In past columns, I’ve taken a look at Western movie locations in Lone Pine and Corriganville. This month my focus is a popular Western location further afield from Hollywood: Kanab, Utah.
Kanab is in the southern
part of the state, not far from the Arizona border. Founded in 1870, the
current population is around 4700.
I could go on with a
much longer list of titles, but that gives readers a good idea of some of the
films made in the area.
Just as Lone Pine’s Dow
Villa Hotel regularly served movie companies, film productions shooting in the
Kanab area often stayed at the Parry Lodge, which first opened in 1931.
Parry Lodge, Kanab, Utah
The lodge is still in operation today, nine decades later, although it’s currently closed for the 2021 season due to COVID. On a recent visit to Utah, I was able to take a number of photographs of the closed lodge.
Parry Lodge entrance
The rooms outside the main building are labeled with the names of some of the stars who stayed there while working in Utah.
Joel McCrea Room
Robert Taylor Room
In front of the hotel, there’s a row of signs honoring numerous filmmakers who worked in Kanab.
Parry Lodge not only served as headquarters for countless film production companies, it was also a key location in the crime film The Girl in Black Stockings (1957), starring Lex Barker, Anne Bancroft, and Mamie Van Doren. That movie, which was released by United Artists, provides some wonderful shots of the lodge, including the pool area.
The pool at Parry Lodge
One of the very finest films which did extensive filming in the Kanab area was the previously mentioned Westward the Women, with Robert Taylor heading an outstanding cast. A few miles outside of Kanab, a Western town was built for the film, which was also used as a set in a number of other productions over the years.
Town scene from Westward the Women (1951)
Today the crumbling
remains of that town set may still be seen by anyone who turns off Highway 89
and drives 5.4 miles down Johnson Canyon Road. Given my love for Westward
the Women, I found it an extremely moving experience.
Here are screenshots of
the pavilion seen in the film’s closing sequence, after the women arrive at
their destination in California:
Here’s that very same
pavilion building today. It looks as though a later production finished the
interior so it looked more like a house, but the exterior is easy to identify
by matching it up with screenshots from the film.
Another town building is seen above.
I don’t know for certain, but I’m guessing the crumbling chimney seen in the photograph below is the same chimney seen in the screenshots shown here from the opening minutes of the movie:
John McIntire
It’s remarkable to find the town still standing — in a manner of speaking — seven decades after the movie’s release. Looking around one could just imagine Robert Taylor, John McIntire, Denise Darcel, and the rest of the cast having been there.
Beverly Dennis, Renata Vanni, Marilyn Erskine, Robert Taylor, Denise Darcel, Julie Bishop, and Lenore Lonergan in Westward the Women (1951)
Anyone who visits the
set should be aware that it sits on private property, so bring a telephoto lens
to photograph it from the public road.
For additional information on Westerns filmed in Kanab and elsewhere in Utah, I highly recommend the book When Hollywood Came to Town: A History of Moviemaking in Utah by James D’Arc. I wrote more about that book in my January 2021 column Western Film Book Library – Part 4.
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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.
Lives Behind the Legends: Mae West – Spiritual Vixen
Mae West
Mae West has gone down in history as a larger-than-life character. Ballsy, confident, funny and sexy; she was a trailblazer in the conventional 1930’s. Nothing could stop this street smart vixen. Still, there was a surprising side to her that not many people are aware of. You would be forgiven for thinking that the sassy Miss West was as down to earth as it gets, but in reality, Mae was a very spiritual person. She meditated, considered herself psychic and loved to hold séances with friends.
The year was 1928. Mae West had just become the biggest star on Broadway with her self-written play Diamond ‘Lil. The tough-talking, independent and fun ‘Lil would be a part of the Mae West persona forevermore. But the real Mae was being plagued by extreme abdominal pains. Doctors ran tests, but no reason was found. Mae’s manager and best friend James Timony took matters into his own hands and introduced her to yogi healer Sri Deva Ram Sukul, who was the president of the Yoga Institute for America. When Mae and the yogi met, he chanted a Hindu prayer, stood behind her and pressed his hands on her stomach for a few minutes. When he suddenly released his hold, the pain was gone. Mae asked the yogi what had caused the pain and he told her that it was other people’s envy. This was Mae’s first tangible experience with spirituality and it made a big impression on her.
Though Mae attended church from time to time, she wasn’t particularly religious. She was interested in a broader concept of spirituality. She wanted to know if there ‘was more,’ and events like this strengthened her belief that there truly was. Mae was especially fascinated by the spirit world, so she was game when she was asked to participate in a séance in the early 30’s, reportedly by none other than aviatrix Amelia Earhart. This may seem like a random pairing, but these two independent career women had long admired each other before becoming acquainted. In any case, Mae was vacationing at posh resort, La Cinta, and she offered up her bungalow for the small gathering. This would be Mae’s first séance and she became a true believer. Her deceased father came through with a message about the men she was dating.
Mae surrounded by men in Belle of the Nineties
One was ‘okay’, the other was not. But the real highlight was when a message came through that nobody understood, until someone pointed out that it was in Yiddish. One of the guests was Jewish and had been in a long-term relationship with a Catholic woman. The message was from the man’s mother and said: ‘do what your heart tells you and never mind your father.’ The message moved Mae deeply. Especially since the pair then married, the father came around, and they lived a long and happy life together.
Mae had always fancied herself an intuitive person and she became more and more drawn to developing her own spiritual abilities. She started reading up on psychic research and learned how to meditate. She was a self-confessed quick study, later stating that she learned how to meditate in a week. She was keen to meet spiritual mentors and she even took a yogi with her when traveling for a while. Mae was always straightforward about using the ‘Forces’, as she called them, for her life and her work. When she was writing a screenplay, she would ask them for help. Afterward, she would write or dictate in a stream of consciousness. ‘I believe the Forces have a lot to do with what we call inspiration,’ she said. No matter how she got the inspiration, it worked, and Mae became a power player on stage and in Hollywood. Still, she started feeling that there was something missing in 1941. Her career was at a high, but her life felt incomplete. She decided to take six months off to really dive into that spiritual world that she was so fascinated with. ‘The best is knowing the powers within you,’ she later pointed out. Mae chose Jack Kelly, founder of the Spiritual Church of Life, as a guide on this journey. It was said that he was tested by Duke University and was found to possess psychic powers. Mae was even more convinced of his powers when he personally predicted to her that the Japanese would launch a surprise attack on America and Pearl Harbor was attacked soon after.
Mae West with Jack Kelly (middle)
Kelly found that, though everyone has the ability within them, Mae truly had the ‘Gift’ when it came to contacting the spirit world. For weeks she trained, getting her mind blank through meditation and inviting in the spirits. Finally, they came to her in full form, but not in the way she had hoped. ‘There were a lot of them, I think all men, and they weren’t interested in me, so that didn’t make any sense. They must have been really dead. They sort of just talked with each other. And I never did like crowds.’ What Mae really wanted was to make contact with her mother. Kelly told her that she had to be patient and that her gift was undisciplined. After a while, Mae grew tired of the uninvited guests and told them to leave. They did, and Mae never tried to contact the spirits in that way again. Still, she was satisfied knowing that there was more, and that she had the ability to make contact. She felt reassured that her mother was somewhere watching over her, even if neither of them knew how to make contact. Though this experience had been a little too intense, Mae kept her connection to the other side. She continued to ask the spirits for help and information and she loved hosting séances by psychics for her friends.
It was not just the supernatural that Mae was interested in; other spiritual beliefs had her attention as well. For instance, she felt that astrology explained her personality. As a fiery Leo with her rising sign in beauty planet Venus, she said that it was predetermined she would be ‘strong like a lioness and at the same time totally feminine.’ In her book Mae West on Sex, Health and ESP, she even relayed her experiences with men throughout the signs. Quipping about Aries: ‘They don’t call the guys born under this sign the Rams for nothing.’ She would consult her astrology chart from time to time to help her make decisions. Mae reportedly even had her chart read on set by veteran silent film actor Stuart Holmes, whose wife Blanka was a Hollywood astrologist. According to a 1935 Australian Women’s Weekly article, Holmes found that Mae would have made a good nurse, the height of her screen career would be reached in 1939, Hollywood was the best place for her to reside in, and she might be married in three years. He may have misread that last prediction, but Mae still generously called him a ‘remarkable researcher.’ Mae did not just depend on outside sources, she was also a firm believer in the power of positive thinking. She never allowed a negative thought to take root in her mind. She felt that by thinking and feeling positive you created a better understanding of yourself, and it would enable you to accomplish things you never thought you could. Her advice was always that self-confidence was the most important thing to possess, a belief that was mirrored by the self-assured stage persona we know and love.
Mae really was ahead of her time in many ways. Her stage persona paved the way for confident, sexy women who were not afraid to speak their minds. Mae was this way off-stage as well; she wrote all of her own material and held a tight grasp on her image, so it shouldn’t really be a surprise that even her spiritual side was ahead of its time. Meditation, astrology, the power of positive thinking, and a belief in an energy that connects us are almost commonplace in the 21st century. In the 30’s and 40’s, Mae was an outsider in her convictions, but she didn’t care. Her open-mindedness in every facet of life and her steadfast confidence were her biggest strengths. As society finally caught up with Mae, people became more open-minded about sex and spirituality. Because of this, Mae had a career resurgence in the 1970’s as people appreciated, once again, what a trailblazer she had been.
Mae and her fans
Mae, a savvy businesswoman, saw an opportunity and released her novel Mae West on Sex, Health and ESP. She was introduced to, and embraced by, a whole new generation while in her eighties. As an entertainer at heart, she loved every minute of it.
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.
“If I knew you were coming, I would’ve set fire to the place.”
Remakes are a risky endeavor, especially in the world of film noir. There have been countless instances of remakes coasting on the iconography of its predecessor, sans the emotion and angst that made them impactful. The 1981 version of The Postman Always Rings Twice is too lewd for its own good, and 1988’s D.O.A. trades in the electricity of the original for a broad, over-stylized approach. It’s never easy. That said, there are some remakes that defy the odds and add something worthwhile to the noir canon. One such remake is 1964’s The Killers.
The Killers, or The Killers ‘64, was set to be one of the early TV movies to air on NBC. It was pitched as an episode of the Project 120 series, but once the network got a look at the final product, they decided it was too violent for homes and repurposed it for theaters. The decision proved to be a beneficial one, as the film performed well at the box office and earned Lee Marvin a BAFTA Award for Best Actor. But how did The Killers ‘64 escape the curse of so many noir remakes? What did it do to differentiate itself from its predecessor? The solution, simple as it may be, is change everything.
The film’s New Wave-inspired poster
The film was always going to have to contend with the legacy of The Killers (1946), the landmark noir that launched the careers of both Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster. It was a near perfect translation of the Ernest Hemingway short story, bolstering the parameters of his doomed world while adding layers of angst and sexual frustration. Don Siegel, the director of the remake, was all too familiar with the 1946 version, as he had been fired from the project and replaced with the more established Robert Siodmak. When it came time to remake the film, the wily Siegel worked with screenwriter Gene L. Coon on a treatment that disregarded most of what came before. He was crafting a remake in name, but a wholly original film in spirit.
Charlie (R) and Lee kill time between killings
The differences between the 1946 and 1964 versions are evident from the opening scene. The former opens with a Hopperesque diner, and culminates with the shooting of boxer Swede Anderson in a seedy motel. Clean and professional, like clockwork. The latter takes place at an institute for the blind, where hitmen Charlie (Lee Marvin) and Lee (Clu Gulager) saunter through the lobby, bullying hapless patients. They instigate as much chaos as possible before cornering Johnny North (John Cassavetes) and subjecting him to a hail of gunfire. The endgame is the same, but The Killers ‘64 has something else on its mind. It savors the anarchy of its lawless characters and invites us to do the same. The overriding mood of the original was doom, but here, it’s psychotically gleeful.
The rest of the film unfolds with similar irreverence. Charlie and Lee are confused by the ease with which Johnny North accepted his fate, and decide to look into his past. They already got paid, so they kill time by looking up Johnny’s best friend Earl (Claude Atkins) and on/off girlfriend Sheila (Angie Dickinson). What makes these interrogation scenes so memorable is not the discovery of information, but the brutish way Charlie and Lee go about getting it. These are the men that ended Johnny’s life and here they are dangling Sheila out of a window because she’s refusing to disclose his secrets.
Coon’s screenplay was quietly radical in terms of how it stitched seemingly incongruent noir tropes together. In the past, hitmen had been dismissed as loners or psychopaths, doomed to die before the final reel. By contrast, private detectives were seen as trustworthy, and given access to exclusive information. Charlie and Lee are given the access of the more congenial private detective, but their homicidal tendencies lead them to abuse their power and belittle their various witnesses. We never know what they’re going to do next, and the result is as sickening as it is exciting.
John Cassavetes and Angie Dickinson in a promotional still
Marvin and Galugar deserve all the credit in the world for making their hitmen so magnetic. They have contrasting but complimentary styles: Charlie is the economic veteran and Lee is the showboat kid who loves inflicting pain. Their shared concern for money bonds them, and their banter keeps the film hurtling along like the view from their train compartment. Marvin is particularly good here, tossing off quotables with palpable disdain. “Whoever laid this contract wasn’t worried about the million dollars, and the only people that don’t worry about a million dollars are the people that have a million dollars”, he asserts. Later, when faced with having to shoot another victim, he delivers another gem: “You see, the only man that’s not afraid to die is the man that’s dead already.” Marvin later referred to the role as one of his best, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t agree with him.
The flashbacks detailing Johnny’s fall from grace are similarly kinetic. The filmmakers wisely changed the profession of the character from boxer to race car driver, which dovetails nicely with his eventual getaway driver gig. The subsequent driving scenes make use of rear projection (sometimes a little too obviously), but Siegel’s implementation of real life racing footage helps to sell the illusion of anxiety. Cassavetes’s laconic presence also does wonders for the film’s quieter moments. He’s constantly leery of his surroundings, as though he knows his number will soon be up.
Ronald Reagan quietly waits out his final film role
If there’s one element of The Killers ‘64 that pales in comparison to the original, it’s the casting of Ronald Reagan as the antagonist. Reagan is the gangster who romances Sheila and pushes Johnny into the heist, despite not possessing the moxy to do either. He’s hopelessly outmatched in scenes opposite Cassavetes, and given that he retired from acting soon after the film’s release, one can assume his heart wasn’t invested in his work. Fortunately, the limitations of Reagan’s performance are salvaged by the finale, where Siegel delivers some of the most brutal and stylized directorial work of his career.
Charlie and Lee trace the source of the hit to Reagan’s gangster, but both men have been shot and are bleeding out. The former struggles to maintain focus, which Siegel emulates through the camera lens, before lifting his pistol and popping the gangster in spectacular fashion. The image of Charlie’s pistol aiming down the barrel of the camera is the most iconic in the film, and one that maintains its singular power some 50 years later. Equally powerful, though perhaps less known, is the last frame, where a bloodied Charlie succumbs to his wounds and dies on the front lawn of a suburban home. It’s an appropriately twisted ending for such a sadistic man.
The film’s most iconic shot (in more ways than one)
The Killers ‘64 was one of the first noir remakes to go into production, and it’s a testament to its quality that it remains one of the finest. The decision to use the original premise as a jumping off point for another story was inspired, and the nimble execution by Siegel and Coon qualifies it as some of their best work. The 1946 version may still have the upper hand, but the splashy, irreverent influence of The Killers ‘64 can be seen more readily in neo-noir like Pulp Fiction (1994) and In Bruges (2007). In other words, it manages to be a classic all on its own.
TRIVIA: Despite having a John Williams score, the film’s opening and end title music was taken from Touch of Evil (1958), which was scored by Henry Mancini.
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–Danilo Castro for Classic Movie Hub
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.
I adore Rita Moreno. I mean, who doesn’t? The 89-year-old actress has it all. I loved her as silent movie star Zelda Zanders in the MGM classic Singin’ in the Rain, I loved her as poor Tuptim in the spectacular musical The King and I, I loved her Oscar-winning turn as Anita in West Side Story (one of the only actual Puerto Ricans in the cast), I loved her on the great PBS children’s series, The Electric Company, I loved her as Sister Peter Marie in the gritty HBO series Oz, and I love her as Lydia in the fabulous reboot of Norman Lear’s One Day at a Time.
I read Moreno’s wonderful memoir a few years ago and jumped at the chance to talk to Mariem Pérez Riera, the talented director of the brand new documentary about the actress that premieres today, Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for It (there’s a funny story in the film about how the doc got that title). Riera has created an indelible portrait of the fabulous star that is one of the most honest and entertaining biographical documentaries I’ve ever seen. Like Moreno, Riera is an actress who was born in Puerto Rico and who, at the age of nine, starred in the acclaimed film, The Two Worlds of Angelita. Her first documentary, Cuando lo pequeño se hace grande, about the Puerto Ricans who fought against the US Navy presence on the island of Vieques, won awards at film festivals around the world, as have many of her later films. Riera was the perfect person to tell Rita Moreno’s fascinating story.
Over a career that has endured more than seven decades, Rita Moreno defied both her humble upbringing and relentless racism to become a celebrated and beloved actor, one of the rare EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony) Award Winners of our time. Born into poverty on a Puerto Rican farm, Moreno and her mother immigrated to New York City when Moreno was five years old. After studying dance and performing on Broadway, Moreno got a movie contract and was cast as any ethnic minority that the studio needed filled, be it Polynesian, Native American, or Egyptian. Despite becoming the first Latina actress to win an Academy Award, the studios continued to offer Moreno lesser roles as stereotypical ethnic minorities.
Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for it illuminates Moreno’s humor and grace, as well as some of the lesser-known struggles she faced on her path to stardom, including horrendous sexism, a toxic long-term relationship with Marlon Brando, and a serious depression. Moreno’s talent and resilience triumphed over adversity as she broke barriers, fought for representation, and forged the path for new generations of artists. This winter she’ll appear in Steven Spielberg’s new version of West Side Story, this time with an appropriately Latinx cast. I spoke with director Mariem Pérez Riera via Zoom.
Danny Miller: I loved this documentary so much and was stunned at how honest Rita Moreno was in front of the camera. Were there things you learned about her during the making of this film that surprised you?
Mariem Pérez Riera
Mariem Pérez Riera: Oh, yes. One thing that surprised me was how important she feels therapy has been to her life and career, and how it helped her become the person that she is today. She talked about that a lot in our interviews.
Despite some of the enormous success she had early in her career (Singin’ in the Rain, The King and I, and, of course, West Side Story), I was still shocked at some of the abuse she had to suffer through in Hollywood before and even after appearing in those A-list films. I think many other people would have cracked under the pressure of that and left the business. How do you account for Rita Moreno’s ability to survive and thrive against all odds?
Moreno in Singin’ in the Rain (1952), The King and I (1956), and West Side Story (1961)
Honestly, she is a person with amazing stamina. She just wouldn’t quit no matter what was thrown her way. I think that partly comes from starting out as a dancer. She was like an athlete and had incredible amounts of energy and discipline. I mean, to see the energy she has today at 89, it’s really incredible. I’m half her age and I can’t keep up!
Like so many people, I think the “America” sequence in West Side Story is one of the greatest musical numbers ever put on film, but I’m so glad that she discussed the painful aspects of that in the documentary. It always struck me, especially after reading her book and seeing what a strong connection she still has to her beloved Puerto Rico, how awful it must have been for her to sing so negatively about the place of her birth. I hadn’t realized that she was responsible for forcing them to change the original opening lyrics of that song in the Broadway play (“Puerto Rico, you ugly island, island of tropic diseases), but even with the change it must have been tough that Anita was so down on the place.
Absolutely. And that’s why I really wanted to show that in the documentary, because I don’t think a lot of people understand that. They see this amazing Oscar-winning film, and Rita’s fantastic performance in it, but they don’t understand the dichotomy of the message the film gave to our community. It’s kind of a different story for us.
Rita Moreno and George Chakiris performing “America” in West Side Story
I mean, as great as it is, in the end it’s still a story written by a bunch of white dudes.
Exactly. At the time she was not able to share these concerns with the public so it was important for me to give her that chance in the documentary. As great as her success was in the film, parts of it were very difficult for her, including some of the casting decisions. I think that’s why she’s so delighted to be in the new film with its largely Puerto Rican cast.
I love how she talks about her own journey as a little girl from Puerto Rico to New York as a kind of reverse Wizard of Oz — she left the colorful, magical fantasy of Puerto Rico for dreary black-and-white New York. I’m so glad that in West Side Story she was at least able to have those opening lyrics changed. As a Puerto Rican friend of mine said to me the other day, “No living Puerto Rican would ever call that place an ‘ugly island’.”
Absolutely. She knew that she had to sing the song, and it’s a magnificent number. But it weighed on her.
Natalie Wood and Rita Moreno
I got to talk to some of the original West Side Story actors when there was a 60th anniversary screening at this year’s virtual TCM Festival and I was surprised at Moreno’s honesty in talking so openly about her displeasure at Natalie Wood’s casting in the film. Not against her personally, but just how wrong it was to cast all of these people who had no connection to the culture.
She’s actually one of the executive producers on the new version of West Side Story and believe me, the casting of that film was a huge deal for her. As much as she loves having been part of the original, she was adamant about the new film not making the same mistakes.
She’s such a remarkable person, and I’m so glad this intimate portrait of her is now available for all to see. In addition to all that we learn from Rita herself and the amazing people who are interviewed in the film such as Lin-Manuel Miranda, Héctor Elizondo, Morgan Freeman, Whoopi Goldberg, Mitzi Gaynor, George Chakiris, Eva Longoria, Justina Machado, and Norman Lear, I loved the amazing animation with the paper dolls. So effective!
That was part of my first pitch when I thought of making this documentary. I had read her book many times and could see how this little girl, Rosita Dolores Alverio, was always inside of her. I used to play with paper dolls as a child, and so did Rita, and they are pretty fragile. I wanted to show that part of her, the vulnerable and insecure child who everyone wanted to dress and act and be a certain way. And yet Rita Moreno was able to triumph over all of that and come to discover who she really was.
Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go For It opened today in actual THEATERS and is also available for streaming.
Silents are Golden: The Silent Films of Cecil B. DeMille
Well known for beloved classics like The Ten Commandments(1956), Cecil B. DeMille is indisputably one of Hollywood’s great directors. While he is perhaps not considered as “artsy” as some of his contemporaries, he did have a distinct flair for the epic and dramatic, much to the enjoyment of generations of viewers.
It may be surprising today, but in the late 1910s and early ‘20s, DeMille was known more for fluffy “society” comedy dramas than gigantic Biblical spectacles. These were full of lavish gowns (often on the “extreme fashion” end of the spectrum), and “rich people” toys like couches with fancy hidden bars in the armrests. Of course, it wasn’t long before DeMille starting making his grand epics, too. Let’s look at some highlights from his early filmography:
Thomas Meighan and Gloria Swanson in Male and Female (1919)
While on the surface it seems like one of the sillier DeMille society dramas, deeper down Male and Female is a wry study of class difference – with a heavy dash ofSwiss Family Robinson. It stars Gloria Swanson and the early matinee idol Thomas Meighan. Swanson had gotten her start in comedies at Sennett and was happy to transition to wearing ballgowns in DeMille romance features. His films certainly helped make her a major star.
In Male
and Female, based on J.M. Barrie’s play The
Admirable Crichton, Swanson plays the spoiled daughter Lady Mary in a
wealthy family and Meighan is their butler Crichton. The two are attracted to
each other but Mary rejects Crichton because of his “lowly” status.
Circumstances change, however, when the household becomes shipwrecked on a desert
island and are forced to defer to Crichton, who turns out to have excellent
survival skills. Filmed attractively and with plenty of humor, it’s a fun “what
if?” scenario and also offers a famous fantasy sequence where Swanson, in a
scene set in ancient Babylon, did a dangerous shot with a real, roaring lion.
Gloria Swanson and Thomas Meighan in Why Change Your Wife? (1920)
This author’s personal favorite of DeMille’s “upper crust” fantasies is Why Change Your Wife? again starring Swanson and Meighan. The plot concerns the travails of Robert, dismayed over his wife Beth’s current frumpiness and prudishness. He longs for her to be more of a “sweetheart” again, and she can’t understand why he’s less interested in her more “cultured” pursuits. Eventually, Robert has an affair with the very stylish and flirty Sally (Bebe Daniels). When Beth finds out – and also discovers everyone is gossiping about her failing marriage – she angrily decides that if an “indecent” flirt is what’s in vogue, then she would give herself the most extreme makeover she could and really show everyone!
While the plot hasn’t aged quite like fine wine, the film is so
frothy and full of outrageous fashions that I can’t help finding it
irresistible. Plus, there is the spectacle of a very serious “artsy” character
in the most ridiculous male bathing suit of all time, and that alone is worth
the price of admission.
Gloria Swanson and Wallace Reid in The Affair of Anatol (1921)
Swanson again is one of the stars in this film, the other being the legendary Wallace Reid, the handsome picture idol who was gone too soon. Anatole Spencer (Reid), a “high society” man, has a shaky marriage with his wife Vivian (Swanson). His relationship is further complicated by his, say, unusual propensity to try and help “fallen” female friends lead better lives. He tries to save young Emilie from being the sugar baby of a wealthy gent, but she winds up falling for him. After Emilie shows herself to be unrepentant after all, Anatole is outraged and vows to stop “rescuing” women in the future (the scene where he trashes an entire room in his anger is something to behold). Naturally, Anatole’s promise doesn’t last long.
This is the last surviving full feature of Reid’s before his unfortunate death from morphine addiction in 1923 (he was originally prescribed morphine by doctors). Despite his affliction at the time, his charm and good looks still shine. The film is also worth taking in for Bebe Daniel’s role as an infamous performer named – no joke – Satan Synne, in appropriately theatrical outfits.
Theodore Roberts as Moses in The Ten Commandments (1923)
This article certainly couldn’t leave out one of DeMille’s biggest hits, without which the beloved 1956 Charleton Heston version wouldn’t exist. The epic Egyptian sets and grandiose performances are all there, but with the added twist of the Exodus story being recounted in a long prologue, and the main story having a modern setting.
After watching the story of Moses (Theodore Roberts) and the creation of the Ten Commandments, we’re introduced to the two brothers John (Richard Dix) and Dan (Rod La Rocque) McTavish. Their God-fearing mother teaches them to follow the Ten Commandments, but only John listens, becoming a poor but honest carpenter. Dan, on the other hand, becomes an atheist and decides not to let any Bible teachings get in the way of becoming a worldly success. Dan’s decisions, of course, ultimately catch up with him.
Even back then the modern story was considered
a bit of a letdown after all the Biblical spectacle, but The Ten Commandments was still one of the big hits of 1923. Today
the film still has its fans, despite inevitable comparisons with the 1956
version.
Joseph Striker, Micky Moore, H.B. Warner, and Ernest Torrence in The King of Kings (1927)
A major blockbuster of the era, DeMille’s epic tale of Jesus Christ pleased both crowds and critics alike. Starring H.B. Warner, it focused on Christ’s adult years, with some added concentration on the heavily fictionalized stories of Mary Magdalene (who at one point drives a chariot pulled by zebras!) and Judas Iscariot. Deeply reverent and beautifully filmed, it has thought-provoking moments like Judas secretly rejecting the bread and wine at the Last Supper and touching scenes like Christ “healing” a child’s doll. It’s an ambitious work that’s well worth watching today.
The King of Kings was the first film to play at Grauman’s Chinese Theater in Hollywood, and some theaters had special afternoon screenings specifically geared toward elementary and high school students. It’s regarded as one of the most widely seen silents of the 1920s.
When we watch silent films today, we tend to
gravitate towards the era’s artsy features, epic spectacles, or crowd-pleasing
comedies. Any curious viewers who want to explore DeMille’s early filmography
will be delighted to see that he manages to offer a bit of all the above.
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.
These titles will be available for FREE STREAMING all month long on the CMH Channel. All you need to do is click on the movie/show of your choice, then click ‘play’ — you do not have to opt for a 7-day trial.
In celebration of June Birthdays, we’re featuring the one and only Errol Flynn (born Jun 20, 1909) with Michael Curtiz’s Santa Fe Trail. We’re also celebrating a birthday ‘two-fer’ ala Rosalind Russell (Jun 4, 1907) and Ralph Bellamy (Jun 17, 1904) in Howard Hawk’s rapid-fire screwball comedy His Girl Friday! We’ll also be featuring films starring Jane Russell, Gail Patrick and Basil Rathbone, born Jun 21, 1921, Jun 20, 1911 and Jun 13, 1892, respectively.
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We’re also celebrating Fond Memories this month with some personal favorites, two of which are perfect for Father’s Day.
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For those of you who aren’t familiar with the service, Best Classics Ever is a new mega streaming channel built especially for classic movie and TV lovers. The idea of the channel is to make lots of classic titles accessible and affordable for all. That said, Classic Movie Hub is curating titles each month that our fans can stream for free on the Classic Movie Hub Channelat Best Classics Ever. If you’d like access to the entire selection of Best Classics Ever titles, you can subscribe to everything for a low monthly fee of $4.99/month (Best Stars Ever, Best Westerns Ever, Best Mysteries Ever, Best TV Ever) or for an individual channel for only $1.99/month.
You can read more about Best Classics Ever and our partnership here.
For those of you who
are unfamiliar with Cinemallennials, it is a bi-weekly podcast in which I, and
another millennial, watch a classic film that we’ve never seen before, and discuss
its significance and relevance in today’s world.
In today’s episode, I talked with James Wilson about The Great Escape, directed by John Sturges and starring Steve McQueen, James Garner, and Richard Attenborough. The Great Escape is often considered the pinnacle of classic World War II action films and is also the film that ensured Steve McQueen’s status as a Hollywood legend. While known for its depictions of valor and defiance in the face of danger, The Great Escape exhibits the emotional and empathetic attitudes, often not explored, of those that served in the Second World War.
Captain Virgil Hilts (Steve McQueen) being questioned by Kommandt Von Luger (Hannes Messemer)
While not listed as often as some of his contemporaries as being one of the best directors of all time, John Sturges definitely rubbed elbows with some of them and often took on films whose difficult subjects those directors would be hesitant to approach. Sturges began his Hollywood career as a member of RKO’s blueprint and art department in 1932; from there he eventually rose to production assistant and film editor, and then the Second World War changed his life. Serving as a captain in the U.S. Army Air Forces during the war, Sturges directed over 40 documentaries including Thunderbolt, co-directed with William Wyler, which documented the aerial operations of Operation Strangle, and which would lead to his meteoric rise as a director. After the war, Sturges went on to direct a wide variety of films including dramas, comedies, thrillers, and would even confront racism in films like Right Cross (1950), and his breakthrough film, Bad Day at Black Rock (1955). His most notable films besides The Great Escape were his westerns, especially The Magnificent Seven (1960)which was his adaptation of Akria Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954), and which starred Yul Brenner, Eli Wallach, Steve McQueen and Charles Bronson. Kurosawa himself praised Sturges’ adaptation and even supposedly presented Sturges with a samurai sword, which Sturges recalled as the single proudest moment of his life.
James Coburn, John Sturges, Steve McQueen and Charles Bronson
Set during 1943, The Great Escape follows the story of a
group of Allied prisoners of war who are obsessed with escaping from a high-security prison
camp. Despite being
experienced soldiers turned notorious escape artists, their plans often go awry and are quickly
dashed. That is,
until American Captain Virgil Hilts (Steve McQueen) and RAF Squadron Leader Roger Bartlett (Richard Attenborough) enter the camp and vow to
attempt the largest escape plan ever, in order to disrupt
the Third Reich’s evil campaigns of hateful death.
During this episode, James and I will be discussing The Great Escape’s influence on films like Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, and Chicken Run. We’ll also discuss the greatest generation and their idea of strength, the struggle of putting your trust in strangers in the direst of circumstances, and the role that empathy and compassion play in life or death situations.
What differentiates The Great Escape from other World War II
films of the period,
and even today, is
its emphasis on the characters’ empathy for their fellow man. While the film uses, and in
some cases, creates new archetypes for the genre and the soldiers of the greatest generation, James and I were
surprised to see the emotional subtext throughout the film. As millennials, we
were raised on the notion that
veterans kept their wartime experiences close to the chest to avoid displaying emotions that would lessen their
perceived bastion of physical and emotional strength. Whether it’s because of our
exposure to popular history, popular culture, or even first-hand or second-hand
accounts, the greatest generation is almost always depicted at a near
mythological level. With
that in mind, it was impressive to see the displays of emotional and mental support
between the main
characters in the film.
Blythe (Donald Pleasance) and Hendley (James Garner) playing chess.
Probably the most heartwarming example of empathy in the film is Hendley’s (James Garner) support and compassion for Blythe (Donald Pleasence) when he realizes that Blythe is going blind. This leads to a heroic moment for Hendley, as he volunteers to lead his blind friend to freedom, risking his own life for the life of his friend. Similarly, one of the ‘Tunnel Kings,’ Willie, shows empathy towards fellow ‘Tunnel King,’ Danny, when Danny reveals he has claustrophobia. Willie commits to seeing Danny through the tunnel, and sticking with him. Willie does just that, possibly through one of the scariest moments of Danny’s life.
Willie (John Dudley Leyton) comforting Danny (Charles Bronson) on his way out of the tunnel.
While The
Great Escape has all the
elements of typical
World War II action film archetypes, the film brings to light that the greatest generation
didn’t just fight with
bullets and ammunition, but also with love, empathy, and compassion for each other.
I hope you enjoy this episode of Cinemallennials, which you can find here on apple podcasts or on spotify. Please reach out to me as I would love to hear your thoughts on The Great Escape, especially if you’re a first-time viewer too!
Dave Lewis is the producer, writer, and host of Cinemallennials, a podcast where he and another millennial watch a classic film that they haven’t seen before ranging from the early 1900s to the late 1960s and discuss its significance and relevance in our world today. Before writing for Classic Movie Hub, Dave wrote about Irish and Irish-American history, the Gaelic Athletic Association in the United States, and Irish innovators for Irish America magazine. You can find more episodes of Cinemallennials, film reviews and historical analyses, on Dave’s website dlewmoviereview.com or his YouTube channel.
I’ve had a particular fondness for The Harvey Girls (1946) since the first time I saw it, but my love increased when I visited the El Tovar Hotel in the Grand Canyon some years ago and learned more about the fascinating history of the real Harvey Girls who brought beefsteak and civilized manners to the Western frontier. The exhibit at the hotel included references to the 1946 Judy Garland film, which is dedicated to the women who went West on the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe railroad in order to work in Fred Harvey’s establishments. Sadly, not everyone gets the chance to visit one of the few remaining Harvey Houses, but they can watch Garland and a fantastic supporting cast in this energetic Western musical from director George Sidney. While it’s not a perfect movie, it is one of my very favorite Judy Garland films, not only because I like the protagonist Garland plays but because I absolutely adore Angela Lansbury, Marjorie Main, and Virginia O’Brien, and having all of them in the same picture is really a treat.
Garland plays Susan Bradley, who answers a matrimonial ad and agrees to ride the train all the way to Sandrock to marry a man she only knows through his letters. When that doesn’t turn out as expected, Susan joins a troop of Harvey Girls arriving at the same time and gets to work feeding passengers and locals at the Harvey House. The local saloon crowd isn’t happy about the competition or the idea of Sandrock settling down into a respectable town, but only the duplicitous Judge Purvis (Preston Foster) is villainous enough to terrorize the newcomers with increasingly nasty tricks. Even as they fend off the judge’s attacks, the girls find romance in unexpected places, and sparks fly between Susan and the owner of the Alhambra saloon, Ned Trent (John Hodiak), much to the disgruntlement of Ned’s usual squeeze, saloon singer Em (Angela Lansbury).
On the train to Sandrock, Alma (Virginia O’Brien) and some of the other new recruits review the handbook for Harvey waitress conduct. The real Harvey Girls were bound by strict rules and regulations.
The Harvey Girls offers a distinctly feminine perspective on going West, even if it omits the worst dangers and hardships of the experience in favor of Technicolor song and dance. The girls might be nice young ladies from back East, but they’re hardier than they first appear, a point made abundantly clear in the glorious free-for-all fight with the dance hall demimondes. Susan’s friend Alma (Virginia O’Brien) turns out to be skilled at shoeing horses and working a blacksmith’s forge, while Susan herself grabs a pair of pistols and marches into the saloon to retrieve the hotel’s stolen meat. It’s very satisfying to see the ladies of the film so capable and determined in spite of the obstacles they face, and by the end of the picture, we even see Susan and Em reach an appreciation of each other. Two older women are in charge of the girls, and they’re both sturdy, reassuring presences; Miss Bliss (Selena Royle) doesn’t have enough scenes to be fully developed, but Sonora (Marjorie Main) steals almost every scene she’s in, and she even strikes up a romance of her own with Susan’s mail-order groom, Hartsey (Chill Wills). On the less reputable side of the street, we have Em, a more complicated character but not really a bad one even if she resents Susan for trespassing on her territory.
Handsome Ned Trent (John Hodiak) runs the local saloon but harbors secret depths that attract Susan in spite of her anger with Ned for writing the letters that drew her out West to marry Hartsey.
While the women get the greater part of my devotion, I can’t fault the male cast, either, especially John Hodiak as Ned. His rakish, toothy grin provides good cover for the surprisingly fair-minded and even poetic side of Ned’s personality, and he has excellent chemistry with Garland. Seeing Ray Bolger reunited with Garland is also a delight, even if we don’t get to see much of his character’s developing relationship with Virginia O’Brien’s Alma. Their plotline disappears because Garland’s delays on set caused the pregnant O’Brien to be too far along to hide her condition any longer, and as a result, Alma vanishes about halfway through the picture, right after her wonderful “Wild, Wild West” number. Kenny Baker only has a few scenes as the piano playing love interest for Cyd Charisse, but they look very sweet together in their one big number. Chill Wills actually gets more screen time than Baker, thanks to Hartsey’s initial encounter with Susan and growing camaraderie with Sonora, but he’s a lovable genre stalwart who helps the movie feel more like an actual Western.
Angela Lansbury looks fantastic in the bright costumes worn by saloon singer Em, even if her singing voice is inexplicably dubbed for her musical numbers.
The music for this picture also makes me love it, even if Angela Lansbury’s singing is being dubbed for reasons I will never comprehend. “On the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe” won the Academy Award for Best Original Song, and it really is an earworm, although I also love Virginia O’Brien’s hilarious delivery of “The Wild, Wild West.” The movie has so many song-and-dance numbers that it rockets along, much like the train barreling West. It’s hard to believe that several musical numbers were removed from the picture before its release, and there’s never a point where a song really feels like it’s missing. Dances accompany most of the major musical moments; Ray Bolger’s extended solo at the Harvey party is a highlight, and Cyd Charisse, in her first speaking role as Susan’s friend Deborah, gets a couple of smaller dance scenes. I also really like the quieter segment that features “It’s a Great Big World” with Garland and O’Brien (and Charisse dubbed by Marion Doenges). In fact, the biggest flaw in the movie is that O’Brien is in it just enough to hook us on her performance and then vanishes thanks to the delays and her own impending maternity. When MGM dropped her contract in 1948 they made a huge mistake and cost all of us the chance to see O’Brien reach her full potential as a brilliant singing comedy star.
Cyd Charisse, Judy Garland, and Virginia O’Brien lament together in the musical number, “It’s a Great Big World.”
Hopefully, this delightful movie will inspire you to learn more about Harvey Girls’ history or take a train trip out West yourself. You could even take the Grand Canyon Railway to the South Rim and visit the El Tovar Hotel and Bright Angel Lodge. Another Harvey Hotel still in operation today is La Posada in Winslow, Arizona, whose famous guests have included Betty Grable, John Wayne, and Amelia Earhart. If travel isn’t an option, try more classic movie musicals about Wild West women, including Calamity Jane (1953), Red Garters (1954), and Cat Ballou (1965). Don’t miss Westward the Women (1951) if you want a more dramatic take on women’s frontier experiences.
As dreamy as that sounds for Harryhausen fans, traveling to Scotland, especially for those outside of the United Kingdom, may still not be an option. But I wouldn’t tease you – or me – if there wasn’t a way we could see the exhibit.
Understanding the extensive Harryhausen fandom across the world, the gallery has created a virtual experience we can explore from anywhere. Yes, we’re all feeling “virtual” fatigue right now – especially since virtual events can fall short of the in-person experience – but this is very good and worth your time.
Ray Harryhausen: Titan of Cinema Virtual Exhibition Experienceworks well because it provides a visual experience close to what we would have in the museum – sans fighting with a skeleton. There are original sketches, storyboards, photos, memorabilia and models like Medusa, Gwangi and Pegasus. Video is of Harryhausen’s test footage, dailies and early films. Other videos allow us to hear from the man himself as well his daughter, Vanessa, who talks about watching her father work in their home.
I feel info about the exhibit is important to share because Harryhausen’s films helped make me the movie fan I am today. Without them, I wouldn’t be writing a Monsters and Matinees column. He also inspired some of the greatest talents in film such as Steven Spielberg, Peter Jackson, Tim Burton and Guillermo del Toro. And as George Lucas once famously said, “Without Ray Harryhausen, there would likely have been no Star Wars.”
Before we explore more, a bit of background first. The in-person exhibit, Ray Harryhausen: Titan of Cinema, at the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art (Modern Two) in Edinburgh, Scotland, is a collaboration with the Ray and Diana Harryhausen Foundation. It was originally planned to open in May 2020 as part of the foundation’s celebration of his centenary, which would have been June 29, 2020. Like most everything in 2020, it was delayed by the pandemic, but finally opened in October and now has an extended run to Feb. 20, 2022.
It’s called the “largest and most comprehensive exhibition ever” of Harryhausen and his work, yet it shows just a fraction of his mementos. (More on that lower in the story.)
So what is it like?
THE EXPERIENCE
Our virtual experience is broken into the same five thematic rooms as the in-person exhibit.
King Kong and the Early Years: SeeingKing Kong when he was 13 put Harryhausen on his lifelong path. This segment includes very early drawings and marionettes inspired by the film, some of his Kong movie memorabilia and work by his mentor Willis O’Brien. A highlight is young Harryhausen’s diary from 1939 turned to May 21 where he wrote he had already seen Kong 31 times.
Imagination to Life:An exploration of Harryhausen’s
creative process from idea to reality including his development of model-making
techniques.
Dynamation:An explanation of Harryhausen’s famed technique of mixing animation and live action as his career transitioned from animation to feature films. This segment includes a look at eight Dynamation movies including The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953), It Came from Beneath the Sea (1955) and One Million Years B.C.(1966).
Creatures of Legend: Harryhausen moved from creature features to mythology and other stories in his later movies including the Sinbad trilogy plus Jason and the Argonauts (1963) and Clash of the Titans (1981). This segment looks at those movies. Actresses Caroline Munro and Martine Beswick are among those sharing stories.
A Life in Objects:Personal remembrances
of Harryhausen from his daughter, Vanessa.
Each section starts with a video (usually 5 to 8 minutes)
exploring how its theme relates to Harryhausen with guests like animator Barry
Purves and Oscar-winning special effects artist Randy Cook. It also has text,
images from the exhibit, sketches, storyboards and photos of Harryhausen’s
creations.
Additional one-minute videos are sprinkled throughout with clips of dailies, tests and excerpts from his early filmmaking such as Cave Bear (1935) and Evolution of the World (1938). Snippets from his colorful Mother Goose Fairy Tales are especially charming and worth repeated viewings. (He called them his “teething rings.”)
Take it at your own pace in the same way you might look through a coffee table book or photo album: You can quickly scan and flip through material or dive into the details. (Big tip: Click on any photo and another screen pops up with more information.) Your virtual ticket allows you to spend all the time you want exploring as it allows you access as often as you want through Feb. 20, 2020.
Titan of Cinema is not only entertaining, it’s educational. There’s video of the first examples of stop-motion including Princess Nicotine (1909) by J. Stuart Blackton (Vitagraph Studios) and The Camerman’s Revenge (1912) by Ladislas Starevich.
Over a few days, I kept rewinding videos, enlarging photos of sketches and storyboards to look at Harryhausen’s intense detailing, and studying the models and creatures that we’re shown from the in-person exhibit. I thought I knew about Dynamation, for example, but I went back over that segment a few times to learn more.
You’ll see glimpses of the in-person exhibit in videos and this is another spot I was constantly hitting pause to see as much as I could. Look carefully and you can see the setup where visitors “interact” with skeletons and other Harryhausen characters. (There are two clear partitions you stand between as the movie scene is played on the wall.)
In one room, a video plays on a large screen with sketches and photographs hanging nearby. On another wall, shelves are lined with character “replacement heads” used to convey emotion in stop-motion animation. Tables hold clear cases that cover some of his prized original creations. One has the “giant” bee, crab and octopus from Mysterious Island.Seeing them in the original size Harryhausen worked with is a reminder of how truly magical it was for him to bring them to giant-sized life on screen.
Sketches provide a look into his inspirations and creative process. There’s a drawing for the Pteranondon from an unrealized RKO project O’Brien worked on before Kong. Although it was never finished, it provided O’Brien skills and techniques he would use in Kong. That in turn influenced Harryhausen, as seen in a pencil and charcoal Pteranodon sequence for One Million Years B.C.
His original drawings for Beast from 20,000 Fathoms depict a quite evil looking creature with a beaklike mouth and pointy ears that could walk on two legs. He originally drew it as the marine dinosaur the Mosasaur, but changes in the script led Harryhausen to evolve it into a fictional Rhedosaurus.
There are plenty of key drawings, which Harryhausen used to realize his vision and show others how a scene would look in film once he added the creatures. In other words, these acted like storyboards. His key drawings for It Came From Beneath the Sea depict scenes of the octopus with his tentacles wrapped around the Golden Gate Bridge and the Clock Tower that look nearly identical to how they appeared in the film.
Under Mysterious Island, there’s a log crossing scene first done in King Kong and seen again in Peter Jackson’s 2005 remake of King Kong.
A major highlight are the models. Photos detail some of the models in the exhibit including the skeletons, the Cyclops (The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad), UFO’s (Earth vs. the Flying Saucers), and Kenny Key from a 1946 advertisement Harryhausen did.
A papier-mâché marionette he made of Kong as a teen is scrawny and kind of cute, but its quality isn’t the point – rather how Kong and Willis O’Brien inspired him.
One of the two complete Pegasus models from Clash of the Titans is beautiful even with a damaged wing. That happened during filming when glycerin was poured over it to make it look wet. It did the job – but also led to continued deterioration through the years.
There is so much more to see going back 90 years and
following Harryhausen’s entire career. Still it’s only a fraction of the
available material.
Where did it all come from? Harryhausen’s daughter, Vanessa, provides the answer that came from the lasting impact the Depression had on her father.
“He was a bit of a hoarder, he liked to recycle,” she says
in a video. “He didn’t throw away anything. God bless he did because we have
this incredible collection of all his stuff.”
Not only is it evident in his extensive collection that he kept everything he could, but we can see it in his work, too. He never let anything he created go to waste. If it didn’t make it in the project or film it was created for, it would be used at some point even if it took decades. The virtual exhibition shows multiple examples of this.
In the Creatures of Legend room there is a photo of an oil on canvas Harryhausen did when he was only 19. It’s a bright, colorful work of an Allosaurus fighting a cowboy with a terrified horse nearby. If that immediately conjures a scene from The Valley of Gwangi, it’s for a good reason. That original painting was created by the teen Harryhausen for a project that went unrealized; 30 years later it was inspiration for Gwangi.
We also see his vision for unrealized work, mostly through pencil and charcoal drawings, and can’t help but wonder what could have been. For War of the Worlds (1949), a film he long wanted to do, Harryhausen’s design for the alien ship has tripod legs; the alien looks like an octopus with a creepy face that has some creepy human characteristics. The Jupiterian (1937) featured a six-limbed, sinister-looking alien that only exists in the drawings and in about a minute of test footage on 16mm film.
Without Harryhausen hoarding an estimated 50,000 objects – memorabilia, sketches, storyboards, models and so much more – we wouldn’t have the chance to see this treasure trove of cinematic history. It turns out that it’s a gift to his fans, too, so take advantage of the opportunity to explore it, even if it’s from a home computer 3,000 miles away from Scotland.
HOW TO SEE IT
A ticket to the virtual exhibit is 10 pounds or about $14 in U.S. currency. Once you buy a ticket to Titan of Cinema, you have access to the virtual exhibit as often as you want to Feb. 20, 2022, the day the in-person exhibit ends. Your virtual ticket also allows you to access special live interactive experiences that will be posted on the website.
To learn more about the virtual exhibit and to buy a ticket, visit this direct link.
Be sure to look at the main website for the National Galleries of Scotland, too, since there is even more information about Harryhausen.
For more about the Ray and Diana Harryhausen Foundation, visit rayharryhausen.com.
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: Ripped from the Headlines – The Hitch-Hiker (1953)
The Hitch-Hiker (1953)
Ever seen an episode of the classic TV show Perry Mason? Remember Mason’s weekly nemesis, Hamilton Burger, played by William Talman? Well, you should check out Talman’s character in the 1953 noir The Hitch-Hiker.
He ain’t no
Hamilton Burger.
Co-written and directed by Ida Lupino, and produced by her production company, The Filmakers, The Hitch-Hiker tells the story of two buddies, Roy Collins and Gilbert Bowen (Edmond O’Brien and Frank Lovejoy), who set out on a relaxing (they think) fishing weekend. But like the best-laid plans of mice and men, things don’t pan out quite as our heroes intended – they make the near-fatal mistake of picking up a hitch-hiker, Emmet Myers (Talman), who just happens to be a murderous psychopath. Myers kidnaps the men, forcing them to drive him to Mexico. Along the way, Collins and Bowen find their attempts to flee are hampered by Myers’s creepy ability to literally sleep with one eye open.
This riveting
feature was based on the real-life case of Billy Cook, a native of Joplin,
Missouri, who killed six people during a murderous three-week spree in January
1951. Saddled with the nickname “Cockeyed” because of a congenital eye defect,
Cook endured a tragic childhood; after his mother died when he was five years
old, his father abandoned the boy and his seven siblings in an old local mine. Eventually,
foster homes were found for all of the children – all except Billy, whose deformed
eye and incorrigible demeanor made him difficult to place. He wound up a ward
of the state of Missouri and, later, after a series of petty crimes, an inmate
in the Missouri State Penitentiary. During his late teens, he got a tattoo
across the fingers of his left hand that spelled out “HARD LUCK.” Upon his
release from prison in 1950, he was briefly reunited with his father, telling
him that he was determined to “live by the gun and roam.”
William Talman as hitchhiker Emmet Myers in The Hitch-Hiker (1953)
Later that
year, Cook put his “gun and roam” strategy into effect, hitchhiking his way
first to California, then to Texas where, in December 1950, an auto mechanic
offered him a ride. Cook forced the man into the trunk of his car at gunpoint
but, luckily for the mechanic, he managed to escape. Serendipity wouldn’t be
with Cook’s next victims. In Oklahoma, Cook was picked up by Carl Mosser, a
farmer from Illinois who was traveling with his wife, their three young children,
and their dog. After a terrifying three-day ordeal, Cook murdered the entire
family (including the dog).
Edmond O’Brien, Frank Lovejoy and William Talman in The Hitch-Hiker (1953)
Heading west
again, Cook took a deputy sheriff hostage outside Blythe, California, but he
spared the man’s life. (Some reports say that Cook used to work with the
sheriff’s wife and that she “had been
nicer than anyone had ever been to him in his life.”) Robert Dewey, a salesman
from Seattle, met a less favorable fate; after killing Dewey, Cook took his
car, abandoning it in Mexicali, Mexico. By now, law enforcement agencies
throughout the Southwest United States were hot on Cook’s trail, but he wasn’t
finished yet. Hitching to California, he was picked up by two men on a hunting
trip, James Burke and Forrest Damron. Cook kidnapped the duo, holding them
hostage for the next eight days and forcing them to head for Mexico. The two
men would later say that they were afraid to try to escape because Cook’s right
eye always remained open and they never could tell whether their captor was
awake or asleep.
After the men had driven across the Mexico border to Santa
Rosalia, Cook was recognized by the police chief Luis Parra, who simply walked
up to Cook, removed his gun from his belt, and arrested him. Cook was later
handed over to the FBI; at the time of his arrest, he reportedly declared, “I
hate everybody’s guts, and everybody hates mine.
The arrest of real-life murderer, Billy Cook
After a trial in Oklahoma, Cook was sentenced to 300 years in prison for the murder of the Mosser family and was then convicted and sentenced to death in California for the murder of Robert Dewey. In December 1952, almost two years after the start of his killing spree, Cook was executed in the gas chamber at San Quentin prison.
Ida Lupino interviewed the two hunters who were Cook’s final captives, and she visited Cook in San Quentin shortly before his execution to secure his release to use parts of his life in her film. “I was afraid of him,” Lupino said later. “I could not wait to get the hell out of San Quentin.” Her film, co-written with her ex-husband and business partner Collier Young, was released in March 1953, just a few months after Cook’s execution. Because of the Motion Picture Production Code, which governed the depiction of sex and crime in the movies, Lupino decreased the number of Cook’s on-screen killings. The Code also prevented her from using Cook’s real name in the film, but she did exercise some creative liberties with the capture of the film’s villain, spicing up the real-life, undramatic arrest with two fistfights and a shootout.
If you’ve never
seen this ripped-from-the-headlines gem, do yourself a favor and check it out.
Selected for the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being
“culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant, it’s
available on YouTube and Prime Video, as well as on DVD as part of the Ida
Lupino: Filmmaker Collection by Kino Lorber. And if you’re already familiar
with this feature, give it a re-watch.
You only owe it to yourself.
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
