EVERYTHING I HAVE IS YOURS (1952)

After specialty turns for top producer Arthur Freed in SHOW BOAT/’51 and LOVELY TO LOOK AT/’52, M-G-M advanced peppy dance partners Marge & Gower Champion as leads on two forgettable chamber musicals definitely not from the Freed Unit. This one, first of the pair*, wastes a good idea with disposable songs & a drab production as Opening Night ends with Marge in a faint; pregnant, and advised to take it easy. Gower continues the run with understudy Monica Lewis while Marge becomes reluctant/resentful stay-at-home mom. Four years on she returns with a show of her own, playing right across the street from Gower & Lewis. Neither Champion has ever had eyes for anyone else, yet they seem stuck with a divorce till his show goes flat and hers needs a lift only Gower can provide. Happy Ending! With pinch-penny look and weirdly unattractive color schemes, this needn’t have proved fatal given more memorable numbers. But the only real spark comes in a little solo for Gower, danced with stuffed animals to amuse his newborn girl. Vet helmer Robert Z. Leonard brings little to the party (dance numbers were probably handled by choreographers Nick Castle & Gower), and the film ends with a waltzing reconciliation that must have been designed to segue into a stage show finale no one had the budget or inclination to film.

DOUBLE-BILL: *The second film, GIVE A GIRL A BREAK/’53, is another backstager involving recasting the girl in a show. Livelier, what with Stanley Donen directing & a youthful turn from a sunny Bob Fosse against glowing Gower, it’s ultimately not much more memorable.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Keep an eye out for the storefront windows seen the same year in SINGING IN THE RAIN and for the train platform used the following year for THE BAND WAGON.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Marge & Gower seem less compatible on screen then they must have been in their stage act. She’s the quiet mouse type (one of the models used by Disney for SNOW WHITE) while Gower’s the complete dazzler. And with musicals quickly going out of fashion, their last shot came quickly with THREE FOR THE SHOW/’55 at Columbia. Yet another variation on ENOCH ARDEN. Pretty good, too, with Betty Grable & Jack Lemmon.

THE MULE (2018)

Only 88, but here passing for 90, Clint Eastwood (in his leading man swansong?) has made a rather lovely, unexpectedly conventional film out of a decidedly unconventional ‘true’ story. Big ‘quote marks’ on ‘true’ as Nick Schenk’s script is all ‘story beats’ in arranging the plot of a newly broke, elderly flower farmer, reinventing himself as a small-time drug runner for a Mexican cartel family. Turns out, he’s good at the job. Who’s stopping a 90-yr old guy in a beat up truck? Maybe too good. Soon, he’s Top Mule, earning too much cash to stop before he finds himself mired in lethally dangerous below-the-border family politics. It’s a tossup whether the FEDS, led by a bemused Bradley Cooper, or new violent drug dealing bosses will take him out first. And that’s just when a crisis long brewing in his own, largely ignored (and resentful) family, turns the drama in a different direction. The film moseys along in the first half, but you don’t much mind the extra 20 minutes: everyone such good company (daughter Alison Eastwood especially so as his daughter), the craft impeccable, the details so bizarre. You do wonder whether or not this might work with less of a well-made Hollywood story structure pointing every plot turn at us. Still, an unusual item. Call it gentlemanly moviemaking. Something we’ll miss when it’s gone from our screens.

DOUBLE-BILL: Art Carney had a hit as an old man turned to crime with two senior pals in GOING IN STYLE/’79. But the tone of Paul Mazursky’s HARRY AND TONTO/’74, a flaky road pic for Carney & his cat after retirement better matches Clint's melancholy vibe.

THE MAN WHO FOUND HIMSELF (1937)

Silly, make that downright goofy, programmer from prolific hack Lew Landers follows the unlikely career path of John Beal, a resentful doctor/risk-taking sky pilot who loses a plane, the life of a lady passenger and his engagement to a society dame when he goes down in a storm and wakes up to scandal. Tramping his way west, he lands in Cali, meets old flying bud Philip Huston* and gets a fresh start as plane mechanic, pilot and, before long, resentful doctor (again) of a flying ambulance. Toss in a last minute train wreck for some heroic action in the field, alongside reconciliation with Dad, and you’ve got your big, corny wrap. It wouldn’t be worth half a look if not for new leading lady Joan Fontaine getting a star-making push from RKO after a handful of pics. You can really see how the studio system takes charge here: a star’s delayed entrance for Joan after a reel & a half; an eye-catching title card after the final credits telling us she’s someone to watch; a complete facial makeup change from her intro (all harsh angles & hard lines) to something much softer thereafter. Too bad they didn't give the same attention to her acting! Even with that lovely, cultured voice, she's pretty bad up there. A couple of years on, the one-two punch of George Cukor (THE WOMEN/’39) and Alfred Hitchcock (REBECCA/’40) would fix that, too.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: *Solidly built, handsome, charming, little known Philip Huston as John Beal's aviator pal was a regular on B’way for decades, but only worked on and off in Hollywood. Whatever happened to the guy? He seems as likely a discovery as Fontaine.

HER KIND OF MAN (1946)

Warner Bros. was still testing out short/solid Dane Clark & long/lean Zachary Scott for post-WWII stardom in this neat, formulaic programmer. Debuting Janis Paige, also getting the star-in-the-making treatment, is the nightclub singer the boys tangle over: Scott a mob-connected gaming house owner, Clark a nightlife news columnist.* Paige loves ‘em both, but leans toward Scott even after he gets involved in a murder. The film runs pretty well for the first two acts, but takes a bad turn forcing its last act climax into place with a poorly staged raid at Scott’s newly opened boíte & backroom betting hot spot. Frederick De Cordova (long time Johnny Carson TONIGHT SHOW producer & infamous director of Ronald Reagan’s BEDTIME FOR BONZO/’51) really stinking up the joint in this laughable moment before straightening up for a pretty good race-to-the-hideout finale. All told, a ‘close-but-no-cigar’ time waster if not for Zachary Scott, one of the more interesting actors Hollywood ever wasted. (And for the decidedly weird homoerotic/masochistic overtones going between Scott & Harry Lewis his lapdog of a bodyguard. Who thought up this relationship, and how'd it get past the censors at the Breen Office?)

DOUBLE-BILL: *None of these three quite made the leap from ‘leading player’ to star, but you can best see the possibilities from Scott in Jean Renoir’s THE SOUTHERNER/’45; Clark in Frank Borzage’s MOONRISE/’48; and Paige showing her comic chops in Rouben Mamoulian/Cole Porter’s SILK STOCKINGS/57 against Fred Astaire.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Unless my ears lie, Paige only does her own vocals on the intro to her opening number. Everything else taken over by some unnamed in-house studio soprano.

DEVIL-MAY-CARE (1929)

M-G-M romantic heartthrob Ramon Novarro waited till the end of 1929 for his first Talkie. (Even Garbo, last of the big stars to take the plunge, ‘spoke’ on screen only three months later.) The transition seemed to go fine, but was followed, as with so many silent stars, by rapid decline. By the mid-30s, interest had waned and he was on his way out. And while he does well here (singing pleasantly in a silly semi-musical about a Napoleon loyalist hiding as a servant in a Royalist household where he falls for the engaged cousin of a Countess), the seeds of his fall have been planted. As an actor, his ‘attack’ pitched at extremes, manly action or generically dreamy; his youthful beauty turning soft to the touch; the songs (by dull Herbert Stothart) unmemorable. Sadly, once all these problems were fixed on THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE/’34, it was too late to turn the tide. Dorothy Jordan makes a pretty, if pitch challenged, cousin/love interest, while Countess Marion Harris sings well but proves impossible to photograph, never making another feature. Technically, Douglas Shearer’s sound work is uncommonly fine (all the singing ‘live’) while director Sidney Franklin shows unexpectedly deft camera moves for the period and keeps a lively pace. But going with a moth-eaten theater piece by opera librettist Eugène Scribe (who died in the mid-1800s) is anyone’s guess.

DOUBLE-BILL: Earlier this year, Novarro had a final silent hit with THE PAGAN/’29. (not seen here)

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Note the Spanish-language poster. It was common before subtitles & dubbing to shoot foreign language versions in tandem with the original. Did that happen here?

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Just before the end, a short 2-strip TechniColor ballet (a mess in turquoise & orange) scored by Dmitri Tiomkin in his first Hollywood gig.

GRUPPO DI FAMIGLIA IN UN INTERNO / CONVERSATION PIECE (1974)

You’d be hard pressed to afford the bath towels that generously wrap around a tantalizingly nude Helmut Berger as he steps out of Burt Lancaster’s curtainless shower in Luchino Visconti’s penultimate film. Couldn’t afford Helmut, either, which all but sums up the plot of this bewitching oddity, a sort of DEATH IN VENICE-Lite with the repressed Aschenbach character remade as Lancaster’s retired scientist/art collector; Berger as grown Tadzio, objet d’art of sexual opportunity; and the endless interiors of Lancaster’s Rome home standing in for Venice. (No canals, but there is a water overflow upstairs.) Visually stunning, almost shockingly so, it was shot entirely in studio by Pasqualino De Santis. The film, life affirming and more than a bit gaga, follows a small clan of the ‘beautiful people,’ hideously rich & so appallingly entitled there’s something funny in their excess, who ‘move in’ on Lancaster’s recluse, taking over & redoing the musty apartment above him in an attempt to retain Helmut . . . and his ‘services.’ And the man seems to be ‘serving’ everyone! Silvana Mangano’s married Marchesa (the lady with the checkbook and the chic pallor); flighty daughter Claudi Marsani; and her architect fiancé Stefano Patrizi. (Anyone for a threesome?) Berger may also be taking in a bit of ‘rough trade’ though the plot (such as it is) would have us believe he gets beat up by dissed drug dealers. More plot barely touched on involves Berger informing on Mangano’s (fascist?) industrial powerhouse of a husband. Visconti making these things so vague, the film’s tragic ending all but evaporates from memory, leaving, instead, positive feelings from Lancaster finding something in life beyond books & exquisite paintings. A moral we might believe if only the decor & backgrounds weren’t so all consuming they become main characters! And it’s this push-me/pull-you struggle over æsthetics & philosophy that help make this sui generis film such a compelling, puzzle-completing work in the Visconti canon.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Filmed and released in three or four ‘original’ languages, the film had a disastrous opening in its English-Language version at The New York Film Fest where laughs at Marxist Italian Communism and acres of stiff, formal dialogue caused a festival of ‘bad’ laughs. The film plays infinitely better in Italian (though you lose Lancaster’s own voice) with English subtitles and only three of four whoppers.

DOUBLE-BILL/LINK: Visconti’s DEATH IN VENICE/’71.   https://maksquibs.blogspot.com/2014/08/death-in-venice-1971.html

GEORGY GIRL (1966)

With its irresistibly catchy tune and British New Wave trimmings, this off-beat Cinderella story (or is it an anti-Cinderella story?) remains smashing entertainment. Neatly handled, without rubbing our faces in ‘mod’ style or overplaying the whimsical tweaks of conventional mores, director Silvio Narizzano gets the tone just right for sexual roundelay as sentimental farce. Lynn Redgrave is plumply delicious as Georgy, eternal third-wheel, a frump who triumphs thru niceness when the hip couple she rooms with (Charlotte Rampling & Alan Bates) fall apart after marriage & a new baby. Unexpectedly, love is redirected her way. Or rather, comes to her once more as she’s long been the object of affection of her parents’ wealthy/randy employer James Mason. The twists in the plot complicated by the fact that at the time Alan Bates was just about the most appealing fellow on the planet.  Everything is deftly handled in Peter Nichols’ extra-sharp script, tucking in character corners like a well-made bed, and nimbly skipping over any trouble spots. Working with book author Margaret Forster, you can’t help but notice echoes from ‘50s classics like GIGI and SABRINA (her teen faves?), but with satisfying flips. A feel-good film without any nasty aftertaste.

ATTENTION MUST BE PAID: Did any classic Hollywood star move as effortlessly and confidently thru changing post-studio era cinematic styles as James Mason?

DOUBLE-BILL: From the same year, MORGAN!, a more iconoclastic tear-down-the-walls piece of rom-com 60s political anarchy (British New Wave division), now looking uncomfortably pushed.

CONTEST: Actor (and HARRY POTTER audio book giant) Jim Dale co-wrote that fab title tune. What’s his other major connection to co-scripter Peter Nichols?

LARCENY INC.

After Columbia Pictures mined Edward G. Robinson’s gangster character for laughs in THE WHOLE TOWN’S TALKING/’35, home studio Warner Bros. took over the act with A SLIGHT CASE OF MURDER/’38 (prohibition brewer must upgrade product); BROTHER ORCHID/’40 (convent hideout goes more than skin deep); and this adaptation of S. J. Perelman’s flop play A NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS* on how a crook’s plan to tunnel into a neighboring bank from a luggage shop is foiled by his unexpected success as a retailer. No doubt, the idea would have worked best as one of Perelman’s many New Yorker short stories. Instead, it becomes the runt of the litter in Eddie G.’s trio of gangster yuck-fests @ Warners. It does manage a few decent laughs, mostly around the edges from supporting players Broderick Crawford as a dense strongman and a very young Jackie Gleason’s soda jerk; while wasting Jack Carson & Jane Wyman in a nothing romance. It's not bad, but too much in here feels pretty obvious, with director Lloyd Bacon falling back on a rat-a-tat-tat delivery when gags fall flat. Bacon, who made all three of these, had the best luck with BROTHER ORCHID, the least promising of the trio. Go figure.

DOUBLE-BILL: *Woody Allen, who idolized Perelman, refashioned the basic idea to modest result in SMALL TIME CROOKS/’00. (Not that Perelman gets any credit on it.)

STRANGERS ALL 1935)

Early credit for Charles Vidor, a journeyman helmer with some standout credits (LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME/’55; GILDA/’46) amid much dross. Here working an intriguing family setup that wastes its potential in overloaded characters & situations. (To say nothing of ham-fisted acting.) Two years back, Frank Capra’s superb LADY FOR A DAY bumped elderly character actress May Robson into some ill-suited starring roles; and in this one, they try her out in Marie Dressler territory as a tough, but sentimental mom tragically blind to the faults of her ungrateful brood.* Preston Foster, the one decent child, needs a bailout for his failing haberdashery. Number Two’s coasting thru life, playing the part of a radical, revolutionary rabble-rouser while Number Three’s an effete snob and would-be thespian. There’s a daughter, too, but she ran off from her fiancé only to return home unexpectedly married to some new fellow. The film story is the only known work from (unproduced?) playwright Marie Bercovici, and trying awfully hard to be the sort of proletariat family drama Clifford Odets was just hitting B’way with in his smash play AWAKE AND SING. Alas, this bargain basement version, if not without social interest as a period Depression piece, is, when not crude & cretinous, unintentionally funny.

DOUBLE-BILL: Odets’ AWAKE AND SING was too left-wing radical for Hollywood. They waited, and got a less controversial play from him in GOLDEN BOY/39, for Barbara Stanwyck & William Holden. OR: *As mentioned above, Dressler in EMMA/’32, one of her big, hokey, sentimental hits. (see below)