Silents are Golden: What Were Films Like in The Nickelodeon Era?
We’re all at least somewhat familiar with nickelodeons, the tiny 1900s-era theaters where patrons paid a nickel each to watch some films. And we all know that these quaint little storefronts evolved into the familiar neighborhood theaters and big city “movie palaces.” But not everyone knows exactly what nickelodeon-era motion pictures were like, at least beyond the usual Méliès films, clips of ladies dancing, and famous early works like The Great Train Robbery(1903).
A typical neighborhood nickelodeon.
Many nickelodeon films had originally played
in traveling picture shows, the humble ancestor of the “movie house” era.
Traveling from town to town armed with films, slides, and projectors,
neatly-dressed entertainers would set up shop in a school, church, or even a
tent and sell tickets for an evening’s worth of entertainment. Many of the
films they showed would also end up in nickelodeons, mixed in with the newer
films that were being churned out like crazy to meet the public demand.
So if you could travel over a century back in
time and pop into the nearest nickelodeon, what films were you likely to see?
The subjects were as endless back then as they are on YouTube today–everything
from travelogs to comedies to military films to, yes, films of funny animals.
Heroic animals too, as in Rescued by Rover (1905).
The majority of 1900s films have disappeared, but fortunately, some catalogs of rental films survive. These include descriptions of the films and their lengths–that is, the lengths of the physical strips of films themselves. (Being an era of rampant copyright infringement, dates were seldom included.) A minute’s worth of film was about 100 feet long, and a standard reel of film was 1000 feet or about ten minutes. Many films at the time were under 500 feet long or even less than 100. So for every 10-minute single-reel production, you could find a few dozen little films like the popular The Whole Dam Family and the Dam Dog (1905), which was 300 feet, or The Four Troublesome Heads (1898), which ran about 75 feet.
The Four Troublesome Heads (1904)
The largest group of films fell under the “comic” label. Many of the titles are pretty self-explanatory: How Mike Got the Soap in His Eyes (1903), Firing the Cook (1903), Lady Plumpton’s Motor Car (1904), The Bull and the Picnickers (1902). A number of very short films simply illustrated old jokes, like How Bridget Served the Salad Undressed (1898), a 28-foot film showing how a maid “mistakes the order and brings in the salad in a state of dishabille hardly allowable in polite society.” There were even riffs on well-known films, like Something Good–Negro Kiss (1898), described as a “burlesque on the John Rice and May Irwin Kiss” (this film was rediscovered only a couple of years ago).
Something Good–Negro Kiss (1898)
Popular comic situations included clashes between maids and cooks, run-ins with tramps, dignified ladies and gentlemen in undignified situations, romantic rivalries, and sometimes ladies getting back at annoying suitors. One popular film was The Insurance Collector (1903), showing the titular character attempting to woo a woman’s pretty daughter, who “rejects the collector’s advance and shoves him into the [wash] tub, where he flounders while the two women douse him with water.” Another very popular comic genre revolved around the “bad boy” or “Mischievous Willie” character, already familiar from comic strips. These mischievous boys were always playing rather violent pranks on their elders. In Tommy’s Trick on Grandpa (1900), “Tommy has filled his grandpa’s big Dutch pipe with powder, and the old gentleman sits down to the enjoy his evening smoke. A terrific explosion occurs.” Similarly, A Ringer Joke on His Pa (date unknown) involved the “Bad Boy” tying a cord to his napping father’s chair and attaching the other end to a clothes wringer. When the mother starts wringing out the laundry the dad’s chair tips over. Doubtless, these simple films were geared towards the delighted kids in the audience.
Kids at the movie theater (circa 1923).
Many other comic films were unapologetically
surreal, like A Jersey Skeeter (1900)
which showed a giant mosquito trying to bite a farmer, “and after sharpening
its bill on his grindstone, seizes the farmer by the seat of his trousers and
carries him away.” Others, like Michael
Casey and the Steam Roller (1902), make
you wonder what kind of primitive effects were involved: “The engineer does not
see him, and the great machine weighing several tons passes over his body,
flattening it out like a piece of sole leather. Other workmen rush to the
rescue and discover Casey in his flattened condition, and about twice his
normal length…One of the workmen procures a barrel, and standing upon it he
pounds Casey upon the head with a great mallet until he has driven him down to
his proper height and circumference.”
Non-comic genres were common too, of course, especially travel films with such varying locations as Panorama of “Miles Canyon” (1903), Fijian Fire Walk or Fire Dance (date unknown), Niagara Falls in Winter (date unknown), or From Monte Carlo to Monaco (1902). Even mundane scenes were interesting since they showed bits of life in exotic locations, such as Street Cleaning in Porto Rico (date unknown) or A Ferry in the Far East (1904), which showed how “unlike other ferries, the Eastern people hung an immense raft on cables across the stream and the raft is pulled across.”
From Monte Carlo to Monaco (1902)
Shots of naval ships and military drills were also standard fare at nickelodeons, as were recreations of various battles. These recreations sound pretty modest today, although they were thrilling at the time. The popular Advance of Kansas Volunteers, Caloocan (1899) showed U.S. troops in the midst of a battle: “This is one of the best battle pictures ever made. The first firing is done directly toward the front of the picture, and the advance of U.S. troops apparently through the screen is very exciting; the gradual disappearance of the fighters sustaining the interest to the end.” Advance was a mere 60 feet long!
Advance of Kansas Volunteers, Caloocan (1899)
There were several other popular genres in the
nickelodeon era, of course, including the religious genre and one intriguingly
called “mysterious.” I’ll be covering them more in next month’s post–stay
tuned!
–
Information on the films in this article is from historian Darren Nemeth’s reprint of the 1907 Chicago Projecting Co’s Entertainer’s Supplies Catalog No. 22, a very rare catalog from his collection. It’s a wealth of information for anyone interested in the very early days of film and is highly recommended! IMDb.com and loc.gov were also consulted to help figure out the dates of the films. Some films may have been released under different names, making it difficult to determine the year.
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.
Like many classic movie fans, I just love discovering interesting connections and fun little tidbits of trivia while watching my classic movie favorites. That said, I’ll be sharing some quick and fun facts about Father’s Little Dividend 🙂 .
Father’s Little Dividend (1951), directed by Vicente Minnelli, Starring Spencer Tracy, Joan Bennett and Elizabeth Taylor
…..
1) Yes, we all know it’s a sequel, but…
I would imagine that – given we’re all classic movie fans here – we already know that Father’s Little Dividend was the sequel to 1950’s Father of the Bride (incidentally one of the year’s top-grossing films). But perhaps we all didn’t know that ‘Dividend’ was also very well received by audiences and critics alike, and financially successful to boot.
To quote the original New York Times review from April 13, 1951:
“It is not very often that the sequel to a successful film turns out to be even half as successful or rewarding as the original picture was. But we’ve got to hand it to Metro: its sequel to “Father of the Bride” is so close that we’ll willingly concede it to the humor and charm of that former film.”
…..
Joan Bennett, Elizabeth Taylor, Don Taylor and baby Donald Clark
2) Mother and daughter share a birthday
Joan Bennett and Elizabeth Taylor, who play mother Ellie Banks and daughter Kay respectively, were both born on February 27 — although 22 years apart, with Joan being the elder (of course). Joan and Liz also have another classic movie connection in that they both played youngest sister Amy in Little Women (Joan in 1933 and Liz in 1949).
…..
Glinda the Good Witch 🙂
3) The Good Witch and the Magic Mirror
Billie Burke and Moroni Olsen play Doris and Herbert Dunstan (father-to-be Buckley’s parents). Burke appeared in so many delightful classics from Topper to The Man who Came to Dinner, but she is probably best remembered for her iconic role as Glinda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz. Moroni, on the other hand, might not be so well recognized, but you can hear his booming voice as the Magic Mirror in Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) and as Senior Angel #1 in It’s a Wonderful Life.
Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee. -Moroni Olsen as the Magic Mirror in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Clarence, you do a good job with George Bailey and you will get your wings. -Moroni Olsen as Senior Angel in It’s a Wonderful Life
…..
Russ Tamblyn, West Side Story
4) Dancing Younger Brother
Kay’s younger brother Tommy is played by Russ Tamblyn, who later went on to dance as brother Gideon in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954), and Riff, the leader of the Jets, in West Side Story (1961)! If musicals are not your ‘thing,’ you may remember Russ as Luke Sanderson in The Haunting (1963). P.S. Russ Tamblyn’s daughter is actress Amber Tamblyn (The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants).
…..
5) Spencer Tracy and Milwaukee
So, how could I do a post about Father’s Little Dividend and leave out Spencer Tracy, who plays Liz’s dad, Stanley Banks? Well, I can’t. That said, did you know that you can visit some sites in Spencer’s birth town, Milwaukee? You can read about them here.
…..
Well, those were my five facts, but here are a few extra bonuses, for those so inclined 🙂
Creature Feature Fans owe a Debt to ‘The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms’
With its thick legs, protective scales, spiked back and laser-sharp teeth, the 200-foot-long fictional Rhedosaurus is a terrifying creature.
As the title character of The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953), it carries one of the most entertaining and important films in horror/sci-fi history.
How important? It’s the film that laid the groundwork for the creature features, big bug and B-movies that defined the 1950s and inspired films for decades (and me for life).Them!, Tarantula and evenGodzilla may never have been made without Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.
A glorious shot of the 200-foot-long lizard-like creature in The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.
That’s why this story about The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms will focus more on those accomplishments and other interesting facts than it will about the film plot. Oh, we’ll share how the beast was rudely awakened by a darn atomic blast, then traveled along the Arctic current to Canada and down the East Coast of the U.S. How it crushed lighthouses and boats; destroyed entire city blocks and left a trail of contaminated blood that was lethal to humans. And finally, how the wild ride ends on an amusement park roller coaster.
But first, here’s what we owe to The Beast from 20,000
Fathoms.
The success of The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms gave Ray Harryhausen the chance to create unforgettable creatures and characters like the living skeleton from The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad and Jason and the Argonauts.
THE LEGACY
It lifted Ray Harryhausen into the spotlight
The film was the first solo feature by stop-motion animation wizard Ray Harryhausen, finally bringing him out of the shadows of being an apprentice and assistant to start his path as the groundbreaking “auteur” we consider him as today. The success of this film gave Harryhausen the credibility to create more amazing creatures in a string of movies including It Came from Beneath the Sea (1955) with its giant octopus, 20 Million Miles to Earth (1957) and its Ymir from Venus, and The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) and a delightful array of creatures including the Cyclops and the unforgettable Skeleton army.
It Came From Beneath the Sea is one of the films made following the success Ray Harryhausen had with The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.
Beastly genres, themes
It revitalized one monster theme and led to the creation of a new genre.
The “monster on a rampage” was popularized by King Kong (1933), the movie that inspired a young Harryhausen to create his own monsters. Twenty years later, Beast revived the theme and inspired one of the greatest creatures in cinema, Godzilla. That film’s original title was The Giant Monster from 20,000 Miles Under the Sea and Harryhausen, it is well documented, was not happy and considered Godzilla a rip-off of his movie. The rampaging beast was such a popular subject, that even Beast’s director Eugene Lourie would reluctantly go on to make two other similar movies, The Giant Behemoth and Gorgo.
The idea that the Rhedosaurus was awakened from its lengthy slumber by nuclear testing was so popular that it led many, including its producers Jack Dietz and Hal E. Chester, to research similar ideas for movies. Within a year they came up with a doozy – Them! That 1955 film about ants made gigantic from atomic testing started the big-bug film craze and remains one of the finest examples of the genre today. The effects of nuclear testing brought horrific results on people, too, from small ways (The Incredible Shrinking Man) to big (The Amazing Colossal Man). Double the movie fun by combining those themes in films like It Came from Beneath the Sea,The Beginning of the EndandAttack of the Crab Monsters.
Technology Ray Harryhausen created for the film allows the monster to look like it’s walking among people.
The creation of Dynamation
On Beast, Harryhausen created a process he would later call “Dynamation” that, in overly simplified terms, used rear-screen projection to help combine stop-motion animation and live action footage. The result would be the appearance that a creature and actor were interacting in the same place. He would continue to use this process to great effect in at least 15 movies including Mysterious Island (think of the great fight between the castaways and the giant crab) and Clash of the Titans.
THE MOVIE
The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms opens with the ubiquitous voice-over narration that accompanies many 1950s sci-fi movies. We are introduced to “Operation Experiment,” the code name for a secret base set up north of the Arctic Circle.
Two months of preparations have led to this day – X-Day, which is counted down in the film’s early minutes. (“H-R minus 52 minutes,” the narrator says in a bland but super serious voice.
A plane is on the way on a mission where, “There can be no
margin for error. There can be no second chances.”
The seconds count down: 10, 9, 8 …. Then a giant explosion.
Glaciers fall, ice chunks crash in the water and then, worst of all, a mushroom
cloud appears. The images are terrifying.
Then something strange appears on the radar screen – a foreign object that disappears quickly and is brushed aside just as fast.
An atomic explosion frees the title character of The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms who been frozen in suspended animation.
A team led by professor and physicist Tom Nesbitt (played by
Paul Christian) and George Ritchie (Ross Elliott) goes out to check an
observation point. A blizzard moves in fast and cuts the trip short, but not
before George see the terror that Operation Experiment has uncovered – a
200-foot-long dinosaur – and falls into a crevice a few feet deep. Tom arrives
to help and sees the dino before he’s injured by an avalanche that kills
George.
From here, Tom will be the familiar character no one
believes.
Not the people at the base who hear him mutter “the monster,
the monster.”
Not the psychiatrist in the big city who tells him his
visions are from the shock of seeing a friend die.
Not even his friend Col. John Evans (Kenneth Tobey) who was with him as part of “Operation Experiment” but says his investigation into the “monster” didn’t yield even a footprint.
That’s a lot of people who don’t believe Tom and he’s almost ready to give up until he learns a ship has been attacked by a giant creature.
It’s always good to see Cecil Kellaway’s familiar face in a movie.
He visits famed paleontologist Dr. Thurgood Elson (played by wonderful character actor Cecil Kellaway) for help, but even the kind doctor can’t believe a 100-million-year-old dinosaur is alive.
Tom even uses the doctor’s own theories about the Mesozoic age turning to ice to ask him: “Couldn’t an animal have been caught in the ice and the bomb heat melted it?”
No, the good doctor still can’t buy it.
But his smart assistant Lee Ryan (Paula Raymond), who is familiar with Tom’s work, thinks he could be on to something. A second account of a sea monster finds Tom and Lee researching the possibilities over crustless sandwiches and coffee in dainty cups in her apartment as they peruse dinosaur pictures. (It is such an idyllic scene.)
Over coffee and crustless sandwiches, professor Tom Nesbitt (played by Paul Christian) and paleontology assistant Lee Ryan (Paula Raymond) scour dinosaur drawings to identify an on-the-loose prehistoric creature.
Finally Tom spots the monster of his nightmares in one of the drawings and once it is corroborated by a survivor of a boat attack, he is finally believed.
The hunt is on.
Tracking the sightings, Dr. Elson believes the creature is heading to the Hudson River, the area where the only Rhedosaurus fossils had been found. He goes down in a small undersea “bell” to find evidence of the creature which he (sadly) does, marveling “It’s tremendous” when he sees it.
On land, the army is no match for the beast. Bullets can’t penetrate the thick scales on its body and they can’t allow its contaminated blood to get into the atmosphere. Good thing Professor Tom has a plan. All he needs are radioactive isotopes and a roller coaster to carry us along to the end of this beastly ride.
THE BRADBURY CONNECTION
Today, we know The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms as a
film.
But in 1951, that was the title for a short story published in the Saturday Evening Post by master science-fiction author Ray Bradbury. It’s a sad, forlorn story of a prehistoric sea creature, the last of its kind, that takes an arduous, months-long journey toward a sound in hopes of finding a similar creature. Instead, it’s the fog horn of a lighthouse and the creature physically unleashes its pain.
Soon after, Bradbury was asked to look over a script for a movie his friend Ray Harryhausen was working on that was called Monster from Beneath the Sea. Bradbury immediately noticed a similar scene between the two of a sea beast destroying a lighthouse. The studio bought the rights to his story and changed the title of the film. Bradbury’s original short story would be republished under the name of The Fog Horn.
The movie’s trailer acknowledges this relationship as it touts “The importance and impact of the Saturday Evening Post thriller.”
TRIVIA
There is much fun trivia about this film.
The “dinosaur bones” from Bringing Up Baby were brought out of retirement to be used in The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms starring Paul Christian, left, and Cecil Kellaway.
* If that impressive dinosaur skeleton at the university looks familiar, there’s a reason: Those fake dinosaur bones were originally used in the comedy Bringing Up Baby (1938) and were brought out of storage for the new role.
Also repurposed: Avalanche footage from She (1935)
was used in the opening sequences.
One of the real dinosaur drawings by famed artist Charles R. Knight used in the film.
* The dinosaur drawings that Tom and Lee look over in her apartment are by Charles R. Knight, a paleoartist known for his work on dinosaurs and an inspiration to Harryhausen.
* The film has two connections to the great classic horror film, The Thing (1951): the use of its arctic station set and Kenneth Tobey, who starred in both movies.
You may recognize Lee Van Cleef, left, who shows up late in The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms as a military sharpshooter. Actor Paul Christian is to the right.
* A youthful Lee Van Cleef plays Corp. Stone, the sharpshooter who helps Tom fire a radioactive isotope at the beast.
* The trailer features actress Vera Miles who does not appear in the film, but warns us “Who knows what waits for us in nature’s no man’s land.”
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
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.
Noir Nook: Five Things I Love About Odds Against Tomorrow (1959)
Odds Against Tomorrow (1959)
If you’ve read my past posts here at the Noir Nook, you might know that I’ve been participating the last few years in a film group that meets virtually once a week to talk about classic movies available on YouTube. In a recent meeting, we discussed the 1959 noir Odds Against Tomorrow, starring Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan, and Ed Begley. The plot is a simple one; former cop Dave Burke (Begley) plans a bank robbery and hires two men, ex-con Earle Slater (Ryan) and musician Johnny Ingram (Belafonte) to help him carry it out. Each of the men harbor their own desperate reasons for agreeing to participate in the scheme, but the relatively uncomplicated plan is made more tenuous because of the seething racial tensions between Slater, who is white, and Ingram, who‘s black. This being noir, and in the tradition of such predecessors as The Asphalt Jungle (1950), The Killing (1956), and Rififi(1955), you can reasonably expect that, despite the well-laid plan, things won’t exactly turn out the way they’re designed.
Because of the
dark and sometimes unpleasant nature of Odds Against Tomorrow, several
participants in the movie discussion group admitted that they didn’t plan on any
repeat viewings. But one member said she’d seen it numerous times – and would
gladly welcome the opportunity to see it again. I’m with her – the more I see Odds
Against Tomorrow, the more I love it, and this month’s Noir Nook is
dedicated to the top five reasons why.
The
On-Location Shooting
The gritty realism of the film is heightened by the location shooting in New York. The action begins on a rain-swept, trash-laden gutter on West 143rd Street, where Robert Ryan passes by the Norcit Hotel, which was an actual New York hotel at the time. Another scene briefly shows the Majestic, a landmark apartment building located on Central Park West that was once the home of such luminaries as Milton Berle and Walter Winchell. Other scenes are shot in front of an apartment building on East 26th Street, and at the carousel, the Wollman ice skating rink, and the zoo in Central Park. And to serve as the city of Melton, where the heist took place, scenes were shot in Hudson, located in upstate New York.
The Music
The film’s
score is strictly cool jazz – the kind of music that evokes dark, windowless
nightclubs filled with smoke and perfume, punctuated by the tinkling sounds of
ice in a glass of scotch. It was composed by John Lewis, who was the founder
and musical director of the famed Modern Jazz Quartet. And the movie includes
two singing numbers that will have you patting your feet and wishing you had
them on a CD – My Baby’s Not Around, sung by Harry Belafonte, and All
Men Are Evil, sung by Mae Barnes (who, incidentally, is credited with
introducing the popular Charleston dance to Broadway in the early 1920s in the
all-black revue Running’ Wild).
Ed Begley, Robert Ryan, and Harry Belafonte
The Characters
Odds Against Tomorrow’s characters are endlessly fascinating to me – they include Shelley Winters as Earle’s girlfriend and Gloria Grahame as their too-hot-too-trot neighbor – but Johnny and Earle are especially complicated and intriguing. Johnny suffers from a gambling addiction; even though he’s thousands of dollars in debt, he can’t stay away from the racetrack. He has a beautiful girlfriend who he neglects, a daughter he adores, and an ex-wife he’s still in love with. And Earle, who clearly demonstrates his bigotry in the film’s very first scene, alternately clings to his wife (Shelley Winters) with childlike neediness, treats her with contempt, or desperately strives to be the family’s breadwinner by any means necessary. These are interesting, fully formed characters who vacillate between earning your sympathy and securing your disdain.
Gloria Grahame and Robert Ryan
The Familiar
Faces
Speaking of characters, numerous characters in the film are played by actors and actresses who are recognizable from other films or TV shows – I love spotting them in this vehicle before they became better known. Making his film debut, there’s Wayne Rogers, of TV’s MASH fame, playing a soldier who has an unexpected encounter with Earle in a bar. And Zohra Lampert, as the soldier’s girlfriend; I remember her best in her role as Warren Beatty’s wife in Splendor in the Grass. An elevator operator is played by Mel Stewart, who was George Jefferson’s brother on All in the Family and had a recurring role on the 1980s TV series Scarecrow and Mrs. King. James Earl Jones’s father, Robert, is seen slipping a gun to Johnny in a nightclub; he played the ill-fated mentor of Robert Redford in The Sting (1973). Barney Martin, who played Jerry’s father on Seinfeld, can be seen for a couple of seconds as the driver of a car who gets into an accident in Melton. And in her second big-screen appearance, Cicely Tyson has a few lines as a nightclub bartender.
Robert Ryan
The Ending
I don’t want to
spoil the film’s conclusion, but let’s just say it ends with a bang and not a
whimper, capped off by a line that’s fairly brimming with irony and serves as
the absolutely perfect noir finish.
Odds Against
Tomorrow can be found for free on YouTube – if you’ve never seen it, do
yourself a favor and check it out. And if you love this gem as much I do, treat
yourself to a rewatch.
You won’t be sorry.
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
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:
Adapted from the 1945 bestseller by Betty MacDonald, The Egg and I (1947) depicts the misadventures of newlywed couple Betty and Bob (Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray) as they struggle to transform a dilapidated farm into a successful chicken business. It’s a very funny, if problematic, comedy about city people who move to the country without knowing anything about rural life, much less the isolation and hardship of farming, and it inspired the same plot for the classic TV series Green Acres. Like Green Acres, The Egg and I isn’t always fair in its depictions of the locals, but for rural people, there’s still a lot of humor in watching the clueless newcomers make all the obvious mistakes while assuming they know better than their neighbors. The Egg and I certainly has its flaws, but it also has more than enough going for it to hold modern viewers’ attention, even if they’ve never heard of MacDonald or her book.
Blissfully unaware of her future trials, Betty rides with Bob toward the remote farm he has bought without consulting her.
The imbalance of 1940s marriage is one issue that
rapidly becomes apparent. My family and I were barely five minutes into our
most recent viewing before we were shouting, “Divorce him!” at Colbert’s
character, Betty, whose husband informs her on their wedding night that he has
1) quit his job, 2) sunk all of their money in a remote farm, 3) decided to
take up chicken ranching, and 4) planned to start immediately. Betty gamely
agrees to this nonsense because she thinks it’s a wife’s duty to follow her
man, even when he could have brought this scheme up any time before she
went through with the wedding. An annulment would be perfectly reasonable, but
then we wouldn’t have a story. The alarm bells, however, keep ringing all
through the movie, and in spite of the film’s ending nobody who watches it will
be surprised to know that the real Betty MacDonald left her first husband, the
Bob on whom the character is based, after five years and moved back to the city
with their two young daughters. The movie obscures that element of the story by
using the first name of Betty’s first husband and the surname of her second,
whom she married in 1942, partly because Universal didn’t want to draw
attention to the divorce. For those interested in learning the messy,
unvarnished truth about MacDonald’s life, there’s Looking for Betty
MacDonald: The Egg, the Plague, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle and I, a 2017 biography
by Paula Becker, which charts the events that led to the book and movie
versions of The Egg and I as well as MacDonald’s life and work after
them.
Bob and Betty inspect the abandoned farmhouse that is supposed to be their home, even though it’s a wreck with a leaky roof and no running water.
Stars Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray manage to have ample romantic chemistry despite those ringing alarms, largely because their onscreen relationship lasted a lot longer than Betty MacDonald’s first marriage. The pair’s first film together was The Gilded Lily (1935), and they went on to costar in six more pictures, including The Bride Comes Home (1935), No Time for Love (1943), and Family Honeymoon (1949). The Egg and I was their sixth movie together and by far the best remembered today. As Betty and Bob, they have an easy rapport that keeps their scenes light and lively, especially in the funniest bits, most of which involve their novice efforts on the farm. Their romantic dinner date, when they dress up in their wedding clothes and imagine a night out on the town, is one of the movie’s sweetest scenes, interrupted as it is by the sour-faced Donald MacBride as Mr. Henty. The third act hurries over an important upset to their marital bliss and its resolution, but when they’re onscreen together they work really well.
Ma Kettle has trouble remembering the names of her many children, but she keeps them all fed and even invites Betty to join them.
As good as Colbert and MacMurray are together, the real stars of The Egg and I are Marjorie Main and Percy Kilbride as Ma and Pa Kettle. Main even earned an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress for her performance as the rough but kindly matriarch of the expansive Kettle clan, and the Kettles went on to star in their own series of films. The movie’s depiction of the family falls back on many negative stereotypes about poor rural farmers, including laziness, dirtiness, unchecked reproduction of children, lax parenting, and lack of ambition to do any better, but Marjorie Main in particular brilliantly transcends those stereotypes to create the warm, lovable, loyal character of Ma Kettle. Having grown up on a farm in rural Indiana, Main had a deep well of experience to draw on for Ma Kettle, even though she never had any children and eventually left the farm to graduate from Hamilton College when she was 19. I adore Marjorie Main in just about every role she plays, but her Ma Kettle is the lynchpin that makes this movie work. Overwhelmed as she is by her chaotic family, she manages to keep them all fed even if she can’t keep their names straight, and Main invests her with resolution, generosity, and clear-eyed practicality that cut through the clutter. It’s no wonder that audiences fell in love with Ma Kettle and wanted more stories about her and her rambunctious family. If you, too, fall for Ma’s eccentric charm, you can see more of her in the subsequent Ma and Pa Kettle films, including Ma and Pa Kettle (1949), Ma and Pa Kettle Go to Town (1950), Ma and Pa Kettle at Waikiki (1953), and The Kettles on Old MacDonald’s Farm (1957), but don’t miss Main’s other great performances in The Women (1939), Heaven Can Wait (1943), Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), and The Harvey Girls (1946).
Ma and Pa Kettle proved irresistible to audiences and went on to star in their own series of films, including Ma and Pa Kettle at Home (1954).
The Egg and I is also noteworthy for memorable supporting performances from Richard Long, Louise Allbritton, and Billy House, as well as a delightful appearance by Ida Moore as the little old lady who wanders into Betty’s kitchen. While it’s mostly acceptable for family viewing, be aware that it includes offensive caricatures of Native Americans. Chester Erskine only directed seven films in his career and was more prolific as a writer; in addition to directing The Egg and I, he also produced and wrote the screenplay. If you’re keen to see more comedy with Claudette Colbert, some of my favorites are It Happened One Night (1934), Midnight (1939), and The Palm Beach Story (1942). Fred MacMurray is best remembered now for his performance in the noir classic, Double Indemnity (1944), as well as his starring roles in live-action Disney films like The Shaggy Dog (1959), The Absent-Minded Professor (1961), and The Happiest Millionaire (1967), but his long-running role on the TV series My Three Sons (1960-1972) made him a television icon.
Classic Movie Travels: John Fiedler – Wisconsin and New Jersey
John Fiedler
A longtime actor, John Fiedler made his mark upon the stage, film, and radio, in addition to notably voicing the beloved Piglet in Disney’s Winnie the Pooh. Fiedler was born John Donald Fielder on February 3, 1925, in Platteville, Wisconsin, to beer salesman Donald Fiedler and wife Margaret. He also had a brother named James Fiedler. The family relocated to Shorewood, Wisconsin, in 1930, where Fiedler would continue his education and graduate from Shorewood High School in 1943.
After his graduation, Fiedler enlisted in the U.S. Navy and served through the end of World War II. Following his discharge, he pursued an acting career in Manhattan, appearing on radio in The Aldrich Family. He also carried out early television performances in the 1950s, namely portraying meek or nervous individuals. His film debut occurred in 12 Angry Men(1957), while a departure from his usual anxious roles would be in True Grit(1969) as a lawyer.
Glynn Turman, Sidney Poitier, and John Fielder in A Rasin in the Sun (1961)
Among his distinct performances in his participation as an original cast member of the stage play A Raisin in the Sun (1961), in which he portrayed a housing representative. He would execute the same role in the 1961 film and the 1988 television version. He also appeared in The Odd Couple(1968), Harper Valley PTA(1978), and The Cannonball Run(1981). Fiedler made many television guest appearances in Twilight Zone, Columbo, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Munsters, and more.
In the 1970s and beyond, Fiedler collaborated frequently with Walt Disney Productions. He first lent his voice to Disney in Robin Hood (1973) as the church mice, among additional characters; The Rescuers (1976), The Fox and the Hound (1981), and The Emperor’s New Groove (2000), in addition to two live-action appearances. He also voiced Piglet in The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977), The Tigger Movie (2000), Piglet’s Big Movie (2003), and Pooh’s Heffalump Movie (2005).
John with Piglet
Fiedler passed away on June 25, 2005, in Englewood, New Jersey, while residing at the Lillian Booth Actors Home. He was 80 years old. Interestingly, Paul Winchell, his co-star, and voice of Tigger passed away the previous day. Fiedler was cremated and scattered on Long Island. Since then, voice actor Travis Oates has carried on voicing the role of Piglet.
In relation to Fiedler’s life, his alma mater of Shorewood
High School remains. It is located at 1701 E. Capitol Dr., Shorewood,
Wisconsin.
Shorewood High School
Additionally, the Lillian Booth Actors Home is now the
Actors Fund Home, continuing to assist American entertainment and performing
arts professionals. It is located at 155-175 W. Hudson Ave., Englewood, New
Jersey.
Lillian Booth Actors Home
While few locations of relevance to Fiedler remain, his legacy lives on through his voice talent.
Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., is a film historian, professor, and avid scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the “Hometowns to Hollywood” blog, in which she profiles her trips to the hometowns of classic Hollywood stars. She has also been featured on the popular classic film-oriented television network, Turner Classic Movies. A regular columnist for Classic Movie Hub, her articles have appeared in TCM Backlot, Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, The Dark Pages Film Noir Newsletter, and Chicago Art Deco Society Magazine.
Paul Newman is the quintessential movie star. Some were more iconic, or more quotable, perhaps, but no actor has managed to compete with Newman’s impeccable blend of good looks, talent, and longevity. He came from the mold of classic Hollywood in the 1950s, and yet helped to break the mold of the New Hollywood movement in the 1970s. He was nominated for an Oscar in five different decades, including three nominations (and a win) after he was given a Lifetime Achievement Award in 1985!
This is all worth noting because Newman’s single greatest talent, more than good looks or longevity, was his adaptability. The actor never fell into a slump for long because he could always recognize when he needed to change up the characters he played or the filmmakers he worked with. As such, these slumps can be hard to pick out. They were often introduced and corrected within the course of a single film, and the film that exemplifies this best is 1975’s The Drowning Pool.
The film’s international poster.
The film, based on the Ross Macdonald novel of the same name, is a Newman outlier for several reasons. It was the only sequel he appeared in during his lifetime, and it marked a crucial transitional moment in the midpoint of his career. The end result isn’t terrible so much as it is messy, and incongruous in terms of what the story is trying to achieve.
The origins of the film are muddled as the scripted mystery. Newman had scored a major hit with the first installment in the series, Harper (1966), which cast him as the heir apparent to Humphrey Bogart in The Big Sleep (1946). Harper’s screenwriter, William Goldman, quickly penned a sequel, but Newman’s busy schedule was prioritized and the franchise was shelved. The character of Harper (changed from “Archer” in the novels) was revived in 1973 when Walter Hill was hired to direct an adaptation of The Drowning Pool.
Harper revisited: Newman steps back into the role a decade later.
Initially, the Harper role was to be recast, and Hill, a burgeoning talent, was to strip away the silliness of the original film for a tougher approach. It was the age of Dirty Harry, and the plan was to put “a little more muscle” behind the private detective. The producers were eventually scared off by the new direction and Hill walked, but the sting of his departure was leavened by the fact that Newman agreed to reprise his role. Newman’s return bolstered the profile of the film, and Lorenzo Semple, Jr. was brought in to rewrite Hill’s script.
Semple was an accomplished wordsmith in his own right, with credits including the classic thrillers The Parallax View (1974) and Three Days of the Condor (1975). He relocated the setting of the novel from California to Louisiana in an effort to distinguish the film, and at one point considered changing the name of the Newman character to Dave Ryan. The latter suggestion was vetoed, though only a few weeks before production. The overriding narrative is that all were eager to distinguish the film from Harper, which is ironic given how similar the two films are when viewed in tandem.
Newman and Francoisa in one of the film’s many action scenes.
The Drowning Pool has a nearly identical plot to the first film, which sees Harper get dragged into the tangled web of a wealthy family. There’s another aging matriarch (Joanne Woodward), another vivacious daughter (Melanie Griffith), and another suspect male (Anthony Franciosa) who may or may not feed into the family’s criminal dealings. All of the story beats involving the characters play out the way they did in Harper, save for the matriarch character; who strikes up a deeper bond with the detective than her predecessor.
Newman and Woodward’s chemistry should come as no surprise to fans who’ve seen them together, and it stands out as one of the film’s subtle highlights. There’s a weathered quality to their dynamic compared to other detective-client relationships, and while largely unspoken, it gives The Drowning Pool a forlorn quality that was perfect for the Watergate era.
The other standout component of the film is Newman’s performance. The actor is repeatedly teased for being too old in the film, and the moments where he confronts (and mocks) his age quietly introduces a new trope in noir storytelling. There have been dozens of over-the-hill detectives since, but Harper, with his graying hair and grizzled pace, was the first of his kind (Robert Mitchum’s senior turn in Farewell, My Lovely arrived a month later).
“I have my moments.”
These tonal innovations are what make the script so frustrating. There are traces of Hill’s original draft in the scenes involving Louisiana henchmen and the main set piece (which involves a literal drowning pool), but they clash with Semple’s intimate, expository conversations. Both writers have a distinct vision for the story, which they’d go on to perfect in later films, but here, fused without a sense of harmony, they sabotage one another. Harper is too vulnerable to be an action hero yet too deadly to be an aging detective. He feels disconnected from the man he was a decade prior.
The frustration ratchets up further when one considers the source material. Ross Macdonald started off as a Raymond Chandler knockoff, aping the verbiage and tone of his idol in an attempt to develop his own style. The Moving Target (the basis for Harper) and The Drowning Pool were Macdonald’s first two novels and therefore the most derivative. When one looks at later efforts like Black Money or The Chill, however, it’s clear the author distinguished himself as a master in his own right. These novels were rife with aphorisms and inventive structures, and would have made for more thoughtful sequels had Warner Bros. adapted them instead.
The direction by Stuart Rosenberg does little to help the structural shortcomings. Rosenberg had proven himself a capable hand for Newman vehicles like Cool Hand Luke (1967) and Pocket Money (1972), but he had fallen on hard times and was reportedly “desperate” for the gig. Sources later claimed that director Jack Garfein was being coveted for the film before Newman made the push for his longtime friend.
Newman said Harper was one of his favorite characters to play.
Rosenberg does manage to evoke the intrigue of his Louisiana setting, and the decision to filter most of the scenes through a muted green color palette actually proved to be influential on the neon noir wave that followed (spearheaded, fittingly, by Hill’s The Driver). The biggest knock against Rosenberg here is that he fails to drum up any real tension.
The predictable beats are made all the more predictable by the fact that the director mounts them in the most straightforward manner possible. When compared to something like Cool Hand Luke, which prioritized character, one has to wonder whether Rosenberg’s commitment to plot stifled his eye for presentation. He delivers a hollow, albeit handsome product.
The Drowning Pool barely made a splash upon its release. The response from critics was muted, and the box office returns weren’t much better. Newman seized upon the elements of the film that worked (the aging, the reflecting) and transitioned, without missing a beat, to older roles in Slap Shot (1977), Fort Apache, the Bronx (1981), and The Verdict (1982). The Drowning Pool is little more than a footnote today, but it remains a fascinating pivot point between Newman the superstar and Newman the elder statesman.
TRIVIA: Newman, Woodward, and Francoisa had previously appeared together in The Long, Hot Summer (1958).
Danilo Castro is a film noir aficionado and Contributing Writer for Classic Movie Hub. You can read more of Danilo’s articles and reviews at the Film Noir Archive, or you can follow Danilo on Twitter @DaniloSCastro.
It’s also been a year since my husband Doug and I were guests discussing Lone Pine movie locations on the France-based Western Movies podcast. Our host, Cole Armin, brought up an Audie Murphy film shot in Lone Pine I’d not yet seen: Hell Bent for Leather (1960), released the same year as Seven Ways From Sundown.
I was immediately
intrigued, as I hope to eventually see all of Murphy’s Westerns, and longtime
readers also know that I’m a regular visitor to Lone Pine and love its role in
movie Western history.
It took me a while to track down Hell Bent for Leather, a Universal Pictures release that somewhat inexplicably is not available on DVD in the United States. (The same is true, incidentally, of Seven Ways From Sundown.) However, it’s readily available in Europe on Region 2 DVD, so I was able to order a copy and watch it thanks to my all-region DVD player.
In Hell Bent for Leather Murphy plays Clay Santell, a horse trader who is startled when a thirsty man (Jan Merlin) staggers into his desert camp on foot.
Jan Merlin punches Audie Murphy
Santell shares his water
with the man and is about to give him some food when his ungrateful guest hits
him hard and steals his horse — leaving behind a distinctive rifle.
Santell eventually
staggers on foot into a small town, where he hopes to find help and a fresh
horse. The townspeople, however, get one look at the rifle he’s carrying and
seem scared out of their wits. Little does Santell realize that the rifle left
behind by his assailant belonged to a notorious gunman, Travers.
The townspeople believe Santell is Travers, who is shocked but assumes he’ll be freed when Sheriff Deckett (Stephen McNally) shows up. Deckett knows what Travers looks like — and Santell is stunned when the sheriff says he’s taking him to Denver to stand trial.
As a nightmare scenario unfolds, Santell believes he’ll soon be at the end of a rope and manages to escape from Deckett. He forces a young woman, Janet (Felicia Farr), to help him, and while she is initially resentful, the posse later turns on her as well, causing her sympathies to shift to Santell.
Santell and Janet manage to evade the posse, dealing with another bad guy, Ambrose (Robert Middleton), and his family along the way. Eventually, however, Santell and Janet have a fateful meeting in the desert with both Deckett and Travers.
I found Hell Bent for Leather a strong and engaging Audie Murphy film that delivers good Western entertainment for all of its 82 minutes. It was effectively directed at a fast clip by George Sherman, who made many Westerns I’ve enjoyed, including Universal titles such as Black Bart (1948), River Lady (1948), Border River (1954), and Dawn at Socorro (1954). His previous work also included Reprisal! (1956), a Guy Madison Western which costarred Felicia Farr.
The theme of an initially antagonistic couple on the run together has been used in countless films, with Hitchcock‘s The 39 Steps (1935) being an early example. The idea shows up time and again because it’s dramatically effective, with natural conflict and then dramatic interest as a couple gets to know each other under pressure. The truth about their backstories and characters inevitably emerges, followed by the possibility of a relationship.
Felicia Farr and Audie Murphy
As written by Christopher
Knopf, the theme works very well here, with Farr’s Janet revealed to have a
troubled background which leads her to be believably sympathetic toward Santell
as she comes to understand his story. My only criticism of the film is the
somewhat abrupt ending to their story; one can assume what happens next, but an
extra 30 seconds to wrap things up would have been welcome.
The film makes
outstanding widescreen use of the Alabama Hills outside Lone Pine, as filmed in
CinemaScope by Clifford Stine. I recognized some of the locations; viewers
watching carefully will notice the distinctive overhang of Gary Cooper Rock in
the background during the movie’s action-packed finale. It’s seen here in a
photograph I took in October 2021.
Gary Cooper Rock
The film reunited Murphy and McNally from The Duel at Silver Creek (1952) which I wrote about here in 2018. Murphy offers his usual low-key yet simultaneously charismatic screen presence, which makes his films such a consistent pleasure; he’s effective as an honest man who can’t believe people adamantly refuse to believe the truth about him.
Unlike his congenial marshal of The Duel at Silver Creek, McNally plays a troubled character whose motivations are only fully revealed in the film’s final minutes. His character this time around is closer to his well-remembered Dutch Henry Brown of Anthony Mann‘s classic Winchester ’73 (1950).
Farr, who will be 90 this year, made a number of Westerns in the ’50s, the best-known being a trio for director Delmer Daves: Jubal (1956), The Last Wagon (1956), and 3:10 to Yuma (1957).
Farr also appeared in the Western The First Texan (1956) with Joel McCrea, which leads to a bit of fun trivia. The First Texan was filmed the year following the birth of McCrea and Frances Dee‘s youngest son, Peter. A decade later, Farr and her husband, Jack Lemmon, became the parents of a daughter, Courtney, who eventually married Peter McCrea.
Felicia Farr and Audie Murphy on the run
Farr is appealing as a
gutsy character who is more than a damsel in distress. Her Janet manages to
keep up with Santell step by step as they climb through daunting rocks, which
is all the more impressive given that she’s in a dress! Once she throws in her
lot with Santell she refuses to abandon him when Santell wants her to escape,
choosing instead to face down whatever happens together.
Robert Middleton has a brief but striking appearance as the hard-drinking Ambrose partway through the film. The characters of Ambrose and his brothers seemed very strongly inspired by Charles Kemper’s Uncle Shiloh and sons in John Ford‘s Wagon Master (1950); I noticed similar echoes of Wagon Master in Will Penny (1967), a Charlton Heston Western reviewed here last year.
Those recognizable
connections to previous movies are part of what I find makes viewing Westerns
so enjoyable. The same can be said for some of the other ties of actors,
locations, and themes mentioned throughout this review.
Hell Bent for Leather (1960) Lobby Card
Former “B” Western star Bob Steele, who I mentioned here a couple of months ago in a review of Joel McCrea’s Cattle Drive (1951), is visible in the background as one of the posse. Another “B” star, Allan “Rocky” Lane, is also in the credits, but I didn’t spot him on this viewing. I’ll be looking for him next time!
Hell Bent for Leather was quite enjoyable Western entertainment which I recommend. Let’s hope that at some point both that film and Audie Murphy’s Seven Ways From Sundown become more easily available in the United States.
…
– 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.
Silents are Golden: The One-Of-A-Kind Harry Langdon
For a long time, most silent comedians were very much of the same “type.” Their appearances might vary and some had more distinctly “dimwitted” personalities than others, but practically all of them had a similar level of easily excitable, jumping, pratfalling energy. Exaggerated reactions and lots of racing around matched the fast-paced mayhem and chase scenes that were the norm in the 1910s. By the 1920s comedies were settling down, but it took a highly unique and deliberately slow-paced performer to popularize a very different kind of comedy. Enter the talented Harry Langdon, considered by some as one of the “Big Four” of silent comedy behind Chaplin, Keaton, and Lloyd.
Harry Langdon
Born in Council Bluffs, Iowa in 1884, the baby-faced Langdon had been in show business since he was a teen, performing in traveling medicine shows and stock companies. He married fellow performer Rose Musolff in 1903 and the two would eventually enter vaudeville where Langdon developed a sketch called “Johnny’s New Car.” Created at a time when automobiles were just becoming a part of everyday life (and were often the butt of jokes), the sketch featured meek husband Harry and shrewish wife Rose in their new car, which of course breaks down. Harry attempts to fix the unwieldy machine (a wooden break-apart replica of a real car), but as soon as one part is fixed another either falls off, shatters, or explodes. The Langdons performed the sketch thousands of times over the years, modifying and perfecting it along the way, working their way up to high-class vaudeville houses.
From the collection of Harry Langdon Jr.
Initially skeptical of the longevity of films, Langdon finally accepted a contract from Mack Sennett in 1924. His deliberately slow style and innocent, befuddled manner were a big contrast with Sennett’s usual brand of energy. The studio’s writers were skeptical about the new hire–as Frank Capra remembered: “…Here was this child-like character who took five minutes to wink. Nobody wanted him. But Sennett kept saying, ‘You guys all know what he’s got. He’s got something.’”
That “something” Langdon certainly had, although it took a while to shine. Starting with Picking Peaches (1924), his first few films had him sharply, if rather conventionally, dressed and going along with Sennett’s usual style of slapstick. But in time, Langdon’s comedies started to revolve around his more unique style of slow blinks, delayed reactions, and cheerful social awkwardness.
Harry Langdon in The Strong Man (1926)
With his white pancake makeup and dark liner, Langdon looked like he’d escaped from a comic strip–or perhaps a more apt description is “wandered away from a comic strip and gotten lost.” He adopted a signature dented hat, ill-fitting coat and trousers, and silk necktie he tied like a shoelace. While other comedians might give an exaggerated reaction when startled, Langdon would stand still and then jump a second too late. While most comedians would run from danger, Langdon was more likely to blink uncomprehendingly and then give danger a well-meaning wave. Writer Walter Kerr probably described Langdon’s enigmatic, childlike persona best: “A five-year-old and not a five-year-old. A twelve-year-old and not a twelve-year-old. A full-grown functioning male and not a full-grown functioning male. Langdon was and was not all three at once, with nary a seam showing.”
From Three’s a Crowd (1926)
Once Langdon was allowed to be fully Langdon,
the results were some of the best comedy shorts of the 1920s. One favorite is Saturday Afternoon (1925), about a
henpecked Harry whose friend talks him into sneaking away for a date with two
pretty girls. The costar was Vernon Dent, a heavyset comedian who often played
villainous characters. Dependable Dent and fluttery Langdon were well-matched
onscreen and would partner many more times in the future.
Harry Langdon, Ruth Hiatt, Peggy Montgomery and Vernon Dent in Saturday Afternoon (1925)
Langdon was becoming wildly popular, and his style was influencing those around him. Stan Laurel is probably the most obvious example, having started in comedy shorts as the usual energetic go-getter but noticeably slowed his performance style by the end of the ‘20s and added Langdonesque blinks and childlike reactions. Buster Keaton also started playing more with long takes and hesitant movements – and that’s just to name two well-known personalities.
By 1925 it was a given that such a popular comedian would go into features, and Langdon became a producer at his own company, the Harry Langdon Corporation. His first feature-length comedy was The Strong Man(1926), also the first feature directed by Frank Capra, and it was followed by Tramp, Tramp, Tramp(1926), and Long Pants(1927). Capra later insisted that Langdon had started getting a swelled head and wanted to add more Chaplinesque pathos to his films, in ways that Capra felt wouldn’t fit his character. In any case, Capra did get let go, and Langdon assumed the director’s chair.
Three’s a Crowd (1927).
His directorial debut was Three’s a Crowd (1927), a charming story about Harry taking in a young woman who’s about to have a baby (despite owning very little himself), and it was followed by the less successful The Chaserand the lost Heart Trouble (both 1928). By this point his popularity was waning, perhaps because so many Langdon films had been flooding the market, and he would return to comedy shorts.
With Fifi D’Orsay and Chester Conklin at Columbia.
Langdon’s transition to talkies was rocky since his speaking style was often oddly rambling and monotone and some of the quirks of his childlike character could seem uncomfortably strange in “normal” life (as opposed to silent comedy’s slightly undercranked world). He did adapt, however, appearing in dozens of sound shorts throughout the ‘30s and ‘40s and some low-budget films, eventually specializing in henpecked husband characters. By this time the resemblances between him and Stan Laurel were pronounced enough that when Laurel went through a contract dispute with Roach, Langdon stepped in to star alongside Oliver Hardy in Zenobia(1939).
With Ollie in Zenobia.
Langdon passed away from a cerebral hemorrhage in 1944, leaving behind his wife Mabel (he had married two more times after divorcing Rose in 1928) and ten-year-old son Harry Jr. While he became an obscure figure in cinema in the decades after his death, in more recent years his films have been beautifully restored. Happily, they seem to be gaining the enigmatic little comedian new fans every year, and a new appreciation of his stature in silent comedy.
“The oddest thing about this whole funny business is that the public really wants to laugh, but it’s the hardest thing to make them do it.“ – Harry Langdon
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.
Lives Behind the Legends: Cary Grant – Finding Happiness
“My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between, I occupy myself as best I can.“ – Cary Grant
If there ever was a quintessential classic Hollywood gentleman, it was Cary Grant. Sure, he was handsome, but it was his charm and sophistication that set him apart from the rest. At the same time, there seemed to be a cheerfulness and warmth about him. But underneath the surface was a side that his fans never saw: Cary was a troubled man. Having lived through a traumatic childhood, he was always in search of his identity and a sense of inner peace. When fame and success didn’t turn out to be the answer, he walked some unconventional roads to find the happiness that eluded him.
Cary was born Archie Leach, the son of Elsie and Elias, in Bristol, England. Having grown up in poverty herself, Elsie wanted more for her family and she taught little Archie manners and etiquette from the get-go. He also learned to play the piano and received good grades in school, with encouragement from his devoted mother. This laid the groundwork for the well-mannered gentleman we would come to know later on. What he didn’t know at the time, was the reason his mother was so focused on him: Elsie and Elias had already had a son and he had died at only nine months old. This caused grief so deep, that his mother never truly recovered from it. Archie did notice that his parents fought often. Usually about their lack of money and his father’s frequent boozy nights with his buddies. One day when Archie was 11, he came home from school to find his mother gone. His father informed him that she had gone on vacation for a rest. At first, Archie was simply annoyed that she had not taken him with her, but after two weeks he wondered what he had done to make her so angry. His cousins put an end to his questions by telling him that she had passed away. The truth was that Elias had put Elsie in a mental institution.
Had it been necessary to put Elsie there? Although the mental institution did see a reason to diagnose her with mania, they did not deem her a threat to herself or anyone around her. Little was known about mental health at the time, and ‘husband knows best’ was still the general way of thinking. In fact, Elsie would spend years asking why she couldn’t be released and the reason was that Elias didn’t want her to be. As soon as Elsie was gone, Elias sent Archie to live with his grandmother. From that moment on, the boy rarely saw his father. Unbeknownst to Archie, his father was busy starting a new family with a co-worker he had fallen for. Archie’s grandmother had the same taste for alcohol as her son and a grown Cary Grant would describe her as “a cold, cold woman”. So at the age of 11, Archie was left to fend for himself.
A young Cary Grant
A teacher, perhaps knowing about the boy’s situation, took Archie to the theatre where he helped out with the lighting. There and then, Archie fell in love with the hustle and bustle of the theatre. He had found his people. Archie started working backstage and became familiar with a touring vaudeville group named The Bob Pender Stage Troupe. He joined the group at only 14 and started touring the country. Soon they headed for America. Life on the road was lonely and hard work for little pay. Archie realized he wanted more from life. When he was 18, he left the troupe and headed for New York. Though he initially struggled to get by, the charming Archie went from vaudeville to Broadway in only a few years’ time.
By now, Archie knew that his father had started a new family and he didn’t hold a grudge. He even went back to visit his father, stepmother, and half-brother in England when his finances finally allowed it. People who knew Archie at the time say he had only one thing on his mind: success. Something he later said was a stand-in for the love he craved. So it was no surprise to his friends when he left New York for Hollywood and secured a contract at studio Paramount. The studio changed his name to Cary Grant and he took his new Hollywood persona seriously. From now on, he introduced himself as Cary and he started hanging out with a more sophisticated crowd. Old friends complained that ‘Grant was taking over Leach’. This was not the studio’s doing: Cary desperately wanted to move up in the world and leave his struggling past behind him. The sense of style and impeccable manners his mother had taught him, helped him to easily maneuver in Hollywood’s upper class and he became friends with people like Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Howard Hughes.
Soon, he became a popular leading man in hits like Blonde Venus (1932) and She Done Him Wrong(1933). All he needed to complete his dream life was a family. After chasing women around for years, he fell head over heels in love with Charlie Chaplin’s leading lady Virginia Cherrill. She was his type: slim, feminine, and sophisticated, just like his mother. Virginia and Cary became engaged, so he took her with him when he made his triumphant return to England after becoming a Hollywood actor.
Cary Grant and his first wife, Virginia Cherrill
It was 1933; he had just starred in the box-office hit I’m No Angel (1933), and it was the first time in years he would see his family again. But the real reason he made the visit wasn’t to promote his latest hit film – his father had called him weeks before and told him that he really needed to see him. Nervously, father and son went to the pub. Cary had been struck by his father’s change in appearance, later saying he suddenly looked like an old alcoholic. Then, his father told him that his mother was still alive. “I had to put her away”, he told a bewildered and increasingly upset Cary. As Cary ran out of the pub, his father yelled: “You should thank me. I did it for you!”. The news hit Cary so hard that nobody could find him for weeks. Eventually, he checked into a private hospital to dry out after a prolonged bender. His world had turned upside down. A part of him had always felt abandoned by his mother, but it turned out that she had been the one who was abandoned. He would go on to feel incredibly guilty for not looking into his mother’s sudden disappearance and the vague answers he was given. Once he sobered up, he went to visit his mother in the mental institution. He was shocked to see his mother, at only 57, with fully gray hair and missing teeth. She looked at him blankly when he told her who he was. Not comprehending that this fully grown man was her little boy.
Cary quickly left England and tried to create his own happy home: in 1934 he married Virginia. But no matter how much he tried to hide it, his past had a profound effect on his most intimate relationships. “My possessiveness and fear of losing her brought about the very condition it feared: the loss of her,” he would reflect decades later. He drank a lot, flew into jealous rages, and discouraged her from continuing her own career. The revelation of his mother’s disappearance had opened a floodgate of emotions that Cary did not know how to deal with. After only eight months, Virginia filed for divorce.
In 1935 Cary’s father passed away. His feelings towards his father were complicated, but Cary went to England for his final weeks and settled his affairs. His father’s death made him his mother’s guardian and he immediately arranged for her release from the mental institution. The facilities’ documentation noted that she hadn’t had an “attack of mental illness” for 21 years, the time she was admitted. Elsie went to live with her younger brother to acclimate and got to know her son through the many letters they sent each other. In 1937, Elsie rented an apartment with the monthly allowance Cary gave her. It was difficult for Cary to reconcile the woman who’d last taken care of him when he was 11 and who still called him Archie, with his new life as movie star Cary Grant. He never invited her to his home and kept those two worlds separate.
By now Cary had reached star status with movies like Topper (1937) and Bringing Up Baby (1938), but he wanted more. He was almost 40 and eager to start a family. He married classy Woolworth heiress Barbara Hutton in 1942, after two years of dating.
During this time World War II had begun. Cary was very worried about his mother, so he moved her into a safer area of Bristol and sent her many letters to check on her. Though England would continue to have a place in his heart, he felt a growing loyalty to his newly adopted home country. He officially became an American citizen and legally changed his name to Cary Grant. Still, Archie Leach was never far away. During this time, he made the movie Penny Serenade (1941) based on who he would have been, had he not become ‘Cary Grant’. He played a struggling Cockney with a difficult relationship with his mother. Elias Leach’s picture is even seen in his fictional mother’s apartment. He poured his all into the film, but it didn’t do well at the box office. Proving to Cary that people were not interested in seeing the real him. He would never become so emotionally involved in a movie again.
The way his past had shaped him also reared its head in his marriage to Barbara. He had worked hard for his money and never forgot what it was like to struggle. He was annoyed by the constant presence of her servants and he didn’t like spending time with her ‘old money’ friends. Cary had many friends in the upper class himself, but they all worked and he respected that. Barbara was embarrassed by him avoiding her friends and felt that he worked way too much. The pair desperately tried to make their marriage work: he took on fewer roles and Barbara agreed to a smaller house and less staff. It didn’t help. They were divorced by the end of World War II.
The end of the war meant that Cary could visit his mother for the first time in years. Still, his visits were always tied to business and he would spend only one or two days with Elsie. On the boat back from one of these trips, he met the actress Betsy Drake. Though there were almost twenty years between them, Cary was fascinated by her mind and knowledge. She practiced yoga, liked to discuss philosophy, and was open-minded.
Cary Grant and third wife, Betsy Drake
Once they were in a relationship, it was clear that he had learned from the mistakes he made in his marriage to Virginia. Instead of being opposed to it, he was so supportive of Betsy’s career that he arranged a studio contract and a role in his new film for her. They married in 1949 and for the first time since he had started working, Cary took some time off from filming. While Cary mentored her career, Betsy taught him about poetry, philosophy, and yoga. Betsy even helped him to quit smoking by using hypnotherapy. Cary raved about the practice and started using it to relieve physical ailments as well. After a while, he realized work was still an essential part of his life and he returned to the limelight after 18 months with the spectacular To Catch a Thief (1955).
His marriage to Betsy seemed picture-perfect to everyone around them, but once again Cary became restless. While filming The Pride and the Passion (1957) in Spain, Cary fell for his co-star Sophia Loren. She was very different from his usual type, with her voluptuous figure and dark hair. But Cary fell so deeply in love with her, he even offered to divorce Betsy and marry her. Sophia, who was already involved with future husband Carlo Ponti, declined. Their affair was not just physical: they shared stories about their troubled childhood and the effect it had on them. Cary told her that his childhood was the reason his relationships never worked out. Betsy visited Cary in Spain for a few weeks and realized he was having an affair, but felt that there was nothing she could do. When heading back to America, Betsy’s boat got into a terrible accident and sank. 49 passengers drowned, but Betsy was able to get on a lifeboat.
By the time Cary came back home, their marriage had changed forever. Cary still had Sophia on his mind and Betsy was traumatized by the accident. Desperate, Betsy took a friend’s advice and went to a doctor who worked with a new method: LSD. At the time, LSD was a licensed therapeutic drug, only available to the wealthy through a specialized doctor. It was thought that its psychedelic effects led you to the core of your unresolved trauma and fears and subsequently gave you clarity and release. Betsy found it so healing that she recommended it to Cary. He would go on to take it 100 times under the care of a doctor whom he called ‘my wise Mahatma’. He later said: “When I broke through, I felt an immeasurable beneficial cleansing of so many needless fears and guilts. I lost all tension I’d been crippling myself with”. He also came to a realization about his romantic relationships: “LSD made me realize I was killing my mother through my relationships with other women. I was punishing them for what she had done to me.” Friends were a little wary of Cary’s cry of a rebirth. It certainly was the first step to a more enlightened and relaxed Cary. He admitted to the press that he had hidden behind the ‘Cary Grant’ character and he told his life story openly and without shame. He would continue to rave about LSD therapy but later admitted that “there is no end to getting well”. For Betsy, LSD therapy made her realize that their marriage wasn’t working and they separated amicably after 12 years together.
While filming That Touch of Mink (1962), Cary started dating actress Dyan Cannon. They fell in love and Cary was convinced the LSD therapy had enabled him to finally have a healthy relationship and start a family. Despite Dyan being 25 to Cary’s 58, their relationship progressed quickly. He took Dyan to meet his mother in England, something he usually saved for after the wedding. Dyan later noted that he had been excited to see his mother until the day finally arrived and he became gloomy. Things did not improve when his mother was rather cold to him and rejected the expensive mink coat he had bought her. In the following years, his mother’s letters to him would become more rambling, but she seemed to open up more as well. Whereas before she had always refused to say a bad word about her late husband, she now confided that Elias had ‘deceived’ her and that she regretted not taking a second husband. Cary appreciated her honesty. Elsie was now in her eighties and Cary convinced her to live in a nursing home of her choosing, promising her that she would never be forced to stay.
Cary and Dyan got married and a dream came true for Cary: he finally became a father. In 1966 their daughter Jennifer was born. Cary was overjoyed and told reporters outside of the hospital that she was his “greatest production”. When the new family arrived home, Cary looked at their little girl and told Dyan that this was everything he’d ever wanted. He was so devoted to fatherhood that, after 72 films, he retired completely. For the first time in his life, he didn’t need work to feel fulfilled. But while he doted on their daughter, he became colder towards his wife. He became more and more domineering and kept persuading Dyan to take LSD therapy. The sessions were traumatizing for her. Eventually, the marriage caused Dyan too much distress and she filed for divorce after three years. After a nasty court battle, which they kept from Jennifer, they settled into a custody arrangement.
Cary still visited his mother in England and had even taken baby Jennifer to meet a glowing Elsie. He recorded Elsie talking about her life, so Jennifer could listen to it when she was older. Elsie passed away peacefully at the age of 95 in 1973. Her tape recordings were kept in a safe Cary had for Jennifer. In this, he put her childhood mementos: drawings, letters, videos he’d made of her. Cary didn’t have anything from his childhood, so he wanted things to be different for his little girl. “I was embarrassed I think, by the extent of his love and devotion to me,” Jennifer later said. As an adult, she would be very grateful for her “time machine”. Fatherhood had finally given Cary the unconditional love and warmth he had always searched for.
Cary and his daughter, Jennifer
Cary had a life outside of fatherhood too: he joined several boards, like those of Faberge and MGM. He was still close friends with colleagues like Grace Kelly and Alfred Hitchcock. In 1981 he entered into his fifth and final marriage, to publicist Barbara Harris, who was 47 years his junior. Barbara later admitted that Cary was wary of women’s motives with him and that she had to prove she was with him for the right reasons. Once she did, she said she couldn’t have wished for “a more loving husband”. Barbara turned his house, which was in a perpetual state of renovation, into a home. Cary became a homebody for the first time in his life and Barbara lent a professional hand as his publicist and personal assistant. Jennifer adored her stepmother.
It may not have been conventional, but Cary finally had the happy life he had always wanted. As Barbara said after his death in 1986: “LSD therapy removed an awful lot of his barnacles. The birth of Jennifer brought him great love, and I think the relationship we had brought him peace. Most of the people who truly knew him commented that he was much more at ease and a much happier person in the later part of his life.”
Arancha has
been fascinated with Classic Hollywood and its stars for years. Her main area
of expertise is the behind-the-scenes stories, though she’s pretty sure she
could beat you at movie trivia night too. Her website, Classic Hollywood
Central, is about everything Classic Hollywood, from actors’ life stories
and movie facts to Classic Hollywood myths. You can follow her on Twitter
at @ClassicHC.