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Post by jamesjazzguitar on May 18, 2023 18:25:41 GMT
Mildred Dunnock is an incredibly talented actress who flies far below the radar today where fantastic actresses like Margaret Hamilton are still known, but for some reason, Dunnock isn't. If you get a chance, it's worth checking out her incredible performance in "I Want You," where she completely decimates her husband's, played by another fine actor, Robert Keith, rah-rah-war mentality. Mildred Dunnock is indeed a very fine actress, but she didn't have an iconic performance in a super high-profile film that is seen by generation after generation (Wizzard of Oz being the film for Hamilton). Typically, being in the right-time\right-place answers the "some reason" question. Hamilton's role in Oz carried on in the dreams\nightmares of generation after generation of children; playing an evil character tends to stay with people more so than other type of characters. E.g. Billie Burke had a more robust career than Hamilton, starting on Broadway in 1907, then silent films, and ending in 1960. I really like Burke's 2nd to last performance in The Young Philadelphians, where her decades long screen persona was still intact (that of the on-the-surface clueless woman, that really does know what is going on, often more-so than the men around her). But of the vast majority of non-studio-era film devotes like me, remember the evil witch over that of the good one! As for Dunnock, I enjoyed her as the mother of Liz Taylor in Butterfields Eight, the aunt in the disturbing Bady Doll and numerous other roles over 4 decades. |
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Post by topbilled on May 23, 2023 14:02:52 GMT
This neglected film is from 1933.
Scams incorporated
The title itself seems misapplied. James Cagney is not a sex symbol who seduces a bunch of women. Nor is he playing a serial killer who preys upon unsuspecting female victims. In fact I can’t even imagine why Warner Brothers gave this picture the title it did, except that maybe it seemed catchy.
Cagney’s playing a brash theater usher with a fondness for dice. His gambling escapades get him into trouble more than once. Early on he’s a suckered into a card game by moll Mae Clarke. She has lured him to her apartment with a ruse about a dropped purse.
She’s been dropping purses all around town, and she has a whole drawer full of them. She also has some smooth partners, led by Douglass Dumbrille, whose livelihood it is to cheat saps out of their dough. Of course, Cagney is not quite the chump they take him for– he figures out their racket pretty quick and joins in. You know the old adage, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em!
A series of scams follow. Soon they’ve made quite a haul swindling people, enough for Cagney to own his own nightclub. The cops get wise to them, so they all scatter in different directions. Cagney and Clarke take a train to the west coast and get off in Los Angeles.
A chance reunion with Dumbrille and the rest of the old gang leads to more law-breaking schemes. But this time Cagney overplays his hand and is arrested. While sitting in jail waiting for Clarke to come bail him out, he learns that she and the others have vamoosed to Mexico leaving him high and dry.
The next part of the story is far-fetched. Cagney somehow beats the charges and ends up becoming– wait for it– a movie star. As a famous actor, he romances leading lady Margaret Lindsay.
A short time later there is a very odd precode scene where Miss Lindsay’s character celebrates her birthday with a bash to end all bashes. At this decadent party, hedonistic guests get their groove on, and so do some wild monkeys. The monkeys drink too much of the booze, hang from the chandeliers and fall into the cake.
Since Cagney’s such a big shot now, his ex-partners return to blackmail him. They’ll go to the cops if he doesn’t cooperate and help them with a new scam to fleece his rich Hollywood friends. This is where we get some masculine business with Cagney getting physically abusive towards Miss Clarke.
He grabs her by the hair then drags her across the room and out the door. In the next scene, he throws her across the hallway, and she winds up in a crumpled heap.
Obviously this painful altercation is meant to be a follow up re: what happened in their previous picture, THE PUBLIC ENEMY, where he was seen smashing a grapefruit in her face.
There’s some stuff involving stolen gems and Cagney turning informant with the police…so he can avoid prison and be united with Miss Lindsay at the end of the story. It’s kind of a strange film, certainly not one of Cagney’s best. But it has memorable sequences, even if some of them are a bit uncomfortable to watch.
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Post by Fading Fast on May 23, 2023 14:23:30 GMT
Lady Killer from 1933 with James Cagney, Mae Clarke and Margaret Lindsay
Lady Killer is a pure Cagney vehicle that's having fun with his early 1930s on-screen gangster persona. Cagney has so much raw energy and talent at this point in his career and "talkies" were so new, that director Roy Del Ruth just let Cagney rip in a few scenes knowing he'd get something magical on screen.
Del Ruth was right. At the open, Cagney plays a smart-aleck theater usher who becomes a smart-aleck gangster who has to flee town when the heat is on. With a movieland-pretty gunmoll, played by Mae Clarke (yes, she's the grapefruit-in-the-face Mae Clarke) in tow, he hightails it to Los Angeles where he "Cagneys" his way into movies.
As a rising star, now distant from Clarke and dating an established star, played by million-dollar-smile Margaret Lindsay, Cagney is happy living the Hollywood life in his Deco apartment, driving a fancy car and wearing expensive suits.
Then, though, his old "friends" from the New York gang show up threatening to ruin his career by exposing his sordid past. Cagney tries to buy them off, but blackmailers are never satisfied with one payment.
A desperate Cagney tries to break free of his gang while keeping his movie-star name clean and stopping Lindsay from leaving him as she's jealous of Clarke. Being both a comedy and pre-code, past immorality doesn't have to be paid for in the guns-blazing climax or ensuing police-and-publicity wrap up.
Lady Killer is a silly story full of plot holes that works because Cagney is that good. He's a ball of energy spitting dialogue out like machine-gun bullets whether back talking to a boss or the cops, sweet talking Clarke, Lindsay or some other woman or convincing a Hollywood producer to hire him. He's quick to anger, quick to charm and quick to laugh (even at himself).
He's the precursor to Eddie Murphy, in the early 1980s, where the movie exists to highlight the talent of one actor. In these star vehicles, it helps, though, as in Lady Killer, to have a female lead, Mae Clarke here, who can hold her own with Cagney as a star needs a worthy adversary.
Clarke is smart enough to play her brand of early femme fatale softly as you'll never out-energy Cagney (although, Joan Blondell came close a few times in other Cagney movies). Clarke and Cagney's scenes together are wonderful vignettes with her viperous smile equalling his conniving one as these two rapscallions know they can't trust each other, but still, there's a mutual attraction.
Lady Killer is fun. It mocks too-serious theater bosses, flat-footed cops, bumbling gangsters, frivolous society dames and almost everything pretentious about Hollywood, but in a not mean-spirited way. Cagney's warp-speed acting was perfect for Warner Bros'. warp-speed early talkies as neither slows down for a second, while the picture bounds from one entertaining scene to the next. |
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Post by topbilled on May 29, 2023 15:08:48 GMT
This neglected film is from 1958.
Rangers confront dangers
Charlton Heston was the original choice to play Colonel William Darby in Warner Brothers’ war film about Darby and his infamous rangers. However, Heston had a dispute with Jack Warner over pay, so he was replaced by James Garner. It would be the first lead role in a motion picture for Garner, who had been taking supporting parts at the studio and would gain popularity starring in one of WB’s western TV series, Maverick.
Garner knew he wasn’t director William Wellman’s first choice, and felt he was perhaps too young to play Darby. However, Garner was 30 at the time, and Darby died at 34. It does seem as if Garner is still getting the hang of moviemaking, though his charisma is present and he does a mostly decent job. Probably the role was cut down a bit, after Heston’s abrupt departure and what we get is more of an ensemble war picture, which is not a bad thing.
This film was made when sudsy melodramas were all the rage, and due to the studio’s success with an earlier war melodrama BATTLE CRY (1955), Jack Warner insisted Wellman focus more on the romance elements than on the fighting scenes. Translation: ole Jack wanted to make sure there was plenty of sex, or at least implied sex, to titillate a late ’50s audience and give them a reason to turn off the TV and venture back into the movie theater.
Sometimes all the preoccupation with romance/sex whatever you want to call it, slows down the story since the action sequences Wellman manages to squeeze into the picture are quite gripping. The training sequences during the first hour, when Garner and his rangers are learning combat tricks from a British unit in Scotland, are very engaging. Those scenes undoubtedly used a lot of stuntmen, as did the scenes in the second half, when the men venture to Italy and are waging deadly battle against the Germans in Anzio.
Not all the romantic interludes are mush. One of the more important subplots involves a young second lieutenant (Edd Byrnes) who gets involved with a working class girl (Etchika Choureau) in Naples that he initially mistakes for a prostitute. They ultimately develop a loving relationship, though she has become pregnant by another man who was killed in the war.
She gets sick, needs penicillin, and she marries Byrnes before giving birth. However, the baby dies, and Byrnes now free of this obligation is able to carry on without her, but decides he will remain married to her and they will have plenty of kids of their own. It’s all a bit over-the-top but still compelling as soap operas go.
Another decent subplot involves Stuart Whitman (in a role that had been intended for Garner, before Garner was ‘promoted’ to lead). Whitman plays a Reno gambler who falls for a British girl (Joan Elan), while the men are training in Scotland. She works on a bus but is from a privileged family. The difference in their backgrounds is enormous, yet he wins over her parents (Reginald Owen & Frieda Inescort) during card games at their estate.
A less effective subplot involves Corey Allen as a bad boy ranger who sleeps with a married woman (Andrea King). She is encouraged to dump her boring hubby, buoyed by false hope she can have a future with Allen after the war. Only Allen is killed in duty, and she’s left with nothing. The scene where Miss King shows up at Garner’s office and learns about Allen’s death from an assistant (Jack Warden) is a well-acted scene, even if we cannot really sympathize with King’s character.
Curiously, while all the men have romantic escapades, Garner’s character does not. It is suggested that his job leading the rangers is his whole life. At one point, there is dialogue that says he has to be a monk…but why? The other men do their jobs efficiently and spend plenty of time carousing, NOT being monks.
Reading up on the real-life Darby, who never had a wife with no mention of any girlfriends, I wondered if perhaps he was gay and all that has been wiped from the telling of his life story and career. If the leading figure of a movie during the production code era had been openly homosexual, that would have made it nearly impossible for Warner to get the film produced. Or for it to uphold conservative values in the post-war era that it’s meant to uphold.
The film ends with Darby being sent back to Washington after surviving the campaign in Anzio, circa 1944. But in the spring of 1945, Darby was sent back to Italy where he was killed by a bomb blast the last day of April, just days before the Germans surrendered. In an unusual move, Darby was buried in Italy– why didn’t his family claim his body?– before he was ultimately reinterred in his native Arkansas a few years later.
Again, I think there is more to the real-life Darby’s story than we get in this film. If the part was cut down after Heston left and Garner took over, that may also explain why we have gaps on screen where things about Darby’s personal life seem left out. Maybe someone else will come along someday and retell the story in fuller detail.
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Post by topbilled on Jun 8, 2023 14:20:32 GMT
This neglected film is from 1955.
Enjoyable flick
Liberace had already done some motion picture work before he signed a deal at Warner Brothers to make this film. Of course this would be his first starring role and hopes were high that he could translate his success as a musician into movie stardom.
However, that was not to be the case, since SINCERELY YOURS did not do well with audiences, and it lost money for the studio. Jack Warner reportedly paid off Liberace not to make a second film that was guaranteed in his contract.
It’s really a shame too, since this is a gorgeously produced film with capable direction by Gordon Douglas and a most excellent supporting cast. The set design for Liberace’s penthouse apartment is worth a look; the clothes and hairstyles are fabulous; and the music…well, the music speaks for itself.
Though Liberace may seem a bit awkward in romantic moments with leading ladies Joanne Dru and Dorothy Malone, he still does a winning and sincere job.
The musical numbers are boffo. We see him play everything from classical music (Mozart, Brahms, Lizst, Chopin and Gershwin) to popular tunes that include boogie-woogie jazz; uptempo Spanish sounds and even a traditional Irish ballad.
Undoubtedly these were some of his fans’ most favorite selections in concert, so it made sense for them to be featured in the film.
The first half of the story is rather light, with many lively musical interludes. There is also a budding romance between his character and Miss Malone.
On the sidelines is his faithful secretary (Dru) and a stern paternal manager (William Demarest). I would suspect that Demarest’s character is modeled on Liberace’s older brother George who guided much of his career.
Things take a dramatic turn when during a performance, Liberace start to lose his hearing. Soon he goes deaf. Afraid of a risky surgery to restore his hearing, he withdraws from his busy touring schedule and he also withdraws from life. The plot is a reworking of Warners’ earlier hit THE MAN WHO PLAYED GOD (1932) starring George Arliss.
While hiding away from the world, Liberace learns to read lips and uses a set of binoculars to observe people in the park across the street. This includes a crippled boy (Richard Eyer) who wants to play football; as well as a young woman ashamed of her low-class mother (Lurene Tuttle).
It’s interesting to see how he becomes involved in the lives of these other folks. He grows as a human being through knowing them, and that is the heart of the story.
Meanwhile Malone has gotten over her infatuation with Liberace and has fallen in love with another man, an ex-military soldier (Alex Nicol). Naturally, Liberace does the honorable thing and breaks up with Malone so she can have her freedom to pursue a lasting relationship with Nicol.
This decision ultimately paves the way for Liberace to reunite with Miss Dru, who has quit her job as his faithful girl Friday. It’s mid-1950s schmaltz. But it’s good schmaltz.
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Post by topbilled on Jun 13, 2023 16:17:03 GMT
This neglected film is from 1953.
No white man is a brother of hers
This is a film that seems to be overlooked today but did very well at the box office in the summer of 1953. It benefits from a Warner Brothers “A” budget, extensive outdoor location filming and of course, all the latest technology in visual design and sound design. It was a trend at the time to make films in 3-D, to lure audiences from the comforts of home and free television entertainment, back into movie theaters.
While the 3-D effects feel dated now and were probably regarded as gimmicky even then, one can’t deny that it’s kind of “fun” to see objects hurled at the screen. This includes knives, especially ones hitting a target during practice at an army fort before Guy Madison takes a ragtag group of men off to fight some natives.
During the battle scenes with the natives, hatchets get lobbed at the camera, arrows fly at us from all directions and even bodies are thrown. Yes, it is a bit much but it gives the story a lot of quick action, and if your adrenaline isn’t pumping watching these things take place on screen, then you probably don’t have a pulse.
Of course, all the special effects in the world can’t save a poorly constructed narrative. But fortunately, this film has a very good script that puts Mr. Madison at the forefront, but also gives considerable time to the supporting characters. The men he leads to Feather River are mostly drunks, thieves and other assorted deviants that the army would have no use for, if it wasn’t short on manpower.
Frank Lovejoy is cast as an officer who must play second fiddle to Madison on their trek across hostile country, because we are told that Madison moves and thinks like a native and Lovejoy does not exhibit those qualities. Lovejoy wouldn’t be able to successfully lead the group anyway, because he’s too distracted by his pretty wife back at the fort whom he suspects of keeping company with other men. One man that he caught his wife cozying up to is a member of this guardhouse brigade, and Lovejoy wouldn’t shed a tear if the guy was struck down by an arrow.
Another subplot involves two women who are at the heart of Madison’s mission. He has been asked to reclaim a pair of sisters who were kidnapped five years ago by a warring tribe. Helen Westcott plays the older sis, whom it is said was forced to provide sexual favors for native men. Her younger sibling (Vera Miles) was spared such indignity, because the chief was fond of her. Miles’ character has become an exalted princess type, and she is promised in marriage to the chief, which complicates things considerably.
One of the soldiers under Madison’s command is the sisters’ brother (Ron Hagerthy). He is emotionally reunited with the women when they are rescued. But he is stunned when Miles viciously replies “no white man is a brother of mine!” She has clearly been brainwashed by the tribe and no longer considers herself white. This causes added stress for Westcott who is caught in the middle of the family conflict.
Later the brother goes down when he is struck by an arrow. Westcott and Madison tend to him, and as he recovers, they move to higher ground. But Miles has found a way to signal the tribe, so the chief and his warriors are closing in. Miles also tries to recruit one of Madison’s men (Neville Brand) to help her escape so she can return to the native people. When these efforts fail, she steals a gun and starts shooting. She ends up killing her brother.
Obviously, Miles’ character will be punished for all her bad deeds, since the production code will not allow her to get away with such stuff. And a short time later, after killing her brother, she falls off the side of a cliff and dies.
This increases the tension between Madison and his men, and escalates their standoff with the natives. Madison sends Lovejoy off to get help from an army regiment that has been overseeing the building of a new railroad. But will reinforcements arrive in time? There is also the fact that the men have little food to eat and are running out of water.
Somehow, Madison and his group manage to hold off the tribe. There is a lot of shooting, whooping and hollering. This is not a dull film. The writers are even able to insert some tender romantic moments between Madison and Westcott who have fallen in love despite all the commotion and mayhem surrounding them in this great wide open space.
Reinforcements do arrive, after many of the men in the brigade have been killed. One casualty is an artist who had come along to sketch events and keep a journal of what happened, so he could publish these items in a newspaper back east. There is no time to grieve the artist or the other men. Madison and Westcott are returning to the fort, and it is clear they will soon be married.
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Post by topbilled on Jun 16, 2023 12:50:01 GMT
This neglected film is from 1935.
A chambermaid's moment of glory
PAGE MISS GLORY was the first film Marion Davies made at Warner Brothers after a long run at MGM. She and paramour William Randolph Hearst felt her interests would be better served at a different studio, where she wouldn’t be competing against Norma Shearer or Joan Crawford. At Warners, Kay Francis was the reigning box office queen, but her style was decidedly different from Miss Davies; though Francis’ career at the studio would go into decline within a year, as Bette Davis began to take over.
At her new studio, Davies was put into a broad farce. This in itself is not the problem, since she had previously starred in comedies at Metro and had substantial hits in the genre…BLONDIE OF THE FOLLIES and OPERATOR 13 had gone over well with audiences. But those were high-brow satires, filmed as glamorous affairs.
With PAGE MISS GLORY, the budget is definitely there and so are the fashionable dresses and hairstyles that Davies wears midway through the picture. However, the script is a bit weak and with the exception of Mary Astor, she’s joined by a few unglamorous costars.
It all seems like a puffed up B film, given A-budget attention. I am not saying Davies is anything less than great, because even with subpar material, she’s dynamite. Yet there is only so much she can do with a plot that has her playing a chambermaid in an unflattering uniform alongside Patsy Kelly as the other maid, who gets all the funniest lines.
Maybe if they had added more sentimental material in the beginning, so that if we see her play a struggling girl at a big city hotel facing setbacks, we can develop some compassion and invest in the character. As it is, we just wait along with her, for things to get better.
The story involves an outlandish scheme by publicity man Pat O’Brien and his pal Frank McHugh to win a contest put on by a national radio program. The show’s sponsors will pay a nice sum to the prettiest girl, or at least a photo that appears to represent the prettiest girl in the country.
McHugh is a wiz at photography, so he makes a composite photo of images from ladies’ magazines that McHugh’s girlfriend Mary Astor has been reading. The guys finish doctoring the pic and send it in. No surprise, they win, but then must produce the ‘real’ gal who is in the photo.
Admittedly, it is kind of funny that a frumpy chambermaid would actually resemble the doll in the pic, if given a decent makeover. The premise has a bit more juice in the second half, when Davies undergoes the magical transformation and becomes accustomed to a life filled with champagne and caviar. You might call this an Eliza Dolittle role, without the elocution lessons.
A subplot features Dick Powell as a Charles Lindbergh type flyer slash crooner (only in the movies!), who becomes famous at the same time that Davies’ new alter ego, Dawn Glory, also becomes well-known. Powell’s character is enamored with Davies and wants to marry her, and she is equally smitten with him.
Naturally, he has to find out her true identity, decide he still wants to be with her; while crafty “benefactors” O’Brien and McHugh accept this.
All in all, this is a diverting form of entertainment but it is hardly Miss Davies’ best. Probably the film is as strong as it is in some places because of Miss Astor who seems to anchor it with a world-wise attitude, while everyone else is going plumb loco! The whole thing runs 93 frantic minutes, with occasionally suggestive dialogue that seems leftover from a precode. There are worse ways to spend one’s time; and there are better ways to spend one’s time.
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Post by Fading Fast on Jun 16, 2023 13:47:28 GMT
Page Miss Glory from 1935 with Marion Davies, Pat O'Brien, Frank McHugh, Mary Astor and Lyle Talbot
Page Miss Glory is very 1930s and very Warner Bros. in its fast-paced slapstick movie style, but its core story - an image of a person is created and sold to the public for money and fame - is, basically, the same story as today's "influencers" and others on social media who create a "fabulous" persona and lifestyle for publicity and money that has little connection to their real life.
Marion Davies, in her first movie made at Warner Bros after moving from her long-time home at MGM (big doings in Hollywood at the time), plays a small-town girl who comes to New York City to be a chambermaid.
Once there, she gets caught up in a scheme hatched by a down-and-out flim-flam team played by Pat O'Brien and Frank McHugh, with McHugh's girlfriend, played by Mary Astor, grudgingly along for the ride.
McHugh, whose character is also a photographer, at O'Brien's urging and using cutting-edge technology for the time, creates a composite image from magazine pictures of a gorgeous woman. They give their composite the made-up name Dawn Glory and enter her picture in a radio beauty contest sponsored by a yeast company.
They win, take the prize money, make additional endorsement deals, but are under intense pressure to produce the winner, "Dawn Glory," which they eventually do by pushing chambermaid Davies into the role of the new glamour queen.
All sorts of 1930s screwball comedy ensues: a famous aviator, played by Dick Powell, proposes to "Dawn Glory" over the radio without meeting her (she accepts) and a rival yeast company tries to get Miss Glory (Davies) to switch to endorsing its yeast.
Since that's not enough chaos, a couple of hoods, hired by the rival yeast company, go rogue and try to kidnap Davies and her fiance Powell to get a cut of the Dawn Glory revenue.
Finally, a newspaper man, played by Lyle Talbot, sniffing out that something phoney is going on, relentlessly investigates the story and O'Brien's background (it's not a pretty one).
All of these troubles fall on O'Brien’s shoulders as he, the "brains" behind the scheme, spends most of the movie talking faster and faster as he tries to spin his way out of all the above trouble.
Innocent Davies, meanwhile, gets more and more frustrated as she doesn't like being "Dawn Glory," a manipulated product. She just wants to live a normal life.
The style of the movie is 1930s high-spirited chaos, which was in Warners Bros. sweet spot, especially with actors like O'Brien, McHugh and Astor who are able to make silly scenes and nonsensical dialogue kinda believable and often fun. It's their talent and incredible on-screen chemistry that carries the picture.
The silliness of the script would have collapsed in on itself without O'Brien, McHugh and Astor playing off each other in a wonderful way: O'Brien is the huckster, McHugh; his always nervous partner and Astor, whose role should have been bigger, is the one who realizes the other two are idiots, but they're her idiots.
Davies is, oddly, often in the background or even off screen as she's just the "product" the two nutjobs are selling. She's fine in her role, but it's odd that as the titular star she gets less screen time than the other leads and has the less-interesting part.
Despite all its dated 1930s style, the core story of Page Miss Glory is amazingly relevant today: a (literally) fake image of a woman is created and sold to the public with endorsement deals and sponsorships following its success.
Davies as made-up Dawn Glory, like some social influencers today, becomes exhausted trying to live up to her public persona, while those profiting from that persona want her to keep going.
You will either enjoy the very 1930s movie "antics" of Page Miss Glory or not, but you can't help appreciating how so little has changed, in almost ninety years, in the advertising world's approach to selling an image to the public. |
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Post by Fading Fast on Jun 17, 2023 12:06:58 GMT
This neglected film is from 1935.
A chambermaid's moment of glory
PAGE MISS GLORY was the first film Marion Davies made at Warner Brothers after a long run at MGM. She and paramour William Randolph Hearst felt her interests would be better served at a different studio, where she wouldn’t be competing against Norma Shearer or Joan Crawford. At Warners, Kay Francis was the reigning box office queen, but her style was decidedly different from Miss Davies; though Francis’ career at the studio would go into decline within a year, as Bette Davis began to take over.
At her new studio, Davies was put into a broad farce. This in itself is not the problem, since she had previously starred in comedies at Metro and had substantial hits in the genre…BLONDIE OF THE FOLLIES and OPERATOR 13 had gone over well with audiences. But those were high-brow satires, filmed as glamorous affairs.
With PAGE MISS GLORY, the budget is definitely there and so are the fashionable dresses and hairstyles that Davies wears midway through the picture. However, the script is a bit weak and with the exception of Mary Astor, she’s joined by a few unglamorous costars.
It all seems like a puffed up B film, given A-budget attention. I am not saying Davies is anything less than great, because even with subpar material, she’s dynamite. Yet there is only so much she can do with a plot that has her playing a chambermaid in an unflattering uniform alongside Patsy Kelly as the other maid, who gets all the funniest lines.
Maybe if they had added more sentimental material in the beginning, so that if we see her play a struggling girl at a big city hotel facing setbacks, we can develop some compassion and invest in the character. As it is, we just wait along with her, for things to get better.
The story involves an outlandish scheme by publicity man Pat O’Brien and his pal Frank McHugh to win a contest put on by a national radio program. The show’s sponsors will pay a nice sum to the prettiest girl, or at least a photo that appears to represent the prettiest girl in the country.
McHugh is a wiz at photography, so he makes a composite photo of images from ladies’ magazines that McHugh’s girlfriend Mary Astor has been reading. The guys finish doctoring the pic and send it in. No surprise, they win, but then must produce the ‘real’ gal who is in the photo.
Admittedly, it is kind of funny that a frumpy chambermaid would actually resemble the doll in the pic, if given a decent makeover. The premise has a bit more juice in the second half, when Davies undergoes the magical transformation and becomes accustomed to a life filled with champagne and caviar. You might call this an Eliza Dolittle role, without the elocution lessons.
A subplot features Dick Powell as a Charles Lindbergh type flyer slash crooner (only in the movies!), who becomes famous at the same time that Davies’ new alter ego, Dawn Glory, also becomes well-known. Powell’s character is enamored with Davies and wants to marry her, and she is equally smitten with him.
Naturally, he has to find out her true identity, decide he still wants to be with her; while crafty “benefactors” O’Brien and McHugh accept this.
All in all, this is a diverting form of entertainment but it is hardly Miss Davies’ best. Probably the film is as strong as it is in some places because of Miss Astor who seems to anchor it with a world-wise attitude, while everyone else is going plumb loco! The whole thing runs 93 frantic minutes, with occasionally suggestive dialogue that seems leftover from a precode. There are worse ways to spend one’s time; and there are better ways to spend one’s time. . |
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Post by topbilled on Jun 17, 2023 12:34:04 GMT
Thanks. I thought about your comment that Davies sometimes went missing in the film.
There is one part near the beginning of the story, where we see O'Brien and McHugh hatch their devious plan and they have a rather lengthy scene with Astor in the suite. But just as it seems to be going in a certain direction, we cut to Davies and Kelly pushing the cleaning cart out in the hall.
I read somewhere that Hearst was upset when they were making BLONDIE OF THE FOLLIES, because he thought Billie Dove had too many scenes without Davies, where the action cut from Davies to Dove and lingered on Dove. The screenwriter (Frances Marion) had to explain to Hearst that sometimes it was necessary for Davies to remain off screen for a little while to advance a plot point and set up comic hijinks involving her character. Hearst eventually realized this made sense, so he stopped pushing for Davies to be in every scene.
But he never stopped pushing for her to remain the star attraction. So I think this is why, even though O'Brien and McHugh get some longer bits of business in PAGE MISS GLORY, the camera always does eventually cut back to Davies. The focus still remains on Davies, in the title role.
Incidentally, she had only stopped making movies for about five years, when in 1942, she was offered a plum supporting role in 20th Century Fox's CLAUDIA. Davies wanted to do it. It was the role of Dorothy McGuire's mother. She would have been third-billed after McGuire and Robert Young. But Hearst vetoed it, because he refused to let Davies play support to other stars. That meant she was not able to transition to character roles.
But when you look at something like PAGE MISS GLORY, she basically is playing a character role even though she is the star of it. So it's a combination of Hearst's ego insisting that Davies be front and center; Davies herself enjoying whatever shtick has been devised for her and not really caring about how much screen time she has; and in this case, a script that probably would have worked just as well with a modest budget and B-production values.
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Post by Fading Fast on Jun 17, 2023 13:09:34 GMT
Thanks. I thought about your comment that Davies sometimes went missing in the film.
There is one part near the beginning of the story, where we see O'Brien and McHugh hatch their devious plan and they have a rather lengthy scene with Astor in the suite. But just as it seems to be going in a certain direction, we cut to Davies and Kelly pushing the cleaning cart out in the hall.
I read somewhere that Hearst was upset when they were making BLONDIE OF THE FOLLIES, because he thought Billie Dove had too many scenes without Davies, where the action cut from Davies to Dove and lingered on Dove. The screenwriter (Frances Marion) had to explain to Hearst that sometimes it was necessary for Davies to remain off screen for a little while to advance a plot point and set up comic hijinks involving her character. Hearst eventually realized this made sense, so he stopped pushing for Davies to be in every scene.
But he never stopped pushing for her to remain the star attraction. So I think this is why, even though O'Brien and McHugh get some longer bits of business in PAGE MISS GLORY, the camera always does eventually cut back to Davies. The focus still remains on Davies, in the title role.
Incidentally, she had only stopped making movies for about five years, when in 1942, she was offered a plum supporting role in 20th Century Fox's CLAUDIA. Davies wanted to do it. It was the role of Dorothy McGuire's mother. She would have been third-billed after McGuire and Robert Young. But Hearst vetoed it, because he refused to let Davies play support to other stars. That meant she was not able to transition to character roles.
But when you look at something like PAGE MISS GLORY, she basically is playing a character role even though she is the star of it. So it's a combination of Hearst's ego insisting that Davies be front and center; Davies herself enjoying whatever shtick has been devised for her and not really caring about how much screen time she has; and in this case, a script that probably would have worked just as well with a modest budget and B-production values.
I pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but there's an interesting take on the Davis-Hearst relationship in the very-well-done 2020 Netflix movie "Mank." |
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Post by topbilled on Jun 25, 2023 13:54:04 GMT
This neglected film is from 1955.
Mobster melodrama
If you believe what the filmmakers tell you, one of the largest cities in the country is run by hoodlums clothed in respectability. One has to wonder if this is exaggerated drama, or if the story that unfolds is a disguised account of some notable figures running New York City in the mid-1950s. I guess it doesn’t really matter…what matters most is whether or not the viewer can suspend disbelief to buy the premise— that a man (Broderick Crawford) so mired in corruption can get his personal affairs straightened out before his inevitable downfall.
Of course, Crawford is an old pro at these kinds of stories. After all, he had earned an Oscar just six year earlier playing a crooked politician in ALL THE KING’S MEN. Underneath the gruff exterior, though, we always find a somewhat likable dude that the audience is probably able to extend sympathy towards, no matter how heinous his deeds may be.
In this case, Crawford is an aging hood who is dealing with two different types of law…the law of the city, and the law of the syndicate. Mixed up in this is Richard Conte, playing a hitman recently transplanted from Chicago. Conte’s style impresses Crawford, who hires him as a bodyguard. While the two men work side by side, Conte gets to know Crawford’s troubled daughter (Anne Bancroft). We can guess Conte and Bancroft might fall for each other, even if Conte resists any such romantic gestures, fearing Papa Bear will not approve.
In addition to the interactions between Conte and Bancroft, we are given different layers to Crawford’s personality. A key relationship involves his dealings with his mother, to whom he still remains attached at the hip. Mama is portrayed by character actress Celia Lovsky who made her mark on classic TV programs from the era. We also see Crawford interact with a girlfriend somewhat past her prime (Marilyn Maxwell), who may never truly be welcomed into the family.
The plot itself is rather grim and tragic. Crawford needs to eliminate three men who could tie him to a crime that is being investigated by the feds. He has Conte go after the men and rub them out. However, one of the guys gets away and goes into hiding as a witness who will testify against Crawford in an upcoming racketeering trial.
At the same time Bancroft is trying to gain her independence, and she leaves the nest as both an act of defiance to her father, and as a statement to Conte who has been rejecting her. However, the publicity surrounding the trial has made her a person that the media is following. In a sad turn of events, Bancroft can’t handle the pressures, and she ends up committing suicide.
After the death of his daughter, Crawford decides to give up and cooperate with the feds. This is where the big twist occurs. Conte is then hired by some former associates of Crawford’s to kill Crawford before he is due in court. By the time we reach the final scene, almost everyone is dead. As I said, it’s grim movie fare. But if you like mob melodrama with an “exposé” feel to it put over by decent acting, you will probably want to check out NEW YORK CONFIDENTIAL.
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Post by jamesjazzguitar on Jun 25, 2023 20:57:26 GMT
Sounds like an interesting film and a WB film I had never heard of. Funny, but the gal in the poster looks like Joan Leslie. It doesn't really look too much like any of the actual actresses that were in this film.
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Post by topbilled on Jun 25, 2023 21:09:27 GMT
Sounds like an interesting film and a WB film I had never heard of. Funny, but the gal in the poster looks like Joan Leslie. It doesn't really look too much like any of the actual actresses that were in this film.
ok.ru/video/274755947171
For many years, this film was out of circulation and not easy to find.
TCM has never aired NEW YORK CONFIDENTIAL. |
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Post by topbilled on Jun 27, 2023 15:43:50 GMT
This neglected film is from 1937.
Variations on a theme
In some ways these Warner Brothers crime flicks are variations on the same theme. John Bright, who wrote the book ‘Beer and Blood’ which became the basis for THE PUBLIC ENEMY, also provides the story for this motion picture. Instead of the focus being entirely on the gangster (Humphrey Bogart), the idea is to vary it a bit and show the gangster’s sister (Ann Sheridan) developing a relationship with a warden (Pat O’Brien) who runs the prison where he’s incarcerated.
There’s a good set-up during the opening segment where Bogart is apprehended, after lying to Sheridan, then being sent off for a stretch in stir. At the exact same time, O’Brien and his pals are enjoying a night out. They hear Sheridan sing at the club where Bogart’s been hiding from police. O’Brien is a military leader known for whipping men into shape. He’s just found out that he’s being sent to run San Quentin.
Ironically, all three main characters cross paths at the beginning…but Sheridan won’t learn until a bit later that O’Brien is in charge of her brother, and Bogart won’t learn until afterward that O’Brien is carrying on with his sister. I guess you could call it a prison melodrama which shocking revelations.
The outdoor scenes at the prison were filmed at the actual facility in San Quentin. O’Brien gains control of the men almost immediately, but one of his lieutenants (Barton MacLane) resents him. You see, MacLane wanted the top job, and he’s going to be a fly in the proverbial ointment. Meanwhile Bogart has trouble adjusting and gets into a skirmish or two. He receives time in solitary confinement.
In addition to Bogart, there are other lifers whose situations play out in the background. The most amusing one is a convict with a Jesus complex who quotes from a prayer book and tries to convert the others. When his proselytizing isn’t successful, he feels persecuted and regards O’Brien as a god who has forsaken him. A scene with him stealing a rifle and shooting a guard leads to his being taken to a mental hospital. O’Brien still has compassion for the guy.
The script makes a point of telling us that O’Brien understands men. He punishes them fairly. Also, he rewards them when they deserve it, and he encourages them to learn a trade while serving their long sentences. When Sheridan visits her brother, she learns he’s spent time in solitary. She also slips him some money, which is against the rules.
When she is hauled off to see the warden, she finds out O’Brien is the one who has been meting out her brother’s punishments and rewards. She is unhappy that he did not tell her this when he recently came over to her apartment for home-cooked meals.
Bogart is still rough around the edges. But he turns a corner and starts to reform, allowing O’Brien to help him make something of himself. Unfortunately, MacLane’s plan to undermine O’Brien and usurp control of the prison will encourage some of the inmates to stage an insurrection. Bogart gets drawn into it, when he hears O’Brien is involved with his sister, which is something he can’t handle emotionally.
There is a sequence where Bogart and some of the men have been taken outside the facility to do construction work as part of a road gang. One of the guys (Joe Sawyer) has a girl (Veda Ann Borg) who helps them during a highly dramatic getaway. Bogart has gone back to the dark side and is pure evil now.
He has taken MacLane hostage in the back of the car, then pushes him out of the fast moving vehicle, which causes MacLane’s death. A short time later, he and his buddy switch cars, and the second car is unable to outrun a train. With a posse of cops on their tail, they veer off the main road and crash down a ravine.
After his buddy dies, Bogart flees from the wreckage and hops a freight train to town. He ends up back at his sister’s place. Meanwhile, O’Brien who has been alerted about the escape, heads over to Sheridan’s apartment since he knows that is where he will find his prisoner. There is a standoff where O’Brien tries to reason with Bogart. But Bogart gets away again and is shot hurrying off.
The last part of the film has Bogart returning to the gates of San Quentin. He’s dying but has somehow decided this is where he belongs. He is now “home” forever.
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