The Second Annual Olivia de Havilland + Errol Flynn Blogathon: Dodge City (1939)

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Hi, everybody! I honestly had my doubts that I would be able to write up any blogathon entries while participating in TCM Presents The Master of Suspense: 50 Years of Hitchcock from June 26th until August 7th, but despite the heavy workload I found time to watch Dodge City (1939) once again and write my review! I’d like to thank Crystal of In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood for orchestrating another fun weekend honoring one of the most iconic women in cinema history on her 101st birthday, as well as one of my personal favorite iconic men. I can’t wait to read all of the other amazing entries and participate in this wonderful blogathon next year!

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Theatrical poster for Dodge City (1939).

The film takes place in Dodge City, a small town built at the Western end of a newly established railroad named after the railroad’s constructor and the town’s founder Colonel Dodge (Henry O’Neill). A dear friend of Colonel Dodge is Texan and cattle agent Wade Hatton (Errol Flynn), who soon makes his way to Dodge City with a herd of steer and a wagon trail in tow. Among the settlers in the trail are Abbie Irving (portrayed by our birthday girl Olivia de Havilland) and her brother Lee (William Lundigan). Wade takes an immediate liking to Abbie, but Lee causes trouble by drunkenly firing his gun and causing the steer to stampede, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake. When Lee begins to shoot at Wade he draws his own pistol in order to defend himself, which result’s in Lee’s death when he is unable to escape the stampede that he caused.

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Olivia de Havilland and William Lundigan in a scene from Dodge City (1939).

Wade’s interest in Abbie doesn’t fade despite her loss of interest in her brother’s killer, and when the trail arrives to Dodge City Abbie moves in with her uncle, the town’s resident doctor. And does the town certainly need a doctor as lawlessness and anarchy run rampant as the city grows in population. Shootings are more commonplace than anything else, and Jeff Surrett (Bruce Cabot) and his men serve as the ringleaders of chaos and crime. Wade seems to be the only man in town with enough courage to stand up to the league of bandits, and after stepping in to save his adorable friend Rusty (Alan Hale) from Surrett’s noose, the town rallies for him to become Dodge City’s resident sherriff. At first he turns down the job out of fear of commitment and settling down, but once a young boy in the town is killed by Surrett and his cronies, Wade takes the position and vows to make the streets safe. Will Wade succeed in his task, or will Surrett run him out of town just as he did to the sherriffs before him? Will Wade be able to convince Abbie of his honorable intentions?

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Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn sharing a romantic scene from Dodge City (1939).

Dodge City (1939) was the fifth of nine movies made by Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn, Warner Brothers’ resident romantic pair at the time. Flynn shines in his first ever Western, though he later wrote in his autobiography, My Wicked, Wicked Ways (1959), that he felt miscast in the genre due to his English accent. He would later go on to excel in Westerns anyway, and scriptwriters found unique and creative ways to write his accent into the story, just as they did with this film. Olivia de Havilland had misgivings about her part in Dodge City (1939) as well, feeling that the project as a letdown in her career. She had grown frustrated with the lack of depth in her roles as an ingenue, and her pleading to Warner Brothers to cast her as saloon girl Ruby Gilman was ignored by the studio (the role would eventually go to Ann Sheridan).

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Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn in a publicity still from Dodge City (1939).

In all honesty, I must admit that I don’t understand Olivia’s point of view. While I can agree that the role of Abbie Irving is rather two-dimensional, it gave Olivia ample time onscreen (as much as her leading man Errol Flynn, if not more), and the character was quite motivational and feminist for the time as Abbie maintained a steady job as an instrumental reporter for the Dodge City Star. Even more confusing was the fact that Ann Sheridan’s time onscreen was practically a cameo, and an unmemorable one at that despite my love for her as an actress. Nevertheless, for her own reasons the filming of Dodge City (1939) remained an unhappy time for Olivia as she fell victim to the Hollywood studio system. “It was a period in which she was given to constant fits of crying and long days spent at home in bed,” wrote author Tony Thomas in his book, The Films of Olivia de Havilland (1983). “She was bored with her work and while making Dodge City (1939) she claims that she even had trouble remembering her lines.”

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Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland on the set of Dodge City (1939).

Flynn and de Havilland’s distaste with their roles just goes to show that sometimes great films come out of the misery of the artists who made them, because while I’m not often a fan of Westerns I find Dodge City (1939) to be among my favorites, and the picture will always go down as one of the quality films from one of the best onscreen couples. While their acting in the film was excellent as usual, the Technicolor by Natalie Kalmus and Morgan Padelford and cinematography by Sol Polito undoubtedly impressed me the most, and I don’t exaggerate when I say that it’s the most beautiful looking Western ever made (the only one that even comes close for me is Red Canyon (1949), which looks strikingly similar). All in all, if you’re looking for a unique and excellent Western to watch on Olivia de Havilland’s birthday, this is obviously the movie for you!

John Garfield: The Original Rebel Blogathon — My Analysis of Between Two Worlds (1944)

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Hello, everyone! I know I’ve been a bit busy these last few months, but I’m trying my best to squeeze in a few blogathon entries and perhaps a new series that I have in the works that my readers are sure to enjoy before I host my next blogathon (you can vote for what my blogathon will be about here). Today I’ll be beloved actor John Garfield on the day after what would have been his 104th birthday, and I’d like to start things off by thanking Phyllis of Phyllis Loves Classic Movies for the opportunity to write about such an underrated actor and film. So without further ado I’d like to wish Mr. Garfield a very happy belated birthday, and on with the post!

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Theatrical poster for Between Two Worlds (1944).

In this film, we meet a diverse group of people hoping to board an ocean liner for America at the height of World War Two. All seems to be well until an Austrian pianist and French Resistance veteran named Henry Bergner (Paul Henried) is denied passage for himself and his wife due to lack of an exit permit. Leaving the premises in despair, the audience soon sees his equally distraught wife Ann (Eleanor Parker) searching for Henry in the street amongst the chaos and uproar of a German air raid. She witnesses one of the many falling bombs destroy a car full of passengers on their way to the docks, and hurries home to find Henry attempting suicide by subjecting himself to gas exposure. Rather than putting forth much effort to save him, she intends to join him in death, and soon the two find themselves onboard the ship on which they were denied entry at the film’s beginning. Ann and Henry soon realize that they are dead and find themselves happy to spend an eternity together, especially after Henry finds that he can once again play piano after what was undoubtedly post-traumatic stress disorder caused his hands to shake uncontrollably. Ann also recognizes some of the other passengers on the ship as the very same people who were killed in the air raid, while Henry sees some of the people who were with him in the ship’s office when he was not allowed onboard. Eventually the audience meets all of the ship’s commuters, including cynical drinker and newspaper man Thomas Prior (played by our birthday boy John Garfield) and his girlfriend Maxine Russell (Faye Emerson), the rich and powerful Mr. Lingley (George Coulouris), the steward of the ship Scrubby (played by the always incredible character actor Edmund Gwenn), shy priest Reverend William Duke (Dennis King), sailor Pete Musick (George Tobias), wealthy yet mismatched couple Genevieve and Benjamin Cliveden-Banks (Isobel Elsom and Gilbert Emery), and a sweet elderly woman named Mrs. Midget (Sara Allgood).

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George Colouris, John Garfield, Faye Emerson, and Edmund Gwenn in Between Two Worlds (1944).

With the exception of Henry, Ann, and Scrubby, no one onboard knows that they are dead, and one by one we get a glimpse into each person’s lives, motivations, and desires. We find out that Mr. Lingley used his power in order to get Thomas Prior fired for writing unsavory articles about him, and while Thomas is drinking and blowing off steam about it, we also learn that his girlfriend Maxine doesn’t want to be with him anymore and begins to cozy up to Mr. Lingley due to his wealth and position. Meanwhile, Henry and Ann meet Pete Musick, and are about to tell him that he is deceased when Scrubby intercedes, telling the couple that the passengers need to find out in their own time and way. Everyone convenes at dinner, and the discussion of new beginnings upsets Ann so much that she flees the room in tears. Both friends and enemies are made onboard the ship, and eventually our star of the day’s character Thomas Prior is the fourth to find out that everyone is dead after overhearing Henry and Ann discussing it, though it seems that he was already beginning to form the suspicion of it himself. Already dumped at this point by his girlfriend Maxine for Mr. Lingley, Thomas decides to get his revenge by setting up a magic show which ultimately informs the rest of the travelers that they are lifeless as well, ending it in a “spectacular” finale in which Tomas shoots Mr. Lingley in the chest and doesn’t harm him at all. Soon the cat is out of the bag, and Scrubby informs everyone on the ship that they will be judged by the Examiner (Sydney Greenstreet) and sent ashore to their respective afterlifes according to his ruling. Will the commuters’ pleas or good behavior save their souls? Who will be sent to heaven, and who will be sent to hell?

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John Garfield and Paul Henried playing chess on the set of Between Two Worlds (1944).

The first thing I noticed about the film was its exceptional score, likely because I learned prior to watching that it was the favorite composition of famed film composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold, who also composed the scores for such classics as Captain Blood (1935), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939) and The Constant Nymph (1943). I also caught onto many of the film’s references to another classic Warner Bros. film made two years prior to this one, Casablanca (1942), which also starred the man who is arguably the main actor in this film, Paul Henried. His character Henry Bergner (sounds like Bergman, doesn’t it?) is a Resistance fighter for the French, and discusses the discussion of exit visas for himself and his wife. Both pictures also starred Sydney Greenstreet, who portrays the Examiner in this film. All in all, I found nearly every performance to be excellent, and this film reminded me how much I adored John Garfield’s speaking voice. In 1944 his star power was a force to be reckoned with, but despite that, I do believe giving him top billing in this film was slightly misleading. Paul Henried and Eleanor Parker’s characters are definitely given the most screen time and attention of the cast, especially towards the beginning of the film, and Garfield’s character tends to come in like a dark horse throughout the middle and end of the picture, gluing together subplots and adding some realism when necessary.

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John Garfield in a promotional photo for Between Two Worlds (1944).

I appreciated his performance even more when I learned that Between Two Worlds (1944) appears to be the last film that John Garfield completed prior to the death of his daughter Katherine Hannah Garfield on March 18, 1945 at only six years old from a sudden allergic reaction, and the fact makes it even more chilling that this film dealt so much with death and the afterlife. Usually I dislike films with too many characters and different storylines moving forward at once, and if we’re being honest this film isn’t much of an exception. Nevertheless, I can’t say that the film as a whole is subpar, as I found it to be more of a mixed bag than I anticipated. On one hand, I really applaud Warner Bros. for gathering so many underappreciated supporting actors into one movie, especially the always too overlooked Henried, Parker, and Gwenn. Yet on the other, I think if the screenwriter of Between Two Worlds (1944) decided to nix some of the minor characters and put more focus on the plots of Henry, Ann, and Thomas, we would have seen a much better and more coherent film as a result. Still, despite my own personal misgivings, I would definitely still recommend it to anyone looking for a fantasy-based picture to watch for John Garfield’s birthday.

Five Top Five of December — Dorothy Lamour

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Hey, lovely readers! It’s finally nearing the end of the year, and I’m starting off the holiday season with the first installment of my Five Top Five series for December! I must admit I enjoy writing these, and they’re an especially good respite in between blogathons, so I’m happy to announce that the series will continue for as long as my typing hands can hold out! Today I’ll be talking about Dorothy Lamour’s stunning career in films on what would have been her 102nd birthday. While I usually write exclusively about a star’s best roles, I think this list would be better if I focused this time on her best films, as she nearly always played second banana to the likes of Crosby, Hope, and many other leading men. So without further ado, on with the post!

5. Johnny Apollo (1940)

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Dorothy Lamour and Tyrone Power in a publicity photo for Johnny Apollo (1940).

While I’m sure that I caught at least one of the great Road movies in my youth, Johnny Apollo (1940) is the first Dorothy Lamour film that I distinctly remember watching, and if you’re a regular reader of my blog, I’m sure you know the reason: it also stars none other than my all-time favorite actor, Tyrone Power. Power is really the star of the story as Robert Cain Jr., son of wealthy Wall Street broker Robert Cain Sr. (Edward Arnold), who at the start of the film gets arrested for embezzlement. The man gets a hefty sentence of thirty years per charge despite everyone (even the judge) believing that he doesn’t deserve it, while notorious gangster Mickey Dwyer (Lloyd Nolan) gets a measly five years the very same day, as it was the maximum sentence for his current crime. Robert Jr. is distant towards his father at first but soon has the desire to set him free, so he tracks down the attorney of Mickey Dwyer, Emmett T. Brennan (Charley Grapewin), who bent the law in Dwyer’s favor to already get him released from prison on parole. In an effort to get the same treatment for his father, Robert Jr. changes his name to Johnny Apollo and gets himself caught up in Dwyer’s life, becoming his partner in crime and winning over the affections of his girlfriend, Lucky DuBarry, played by our star of the day Dorothy Lamour. Despite the forced chemistry between Lucky and Johnny towards the beginning and no real explanation for her to be with Mickey in the first place, I thought this was a fine film, and Dorothy’s array of songs held my attention throughout the duller parts, especially the endearing “Dancing for Nickels and Dimes”, for which she’s dressed in rags and wearing her best smile. I would definitely recommend this picture if you’re into gangster films and want to catch Dorothy in one of her lesser-known roles.

4. My Favorite Brunette (1947)

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Frequent costars Dorothy and Bob Hope getting close on the set of My Favorite Brunette (1947).

I could never leave off this marvelous spy comedy that paired frequent costars Bob Hope and Dorothy Lamour in a film that wasn’t part of the Road pictures. The film’s events are told in flashback by Bob Hope’s character, who is on death row at San Quentin awaiting his execution, and Dorothy portrays Baroness Maria Montay who appears to be in the middle of a great conspiracy as she attempts to find her uncle (or husband?) who has gone missing. She pleads for help from the man whom she thinks is private detective Sam McCloud (the real Sam is played in a great cameo by Alan Ladd), but she’s really getting help from baby photographer Ronnie Jackson (Hope), who has set up shop across the hall from McCloud and is looking after his office while he’s away on a case. However, Jackson has always aspired to become a detective himself and sees this mistake as his golden opportunity to step into the detective’s shoes. Soon he gets caught up in a convoluted web of deception and intrigue, and like any amateur detective (especailly one played by Bob Hope in a heavily typecast buffoon role), he has no idea what he’s doing and the enemy ends up leading him exactly where they want him to go, including straight into a frame-up for murder. I adore this lighthearted comedy, and there are many humorous references and ingenious cameos throughout. Of course Lamour and Hope couldn’t do a film without Bing Crosby, and I was so delighted to see him at the very end of the picture. Bob Hope wanted him to appear in the film so badly that he paid Crosby $5,000 out of his own pocket to do so, and Crosby proceeded to donate the money to charity. If you haven’t seen this public domain classic and are a fan of the famous Road trio, you certainly should!

3. Road to Singapore (1940)

Finally I include the first of the seven Road films with Dorothy, Bing, and Bob. In this particular gem, Crosby and Hope play Josh and Ace, two playboys with a love of the sea. Josh comes from an illustrious family who used ships to create their enormous wealth, and his father (Charles Coburn) wants him to pick up where he leaves off. Everything’s been planned out for him, including his home, career, and even his fiancé, but Josh wants no part of it. All he cares about is being on the ocean and exploring the world with his best friend Ace, who’s in a jam himself when the family of his previous fling insists that he marries her. Rather than face their problems head on, the two flee onboard a ship to the South Sea Islands, ending up in (where else?) Singapore. At first things seem to be going well for the two of them as they find a comfortable home and get by for weeks without employment. However, when they run out of food and their home becomes a mess, they find that they need the help of Mira (Dorothy Lamour), a local dancer who is attempting to flee an abusive relationship. Mira is more than happy to tag along and help Josh and Ace survive, but troubles begin when they reach the end of their financial rope, when three becomes a crowded love triangle, and when Mira’s former beau Caesar (Anthony Quinn) goes on the hunt for her. This is a comedy for the ages, and almost a perfect one as far as classics go. As I watched it I prayed that some of its delightful gags would be repeated in the other films, and luckily many of them were. It has been and will always be one of my favorites, and the only downsides that come to mind are that this film doesn’t include nearly as many fourth wall breaks that make the rest of the series so funny, and I always found it sad that Bob never got the girl. Despite these drawbacks, I strongly recommend watching every film in this series if you like adventure, laughs, and these three.

2. Road to Morocco (1942)

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Dorothy and Bob looking glamorous in a scene from Road to Morocco (1942).

The second and final Road film to appear on my list is actually the third, Road to Morocco (1942). Originally there weren’t supposed to be three Road pictures, there wasn’t even supposed to be one, but this trifecta of comedy was such a smash that it had to be continued, especially in this film that was the first especially written for the series. In it our heroes are in the roles of Jeff Peters (Bing Crosby) and Orville “Turkey” Jackson (Bob Hope), two friends stranded on a raft in the Mediterranean who eventually end up in Morocco. Once again the two find themselves struggling to get by, starving after spending weeks adrift as castaways. Jeff takes matters into his own hands, selling Turkey as a slave to a stranger to pay for their meal and planning to find and rescue him later on. Little does he know that Turkey needs no rescuing, however, as he has been sold to the alluring Princess Shalmar (Dorothy Lamour) as her soon-to-be husband. Jealous of his friend’s new position, Jeff attempts to woo the princess himself, singing to her and quickly getting her to fall for him. It is soon revealed, however, that a soothsayer has told her that her first husband will die a horrible death within a week, and she plans to go through with her marriage to Turkey so she can get rid of him and presumably marry her true love, Mullay Kasim (once again played by Anthony Quinn, making him the only other regular actor to appear in the Road films). But can Turkey be saved? Is Kasim her true love after all? So far this is undoubtedly my favorite film of the series, as it has the most memorable songs and seamlessly blends both the older bits of the previous two films and the newer and funnier fourth wall breaks throughout. The ending also makes this film stand head and shoulders above the rest, and I couldn’t recommend a better picture among the seven. If you watch only one Road film in your life, make sure this is it.

1. The Hurricane (1937)

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Dorothy and Jon Hall in The Hurricane (1937).

I admire Dorothy Lamour for so much of her work, and I wanted to make certain that my number one choice wasn’t a Road film, as I believe I have talked about her role in the series enough. Luckily I admire one of her more dramatic parts more than enough to give it the top spot. In this film Dorothy plays native Polynesian girl Marama, who marries fellow islander Terangi (Jon Hall), the best sailor on the island of Manukura, and quite possibly the world. As quickly as they wed, however, Terangi has to leave as first mate on a voyage to Tahiti. In a lovable chain of events Terangi tries to smuggle his new bride onboard in a potato sack, but the captain quickly threatens to demote him if Marama doesn’t swim back to the shore. Wanting the best for her husband she agrees, patiently waiting for him back on land, but unfortunately fate has other plans. Meanwhile in Tahiti, a wealthy bully picks a fight with Terangi in a pub, leading the young sailor to fight back and knock the man out. He gets a six month jail sentence, which almost everyone involved says is extreme, but Terangi, not knowing much about first world law practices, attempts to escape from jail every chance that he gets, adding more and more time onto his sentence and eventually increasing it to sixteen years. Finally after eight years Terangi escapes for good, taking a canoe and rowing nearly four hundred miles back home to Manukura, where his wife and daughter have been waiting patiently for his return. But will it be happily ever after, or will those who want to keep Terangi confined have their last laugh? If we’re being honest, leading man Jon Hall really carries the picture, withstanding real flogging, practically real hurricanes, and even changing his name to highlight the fact that he was the nephew of the author of the original novel for his role, but Dorothy Lamour’s performance certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. She expresses a wide variety of very real emotion, from adorable newlywed to despondent mother and wife. In all honesty, I always felt sorry that Dorothy has been remembered only for the roles in which she dons her trademark sarong, but if all of those pictures are half as good as this one, it makes me wish that she appeared in it more often.

The Cary Grant Blogathon: My Analysis of That Touch of Mink (1962)

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Here I am, back at it again with another blogathon! The year is winding down, but luckily fans of Old Hollywood never run out of fascinating stars and films to write about. Today I’m going to talk about Cary Grant, thanks to the host of this spectacular blogathon, Phyllis Loves Classic Movies. I’m so grateful to be able to write about such an interesting film in Grant’s career, so without further ado, on with the post!

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Cary Grant and Doris Day in a theatrical poster for That Touch of Mink (1962).

I’ll be honest here; I signed up for this blogathon a little late in the game, and had to look up the filmography of ever so suave Cary Grant in order to find a film to discuss. My first and only rule that I kept in my mind as I scrolled through his career that spanned over three decades was that I didn’t want to write about one of his later films. In general, I just never cared for the films that he made in the fifties and sixties in comparison to some of his charming pictures of yesteryear, and as I’ve seen more of his later films than his earlier ones, I thought I might learn a thing or two in the process. Of course, as you might have guessed from the title, everything changed once I learned that That Touch of Mink (1962) was available. I had seen the film once before and absolutely adored it, and with such a scandalous plot (for the time, anyway), and a wonderful cast of characters, I knew that I was sold. So here I am, embarking on this journey of analyzing Cary Grant’s fourth-to-last film. If there ever was a romantic comedy from the sexual revolution of the sixties that showed just how dead the Hayes Code was by that time, this film was it. It’s primarily a Doris Day vehicle as she was the number one box office draw at the time, though she surrendered top billing to costar Grant due to his distinguished career. Day plays Cathy Timberlake, an unemployed and unmarried woman who gets sexually accosted by nearly every man she meets, which I’ll admit ruins my childhood a little considering how attached I’ve been (like anybody) to her wholesome, motherly onscreen image. Creepiest of all of her suitors is unemployment agent Everett Beasley, played by John Astin in another out of character role that separates itself entirely from his usual lovable, goofy parts.

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Grant and Day goofing around in That Touch of Mink (1962).

On her way to a job interview, Cathy gets splashed by the limousine of wealthy businessman Phillip Shayne (played by Cary Grant, of course), who makes every effort to find and repay her for any damage done aside from actually meeting her himself, instead sending his financial adviser Roger, who is fed up with how wonderfully he’s been treated by Shayne and his company. It’s clear that he wants to resent his employer and everything he stands for, and wants to go back to teach at his alma mater, but everyone is so kind to him that he just can’t leave. He decides to rally with Cathy and her irritation at Shayne for not making amends with her in person, and urges her to storm directly to his office and complain. She attempts to do so, but her instant attraction to him causes her to forget all of her grievances, and Shayne’s mutual attraction to her leads him to wine and dine her, traveling all across the country to the best restaurants, baseball games, and even a United Nations conference for which he gives a compelling address. At the end of all of their adventures, Shayne propositions Cathy and offers to take her to Bermuda and then around the globe, and though it isn’t explicitly mentioned considering the times, it’s obvious that he expects sex and states that he has no intention of marrying her. This leaves it up to Cathy to make a life-changing decision, giving up her virtue for a shot at happiness or taking the advice of Roger and her best friend Connie (Audrey Meadows) and forgetting about Shayne for good.

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Grant and Day in a promotional image for That Touch of Mink (1962).

Despite disliking the final result of the film, Cary Grant had a great deal to do with its production, including casting Audrey Meadows as Cathy’s friend and roommate after seeing the actress on the hit television show The Honeymooners (1955-1956). For a scene that took place in his character’s library, he brought books and trinkets from his own home and decorated the set with them. According to his costar Doris Day it made the set more pleasant and made Grant feel more relaxed, giving his performance “that peculiarly natural, suave quality that is the hallmark of his pictures”, though she also mentioned in her autobiography that “Of all the people I performed with, I got to know Cary Grant least of all. He is a completely private person, totally reserved, and there is no way into him. Our relationship on That Touch of Mink (1962) was amicable but devoid of give-and-take. Not that he wasn’t friendly and polite — he certainly was. But distant, very distant. But very professional — maybe the most professional, exacting actor I ever worked with. In the scenes we played, he concerned himself with every little detail: clothes, sets, production values, the works. Cary even got involved in helping to choose the kind of mink I was slated to wear in the film.” In addition, he even personally called a raincoat company after seeing a coat that he felt would suit Doris Day in the picture, but owner Norman Zeiler brushed him off, not believing that Grant was really on the phone. He told the actor that if he wanted to see his collection, he would have to come up himself, and that’s exactly what he did, undoubtedly shocking everyone in proximity in the process.

All in all I find this to be a charming film with quite a few laugh out loud moments. I don’t understand why Cary Grant disliked it so much aside from the fact that it was likely a very controversial picture for its time, despite being the fourth highest grossing film of the year. I think this movie really defines what it means to be a classic romantic comedy, as it seamlessly blends both genres and every performance given, even in the supporting roles, is delightful and memorable, especially those of Doris Day and the slimy character portrayed by John Astin. Unfortunately I found Cary Grant’s role to blend in with his usual rich and debonair sort of type, but the comedic aspects of the part went off without a hitch, and his entire rendition of the role seemed effortless as a result. I loved this film the first time that I watched it so long ago, I adored it even more this time, and I’m sure that I’ll watch this film again and again any time I’m looking for a good laugh and a film that reflects an interesting period in cinema’s history.

Five Top Five of November — Gene Tierney

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Hello, everyone! I’m back with another installment of my ‘Five Top Five’ series, this time honoring the alluring Gene Tierney on her 96th birthday! Here I’ll be listing my top five films of hers, describing the plots, and discussing why I enjoy the films. As I mentioned in my first post in the series honoring Vivien Leigh, be sure to let me know if you enjoy these and I’ll be sure to continue the series with another Five Top Five of December!

5. Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950)

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Gene and Dana Andrews, together for a second time in Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950).

This was the first film that I ever reviewed on my blog (you can check out the full review here), and because of that it holds a special place in my heart. Tierney portrays Morgan Taylor, ex-wife of Ken Paine and also unknowingly his decoy in an illegal dice game. It doesn’t take long for her to take a liking to leading man Mark Dixon, a violent but effective detective who has already been warned by his superior that his bad cop attitude will get him in trouble, but still allows his boss’ premonition to come true when he accidentally murders a suspect who he is attempting to question. Fearing for his integrity and career Dixon attempts to cover up the killing, but the plot thickens when he learns that his main squeeze Morgan’s father is to be charged with the crime. Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950) is a gripping noir that walks the tightrope of right and wrong and reunites Gene Tierney with her director and leading man from Laura (1944), Otto Preminger and Dana Andrews, respectively. If you enjoy that classic at all, I would definitely recommend its equally intriguing, grittier counterpart, and the only reason why it’s so low on my list is because Gene is hardly anywhere to be found in the film.

4. The Razor’s Edge (1946)

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Gene and Tyrone Power in a publicity still for The Razor’s Edge (1946).

If you know me well enough, you should know that I couldn’t possibly make a list of great Gene Tierney films without including one of the three that she starred in with my favorite actor, Tyrone Power. In this melodrama our birthday girl stars as socialite Isabel Bradley, fiancée of Larry Darrell. Larry isn’t as impressed with the glamour of the upper class as she is, which leads him onto a spiritual ten-year journey to find himself, losing Isabel in the process. When he returns, however, Isabel seems to be still in love with her former flame and wants to be with him despite already being married to a common friend of theirs. To make matters worse, she becomes intensely jealousand spiteful when Larry begins to fall in love with Sophie, another friend in their circle who fell on hard times after he left town. I truly admire Gene’s performance in this film, and she displays her stunning range as she reveals the darker side of Isabel’s personality. It’s no wonder that author of the original novel W. Somerset Maugham placed her at the top of his list of actresses for the role. If you enjoy pictures that include stellar acting performances and a flair for the dramatic, definitely include this film in your Gene Tierney marathon today.

3. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)

In this turn-of-the-century romance directed by Joseph L Mankewicz, Gene plays Lucy Muir, a widow desperately looking for a seaside home to rent so she can ditch her late husband’s rude family members. She quickly sets her sights on a picturesque manor and pays no attention to her real estate agent’s warnings that the home is haunted, even after finding out the truth for herself. Slowly but surely Lucy befriends the residing ghost, cantankerous sea captain Daniel Gregg, and the two develop an extraordinary romance as she attempts to assist him in writing his autobiography. Of course the book is considered a masterpiece and is picked up by a world-famous publisher, but along with the notoriety it also brings a suitor, a married children’s author by the name of Miles Fairley. The love that Lucy and the captain share is challenged when Miles enters the picture, and it makes both parties question their relationship and even themselves. I was a fan of this movie ever since I read the plot, and once I actually watched the film I certainly wasn’t disappointed. I doubt that there are many romantic films out there more unique than this one, and I would strongly recommend giving it a try if you enjoy well-written sentimental pictures with a twist like I do. If you do decide to catch this tearjerker, stay on the lookout for an appearance from a young Natalie Wood, who portrays Lucy’s daughter!

2. Leave Her to Heaven (1945)

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Gene in her most devilish scene in Leave Her to Heaven (1945).

Gene Tierney recieved her first and only Oscar nomination for her portrayal of Ellen Berent Harland in this film, yet another villainous socialite who just like in The Razor’s Edge (1946) becomes obsessively attached to the man she loves. Unlike her role of Isabel Bradley, however, it is more apparent that Ellen is mentally disturbed and willing to go to greater and more sinister lengths to achieve her goals. The object of Ellen’s obsession is novelist Richard Harland, played by Cornel Wilde, who coincidentally looks similar to Ellen’s deceased father and the previous victim of her preoccupation. To make matters worse her former fiancé Russell Quinton and her sister Ruth get involved in the mix and are eventually caught in the crossfire of the film’s strange femme fatale. What stood out to me the most in this film is the striking use of color created by Natalie Kalmus, art direction by Maurice Lansford and Lyle Wheeler, and most of all cinematography, helmed by Leon Shamroy of Planet of the Apes (1968) and Cleopatra (1963) fame. The visuals alone make this film worth watching, but those combined with the compelling story and characters are what make this film a classic among fans of film noir, and it’s one of the only color films to recieve such acclaim in the genre. Add it to your list of Tierney films to watch, and you won’t regret it.

1. Laura (1944)

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Gene looking radiant in a publicity still for Laura (1944).

Could I have really put any other Gene Tierney film at the top spot? Laura (1944) is the pinnacle of film noir, and quite possibly of filmmaking in general, and in it our birthday girl portrays the title character Laura Hunt, a (can you guess?) socialite who is found murdered at the beginning of the film. The first half is shown in flashback as her dearest friend Waldo Lydecker, played by Clifton Webb, reveals the story of her life to detective Mark MacPherson, in what I consider to be among Dana Andrews’ finest performances. As Mark learns more and more about the homicide victim in an attempt to solve her murder, he begins to imagine himself with her and finds her to be unlike any “broad” that he has ever known. Tensions rise when Laura’s fiancé Shelby Carpenter (Vincent Price) catches wind of this, and suspense builds into a thrilling conclusion of who exactly killed Laura Hunt. Despite the film’s raving success, Gene never gave herself much credit for it: “I never felt my own performance was much more than adequate. I am pleased that audiences still identify me with Laura, as opposed to not being identified at all. Their tributes, I believe, are for the character — the dreamlike Laura— rather than any gifts I brought to the role. I do not mean to sound modest. I doubt that any of us connected with the movie thought it had a chance of becoming a kind of mystery classic, or enduring beyond its generation. If it worked, it was because the ingredients turned out to be right.” And right they certainly were, especially on the part of the film’s score, composed by David Raksin, which is revered even today, and even Vincent Price believed Laura (1944) to be his finest film. Needless to say, if you’re reading this and haven’t seen this masterpiece, you absolutely must.

Five Top Five of November — Vivien Leigh

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Hey, classic film fans! I know it’s been quite a while since I have updated this blog, but I was unexpectedly ill. I know I was unable to do a couple of the blogathons that I signed up for, but I have one of them mostly completed and I’m back and announcing some original content for this month: my Five Top Five series! On five various classic film stars’ birthdays throughout November, I’ll be ranking my top five favorite films of theirs and offering my recommendations. I’m obviously starting today with the incomporable Vivien Leigh! I sincerely hope you all enjoy my lists, and if they’re well-recieved I may even make a Five Top Five for December!

5. That Hamilton Woman (1941)

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Birthday girl Vivien Leigh looking lovelier than ever in That Hamilton Woman (1941).

This was birthday girl Vivien’s third and final collaboration with her offscreen love Laurence Olivier, and quite easily the best of the three. Vivien portrays Lady Emma Hamilton, mistress to Lord Horatio Nelson, and ironically this was the only film that Leigh and Olivier made while they were actually married. The film has everything from romance to action, and loads of drama. While it truly is a masterpiece as far as art direction and cinematography go, it fails to capture the attention of the audience during its entire two-hour running time. The film can hardly be blamed, though, considering the fact that it takes place during the span of twenty-five years, and it was directed by Alexander Korda, who often sacrificed excitement in his films for the sake of asthetic. All in all, I would say that if you’re a diehard fan of Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier and don’t mind some dull moments, I would strongly recommend giving this historical melodrama a go today!

4. A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)

I’m going to begin this one with an unpopular opinion: When it comes to Vivien’s most famous roles, A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) has always ranked pretty low in my mind. Truthfully I would probably have placed it last on my list were it not for the fact that it’s truly a mesmerizing film with superb acting from everyone involved. Even in my youth I held a distaste for Marlon Brando’s role of Stanley Kowalski and Vivien’s infamous portrayal of Blance DuBois. Both seemed to be unlikable characters to me, but as time went on I learned more about the actors personal lives, and how separate they were from the fictitious characters that the two of them played onscreen. In fact, I would cite this film as one of the few that really served as hurdles for me in learning that just because a character in a film is unlikable, it does not make the film poor as a whole. I’ll admit that I haven’t seen this picture since I came to that realization, but I would strongly recommend it to anyone who is even remotely a fan of Vivien’s and wants to see her acting prowess in all its glory.

3. The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (1961)

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Vivien and Warren Beatty make a steamy pair in The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (1961).

Among Leigh’s final films we find another one of her gems in this Tennessee Williams adaptation. She plays the aging actress Mrs. Karen Stone, who accompanies her husband on a trip to Rome only for him to pass away during the flight. Karen ends up making the best of it once she sets her eyes on the youthful Italian Paolo di Leo in what was Warren Beatty’s first starring role. Despite the fact that Leigh has the lead, it’s difficult not to want to pay more attention to her character’s captivating lover, and it’s no wonder because Beatty beat out dozens of other actors for the part. This film has ranked among my favorites since I first watched it years ago, and I still believe that it truly shows how wrong some of the studios were in their reluctance to cast aging actresses. It’s even quite depressing to see her taking on such a brilliant and challenging part while knowing that she only starred in one more film after the completion of this one, but it’s a must for any fan of Vivien’s who wishes to scratch beneath the surface of some of her more glamorous parts.

2. Gone with the Wind (1939)

I know what you’re thinking. This is a perfect movie if there ever was one, and I quite agree, but there is one more film of Vivien’s that I find to be perfect as well that holds just a bit larger of a place in my heart. Still, I intend to give credit where credit is due, and Gone with the Wind (1939) is a masterpiece. Vivien is superb in her breakout role (one that she beat out hundreds of other legendary actresses for), and it makes me both sorry and glad that she took the part of the notorious Scarlett O’Hara because she was rejected for the role of Cathy in Laurence Olivier’s Wuthering Heights (1939). Her acting in this and many other of her great works show that she would have excelled in both parts, but the world certainly will never forget her Oscar-winning performance. Of course the supporting cast is incomporable as well, and the film won eight Academy Awards in all. No birthday marathon or salute to Vivien Leigh would be complete without this four-hour epic that truly defines what it means to be a classic.

1. Waterloo Bridge (1940)

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Vivien and Robert Taylor melting everyone’s hearts in Waterloo Bridge (1940).

Here’s a classic that I find is hardly talked about nowadays. In Vivien’s first film after making Gone with the Wind (1939), she portrays demure ballet dancer Myra Lester, who in an almost two-hour flashback gets swept up into a whirlwind romance with a British officer during World War I. A miscommunication leads the blissful couple into dark and dangerous territory, however, when Myra is led to believe that her fiancé is dead. It appears considering the release date that this was supposed to be an early source of comparison for World War II, and the absolute beauty of the story, screenplay, and cinematography makes it a tough act to follow. I think it’s a real shame that this film is among Leigh’s lesser known ones, and she pairs with Robert Taylor so perfectly that it makes me wish that the two of them had been onscreen lovers more often. It does take a couple of watches for the audience to really build connections and emotions for the characters, but I would absolutely recommend this flawless picture to any fan of romantic dramas and our birthday girl, as it is certainly among my favorites of all time.

Olivia de Havilland Centenary Blogathon: My Analysis of The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939)

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I would like to begin by thanking the two gracious hosts of this wonderful blogathon, Crystal of In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood and Phyllis of Phyllis Loves Classic Movies. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the birthday of such an iconic actress, and it’s easy to see that both of you worked very hard to make this possible! I’m incredibly honored to participate in this blogathon, I wish Olivia an incredibly happy hundredth birthday, and without further ado, on with the post!

After the resounding success of Gone With the Wind, our birthday girl Olivia de Havilland had hoped that Warner Brothers head Jack Warner would recognize her star potential and offer her more prominent and challenging roles. However, realizing that he could have a diva in the making he decided to try putting her in her place and giving her the thankless role of Penelope Gray, Queen Elizabeth’s lady-in-waiting in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, presenting her with a measly third billing below the title and the names of stars Bette Davis and Errol Flynn. Despite the fact that Olivia was hardly present during the entirety of the film, it allowed her to be paired with some of her most frequent costars and collaborators. It marked her sixth of nine films with love interest Errol Flynn, her second of four films with Bette Davis, and her eighth of eleven films with director Michael Curtiz.

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Theatrical poster for The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939). Notice de Havilland’s paltry billing below the title.

Interestingly, the artists involved with the film faced off almost as much as the characters did. This was Flynn’s sixth collaboration with Curtiz, and it appeared that his dislike for the director grew more intense with each passing film that they made together. To make matters worse, Bette Davis had initially campaigned for Laurence Olivier to be cast opposite her, and felt that Flynn was unfit to speak the blank verse of period pieces like The Private Lives. Her distaste for him climaxed when they were rehearsing a scene in which Elizabeth slaps Essex hard across the face, and Davis decided to slap him for real. Errol took the blow but vowed to retaliate if Bette chose to slap him again once the cameras started rolling. Luckily the take that was used in the film was an artificial slap, but it wasn’t until decades later that her opinion changed of his performance. While watching the film with costar Olivia, she exclaimed, “I was wrong, wrong, wrong. Flynn was brilliant!”. Just like Errol Flynn, it took decades for Bette Davis to change her opinion of Olivia de Havilland as well. Olivia had been a fan of Bette’s long before she first starred with her in It’s Love I’m After, but she was later quoted saying, “We had to make three pictures together for her to warm up to me.” while Bette replied, “I was probably jealous of you, you were so damn good looking.”. The two remained close friends until Davis’ death in 1981.

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Our birthday girl Olivia de Havilland looking as lovely and regal as ever as Lady Penelope Gray in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939).

The first thing that I noticed as I watched the film was how astoundingly beautiful both the cinematography and Technicolor were. The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex truly looks like a storybook in every sense of the word from the ornate costumes designed by Orry-Kelly to the obviously artifical foliage seen in the sets. De Havilland looks more like a Disney princess than a lady-in-waiting, while Davis looks surprisingly accurate as Queen Elizabeth II, and it is said that Davis herself took drastic steps to make the look possible, including shaving her eyebrows and two inches off of her hairline in order to achieve the illusion of baldness underneath her lavish wigs. She later mentioned that her eyebrows never grew back correctly, and that she had to use an eyebrow pencil to fill them in afterwards.

The story itself, based on the 1930 play Elizabeth the Queen by Maxwell Anderson, was obviously a poor depiction of Elizabeth’s reign. In fact, Flynn’s character was a cousin to Queen Elizabeth in reality, and many other aspects of the film appear to be fabricated. The film is entertaining in parts nonetheless, yet incredibly frustrating as both of the main characters are intensely opinionated and fight like cats and dogs the entire time, which leads to their relationship’s ultimate demise. Both Flynn and Davis seemed to portray themselves in the picture, which unfortunately only added to its inaccuracies. The only actor in the film who gave a truly unique performance was Olivia de Havilland, portraying a madly jealous and infatuated Penelope Gray who had the audacity to butt heads with and sabotage her queen at every turn.

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Frequent costars Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939).

Despite how obviously immature her character seemed to be in her love for Essex, I still rooted for de Havilland to end up with Flynn in the end (but don’t we all?). I found myself on the edge of my seat waiting for her character to appear only to be let down as I sat through what seemed to be an hour and forty minutes of the Bette Davis show. Still, there were a couple of other supporting performances worthy of a mention, like Vincent Price and Nanette Fabray, both of whom I was delighted to see in practically cameo appearances. All in all, the film is a magnificent spectacle visually with a borderline fictional story that somehow managed to keep my attention, but if you’re looking to watch an Olivia de Havilland film on her hundredth birthday, I would recommend that you look elsewhere as she is practically nowhere to be seen.