" Peck. The wife henpecks and has no respect for her husband because he bolted when confronting a lion. The bulk of the story is the tension between the couple and...well, I won't spoil the end. I wonder if the film changes the story's tremendous finale? As for the casting, it looks like they did well. I love Joan Bennett, but Jane Greer would've made a great Margot Macomber, too. However, it's Preston's performance that I'm most interested in seeing. As for Peck, I'm sure he exudes enough Captain Ahab/General MacArthur-esque confidence to pull of the role of Wilson.

From the few reviews I've read, the movie is considered one of the better adaptations of Hemingway's work. I was disappointed that The Macomber Affair wasn't included on the Hemingway Classics Collection DVD set. It was a United Artists release with a score by Miklós Rózsa (Lust for Life; Ben-Hur; King of Kings) . I've been on a Rózsa kick lately and would be interested in hearing this score and of course seeing the film. This looks to be something right up Turner Classic Movies' alley. If they don't air it, then perhaps it can berendered via the made-to-order DV-R. The Macomber Affair should be made available, especially with that cast, as Peck was well on his way to being a superstar and Preston and Bennett already crafty veterans, plus there's that Hemingway connection and a music score by a legendary composer. I'd like to think that The Macomber Affair is a forgotten gem just waiting for rediscovery. The film is ranked #521 on TCM's list for films not on DVD.

200 Posts!

Blogs I Love, Part II-A

As I splashed another cup of lukewarm coffee down my gullet this morning, I realized that I had been more like a regular panelist on other people's blog comments sections, and with Spring in fulll swing, I descended into my usual mode of blogging underachievement by devising another segment of Blogs I Love. I've been spending a lot of time at these blogs lately, what with me actually having interests outside of 1930s and '40s movies. Here are a few blogs well worthy of your time and attention. One of them I've listed before but the other two are largely non-film blogs with fascinating subject matter. Let me introduce them:




Goodfella's Movie Blog- Previously mentioned but due for another nod is Dave's blog. He's wrapping up a Film Noir counrdown of epic proportions. Also not to be missed is the amazingly enlightening comments section, where the big brains of film criticism discuss--and often disagree with-- Dave's rankings!

Voyages Extraordinaires, which has the sub-title "Scientific Romances of a Bygone Age." This blog is not mere "Steampunk" as blogger Cory Gross goes into detail on the era as well as the subsequent art, literature, and cinema influenced by the Victorian Age. This includes Disney and Doctor Who in addition to progenitors Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Do have a look.

Vintage Disneyland Tickets- I've never been to Disneyland but I am making a return trip to Walt Disney World at the end of the month--hence my distracted nature--Tim has posted tons of fascinating Disney-related items such as guidebooks, promotional items, and material meant only for employees' eyes. Through the site one gets a vivid history of Disneyland and I've learned a lot in the short time since discovering the place.

Classic Films I've Never Seen: Walt Disney's Fantasia (1940)

This is the first entry in a series of classic Golden Age films that, you guessed it: I've never seen! We begin with Walt Disney's Fantasia from 1940. I've never had the chance to watch what looks to be a beautifully rendered animated film set to classical music. I'm aware of what the movie contains, and I also realize that there was some abomination of a remake in 2000, the coincidentally named Fantasia 2000, which I avoided at the time because I didn't want that to be my first exposure to the concept. Perhaps 2010 is the year that Disney will open its vaults and allow me to procure a copy of the 1940 "real deal" original--without censorious cuts, either.

I blame my not having seen Fantasia for having come of age in the late '70-early '80s, a time when the Walt Disney studio largely abandoned quality animation and instead focused on live-action epics like Snowball Express, Herbie, The North Avenue Irregulars, Freaky Friday, and The Cat from Outer Space. Nothing against those films, as I liked them all and even nursed a crush on Barbara Harris, too. I must also admit that my attention was given over to "gritty" fare like Star Wars and The Six Million Dollar Man. Still, even as a hair helmeted seven-year-old dope I knew that Disney had a reputation as an animation powerhouse and I wanted to see more of the magic I'd witnessed in Pinocchio (say the word a hundred times and it ceases to sound like a name) and Dumbo. I wasn't really interested in the animated offerings they did release during my own childhood, as they never appealed to me like the one-after-the-other masterworks they cranked out with frightening regularity in both the animated feature length and animated short films.

From what I've seen of Fantasia, it looks marvelous. Disney always gets credit for their wonderful animation--no one, but no one ever rendered water in motion like Disney. Yes, I'm easily entertained, but the Disney crew earned their reputation for excellence. Even if the scripts of most Mickey Mouse cartoons were lacking, it never mattered to me--remember my stance on plotlines--because the animation was always hypnotically watchable and it looks as though Fantasia's animation might've been the peak of that brilliance. I can't wait for the day I see it.

Postscript: In looking up Fantasia, numerous pictures of some singer come up; who the heck is she???

The Guilty Pleasure Syndrome or: How I Learned to Not Care If People Know I'm a Mickey Rooney Fan

I’ve never had any use for the term Guilty Pleasure. Well, except for the purposes of this post…A Guilty Pleasure is usually defined as something of dubious quality or reputation that one enjoys ashamedly. In classic movie parlance, it’s often a critically reviled, poorly made, or widely despised film. But even then the term requires further clarification; as certain movies become cult favorites and earn “cool” status, such as Reefer Madness or Plan 9 from Outer Space. Everyone knows those films are "bad", but they’re "good" in that they’re unintentionally hilarious. Those cinematic masterworks have an infamous reputation and thrive because of it. Therefore, they can freely be declared guilty pleasures without fear of ridicule.

The true guilty pleasure consists of movies that are largely unknown or formerly popular movies whose reputations haven’t aged well because they represent either an “antiquated” viewpoint or lack the “edginess” that every friggin’ thing in pop culture must have these days. These “shameful” or “lame” films haven’t received critical or cultish rehabilitation, either, so you can rest assured that you’ll blush if you dare admit to liking, say, anything with Mickey Rooney in it. As a matter of fact, Rooney’s films are the so-called “Guilty Pleasure” that inspired this very post.

I love Rooney’s Andy Hardy films, a wildly popular and hugely profitable movie series produced by MGM in the 1930s and ‘40s. Despite being made during the heart of the Great Depression, the delightful Hardy movies embody an idealized America and were everything that MGM studio honcho Louis B. Mayer thought represented the best of America. The movies have a naïve charm, wit and sense of optimism that the times required. Seen now, they’re probably laughably “lame” or “saccharine”, and worse than that, “Disneyesque”, which has become another pejorative term. Andy’s father, the stern, patrician but understanding Judge Hardy, was a wonderful counterbalance to Andy’s kooky and youthful zeal. Today’s kids aren’t kooky, or ebullient; in fact, they’re often self-absorbed teen vampires; kind of a Party of Five with fangs.

Rooney aka The Mick, was once the biggest box-office draw in the US of A. And despite a (up and down) career that’s lasted some seventy-five years, Oscar nominations, an honorary Oscar, and praise from no less than Laurence Olivier (Rooney was “the single best film actor America.”), Rooney’s reputation pretty much lies in tatters, so to claim to be a Mickey Rooney fan is tantamount to being a Boy Named Sue. The whole idiocy of the Guilty Pleasure is based on some sort of “cool” taste. In fact, I'm conviced that the term Guilty Pleasure was brought to you by the same people who use the term “They say…” when dispensing advice or “facts.”

The Bottom Line: I don’t believe in Guilty Pleasures. All of my movie interests are present and accounted for. There is no boundary line between what I like that is hailed as a masterpiece or what is routinely reviled by my fellow classic movie aficionados. In this age of revisionism and retro-themed interests, most every film can receive a critical and popular—as defined within classic film circles—reappraisal, thus freeing it from perdition.

So be proud about your less-popular classic film interests and fer cryin' out loud, write about them! The world doesn't need another review of Casablanca but it could sure use a well-thought-out analysis of Andy Hardy Meets Debutante.

Poll Results: Cary Grant

My, how history has changed! The results of last month's poll question, "With whom did Katharine Hepburn have the best onscreen chemistry?" has given Cary Grant a narrow victory over Spencer Tracy. Of the 62 votes cast:


Cary Grant 32 (51%)

Spencer Tracy 30 (48%)

It's easy to understand why Cary won--he's better looking! Isn't that why he won? No? Okay, I'll maintain the position that his looks had nothing to do with his narrow victory. Grant's four films with Hepburn are all comedies and are well-regarded, even the cult favorite Sylvia Scarlett (1936), which was a critical and commercial flop upon its initial release but has now been credited with being the movie where Cary Grant "found his Cary Grantness"--let's all pause to thank director George Cukor--and the duo's other three movies: Bringing up Baby; Holiday; and The Philadelphia Story are out and out brilliant---another pause to thank George Cukor for those last two movies. There are very few duos who've collaborated on movies in which the films themselves, not just the onscreen chemistry, are regarded as masterworks.

What I've noticed about Kate and Cary's films together is that the Hepburn we get in those films is an actress who had yet to develop into the headbutting career woman, an onscreen characterization present in her movies with Spencer. The 1930s Hepburn was, in my view, more apt to play a wounded or fragile character more often than she did post-Philadelphia Story. The Kate of the 1930s is my favorite as her variety and the scope of her roles makes her endlessly fascinating. Her collaborations with Grant rank among my favorite movies of all time, and while I adore Spencer Tracy, his onscreen work with Hepburn is often too combative and I have to be in a tremendously good mood in order to get into the spirit of their movies.

The New Golden Age

I've thought long and hard--it's time for a change. The Golden Age, as I now define it, shall include early-'70s movies and if there happens to be any old-time stars in said films, then that's fine, too. What's better than seeing John Wayne in a dried-out gray toupee and emptying a MAC-10 submachinegun into Al "The Turk" Lettieri and his polyester-suited goons? Wayne was offered the role of Dirty Harry first but turned it down. So to compensate for his boneheaded judgement, he made McQ (1974), the movie that features The Duke rollin' down the mean streets of Seattle to Elmer Bernstein's funky score, lookin' to bend his badge over some drug peddler's skull. McQ is John Wayne at his vigilante best!

Glamour is best defined by how good members of the pimping community think you look, so a plaid, ginormous-lapeled Sears suit with white shoes and necktie as wide as the berth you'd give a Great White shark *is* the new definition of glam. Besides, if the 1930s were so great, then why did we abandon those styles? Who needs Carole Lombard when you have Glenda Jackson? Who needs William Powell when there's Tiny Tim? Laugh-In says more about our lives than Robert Benchley ever could! And why would women ever need support garments? "Ms." is a perfectly fine way to address a newly-libererated woman wearing ten-inch-tall cork souled shoes and hot pants, right? I say to heck with the '30s and '40s and huzzah to the Charles Bronson Deathwish 'stache, and the Lucille Ball Mame vaseline cheesecloth filter! Forget "happy days are here again" and let's embrace "Power to the People!" Now the question is...can you all dig it?

It's Ginger Rogers They Come to See, Part II

I guess I'd better thank Turner Classic Movies for making Ginger Rogers their March Star of the Month! This, my own miserable corner of the bloggosphere, has received maybe four times the amount of visitors--and spammers--since Ginger's movies started being shown on Wednesdays. As mentioned before, the most popular search term is "Ginger Rogers [sans clothing]", with "Gloria Grahame [sans clothing]" hanging on to second place; they won't find that stuf here, though, this is a family-friendly blog. Star of Midnight (our April, 2009 review has new screen caps--take a look), a delightful Thin Man-esque mystery starring Ginger and William Powell, also gets searched a lot, and of course Ginger Rogers Swing Time Dress, which has been lifted from here more than any other photo that *I've* nipped from other sites!

I'm thrilled that Ginger still wows 'em! I like to think that she's gaining legions of new fans with every re-airing of Swing Time, and that some drably-attired "T-Shirt and Jeans Girl" will discover the glamour that is the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Scenes I Love: The Thin Man (1934)

In The Thin Man, there's a wonderful scene that takes place during Nick and Nora's Christmas party and where Nora (Myrna Loy) sports that gorgeous, I-wish-women-today-dressed-up dress. The sequence has Mrs. Charles entering the bedroom of their swank NYC hotel and finding husband Nick (William Powell) and the comely young Dorothy Wynant (Maureen O'Sullivan) arrives to see Nick and admit to shooting Julia Wolf. The young lady falls into Nick's arms and as our favorite gentleman detective consoles her, who but Nora would enter the room and see her husband embracing another woman. Nick responds in his typically playful way:



So how does Mrs. Charles react to this? Well, seeing as their relationship is among the best ever depicted on film, the ever-cool Nora responds with her usual panache:

I love that! Using no dialogue whatsoever, our two stars convey everything about their successful marriage. Nora knows darn well that Nick wouldn't stray, and Nick knows he's playing up the suavity for which he's known. He knows that she knows that there's no hanky panky going on but she still gives him "heck" for being in such a position.

One would be hard pressed to think of many films that depict a loving, playful, and vibrant relationship at its peak. Most movies depict the beginning or twilight of a married couple but Nick and Nora are among the elite couples that are enjoying themselves in the middle of their relationship. Once again, The Thin Man gives yet another reason why it's my all-time favorite film. By the way, I believe I "nicked" this blog post concept from Ginger Ingenue over at Asleep in New York, so credit and royalties all go to her...

Katharine Hepburn: Morning Glory (1933)

If Katharine Hepburn hadn’t won her first Oscar for Morning Glory, the film wouldn't even merit being the answer to a trivia question; it’s just not a memorable movie. It’s a underdeveloped blend of What Price Hollywood (1932) and A Star is Born (1937) while lacking the superior writing and direction of those films. Morning Glory attempts to inject “cautionary fame” dialogue but it’s only dumped in at the end. The performance by Hepburn could be considered a warmup of sorts to Hepburn’s Alice Adams character, as her Eva Lovelace is just as naïve and foolishly romantic as Alice Adams was, only without the emotional power and sympathy.

Morning Glory is the story of Eva Lovelace, a naïve ingénue who has romantic aspirations in the world of the theatre. She arrives at the office of Lewis Easton (Adolphe Menjou) and playwright Joseph Sheridan (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) hoping for her big break. She ends up being defiled, dumped, and dismissed by Easton after a drunken fling at a party, but not before we see what a talent Eva is when she does a drunken rendition of Hamlet, moving Sheridan to tears! Eva winds up doing vaudeville shtick until the play’s greedy leading lady bows out of Easton’s play and Eva must step in at the last minute to save the day and achieve the fame she seeks.

Despite being a pre-Code film—there's some innuendo and women in undergarments that warrant one’s notice—Morning Glory is a half-baked drama that never makes its move. We never feel for Eva Lovelace like we would Alice Adams. The film does boast a top-notch cast: Adolphe Menjou, playing another stage producer like he would in Stage Door, only without the wit; Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., as the playwright, spends the duration of the movie with a pipe stuck in his mug (because writers always smoke pipes) when he's not half-heartedly fawning over Hepburn; C. Aubrey Smith, who’s charming and not his usual blustery, "Pip-Pip" self but he's woefully underused. An interesting thing to notice about the actors here is that the men are all quite naturalistic in their performances while the women (save Kate) play their parts with over-the-top gusto.

As for Hepburn’s performance, she’s fine but her character is surprisingly one note and woefully underdeveloped, with little script and helpful direction to flesh out her character. Director Lowell Sherman is no George Cukor or George Stevens, that’s for sure. One laments what those two directors could’ve done with this material. The film is a brief 73 minutes but the first twenty is spent in a static scene in Menjou’s office where he and Dougie, Jr. are trying to cast the latter’s play. This is where the film does its cast a disservice. Morning Glory could’ve packed more character study into its lean running time instead of flailing away at a plot that’s even leaner. Hepburn's not even on screen as much as she should be! Besides that, the narrative lets her character down, as we don't get to see her trials in her quest to be a great actress; they're mentioned in an offhand way to no dramatic effect.

The Bottom Line: Morning Glory is notable only for being Katharine Hepburn’s first Oscar winner—she beat out May Robson in Lady for a Day and Diana Wynyard in Cavalcade. After seeing Morning Glory it only makes me wish that Kate had lost the Oscar and instead won it for Alice Adams or The Philadelphia Story instead of for this forgettable effort.

Katharine Hepburn: Stage Door (1937)

When I first saw Stage Door in 2006 it was because of my newfound interest in Ginger Rogers. Ginger was the comedic backbone of the movie and I became an admirer of hers from that day forward. However, the other major star in the movie, Katharine Hepburn, was already a longtime favorite of mine but her performance in Stage Door didn’t involve many of the comedic bits despite her great rivalry with Rogers’ character. In the many times I’ve watched the film since then, I’ve realized what a fine performance Hepburn gives. In fact, she’s the central dramatic focus of this already quite impressive ensemble cast of wisecracking dames.

The Plot: Hepburn is Terry Randall, the daughter of a business tycoon who has recently decided to become an actress. Terry figures that there’s nothing to acting—one just goes up on stage and speaks the lines. However, Terry wishes to succeed in theatre without her father’s powerful influence. Mr. Randall backs the production and makes a deal with producer Anthony Powell (Adolphe Menjou; who gives a delightful performance and gets some great lines) to get Terry the lead so she can fail miserably and get show biz out of her system. Terry’s wealthy background and shallow pursuit of stardom rubs the other girls of the Footlights Club boardinghouse the wrong way and she develops an instant rival in Ginger’s Jean Maitland character. The two have wonderful scenes together, trading caustic barbs in a see-saw battle of acid wits. However, Terry’s getting the lead over another roommate, the emotional fragile and creepy Kaye, leads to tragedy and Terry finally understands that being an actress involves more than merely reading the lines; one must feel the same things as the person they're playing.

Stage Door is best known as the movie with Kate’s line about the Calla Lilies being in bloom again. It’s often mentioned with amusement. In fact, the line is amusing when Kate speaks the words in rehearsal while oblivious to their meaning and then those same words take on a poignant, tragic meaning when she says them again during the performance of the play within the movie. Ginger Rogers may have gotten the bulk of comic lines but Hepburn gets more to do with the heavy dramatic scenes. Her scene in the dressing room just before curtain is Kate’s powerhouse moment. She’s sympathetic and devastated at the news of a tragedy concerning…no spoilers here, folks! The play begins and Terry’s previous ignorance of her character’s reading of the “Calla Lilies are in bloom” line has a poignancy and emotional impact that brings the Terry Randall character full circle.

Stage Door turned out to be something of a comeback for Katharine Hepburn, who was recovering from that ridiculous “Box Office Poison” label that dogged her during the mid-‘30s after a series of less-than-stellar films. When the issue of star billing arose, Hepburn was initially to be placed second under Ginger Rogers. RKO producer Pandro S. Berman reportedly told Hepburn that "she was lucky to have the 7th role in a star picture." Stage Door ended up a big box office hit and for Katharine Hepburn, was a first step back towards the top. Stage Door went on to receive Academy Award nominations for Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, and Supporting Actress (Andrea Leeds; ironically the weak link among the cast).


Where Hepburn’s performance in Stage Door ranks among her career best is unclear. It's a fine effort, especially when one considers that she reportedly didn’t "get a handle" on her character until quite late in the shooting is testament to her ability, as Terry Randall is the one multi-layered character in the film. Hepburn also gets overshadowed by one of Ginger Rogers’ best comedic performances, and I never fail to be impressed at how she goes toe-to-toe with The Great Kate. Couple that with the energetic ensemble cast (which includes Lucille Ball, Ann Miller, Gail Patrick, and Eve Arden), Hepburn still emerges with another fine role in her 1930s filmography.

Poised for a Comeback: Stage Door was a solid effort in The Great Kate's career.

Katharine Hepburn: Alice Adams (1935)

Alice Adams remains one of Katharine Hepburn’s most memorable performances and it’s the role that defined her in the 1930s. Hepburn’s characterization of the Booth Tarkington character is the one that launched a thousand Hepburn impersonations, with Kate’s memorable line ( “Really I do, really”) becoming the words used to “channel” an impression of her, though she never speaks the line quite that way; see the above capture with her actual words. It’s attributed to her like “You, you dirty rat” is for James Cagney and the “Judy Judy Judy” routine is for Cary Grant.

Hepburn is the title character, a small-town girl of humble means with aspirations to the upper class. Alice Adams is an alternately sweet, awkward, heartbreaking, and amusing film with the “Hollywood Ending” that Depression-era audiences loved. However, the plot of any film isn’t nearly as important to my viewing enjoyment as the characters and the interplay between them. I’m more interested in what the cast is doing and how they’re behaving more than I am in any intricate plot devices which are bound to disappoint anyway. One never has to worry about giving away how good a performance is as one does with keeping mum about a pivotal plot point.

It’s easy to see why this movie was such a hit for Hepburn. It shows the sweet, vulnerable side of the actress and so much of what I love about the early period of Kate’s career. Like her wonderful performance in Holiday--which I never fail to mention—she’s totally immersed in this character and while I know it’s Katharine Hepburn, I completely buy into what she puts across onscreen. She had yet to emerge into the standardized version of the Kate that emerged with The Philadelphia Story and was fully in evidence in Woman of the Year.

Hepburn as Alice is about as vulnerable a character as I’ve ever seen her play. She was twenty eight in 1935 and is portraying a socially-awkward eighteen-year-old(?) girl. Maybe I’m just a sap for All Things Hepburn but I truly bought into her being a young woman here. Alice behaves like a silly girl with a romantic view of the rich much like her role as Eva Lovelace in Morning Glory, who had a pseudo-tragic/romantic view of being an actress. Here, she’s deluded by how she envisions the wealthy.

Alice’s family finds itself in a precarious financial situation. Her father, Virgil (wonderfully played by Fred Stone), is convalescing from serious illness and even though he’s still being paid by his boss, Mr. Lamb, Virgil Adams feels he must work to earn his pay—strange concept in today’s world—and Mrs. Adams who wants Alice to have a better life, badgers Virgil into forming his own glue works company with the formula he helped create years before. Mrs. Adams feels it is their key to success. In a “Keeping up with the Joneses” mentality, Mrs. Adams believes that they’re long overdue in arriving to their own big time.



The audience must wonder why Alice thinks so highly of these people because in the film they are nothing but shallow, vain, and downright unlikable. I found myself despising those “frozen faced” dopes—to borrow Alice’s brother Walter’s term for them—and wondering why this sweet girl would ever want to belong to such an ugly group; it had everything to do with Alice believing that the grass was greener among the rich. Then, she meets Arthur Russell (Fred MacMurray). Arthur is smitten with the flighty Alice and cares not one whit about her family’s lack of means. This is what I see as the main emotional draw of this film.

The fact that Alice puts on the air of sophistication and pretends she’s something she isn’t is what makes her so endearing. She has a decent man interested in her but she can’t see that Arthur likes Alice for who she is, not who she’s pretending to be. There’s a heartbreaking feeling to this and you want to cry out to Hepburn’s Alice to just stop with the pretense. Yet when her family is in peril, Alice becomes the strength and drops the silly dreaming. She looks after her ailing father and serves to assuage the pain between her argumentative parents, who are both frustrated by their lack of success. This is what moves Alice to dream of being a wealthy sophisticate, as her real-life family lacks the financial success of their neighbors.

Nowhere in the film is this tension played up more than in the hilarious dinner scene, when poor Arthur is sweating howitzer shells as the Adams’ menu on that particularly sweltering night is to serve hot soup, brussel sprouts, and heavy roast beef and mashed potatoes! MacMurray's low-key facial expressions are hilarious as Hepburn maintains the dopey charade with a running commentary of excuses. MacMurray was perfect for this because what comes through is not his discomfort but his keeping a good face on the whole debacle. He doesn’t try to play up the comedy, as that is done to perfection by Hattie McDaniel (billed as “McDaniels”).

While the entire cast is superb, this is Hepburn’s movie and her performance is the centerpiece. Going into this I thought that Alice Adams would be a melodramatic mess but Hepburn is perfect in every way. Her emotion is genuinely moving and never over-the-top, Alice’s dopey flights of fancy and pretentious desire to be among the wealthy reveals more about the vulnerability of her fragile character than any superficial ambitions she has. Alice is likable but frustrating, as she fails to see just how someone could love her for who she is, not who she wants to be, yet we're never angry with her and we sympathize with her completely. A lovely film and a beautifully appealing performance by Katharine Hepburn--one of her best.

Poll Results: Bringing Up Baby

The voters decided by a landslide that their favorite 1930s performance by Katharine Hepburn is 1938's Bringing Up Baby, easily beating out second-place Holiday (my personal favorite) by twenty-four votes. Of the 83 votes cast:

Bringing Up Baby 43 (51%)

Holiday 19 (22%)
Stage Door 10 (12%)
Little Women 4 (4%)
Alice Adams 3 (3%)
Morning Glory 2 (2%)
Sylvia Scarlett 2 (2%)

It's not surprising that Kate's role as madcap heiress Susan Vance won so easily. It's Hepburn's definitive comic performance. Her mastery of Howard Hawks' rapidfire dialogue is hilarious and yet it's not nearly as rat-a-tat-tat as the director's His Girl Friday, which would follow this film two years later and is, for my money, The Mother of All Rapidfire-Dialogue Movies.

What was surprising was the lack of support for Alice Adams, one of Hepburn's greatest performances no matter which decade, and Morning Glory, her first Oscar winning turn.

Robert Montgomery Awaits

Years ago, I was discussing jazz musicians with a friend of mine and when an artist's name came up, my friend said, "He's not one of my favorites, but he should be!" So it is with Robert Montgomery; he should be one of my favorite actors, and he's well on his way. Bob's a hidden treasure of 1930s cinema with his suave, easygoing demeanor and effortless charm, often cast as a dapper playboy. Montgomery was one of the best-dressed actors and seeing as his prime was the 1930s, that's really saying something. He's even inspired me to shave every day! See what a great role model he could be?

In the "Suave" department, Bob's better looking than fellow suavier Melvyn Douglas and just as strong a dramatic actor as William Powell. And in a James Stewart vein, Bob's a WWII vet, too. And like most every person that interests me, Bob had interests outside of acting. He was an accomplished director, producer, and involved himself in politics, having served as Screen Actors Guild president and as an "image consultant" to President Eisenhower. There's also his TV success, hosting Robert Montgomery Presents during the 1950s. On a less-exalted level, Montgomery was the father to a famous daughter, whose name eludes me...she's much better known than Bob ever was!

Bob's films are finding their way onto DVD via the Warner Archive, which has only increased my interest. Montgomery may prove to be my introduction to pre-1934 films, as his pairings with Norma Shearer may lead me to a period in Hollywood history I know next to nothing about (I hereby declare today "Admit My Ignorance" day). Bob also has multiple teamups with Joan Crawford and Rosalind Russell, too.

The two movies that made me take notice of this undervalued star were 1939's Fast and Loose, with Montgomery playing Joel Sloane, antique book dealer/detective in the Thin Man tradition and one of my most sought-after movies (TCM played it four years ago). There's also 1931's When Ladies Meet, co-starring Myrna Loy. Bob's time on screen seems rather limited but when he's on, he's the life of the movie. There's a scene on a golf course where Bob's charm is evident. This is the Montgomery that I wish to explore first; the easygoing charmer. I'm more aware of his darker, sociopathic roles that he played later in his career. A few of my favorites are Night Must Fall (1937), Rage in Heaven (1941) and the 1947 Noir Ride the Pink Horse. A less successful venture into Noir, Lady in the Lake, (starring and directed by Montgomery) is best remembered for its point of view camerawork.

I hope TCM airs more Montgomery so I can take in his 1930s output. I'd like to have Robert Montgomery in my top ten list of favorite actors next time around. From what I've seen of him so far, it looks to be an interesting and entertaining journey.

By the way, one of my favorite blogs in this old brown world is Classic Montgomery which is a treasure trove of All Things Bob.

My First Warner Archive Purchase

After an eternity of hemming, hawing and just plain making excuses to not buy any titles from the WB Archive, yours truly finally happened upon a title that broke my self-styled, John Garfield,-anti-hero will.

The Robert Benchley Miniatures Collection, a 3-disc set of the master humorist's short films made for MGM spanning 1935-1944 became available as of Oct 2009! Cost was $30.00 and coupled with shipping and tax, came to $36.97. Considering that most Archive titles run $19.95 per disc, getting three at $30.00 was a steal, a factor instrumental in the decision to buy. Eventually, the Archive will have a title so irresistible that even the skinflintiest, cheapskatiest classic film fan will yield. Besides, this is probably the "way of the future, way of the future, way of the future, way of the future..." ;)

Benchley's a legend in the Haven household, and since we lacked a DVD recorder, the only way to snag the odd Benchley short was on a Warners DVD. It was a tedious and expensive process which netted just four shorts. This set completes our MGM Benchley in one fell swoop, with thirty films filling out this collection.

Quality: Another big concern to fans was the varying sound and picture quality. This doesn't play a factor with seventy-year-old short films, but may with, say, a 1960s Sci-Fi film shot in widescreen Technicolor. With the Benchley set, quality is on par with how these shorts look and sound on "regular" Warner Bros. DVDs. No remastering, but all dialogue is completely intelligible, and the picture is fine, considering the time frame and absence of any restoration. I don't think short subjects receive any special treatment on standard-issue DVDs. Packaging is a regular case with "flipper" pages to hold the discs. No cellophane wrapping or gooey stickers, so that's a plus; anything that reduces plastic can't be all that bad. Shipping was lightning fast, with the order placed on Feb 17 and received on the 22nd.

I'm pleasantly surprised when films of this vintage are in immaculate condition--these aren't anywhere near the level, of say, Columbia's Three Stooges Collections, but the Benchley Collection is well worth the price paid. I have absolutely no qualms about this release.

Oh, I see they have the Joe McDoakes short films, too!

One Lovely Blog Award!

Thanks to Robert at Retro Hound, who awarded Hollywood Dreamland with the One Lovely Blog award. We're always humbled here whenever we're recognized by our blogging peers, so in keeping with the rules of the award, I will pass the award on to *gulp* ten other blogs. This time around, we'll spotlight blogs that are recent discoveries, as well as a nod to some old favorites who've probably been awarded this already...

Laura's Miscellaneous Musings- My pal in Disney and in 1930s movies whose well-rounded and informed writing is a treat.

Dear Old Hollywood- Congrats to newlywed Robby!

The Big Parade- Led by Zoe, who's a delight.

Screen Siren- Naomi's lovely blog is, well, lovely!

Goodfellas Movie Blog- Dave's a helluva writer and his Noir countdown has inspired animated discussion. Dave, I'm jealous of *and* intimidated by your ability.

The Movie Projector- R.D.'s currently running down a great Oscar list, check it out.

Movietone News- Matthew Coniam's recent entry on Robert Benchley is saved on my hard drive. Great work, Matthew.

Wearing History- Lauren's fun blog is teaching me all about vintage fashion.

It's All Make Believe, Isn't It?- Stefanie Valentine's blog is another recent discovery that I look forward to reading. She also liked my Porky at the Crocadero post.

Hollywood Heyday- One of the first blogs I ever followed. It quietly runs down the goings on in tinseltown. Fascinating stuff, edited by the mysterious GAH1965...

Porky at the Crocadero (1938)

Porky at the Crocadero (1938, Warner Brothers; dir. Frank Tashlin) is a decent, if by-the-numbers effort that only takes off in the final two minutes, when Porky Pig gets his chance to be a bog-time bandleader at the swank Crocadero nightclub. When the band slated to play that night can't make it, just-fired dishwasher Porky is hastily tracked down to get his big shot at the big time.



Porky proceeds to do impressions of Paul Whiteman and Benny Goodman but the fireworks really fly when he goes into Cab Calloway mode (respectfully, considering when this was made) or rather "Cab Howlaway and his Absorbent Cotton Club Orchestra" and gets the joint jumpin' with a frenetic take of " Chinatown." I couldn't find any versions of Cab singing "Chinatown" but if any Calloway (or Howlaway!) scholars out there know of one and where it can be found, let us know.


Note the Deco styling. These nice touches can be found in many 1930s cartoons. It was an era of Moderne sophistication!



The sheet music has the song "Avalon" on it, with Porky-as-Paul Whiteman just having played it before jumping into swinging mode as "Cab Howlaway."


The following sequence of stills demonstrate just how expressive and, er...animated Warner Brothers cartoonists made their subjects. So expressive and entertaining whether they're in motion or not. Don't know who's singing for Porky (it's not Mel Blanc, who does warble "Summer Night.")







"My Chinatown..."




The Porky Pig of the 1930s has always interested me. I like how he was Warner Bros. first breakout star, years before The Rabbit burst onto the scene. Through these 1930s cartoons one can follow the pig's career as he emerges from a pack of uninteresting animal characters in 1935's I Haven't Got a Hat. I'd never seen Porky in black & white until recently and it's been a joyous discovery. Too bad these never ever aired when I was a kid, but being in black & white and not of the 1950s, Chuck Jones-dominated fare found on the Bugs Bunny and Road Runner Show of Saturday mornings of my late-'70s/early '80s youth, it wasn't likely that I would happen upon them. If I had seen these before now, I might've worn my first Zoot suit at age ten.

Porky at the Crocadero is available on the Looney Tunes Golden Collection, Volume 5.