Classic Movie Hub Blog

Silents are Golden: 7 Remarkable Lillian Gish Films

Posted on March 30, 2024 by Lea Stans

7 Remarkable Lillian Gish Films

You may have heard about the great actress Lillian Gish, whose film career lasted from the early days of film in the 1910s all the way to her final movie appearance in The Whales of August (1987). But if you haven’t seen much of her work, you might be wondering where to start–especially in regards to her silent era classics. Here’s a list of seven notable silents to help you get acquainted with this exceptional artist.

7. The Mothering Heart (1913)

Lillian and her sister Dorothy were teenaged stage actresses when they joined Biograph studio in 1912, back when most films were one or two reels long. Working mainly with director D.W. Griffith, they quickly learned the ropes of film acting and became two of Biograph’s most familiar faces. Dorothy had a knack for comedy while Lillian was drawn to tragic stories, such as the two-reeler The Mothering Heart. Playing a tender-hearted and rather naive young wife who discovers her husband is having an affair, Gish’s sincere performance quickly wins over the viewer. A surprising late scene involving a burst of anger shows her range, even this early on in her film career.

6. Broken Blossoms

Gish is sometimes identified with “tragic waif” types of roles, and there’s no better example than her portrayal of Lucy Burrows in this heartbreaking melodrama. Based on a short story by Thomas Burke, it follows the gentle, idealistic Cheng Huan who leaves China in hopes of spreading Buddhism abroad. He ends up living in a gritty London neighborhood where he encounters Lucy, the angelic and terribly abused daughter of the thuggish boxer Battling Burrows. While the casting of Richard Barthelmess as Cheng seems controversial today, he plays the role with sincerity and dignity. Gish is unforgettable as the persecuted Lucy, delivering a heartrending performance. One claustrophobic scene involving her animal-like reaction to being trapped in a closet would even have echoes in The Shining decades later.

5. True Heart Susie (1919)

No film could create a sweet, nostalgic portrait of rural life quite like a silent film, and True Heart Susie is one of the finest examples. Gish plays the shy country girl Susie, who is “sweet on” the neighbor boy William. Dreaming of a bright future with him, Susie decides to secretly help him go to college by selling her beloved cow and allowing him to believe a rich benefactor is lending him a hand. Ah, but what if William eventually falls for someone else? This film radiates a love of youthful “days gone by,” and both it and Gish’s performance are sweetly sentimental without getting too cloying.

4. Way Down East (1920)

One of the box office hits of 1920, Way Down East was the result of Griffith taking a decidedly old-fashioned Victorian play–what folks might call a “hoary old chestnut”–and transforming it to as close to an art piece as anyone could. Lillian played the innocent Anna who’s put through a wringer of tragic events. She’s seduced by a manipulative cad, gets cast aside, deals quietly with the resulting pregnancy, loses the baby, and tries to start over as a hired girl on a farm. For its most iconic sequence, where Anna is collapsed on an ice floe drifting closer and closer to a waterfall, Gish insisted on trailing her hand in the real, icy river for effect, resulting in permanent nerve damage.

3. The White Sister (1923)

The words “purity” and “spirituality” were certainly associated with Lillian Gish, and this feature was an ideal vehicle to showcase those qualities. Gish plays a prince’s daughter who loses her noble status, and after hearing that her lover was killed during an expedition, she decides to become a nun. While settling into her new life, she’s shocked to learn that her lover is alive. Filmed in Italy, it was the first film Gish appeared in after leaving the Griffith fold (albeit on friendly terms). She was very interested in recreating the Catholic “taking the veil” ceremony, which apparently had never been captured on film before. She worked closely with the clergy to ensure it was conducted with respect and authenticity.

2. The Scarlet Letter (1926)

Gish’s turn as Hester Prynne gave her one of the few-and-far-between chances to expand beyond her innocent waif roles. Directed by Swedish filmmaker Victor Sjöström and costarring the international star Lars Hansen, this mid-1920s feature is considered one of the most faithful adaptations of Hawthorne’s novel. Gish herself had insisted that MGM adapt The Scarlet Letter, despite their concerns about the subject matter. She proved that she could step gracefully into a “sensual” role while still giving it poignancy and dignity.

1. The Wind (1928)

One of the masterpieces of the late silent era, this dark romantic drama was also Gish’s final silent. Gish plays Letty, a poverty-stricken woman who goes to live on a remote Texas ranch with her cousin and his wife Cora. The area is continually plagued by raging winds, said to drive people mad. Letty clashes with Cora, who’s jealous of her beauty, and she also receives unwanted attention from local men. When Cora finally turns Letty out of the house, she reluctantly agrees to marry the rancher Lige. In the meantime, the ever-present wind begins to drive her towards insanity. Elegantly-directed and featuring a magnificent performance by Gish, The Wind is a must-see for any fan of silent films.

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–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Lea’s Silents are Golden articles here.

Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.

Posted in Posts by Lea Stans, Silents are Golden | Tagged Broken Blossoms, Lillian Gish, the mothering heart, The Scarlet letter, The White Sister, The Wind 1928, true heart susie, way down east | Leave a comment

Noir Noir: Oscar Omission – Barbara Stanwyck

Posted on March 26, 2024 by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

Noir Noir: Oscar Omission – Barbara Stanwyck

It’s about that time again – awards season! My favorite time of year. As I write this, I’m in the midst of my annual quest to see as many Oscar-nominated films and peformances as possible. (Luckily, with streaming, I’m now able to see all of the entries in the major categories!)

In keeping with the Oscar theme, today’s Noir Nook will take a look at an actress who, for my money, is one of the finest performers from the Golden Age of Hollywood – and who never won an Oscar: Barbara Stanwyck.

I know – it makes no sense, right? Not with films like Stella Dallas and Meet John Doe and The Lady Eve under her belt! But, sadly, it’s true. While Stanwyck was nominated for an Academy Award on four occasions, she never won. To the Academy’s credit, she was given an honorary award in 1982 for being “an artist of impeccable grace and beauty, a dedicated actress and one of the great ladies of Hollywood”, which beats a blank, I suppose, but still. I think Stanwyck should have at least won one competitive Oscar, if not multiple awards, for several of her noirs. Let’s take a look at four that I believe were worthy of the prize.

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Phyllis Dietrichson: Double Indemnity (1944)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omissions Double Indemnity — Barbara Stanwyck as Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity

In this feature – my favorite noir, in case I hadn’t mentioned that lately – Stanywyck’s Phyllis teams with insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) to bump off her husband and enjoy a big insurance payday. Like the best laid plans of mice and men, though, this scheme goes to the left, thanks in big part to Walter’s boss, Barton Keys (Edward G. Robinson), who possesses a flawless intuition – in the form of the “little man” inside his gut.

As Phyllis, Stanwyck brings to life one of noir’s iconic femmes fatales – she’s at once sexy, scheming, vulnerable, intelligent, ruthless, duplicitous, and smooth as polished ice. So many of her scenes are standouts, like the one where she feigns innocence while simultaneously trying to get Walter to assist in her quest to do away with Mr. Dietrichson. Or the one where Walter kills her husband in the car seat beside her, and her face is a blank mask until that last moment when she allows a slight, satisfied smile to curve her lips. Or the one in the supermarket where she frostily informs Walter that it’s “straight down the line for both of us.”

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Martha Ivers: The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omissions, Strange Love of Martha Ivers (pictured with Kirk Douglas) — Barbara Stanwyck and Kirk Douglas in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Here, Stanwyck plays the title role of a woman who, as a child, murdered her hated aunt (Judith Anderson) with a blow from her own cane. (And if that doesn’t give you a clue to Martha’s persona, I don’t know what will.) Martha grew up to run (and expand) the industrial empire she inherited upon her aunt’s death – and to marry Walter O’Neil (Kirk Douglas), the childhood friend who stood beside her (literally and figuratively) during the crime. Martha’s domain is rocked when serendipity brings the return of another pal from her youth, Sam Masterson (Van Heflin), who was also at Martha’s house on the night of her aunt’s death and has visions of blackmail – at least Martha and Walter believe he does.

Stanwyck’s entrance as the adult Martha is revealing – she exits her chauffeur-driven car and sweeps into her house in the midst of a rainstorm. She enters without a drop of water daring to touch her and addresses her butler without granting him so much as a glance. Stanwyck’s Martha is always in control, always in charge, and usually a little scary; whether she’s browbeating her weak-willed, alcoholic husband, or casting shade in the direction of the down-on-her-luck dame (Lizabeth Scott) who has fallen in love with Sam, she’s always the center of attention. In my favorite scene, she uses her considerable wiles to coax Sam into killing Walter – and Stanwyck serves up a master class in silent acting as she observes the outcome.

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Thelma Jordon: The File on Thelma Jordon (1950)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omissions, The File on Thelma Jordon (pictured with Wendell Corey) — Barbara Stanwyck and Wendell Corey in The File on Thelma Jordon

Once again in the title role, Stanwyck plays a woman who kills her wealthy aunt (what is with Stanwyck and aunts?) and is prosecuted for the crime by Cleve Marshall (Wendell Corey), the assistant District Attorney with whom she’s been having an affair. Three guesses as to whether Cleve pulls out all the stops to ensure a guilty verdict – and the first two don’t count.

Stanwyck’s Thelma is an interesting character. She’s not hard-boiled like Phyllis Dietrichson, or domineering like Martha Ivers. You can understand why Cleve falls for her – she’s quietly sexy, subtly elegant, sophisticated but not unreachable. Her voice is soft and smoky, she’s easy to talk to and to listen to, especially when she says things like this: “I only know I think of you all day and all night. What I’ll wear so you’ll look at me with that look in your eyes like now. . . . And what I’ll do the next time you take me in your arms.” Incidentally, she’s also an expert liar, which she demonstrates not just with Cleve but with her other lover, Tony (Richard Rober). But that’s a whole ‘nother story. The bottom line is, Stanwyck is several different women in this film – and she plays them each to perfection.

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Leona Stevenson: Sorry, Wrong Number (1948)

Barbara Stanwyck, Oscar Omission, Sorry, Wrong Number — Barbara Stanwyck as Leona Stevenson in Sorry, Wrong Number

In this feature, based on a 1943 radio play, Stanwyck is spoiled and self-centered heiress Leona Stevenson, whose confinement to her bed due to a heart condition has not diminished her dominance over her weak-willed husband (Burt Lancaster) or her doting father (Ed Begley, Sr.). When crossed telephone wires allow her to overhear two men planning a soon-to-be murder, she tries to learn more about the plot, but discovers more than she’d bargained for.

With the exception of flashbacks, Stanwyck’s Leona spends the bulk of the film in bed, which makes her performance even more impressive. From there, she emotes and emotes and emotes, taking her character from petulance to annoyance, haughtiness to hysteria, and anxiety to terror. After the film’s release, the reviewer for Cue proclaimed that Stanwyck had turned in the best performance of her career. I can’t argue with that.

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So, what do you think? Should Stanwyck have earned an Oscar for any of these noirs? And can you think of any other noir performances that deserved Oscar recognition? Leave a comment and let me know!

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– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Karen’s Noir Nook articles here.

Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages.
If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:

Posted in Noir Nook, Posts by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry | Tagged barbara stanwyck, Double Indemnity, Kirk Douglas, oscar omission, Sorry Wrong Number, The File on Thelma Jordon, the strange love of martha ivers, wendell corey | 1 Comment

Western RoundUp: Final Resting Places, More Western Filmmakers

Posted on March 23, 2024 by Laura Grieve

Final Resting Places: More Western Filmmakers

This month we’ll be taking another of our unique tours through Western film history, paying tribute to a variety of actors as we visit their final resting places.

We begin with longtime “B” Western star Johnny Mack Brown. I was glad to finally locate his final resting place at Forest Lawn Glendale after a couple of unsuccessful attempts. The onetime college football star had a long film career, beginning in silent movies; he appeared in countless “B” films, including many playing characters named either Johnny Mack or Marshal Nevada Jack MacKenzie. Brown also offered excellent support in the Rod Cameron Western Stampede (1949). He’s interred along with his daughter.

Johnny Mack Brown Resting Place — Johnny Mack Brown

Herb Jeffries was a unusual ’30s “B” Western star; of mixed-race heritage, he played a black singing cowboy in a quartet of Westerns released from 1937 to 1939. His movies included interestingly titled films such as Harlem on the Prairie (1937) and Harlem Rides the Range (1939). Jeffries’ film career was fairly short, and he focused mainly on singing from the ’40s on, including a few years performing with Duke Ellington. Jeffries lived to be 100, and his final resting place is at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

Herb Jeffries Resting Place — Herb Jeffries

Another singing cowboy, Ken Carson, is buried at Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whitter, California. As a member of the Sons of the Pioneers, Carson appeared onscreen frequently in Roy Rogers films from 1943 to 1946. He also voiced the Wise Old Owl in Disney’s lovely So Dear to My Heart (1948). Carson died of Lou Gehrig’s disease in 1994. His gravestone features a guitar and references his career as a singing cowboy.

Oscar-winning actress Donna Reed first appeared in Westerns early in her career, playing the leading lady in “B” films such as Apache Trail (1942) and Gentle Annie (1944). Throughout the ’50s she appeared in a number of good Westerns, including Hangman’s Knot (1952) with Randolph Scott, Gun Fury (1953) with Rock Hudson, and Backlash (1956) opposite Richard Widmark. She then moved on to TV success starring on The Donna Reed Show (1958-66). She’s buried at Westwood Memorial Park.

Under her birth name Laraine Johnson, Laraine Day was George O’Brien’s leading lady in a trio of his excellent RKO “B” Westerns, released in 1938 and 1939; along with O’Brien’s “B” films with Virginia Vale, these are great favorites of mine. Later in 1939 she moved to MGM, where as Laraine Day she played beloved nurse Mary Lamont in the Dr. Kildare movie series. She made one Western at MGM, The Bad Man (1941) starring Wallace Beery. Thanks to her marriage to baseball manager Leo Durocher, which lasted from 1948 to 1960, Day was also known as “the First Lady of Baseball.” She’s at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.

While she didn’t have an extensive career in Westerns, British actress Binnie Barnes was memorable appearing opposite Randolph Scott in one of the very first Westerns I wrote about for Classic Movie Hub, Frontier Marshal (1939). She also starred opposite John Wayne in In Old California (1942). Over the course of her career Barnes worked with actors like Laurence Olivier and Ralph Richardson, but she told an interviewer the best actor she worked with was none other than Wayne. Barnes married the adoptive son of actor Joe E. Brown and is buried in the Brown family plot at Forest Lawn Glendale.

binnie barnes resting place 2 images — Binnie Barnes

Oscar-winning British character actor Donald Crisp, known for films like How Green Was My Valley (1941) and National Velvet (1944), may not spring to mind as a Western actor, but he added his considerable gravitas to a number of fine Westerns, including Ramrod (1947), Whispering Smith (1948), The Man From Laramie (1955), and Saddle the Wind (1958). He’s buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.

Donald Crisp Resting Place — Donald Crisp

Character actor Jay C. Flippen worked steadily in Westerns throughout the ’50s, appearing in a trio of fine Anthony Mann Westerns, Winchester ’73 (1950), Bend of the River (1952), and The Far Country (1954). His other Westerns films included Devil’s Canyon (1953), Man Without a Star (1955), and Night Passage (1957). His wife was movie and TV screenwriter Ruth Brooks Flippen. He’s at Westwood Memorial Park

Jay C Flippen Resting Place — Jay C Flippen

Richard Farnsworth had an interesting career, beginning as a stuntman in 1937. Farnsworth was on the stunt crew for many Westerns, including favorites such as Angel and the Badman (1947) and Red River (1948). Farnsworth later moved into acting, receiving Oscar nominations for Comes a Horseman (1978) and The Straight Story (1999). His son, Diamond Farnsworth, also worked as a movie stuntman. Richard Farnsworth’s final resting place is at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.

Richard Farnsworth resting place — Richard Farnsworth

We’ll conclude this month with a trio of actors who appeared in movie Westerns but are best known for their TV Westerns. Clayton Moore appeared in numerous supporting roles in “B” Westerns beginning in 1937 and running into the 1950s, but of course he’s best known as TV’s immortal The Lone Ranger (1949-57). He’s buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.

Clayton Moore Resting Place — Clayton Moore

Chuck Connors appeared occasionally in Western films, including The Hired Gun (1957), before becoming a major Western TV star as The Rifleman (1958-63). His gravestone at San Fernando Mission Cemetery in Mission Hills pays tribute to his most famous Western role, along with his sports careers with the Dodgers, Cubs, and Boston Celtics.

Chuck Connors Resting Place — Chuck Connors

Hugh O’Brian first appeared in movie Westerns in 1950, playing a supporting role in Gene Autry’s Beyond the Purple Hills (1950). He appeared in numerous Westerns throughout the ’50s, many for Universal Pictures, before hitting it big in the title role in TV’s The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp (1955-61). He’s at Forest Lawn Glendale.

Hugh OBrian Resting Place — Hugh O’Brian

For additional photos of the burial sites of Western filmmakers, please visit my columns from May 2019, February 2022, November 2, 2022, November 29, 2022, April 2023, and November 2023.

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– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.

Posted in Posts by Laura Grieve, Western RoundUp | Tagged binnie barnes, Chuck Connors, Clayton Moore, donald crisp, donna reed, herb jeffries, hugh o'brian, Jay C. Flippen, Johnny Mack Brown, ken carson, laraine day, Richard Farnsworth | Leave a comment

Silver Screen Standards: Heaven Can Wait (1943)

Posted on March 14, 2024 by Jennifer Garlen

Silver Screen Standards: Heaven Can Wait (1943)

While you might expect a movie about the balance of a man’s life being judged at the gates of Hell to be heavy existential stuff, Ernst Lubitsch’s Heaven Can Wait (1943) serves it up as a sparkling romantic comedy in the director’s quintessential style. Dapper Don Ameche makes the protagonist appealing in spite of his peccadilloes, and even the Devil himself seems charmed by the new arrival, but that’s just where the fun begins. There’s so much to love about this picture: Ameche’s performance, the gorgeous Technicolor cinematography, the delightful comedy scenes, and especially the extensive cast of outstanding supporting players. So many of my personal favorites have great roles, from Marjorie Main and Spring Byington to Charles Coburn, Eugene Pallette, and Laird Cregar, but Ameche and the beautiful Gene Tierney are perfectly cast as the leading lovers experiencing the many joys and sorrows of a life together.

Don Ameche and Gene Tierney Heaven Can Wait phone — From the moment he first sees her, Henry Van Cleve (Don Ameche) is smitten with Martha (Gene Tierney).

Ameche stars as the newly deceased Henry Van Cleve, who presents himself to the Devil (Laird Cregar) for admission to Hell because he assumes that Heaven won’t take him. Henry then recounts his life, which he admits has been dominated by his relationships with women, starting with his doting mother (Spring Byington) and grandmother (Clara Blandick). Henry’s account of himself, told through a series of long flashbacks, primarily focuses on his marriage to Martha (Gene Tierney) and the years they spent together, although Henry feels that his self-indulgent behavior has not merited a reunion with his wife in Heaven.

Laird Cregar Heaven Can Wait — Laird Cregar makes a very debonair Devil as “His Excellency,” to whom Henry recounts the story of his life.

Don Ameche is very much in his element as Henry, a feckless but amiable fellow whose deep love for Martha can’t make him behave as well as she deserves. Even in the later scenes, when he appears in increasing layers of old-age makeup, Ameche maintains his immense charm, though he transforms over the years from youthful rogue to geriatric playboy. His failures as a husband are mostly understated and unspecified, the better, perhaps, to retain our sympathy. In spite of his impulsive, careless nature, Henry certainly looks more appealing in contrast to his priggish cousin Albert (played in his adult form by Allyn Joslyn), to whom Martha is originally engaged. Albert has many fine qualities, which he enumerates to Martha, but he’s terribly dull and takes himself far too seriously to be any good as a lover. Gene Tierney has less to do than Ameche – she’s the object of his affection, not the subject of the story – but she is so breathlessly lovely and good that we understand why Henry resolves to marry her the moment they meet.

Spring Byington and Don Ameche Heaven Can Wait — Henry is doted on and spoiled by all of his relatives, but especially his mother (Spring Byington), who never stays angry at his misdeeds.

With a story that spans every decade of Henry’s life, the picture offers ample opportunity for supporting actors to make memorable appearances, and Heaven Can Wait ends up being a parade of fun scenes with familiar favorites, many of them uncredited. Florence Bates drops in – literally – as a fellow arrival in Hell. Child stars Scotty Beckett and Dickie Moore take turns playing Henry as a child, with Moore having an especially amusing sequence with Signe Hasso as the Van Cleves’ attractive French maid. In addition to Spring Byington and Clara Blandick, the Van Cleve family members are played by Louis Calhern, Tod Andrews (credited as Michael Ames), and the great Charles Coburn, who endures into ripe old age as Henry’s delightfully mischievous grandfather. Coburn is quite the scene stealer, but nothing beats Eugene Pallette and Marjorie Main as Mr. and Mrs. Strabel, Martha’s cantankerous Kansan parents. Watching the two of them fight over the funny pages, much to the amusement of their tactful butler, Jasper (Clarence Muse), is absolute comedy bliss. You could even call it classic movie Heaven.

Marjorie Main Heaven Can Wait table — Marjorie Main plays Martha’s quarrelsome but loving mother, Mrs. Strabel.

Heaven Can Wait earned three Academy Award nominations, with nods for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Color Cinematography, but it went home empty-handed. For more of Ernst Lubitsch’s signature comedy style, see Design for Living (1933), Ninotchka (1939), and To Be or Not to Be (1942). Don Ameche didn’t win an Oscar until very late in his life, when he really was an old man in Cocoon (1986), but you can catch him in his prime in Midnight (1939), The Story of Alexander Graham Bell (1939), and That Night in Rio (1941). You can see Gene Tierney, Laird Cregar, Spring Byington, and Clara Blandick in Rings on Her Fingers (1942), but Tierney is best remembered today for films like Laura (1944), Leave Her to Heaven (1945), and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947). The 1978 movie titled Heaven Can Wait has nothing to do with the 1943 one, but it’s actually a remake of the 1941 supernatural comedy, Here Comes Mr. Jordan, which stars Robert Montgomery as a dead man sent back to Earth in a different body by guardian angel Claude Rains. Both are excellent movies that make fun double features with each other or the original Heaven Can Wait.

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.

Jennifer is a former college professor with a PhD in English Literature and a lifelong obsession with film. She writes about classic movies at her blog, Virtual Virago, and presents classic film programs for lifetime learning groups and retirement communities. She’s the author of Beyond Casablanca: 100 Classic Movies Worth Watching and its sequel, Beyond Casablanca II: 101 Classic Movies Worth Watching, and she is also the co-editor of two books about the works of Jim Henson.

Posted in Films, Posts by Jennifer Garlen, Silver Screen Standards | Tagged charles coburn, Don Ameche, eugene pallette, Gene Tierney, Heaven Can Wait, Laird Cregar, marjorie main, spring byington | Leave a comment

Classic Movie Travels: Bobby Hutchins

Posted on March 10, 2024 by Annette Bochenek

Classic Movie Travels: Bobby Hutchins

Robert Eugene Hutchins was born on March 29, 1925, in Tacoma, Washington, to James and Olga Constance Hutchins. As a child, Hutchins was extremely outgoing and family friends persuaded his parents to take him to Hollywood to be photographed. The photographer was so impressed by Hutchins’ personality and asked to screen test him, with the resulting footage ultimately making its way to Hal Roach Studios. Roach thought that Hutchins would be an ideal addition to the Our Gang series and offered Hutchins a five-year contract.

As was typical of the Our Gang children, Hutchins soon received a nickname: “Wheezer.” Reportedly, on his first day at the studio, Hutchins was running around so excitedly that he began to wheeze. The nickname would remain his throughout his tenure in the series, typically portraying a tag-along brother in silent and sound shorts.

Hutchins’ first appearance in the series was in Baby Brother (1927), playing Horatio. He portrayed a main character in many other installments in the series. His character wore a trademark beanie and corduroy vest.

Behind the scenes, Hutchins’ father was particularly competitive and overbearing. Co-star Jackie Cooper once shared the following in an interview:

“You’d go to play with Wheezer, and his father would pull him away, very competitive. I didn’t get a satisfactory answer from my mother or grandmother as to why, but he was to be left alone. I guess his father was trying to make him a star or something. Obviously it never happened as it did for Spanky or some of the other kids.”

When not filming, Hutchins’ father isolated him from the other children and malnourished him, deliberately underfeeding him to keep him small and employable. This also held true for Hutchins’ brother, Richard Rae “Dickie” Hutchins, who also spent time in the series. His plan backfired; while Hutchins photographed well, he lacked the energy and commanding screen presence of his leading co-stars. Hutchins fulfilled the rest of his contract as a background player.

Once his contract was up for renewal in 1933, Hutchins’ parents walked out on Roach, demanding higher pay for Hutchins. As a result, Hutchins missed the final four episodes of the 1932 season, with the new gang leader being portrayed by child star Dickie Moore. Roach ultimately terminated Hutchins’ contract when Hutchins was eight years old. His final appearance in the series was in Mush and Milk (1933).

Beyond his time in Our Gang, Hutchins made appearances in three other featurettes. His parents divorced and Hutchins, his mother, stepfather, and brother moved to Tacoma, Washington. There, he enrolled in Parkland Grade School and, later, Lincoln High School. He eventually worked as a gas station attendant in 1942. After his high school graduation, he joined the U.S. Army Air Forces by 1943, enrolling in the Aviation Cadet Program to become a pilot.

Tragically, Hutchins was killed as a result of a mid-air collision on May 17, 1945. He was trying to land a plane during the last 30 minutes of his basic training when it struck another plane of the same unit at Merced Army Air Field in Merced, California, later to become Castle Air Force Base. Edward F. Hamel, the other pilot, survived. Hutchins was close to graduating from this training program and his mother was scheduled to travel to the airfield the following week for the commencement ceremony. He was 20 years old.

Following his funeral at Trinity Lutheran Church, Hutchins was laid to rest at Parkland Lutheran Cemetery in Tacoma, Washington. His grave is honored with a flag each Memorial Day.

In 1930, Hutchins and his parents lived at 9036 Gibson Los Angeles, California. His father worked as an artists’ manager at this point, presumably for Hutchins. The home stands.

In 1940, Hutchins lived with his mother, stepfather Russell Hagerson, brother, and grandmother, in the Brookdale neighborhood of Tacoma, Washington.

The scene of his crash still exists near Castle Air Force Base and is inaccessible to the general public.

Trinity Lutheran Church’s “Old Gray Church” no longer stands but Parkland Lutheran Cemetery is located at 510 136^th St. E., Tacoma, Washington.

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–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

Annette Bochenek pens our monthly Classic Movie Travels column. You can read all of Annette’s Classic Movie Travel articles here.

Annette Bochenek of Chicago, Illinois, is a PhD student at Dominican University and an independent scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the Hometowns to Hollywood blog, in which she writes about her trips exploring the legacies and hometowns of Golden Age stars. Annette also hosts the “Hometowns to Hollywood” film series throughout the Chicago area. She has been featured on Turner Classic Movies and is the president of TCM Backlot’s Chicago chapter. In addition to writing for Classic Movie Hub, she also writes for Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, and Chicago Art Deco SocietyMagazine.

Posted in Child Stars, Classic Movie Travels, Posts by Annette Bochenek | Tagged bobby hutchins, Little Rascals, Our Gang | Leave a comment

Monsters and Matinees: Meeting The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre

Posted on March 9, 2024 by Toni Ruberto

Meeting The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre

Louise Mandore was just a child when she wandered off during a family funeral and accidentally locked herself in a burial chamber. The experience left her haunted by nightmares and with a lifelong fear of being buried alive.

She made sure that would never happen.

Her will mandated the following:

Five doctors had to examine her and sign the death certificate.
Her body would not be embalmed.
The coffin lid would remain open, never to be closed.
And one last thing: A phone had to be within arm’s reach of the coffin with a direct line into the bedroom of her son, Henry, so she could call for help by dialing the code H-E-L-P (it’s engraved on a nearby cross in her tomb).

Telephones loom large throughout *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre* including the one in the room of Henry Mandore (played by Tom Simcox), that is a direct line to his mother’s crypt.

Darn, if a year after Louise dies, that phone doesn’t start ringing in Henry’s room, with the sounds of a sobbing woman on the other end.

That crying – loud and jarring – is the first thing heard in The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre, a noise uncomfortably repeated throughout the atmospheric 1964 horror film.

Those opening seconds over grainy images of a cemetery will abruptly shift to overhead views of a large city as dark, dramatic music plays. But wait – the mood changes again. Large waves wash away the cityscape to reveal a beach where a man walks, looking casually chic and handsome in a pullover sweater. The music is carefree and romantic and then abruptly goes all bleak and bombastic again. That shifting tone will continue, keeping us unsettled as the story unfolds.

Walking toward us is Martin Landau as Nelson Orion, the credits announce, then listing “guest stars” like Judith Anderson and Diane Baker. Great cast but guest stars? What’s going on? Is this a television series?

Yes and no.

Martin Landau is a steady, impressive presence as an architect who restores forsaken houses – and people – in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre was the pilot for a planned anthology TV series to be called The Haunted by Joseph Stefano, known for writing Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and for his writing and producing on The Outer Limits TV series. This explained why Ghost felt like a nicely done extended episode of The Twilight Zone. (I am not as familiar with The Outer Limits, hence the TZ reference.)

Stefano did Ghost after leaving The Outer Limits and brought some crew members with him. In addition to the notable cast, it also featured the skills of composer Dominic Frontiere and director of photography Conrad Hall (Oscar winner for Butch Cassidy and the Sunshine Kid, Road to Perdition and American Beauty). There is talent here.

* * * * *

Young married couple Henry Mandore (played by Tom Simcox) and Vivia (Diane Baker) live on a large 100-acre family estate with a mansion that would be right at home in a gothic horror film like The Haunting.

Judith Anderson adds to the creepy factor as she lurks about a large mansion as the housekeeper to Tom Simcox and Diane Baker in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

Vivia returns from a three-week trip to take care of charity donations made by Henry’s mother to find him traumatized by those sobbing phone calls. (Henry has been blind since birth.) To ramp up the unease, there’s scary new housekeeper Paulina (Judith Anderson) who terrifies Vivia at first sight, walking out of the shadows with heavy eye makeup and a scowl. Paulina is always quietly lurking about like a specter as she peers out from behind doors and bushes, unnervingly sits in a corner just watching and skulks about the cemetery.

It’s in the cemetery at midnight that Vivia meets Nelson Orion (we’ll just call him Orion because it’s a cool name) at her husband’s request, thanking him for not dismissing her call as a prank. She doesn’t believe in ghosts – nor, surprisingly, does our paranormal investigator – but they are both willing to research the sobbing phone calls to help Henry. Orion, an architect who makes a sizable living at his trade and does this on the side, won’t charge a penny if it is a “real” haunting, but if it’s a fraud, he says, he will tell the police.

A young wife (played by Diane Baker) is frightened by strange occurrences.

They enter the impressive mausoleum, which is the size of a house with multiple rooms, stairs and artifacts. It would be almost homey if it wasn’t inhabited by the dead. As they nonchalantly walk and talk along the dark hallways toward the burial chamber of Henry’s mother, the camera also follows someone traveling the corridors, sobbing. Doors blow open and slam shut, but only the viewer is aware of this at first. Then the force bursts into the mother’s tomb attacking Orion and Vivia, all whirling winds, screeching violins, shrieks and cries. It is terrifying to watch Vivia flail and scream like a madwoman as she bats away at some sinister entity. (Baker is terrific in this film.)

What just happened? They aren’t waiting around to find out, but Vivia has left her purse behind and runs back to get it. Then she inexplicably sits, opens the purse in the tomb and pulls out a vial as everything starts up again: the lightning, the wailing wind and now a visit by a blood-splashed ghostly figure in a black shroud.

Vivia, who clearly has issues, loses it again with this second incident and spends the night at Orion’s ultramodern beach house perched on a cliff to recover. (It’s not clear why he took her there and not home – there is not a romance between them.)

Martin Landau, left, and Diane Baker are terrorized by an unseen force in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre.* This scene is inside a crypt where a telephone sits near the coffin of a woman who was terrified of being buried alive.

The next morning, she is soothed after drinking from that black vial, and is then transfixed by a painting of Mission at the Sierra de Cobre on Orion’s immense gallery wall of artwork. He explains his skills were once needed there to solve the legend of a bleeding ghost and a murder. It did not go well as we later learn because our creepy housekeeper just happened to be there at the same time. Paulina calls Orion a charlatan because he failed to “exorcise the bleeding ghost” in Sierra de Cobre and wants him gone. But Orion’s not going anywhere until he can help – and that means helping everyone.

As an architect, he works on the restoration of old, forsaken homes and this “hobby” does the same by restoring people. His belief is that everyone is haunted by something, real or imaginary, and that’s true of these people. Henry wants a paranormal explanation because if it’s not his mother haunting him, then he’s going mad as his father did. Vivia, who is prone to nightmares, seems especially sensitive to paranormal activity and doesn’t handle it well. The mysterious Paulina has something boiling beneath her cold exterior that is ready to explode.

Though only Henry has heard the phone calls, they are all together when a loud and deep banging starts in his room, making a large window seat rumble and cushions fly. Henry and Vivia are terrified, claiming that’s the sound of Louise Mandore pounding her way out of the coffin. Even the skeptical Orion believes it was a psychical disturbance (a phrase he likes to use).

So, what’s really going on?

We’ll get information fast as Orion seeks the truth in his calm, matter of fact way. He uses his housekeeper, Mrs. Finch (delightfully played by Nellie Burt), as a sounding board. She’s a staunch nonbeliever and plays the devil’s advocate for him. The scenes of them talking and throwing ideas off each other get our minds working, too. Drug-induced hallucinations, she suggests? Hidden mechanical devices? This is a bit fun.

* * * * *

Nelson Orion (played by Martin Landau) studies up on his newest investigation by atmospheric candlelight in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

Director Joseph Stefano and cinematographer Conrad Hall do an excellent job of keeping the film tense and melancholy, a great combination for a ghost story. Except for the scenes on the beach, the movie is gloomy at best as Hall plays with light, often filming characters in heavy shadows if not nearly outright darkness. A scene where Orion is reading by the light of giant candelabra is especially effective in keeping the atmospheric mood even at an ordinary moment.

Hall’s camera likes to be overhead, perched above unsuspecting characters as if ready to pounce. Someone – or worse, something – is keeping an eye on all of them and it’s unsettling. He gives menacing life to the telephone by framing it in the forefront of scenes, dwarfing characters and illustrating the hold it has over them.

As Vivia Mandore (Diane Baker) looks on, investigator Henry Orion (Martin Landau) is surprised that the phone inside a tomb is warm to the touch in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

Terror comes in jolting moments like that early scene with Vivia and Orion in the mother’s tomb. Stefano makes sure the viewer doesn’t get comfortable.

Stefano’s storytelling keeps us intrigued and when he finally unravels all the strings that tie everything together we see that he gave us just enough information to keep us going, but not enough for the full picture so we have a satisfying conclusion to meeting The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre.

* * * * *

Nelson Orion (Martin Landau) and his housekeeper Mrs. Finch (Nellie Burt) talk through his latest case in *The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre*.

It’s a bummer that Nelson Orion only lives in this film. I really enjoyed watching him thoughtfully work the case. We can see how Mrs. Finch and architect Benedict Sloane (played by Leonard Stone) are set up to be the two recurring characters in future episodes. I would have enjoyed sitting in on more conversations with Orion and Mrs. Finch.

And what about the beautiful blonde on the beach Orion invited to a haunted house on Friday night? I wonder how that date went – and if there will be a second one. Yes, I feel cheated by only meeting Nelson Orion once and thinking of all the future investigations that never came to be.

But the film gave me a new appreciation for Martin Landau and there is much I have to yet to see by the actor. Plus I will definitely revisit The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre. That will keep me busy.

– Toni Ruberto for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Toni’s Monsters and Matinees articles here.

Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a writer and board member of the Classic Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo chapter of TCM Backlot and now leads the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie Buffs. She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in the spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You can find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto.

Posted in Classic TV, Monsters and Matinees, Posts by Toni Ruberto | Tagged Diane Baker, Joseph Stefano, judith anderson, Martin Landau, psycho, The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre, The Outer Limits | 1 Comment

Western RoundUp: Joe Kidd

Posted on February 27, 2024 by Laura Grieve

Western RoundUp: Joe Kidd

It may be hard to believe, given my love for Westerns, but up to this point the only Clint Eastwood Western I’d seen was his early film Ambush at Cimarron Pass (1958), which I reviewed here close to two years ago.

I watch relatively few post ’60s Westerns, being leery of the more overt violence often found in films of that era, but I’ve nonetheless been intending to give Eastwood’s “spaghetti Westerns” a try. However, I decided I’d start my Eastwood Western viewing with Joe Kidd (1972).

I was drawn to Joe Kidd by its locations, including Old Tucson, which I’ve visited a couple of times, and Lone Pine’s Alabama Hills, an area with which I have great familiarity. The movie also filmed around Bishop and Sherwin Summit, spots further north of Lone Pine on Highway 395.

I was also interested as the movie was directed by John Sturges. Sturges had previously worked in Lone Pine on Bad Day at Black Rock (1955) and The Law and Jake Wade (1958). Coincidentally, Sturges also directed the last movie I reviewed for this column, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957).

Joe Kidd Clint Eastwood — Clint Eastwood as Joe Kidd

Joe Kidd is set in Sinola, a town in the American Southwest, circa 1900; the film was actually titled Sinola in some countries. Eastwood plays Kidd, a one-time bounty hunter in jail for disturbing the peace.

Kidd, now a rancher, is recruited by wealthy land owner Frank Harlan (Robert Duvall) to track down Chama (John Saxon), a revolutionary trying to reclaim local ancestral lands for his people.

Kidd initially declines to join Harlan but changes his mind after he finds Chama has injured one of his workers and stolen his horses. However, Kidd quickly becomes dismayed with the brutality of Harlan and his men.

Harlan’s gang takes over a small village and sends a message to Chama that he’ll periodically kill five hostages if Chama refuses to surrender. By that point Harlan no longer trusts Kidd and puts him in the town church along with the hostages.

One by one, Kidd manages to quietly knock off some of Harlan’s men standing guard at the church, then puts in motion a plan to escape and capture Chama himself. Kidd plans to deliver Chama to the sheriff in Sinola, which will also draw Harlan away from the hostages.

Joe Kidd, John Saxon and Clint Eastwood — John Saxon and Clint Eastwood

I thought Joe Kidd was a solid film with a good performance by Eastwood. He’s clearly an imperfect person, as evidenced by his rather childish behavior as the film opens, but he’s also a strong, observant man who isn’t to be trifled with.

Eastwood’s Kidd may be downright scary at times, but he also has some wonderful moments of dry humor, starting with a scene early on where he holds off one of Chama’s men in a saloon, pouring himself a beer while holding a rifle. A French film poster alludes to this moment:

There’s also a very amusing set piece near the end where Kidd drives a steam train straight through a saloon, gaining the advantage in a shootout with Harlan’s men.

Robert Duvall is as good as one might expect as the powerful Harlan. Initially the viewer sees Harlan as someone willing to spend money and hire bad men in order to have his own way. As the film progresses, however, Harlan reveals he is completely evil, willing to kill indiscriminately and threaten the lives of innocent women and children if Chama doesn’t comply with his wishes.

Saxon’s character isn’t quite so developed, and he shows himself to be an ungrateful chauvinist in a scene with his loyal girlfriend (Stella Garcia). That said, Saxon does what he can with the material he has to work with, particularly near the end when he and Eastwood reach a situation where “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Chama may not like Kidd trying to take him to the law, but he does recognize Kidd is far more ethical than Harlan.

The section of the film where Joe is held with the hostages but manages to knock off a couple of his captors seemed strikingly familiar…and then I made one of those wonderful movie connections which helped explain that feeling. The Joe Kidd screenplay was by Elmore Leonard, who also wrote the story which inspired the Randolph Scott-Budd Boetticher film The Tall T (1957).

In The Tall T, Scott is held hostage by Richard Boone, but late in the movie he manages to cleverly dispatch a couple of Boone’s henchmen. No wonder that Joe Kidd sequence seemed so familiar! In another nice connection, The Tall T was also filmed in the Alabama Hills.

Speaking of locations, it’s somewhat amusing to have the characters in Joe Kidd ride out of the Alabama Hills straight into Old Tucson, but that type of editing is also something Western fans are accustomed to seeing. For instance, I recall a Hopalong Cassidy Western where characters in the Alabama Hills shoot at people who are at Iverson Ranch!

The movie was beautifully shot in Technicolor Panavision by Bruce Surtees, son of Oscar-winning cinematographer Robert Surtees. Bruce Surtees worked on numerous Eastwood films as both camera operator and cinematographer.

The unique Alabama Hills landscapes look marvelous in Joe Kidd, as shot by Surtees. Here’s a screenshot prominently showcasing Lone Pine Peak, in the background at the left. Mount Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous United States, is deeper in the background, just left of center. I suspect it was as cold as it looks here!

Here are a couple additional screen captures of the stunning views of the Alabama Hills:

As it happens, my husband has taken horseback tour groups past some of the Joe Kidd locations in his role as a tour trail guide for the Lone Pine Film Festival. Fans of the film should considering attending the festival for an “in person” look at the scenery.

There are a number of familiar faces in Joe Kidd’s supporting cast, including Don Stroud, Dick Van Patten, Gregory Walcott, and Chuck Hayward.

It was fun to see Clint Ritchie, who plays Calvin, in this film; Ritchie later spent a couple decades playing Phil Carey’s son on the soap opera One Life to Live.

Lynne Marta, who plays Duvall’s rather giddy mistress, who finds herself attracted to Joe, just passed away in January 2024, at the age 78. Marta was part of a sad story in Hollywood history, providing eyewitness testimony on the shooting death of her friend, actress Rebecca Schaeffer, in 1989.

The Joe Kidd musical score was composed by Lalo Schifrin.

Joe Kidd is a solid mid-range Western with a number of positive things to offer, including good performances, excellent locations, and connections to Westerns past. I found it worthwhile, and seeing it encouraged me to continue digging deeper into Eastwood’s Westerns.

I watched this film on an attractive Universal Pictures Blu-ray released in 2018. The disc had English subtitles but no extras. Two years later the movie was released as a Kino Lorber Special Edition Blu-ray with a commentary track and an interview with cast member Don Stroud.

…

– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

Posted in Films, Posts by Laura Grieve, Western RoundUp | Tagged alabama hills, bruce surtees, chuck hayward, Clint Eastwood, dick van patten, don stroud, elmore leonard, gregory walcott, Joe Kidd, john saxon, John Sturges, lalo schifrin, lynne marta, robert duvall, the tall t | 3 Comments

Classic Movie Travels: Jean Darling

Posted on February 25, 2024 by Annette Bochenek

Classic Movie Travels: Jean Darling

Dorothy Jean LeVake was born on August 23, 1922, in Santa Monica, California, to Rollin Darling and Dorothy Hamilton. Her name was changed to Jean Darling at five months old when her mother and father separated. By the next month, she began appearing in films fulfilling baby roles. In 1926, she performed in a screen test for the Our Gang series, working in 46 silent featurettes and five silent featurettes for the series. Her tenure with the series ended in 1929.

As the years went on, Darling worked in other film roles. She attended the Lawlor Professional School for young performers in Los Angeles, California. Darling appeared uncredited in the Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy film Babes in Toyland (1934) and as the young Jane Eyre in Jane Eyre (1934). She also maintained a rigorous schedule at the age of 14, performing as many as seven shows a day on radio and the stage in addition to keeping up with her studies.

In 1940, she studied voice and was awarded a scholarship by the New York Municipal Opera Association. After turning down a film role in MGM’s Andy Hardy series, Darling debuted on Broadway as part of the 1942 production of Count Me In. Her stage career thrived when she appeared in the original Broadway production of Carousel in 1945 as Carrie Pipperidge, working in 850 performances of the show.

In the 1950s, she was actively working on radio and television, hosting an NBC New York City television show called A Date with Jean Darling. She also had a show called The Singing Knit-Witch which aired in Hollywood.

On June 14, 1954, she married Reuben Bowen, who worked under the stage name of Kajar the Magician. Darling assisted him with his magic act, singing songs and touring with him internationally. The duo appeared in the May 23, 1955, issue of Look Magazine with Kajar performing a levitation illusion with Darling. She was also photographed visiting the set of the children’s television show Clubhouse Gang, where she is signing autographs for children. She and Bowen had a son named Roy Hamilton-Bowen. She and Bowen ultimately separated in the 1970s.

In 1974, Darling moved to Dublin, Ireland. There, she wrote mystery stories, with over 50 of them published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and Whispers. She also took on the persona of “Aunt Poppy,” reading her stories on Irish public radio and television. Additionally, she enjoyed writing radio plays and journalistic writing.

Over the years, Darling gave interviews about her career and time working for Hal Roach and appeared in documentaries on the subject, even attending conventions and film festivals as a special guest. She published her first book of memoirs A Peek at the Past in 1994. Her second memoir, Buttercakes and Banana Oil, was released in 2008. Her final acting role was in The Butler’s Tale (2013), a silent comedy short.

Darling later moved with her son to Rodgau, Germany. She passed away in a Rödermark, Germany, nursing home from a lung ailment on September 4, 2015, at age 93.

Darling was buried at Dudenhofen Friedhof, located in Dudenhofen, Kreis Offenbach, Hessen, Germany. Her epitaph translates to “A star so near and yet so far.”

Today, there are some extant point of interest in relation to Darling’s life.

In 1930, she and her mother resided at 7196 Woodrow Wilson Dr., Los Angeles, California. The home remains.

Jean Darling 7196 Woodrow Wilson Dr., Los Angeles, California — 7196 Woodrow Wilson Dr., Los Angeles, California

Her home in Ireland stands at 294 S. Circular Rd., Dublin, Ireland.

Jean Darling 294 S. Circular Rd., Dublin, Ireland — 294 S. Circular Rd., Dublin, Ireland

…

–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

Annette Bochenek pens our monthly Classic Movie Travels column. You can read all of Annette’s Classic Movie Travel articles here.

Posted in Child Stars, Classic Movie Travels, Posts by Annette Bochenek | Tagged Jean Darling, Our Gang | Leave a comment

Silents are Golden: Fresh From The Vaudeville Stage: Buster Keaton Joins The Movies

Posted on February 22, 2024 by Lea Stans

Buster Keaton Joins The Movies

Even compared to his fellow stars, Buster Keaton’s early life was uniquely colorful. Born to medicine show performers in 1895 and first appearing onstage when he was barely old enough to walk, he became the star of his family’s vaudeville act when he was a child, made a savvy move to films by his early twenties, and directed and starred in some of the finest comedies of the 1920s. The story of why he left the stage for motion pictures reminds us what a vast, busy, and colorful world of entertainment there was in the early 20th century, and how it proved to be an invaluable training ground.

An ad for The Three Keatons vaudeville act.

Keaton’s earliest days are a bit shrouded in myths and legends–some that were admittedly helped along by his irrepressible father Joe. Joe and Myra Keaton were both traveling performers and worked for medicine shows like the Umatilla Indian Medicine Company, just managing to earn a meager living. Joseph Frank “Buster” Keaton was born on a night they happened to be stopping in little Piqua, Kansas for a week’s worth of shows. Various stories have circulated about the“Buster” nickname (one even said it was bestowed by Harry Houdini himself), but it likely came from an English comedian named George A. Pardey, who saw baby Buster fall down a flight of stairs and exclaimed, ”He’s a regular buster!”

Practically since the day he was born, Buster and his parents were on the move as the medicine shows traveled from town to town throughout the Midwest. Joe and Myra specialized in song, dance and comic routines, with rubber-limbed Joe also performing acrobatic tricks. Baby Buster was a ball of energy, and it wasn’t long before he was crawling around on the ramshackle wooden stages–often in the middle of his parents’ performances. By the late 1890s, Joe had figured out how to make Buster part of the Keatons’ act, usually by dressing him in costumes that were a diminutive version of his own. He quickly became a hit with audiences and Joe would claim he could do a whole act by himself at only three years old.

With their precocious son in tow, the Keatons worked their way up into the thriving world of vaudeville. Vaudeville shows were the most popular form of family entertainment in America at the time and featured a seemingly endless variety of acts that changed every week in hundreds of busy theaters. Buster’s childhood was spent in a whirlwind of singing, dancing, recitations, stage magic, trained animals, clowns, contortionists, comedians–even guys who swallowed and regurgitated live goldfish.

The Three Keatons, as they called themselves, were very popular, specializing in comedy with plenty of wild slapstick. Their act usually capitalized on the common trope of the mischievous boy “pulling one over” on his pa, with little Buster gleefully antagonizing Joe until he gets punted like a football. (Handles were sewn into the back of his jackets to make the tossing easier.) Buster not only had a natural knack for performing pratfalls, but he quickly learned that audiences laughed the most when he kept a straight face through all the mayhem–the famed “stoneface” he’s still known for today.

By the time Buster was in his teens, the Keatons had more of a general roughhouse act, with Buster and Joe squaring off against each other (usually while wielding brooms) while Myra tended to play the saxophone (a comically large instrument for the diminutive gal). By now there were also two younger siblings, Harry and Louise, who sometimes appeared in the act, although they were eventually put into boarding school during the busy theater seasons. Buster would remember fondly how perfectly they all timed their various gags and jokes, and how they knew exactly when the audience would laugh.

A wonderful photo of the Keatons circa 1916, with Buster’s inscriptions.

This made it alarming when Joe’s temperament began to change. He started drinking heavily, which Myra would explain as “Some can take getting old, some can’t.” A feud with a theater owner led the Keatons to doing three-a-day shows at a less prestigious chain. Once Joe starting taking out his frustrations on Buster onstage, it was clear that the act wouldn’t be able to continue much longer.

Fortunately other changes were in the air, too. Motion pictures, which had frequently played as a part of vaudeville programs, were now wildly popular and movie houses were beginning to take the place of regular theaters. Charlie Chaplin was becoming the biggest star in the world, and everyone was familiar with Mack Sennett’s zany Keystone comedies. Buster himself was definitely a fan of the movies–he recalled seeing Tillie’s Punctured Romance (1914) and Intolerance (1916) multiple times. Little did he know at the time that a new future was just over the horizon.

By 1916 Buster officially broke up the act, a difficult move for a family as close as the Keatons. Now the sole breadwinner, he decided to find work on Broadway. He was signed for the extravagant revue The Passing Show of 1917, but as luck would have it, he also got an opportunity to tour Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle’s Comique film studio. Some sources say Buster ran into vaudevillian Lou Anger on the street, others say it was manager Joe Schenck or even Arbuckle himself. Whatever the case, he showed up at the bustling studio at East Forty-Eighth Street and instantly took a liking to both the friendly Arbuckle and the filmmaking process itself.

As Buster recalled, it was the mystery of the camera itself that attracted him the most. Having taken in the wonder of moving images his whole life, he was dying to know just how the machine worked, from the turn of the crank right down to the editing process. Arbuckle not only took a camera apart for him, but allowed him to take it to his hotel for further tinkering.

Excited that he knew the secrets of that camera at last, Buster was equally excited about its possibilities–how desert scenes could be filmed in actual deserts, and seaside scenes at actual seashores. The limitations of the stage were gone, and the infinite possibilities of the motion picture camera were balanced by the stable nature of the film studio itself. “One feature of the films did appeal to me,” Buster remembered, “ and that was that it would mean staying in one place for awhile.”

Buster on the right on his first day of filming.

And thus on the morning of March 19, 1917, Buster Keaton returned to the Comique studio and filmed a lengthy comic sequence with Arbuckle involving a can of gooey molasses. Thanks to his decades of vaudeville experience, the sequence was flawless–and he was sold. He would quit The Passing Show, sign on with Arbuckle, act in over a dozen Comique shorts and finally make the leap to having his own studio. In a sense, filmmaking would be an extension of the comedic skills and timing he had perfected on the vaudeville stage, a training ground the likes of which many performers may never see again.

…

–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Lea’s Silents are Golden articles here.

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Posted in Posts by Lea Stans, Silent Films, Silents are Golden | Tagged Buster Keaton | Leave a comment

Noir Nook: 75th Anniversary Noir – 2024 Edition

Posted on February 15, 2024 by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

Noir Nook: 75th Anniversary Noir – 2024 Edition

It has become my tradition around these parts each year to celebrate the 75th anniversary release of some of film noir’s many first-rate offerings. And this year is no different!

There were a number of outstanding noirs released in 1949, including Act of Violence, House of Strangers, and White Heat, but I’m shining the spotlight on four films that are not only great features from that year, but some of my favorites overall; each of these are films that I’ve seen over and over (and over) again – and will doubtlessly continue to rewatch every chance I get.

Criss Cross

My list of favorite noirs may vary as the years go by, but no matter how many lists I compile, Criss Cross is a sure bet to make an appearance every time. It stars Burt Lancaster as Steve Thompson, who proves that you can go home again – but maybe you shouldn’t. When he does, he reunites with ex-wife Anna (Yvonne DeCarlo), and finds himself embroiled in a variety of noirish behaviors, from mendacity to larceny – and, of course, the betrayal referenced in the film’s title. The cast also includes Dan Duryea as Slim Dundee, the coolest, scariest hood you’ll ever want to encounter.

Criss Cross ticks off some of noir’s most familiar boxes: femme fatale, hapless anti-hero, flashbacks, voiceover narration, painterly use of light and shadow. And it has an absolutely perfect ending. To me, it’s pretty perfect from start to finish.

Favorite quote:

“A man eats an apple. He gets a piece of the core stuck between his teeth. He tries to work it out with some cellophane from a cigarette pack. What happens? The cellophane gets stuck in there too. Anna? What was the use? I knew that somehow I’d wind up seeing her that night.” – Steve Thompson (Burt Lancaster)

…..

Tension

This feature serves up a unique opening, with star Barry Sullivan, as police Lt. Detective Collier Bonnabel (one of my all-time favorite noir monikers), demonstrating to viewers with a rubber band his contention that tension is the “only thing that breaks cases wide open.” The case in point involves Claire Quimby (Audrey Totter), a two-timing dame if ever there was one, her unassuming pharmacist husband, Warren (Richard Basehart), and Claire’s well-heeled boy-toy (Lloyd Gough), who turns up very dead.

There’s a lot to love about this film. First off, Totter turns in one of my favorite performances as the oh-so-nasty Claire. The cast includes noir vet William Conrad as Bonnabel’s crime-fighting partner, “Blackie” Gonsales, and in a rare non-dancing role, Cyd Charisse. And, best of all, the plot features an unusual twist that’s different from anything I’ve seen in noir.

Favorite quote:

“It was different in San Diego – you were kind of cute in your uniform. You were full of laughs then. Well, you’re all laughed-out now.” – Claire Quimby (Audrey Totter)

…..

Too Late for Tears

Lizabeth Scott and Arthur Kennedy, Two Late for Tears

Lizabeth Scott is Jane Palmer, a middle-class housewife whose longing to “keep up with the Joneses” becomes her undoing. The film’s action kicks off when a satchel full of cash is mistakenly tossed into the Palmers’ car while Jane and her husband, Alan (Arthur Kennedy), are driving through the Hollywood Hills. Alan insists on turning in the money to the authorities, but Jane is just as insistent (actually, more so) on keeping it. And there’s nothing she won’t do to make sure she does.

For my money, this was the best role of Lizabeth Scott’s career – one minute, she’s vulnerable and sympathetic, the next, she’s cold-bloodedly resolute. You won’t be able to take your eyes off of her. And, once again, just to kick things into high gear, Dan Duryea is on hand, playing the rightful owner of the money in the satchel and gifting us with some of the film’s best lines. Like the one below . . .

Favorite quote:

“You know, honey, you’ve got quite a flair. I like you. Too bad you’re a chiseler.” – Danny Fuller (Dan Duryea)

…..

The Set-Up

A noir centered around the world of boxing, The Set-Up stars Robert Ryan as Stoker Thompson, an aging boxer who is – according to his devoted but increasingly disillusioned wife, Julie (Audrey Totter) – always “just one punch away” from getting a shot at the title. The film takes place in real time, depicting a single night at the Paradise City boxing arena, where Stoker is preparing for a bout that he feels certain to win. What he doesn’t know is that his manager (Geroge Tobias) has accepted a payoff from a local gangster to ensure that Stoker will take a dive.

There are several first-rate boxing noirs, but The Set-Up is at the top of the list for me. The film’s examination of the various characters is simply outstanding – we see Stoker’s unflagging self-confidence and refusal to concede defeat; Julie’s struggle to continue supporting her husband; the disloyalty of Stoker’s manager; and the varying experiences of Stoker’s fellow boxers, including a nervous newcomer preparing for his first fight and a past-his-prime old-timer who is knocked unconscious during his bout. We even, however briefly, get to know several members of the crowd, from the blind man who has a friend describing each fight, to the woman who at first claims to be squeamish but is later seen screaming, “Let’s have some action!”

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