Robert Emmett Harron was born on April 12, 1893, to John and
Anne Harron in New York, New York. He was the second oldest of nine children
growing up in this Irish Catholic family. Over the years, his father worked
several different jobs, including working at an oil station, as a stableman in
a livery stable, and as a night watchman.
Harron attended Saint John Parochial School in Greenwich
Village and, by age 14, started to work as an errand boy at the Biograph
Company. There, he cleaned and appeared in occasional shorts to help earn money
for his family.
While at Biograph, Harron caught the attention of director
D.W. Griffith and quickly became one of his favorite actors. Gradually, Harron
appeared in more significant film roles. He initially appeared in comedic
shorts for Griffith. As he entered his teen years, his roles transitioned to
naïve boy characters meant to broadly appeal to American moviegoers. By 1912,
Harron appeared in almost forty films for Biograph and was one of the studio’s
rising stars.
Harron’s most significant roles were in Griffith’s epics: Judith of Bethulia (1914), The Birth of a Nation (1915), and Intolerance (1916). Among his most
popular roles was his starring role alongside Lillian Gish in Griffith’s
romance, True Heart Susie (1919).
True Heart Susie
Harron routinely worked with other top Biograph stars,
including the likes of Lillian Gish, Dorothy Gish, and Mae Marsh. Off-screen,
he was romantically involved with Dorothy Gish.
By 1920, his leading man roles began to diminish, with these
roles more frequently being assigned to Richard Barthelmess. Griffith
ultimately loaned Harron out to Metro Pictures for a four-film deal. His first
film for Metro would incidentally be the last film of his career: Coincidence (1921), released one year
after his passing.
In August of 1920, Harron traveled from Los Angeles to New
York City to attend the premiere of Griffith’s Way Down East (1920) as well as a preview of Coincidence (1921). Harron checked into the Hotel Seymour with friend,
screenwriter, and director Victor Heerman. The two of them attended the preview
screening but it reportedly received a poor reception from its audience.
Following the screening, Harron returned to the hotel and sustained a gunshot
wound to his chest. Reports claim that Harron had a gun in his trunk and that,
while removing clothes from the trunk, the gun fell out and discharged. Harron
called the hotel desk for help, initially refusing an ambulance and wishing for
a doctor to visit his room instead. When a doctor could not immediately be found,
he agreed to have the hotel call for an ambulance. He was taken to Bellevue
Hospital. While receiving treatment, he was arrested for possessing a firearm
without a permit. As a result, he was placed in the hospital prison ward.
After the injury, there were also reports speculating that
he was disappointed in his not being cast in Way Down East (1920) and attempted suicide as Barthelmess was cast
in the leading man role; however, his friends and peers fiercely denied this
theory.
Though Harron
appeared to be recovering, his health took a turn four days after he was shot.
He died on September 5, 1920, at age 27. He was interred at Calvary Cemetery in
Queens, New York City. Altogether, he appeared in roughly 220 films.
On September 26, 1920, a joint memorial
service was held for Harron, actress Clarine Seymour (who died after undergoing
emergency surgery while filming Way Down
East), Orner Locklear (a daredevil stunt pilot and actor who perished in an
airplane crash), and actress Olive Thomas (who passed from an accidental
overdose). All were eulogized by director William Desmond Taylor, whose own
still unsolved murder occurred 18 months later.
Today, some of Harron’s homes remain.
In 1910, his family resided at 49 King St., New York, New
York, which stands.
49 King St., New York City
In 1916, he maintained a residence at 641 St Paul Ave., Los
Angeles, California, which has since been razed.
In 1917, he resided at 323 W. 14th St., New York,
New York, which also stands.
323 W. 14th St., New York City
In 1920, he shared a home with his parents and siblings at
1751 Vine St., Los Angeles, which has been razed.
Bellevue Hospital remains the oldest public hospital in the United States.
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.
I was surprised to realize it’s been a couple of years since my last “Western News RoundUp,” and with lots of interesting new developments on the Western movie front, this is a particularly good month to share news!
In this column I’ll be sharing information about recent and
upcoming Western film-related events, Blu-ray releases, and more.
As I wrote this, I realized that a significant amount of
the news related back to past columns in one way or another, so where relevant
I’ve included those links, which might be especially useful to newer readers.
McCrea Ranch has announced its spring 2025 fundraiser barbecue, which will be held at the ranch on May 17th. Advance tickets are required, with information found here.
For a look at past BBQ fundraisers and another event held at the longtime home of actors and Western stars Joel McCrea and Frances Dee, please visit my June 2019,July 2023, and September 2023 columns. The ranch is on the National Register of Historic Places and is a fascinating melding of film and California history.
The ranch will also be hosting an April 26th screening of
the World War I film Lafayette Escadrille (1958) starring Tab
Hunter and directed by William Wellman. The McCreas’ son, Jody McCrea, appears
in the movie in a small role.
At least one Western, Gunman’s Walk (1958),
will be among the films shown at this year’s festival. It’s a world premiere
restoration of the movie, which was directed by Phil Karlson and stars Van
Heflin, James Darren, Tab Hunter, and Kathryn Grant (Crosby). It was filmed on
locations in Arizona and Northern California.
Roughly 40 films have yet to be announced for this year’s TCM Fest, so those attending will want to keep an eye on the list of films for this year’s festival. Late Update: A 35mm VistaVision screening of Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957) has now been announced as well. I reviewed it here in 2023.
Please visit my June 2024 column for a look at the Western screenings at last year’s TCM Fest.
Last week the Lone Pine Film Festival confirmed dates for the 2025 festival, which will be held this year from October 9th through 12th. Films, guests, and tours are due to be announced by June 15th.
Last year my husband Doug guided three sold-out horseback
movie location tours in the Alabama Hills, and he plans to guide horseback
tours again this year.
Those interested in attending Lone Pine’s celebration of Westerns filmed in the area can read more about the festival in my October 2024 column, and be sure to scroll down and check out all the extra links on past film fests and Lone Pine movie locations.
There’s lots of great news regarding Westerns on Blu-ray. First, the outstanding Anthony Mann-James Stewart Western Winchester ’73 (1950) was released on Blu-ray and 4K by the Criterion Collection at the end of January.
The disc has plentiful extras including an archival commentary track with James Stewart, a Lux Radio Theater production, and an essay by esteemed film historian Imogen Sara Smith.
You can read more about Winchester ’73 in my 2019 column about seeing the film at the TCM Classic Film Festival.
The Warner Archive Collection has announced an April 2025
Blu-ray release for Springfield Rifle (1952), a Civil War era
Western starring Gary Cooper. Andre DeToth directed.
The Springfield Rifle print will be a
1080p master from a 4K scan of the original camera negative. Extras will
include the trailer, a pair of cartoons, and a Joe McDoakes short.
In May and June of 2025, Kino Lorber Studio Classics will
release two new sets of Audie Murphy Westerns!
Volume IV will contain The Kid From Texas (1950), The
Cimarron Kid (1952), and Drums Across the River (1954),
while the June set will feature Walk the Proud Land (1956), Seven
Ways From Sundown (1960), and Bullet for a Badman (1964).
I wrote about the terrific Seven Ways from Sundown here, which teams Murphy with Barry Sullivan, half a decade ago.
Volume IV will contain commentary tracks by C. Courtney Joyner and Gary Gerani, with the extras for Volume V still to be announced. Update: Volume V will have one commentary track by Gary Gerani, with two more tracks by Toby Roan.
I also wrote a few years ago about The Proud Rebel (1958), a marvelous Western starring Alan Ladd and Olivia de Havilland which was directed by Michael Curtiz.
ClassicFlix has announced that its restoration of the film,
in collaboration with the Library of Congress, will be released on Blu-ray and
DVD in May 2025.
Extras will include a commentary track featuring Curtiz
biographer Alan K. Rode. The disc will also feature Rode interviewing Ladd’s
son David, who costars in the film. I’ve seen David Ladd speak about the movie
in the past and found his memories very interesting.
The disc will also have an isolated music track, a trailer,
and a restoration comparison.
Finally, many Western movie fans will be aware that last summer we sadly lost Jeff Arnold, longtime proprietor of the essential Western movie site Jeff Arnold’s West.
What may not be known is that two great fans of the site,
“Bud” and “RR,” have not only ensured that Jeff’s blog is
still accessible, but they are steadily adding new content.
Their blog posts over the past year include a tour of McCrea Ranch, a review of Robert Nott’s “Reel West” book on Ride the High Country (1962), and looks at films such as The Arizonian (1935) and Ride ‘Em Cowboy (1942). I hope my fellow Western fans, who might have assumed there was nothing new at the site, will check out their work. Bravo!
The McCrea Ranch photographs in this post are from the author’s personal collection.
…
– 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.
Some of the most powerful silent films were
crafted with surprising realism, especially in the early years that we often
assume are full of “stagey” acting and hokey melodrama. The Musketeers of Pig Alley (1912), The Italian (1915), Regeneration
(1915) are just a few 1910s works full of humble details and restrained
performances. And one of the finest from this period is certainly Lois Weber’s
feature Shoes (1916).
In an era when a number of women worked behind
the camera, Weber was one of the most prominent and respected female directors.
Born in 1879, Florence Lois
Weber was from a deeply religious Pennsylvania Dutch family. In her teens she
worked with the Church Home Missionary and sang on street corners in urban red
light districts. Hoping to bring edifying messages to larger crowds, she
decided to join travelling stock companies. One of those companies was managed
by former lawyer Wendell Phillips Smalley. Realizing they shared similar
ideals, Smalley and Weber would marry in 1904.
Lois Weber
Weber
began writing freelance motion picture scenarios around 1906, becoming
increasingly fascinated by the growing industry. She soon started learning how
to direct and also co-starred with her husband in short dramas. After a few
years they decided that cinema was the ideal medium for spreading “uplifting”
stories and they began making their own films, with Weber getting much of the
directing credits.
The
couple quickly gained a reputation for quality dramas exploring class
differences, romantic complications, and religion. One of their most well-known
shorts today is Suspense (1913),
which included a triptych effect that was sophisticated for its time. They also
made waves with their feature Hypocrites (1915),
which included the allegorical “Naked Truth” represented by a fully nude
actress in double exposures. Weber defended the artistic integrity of these
scenes: “Hundreds of thousands have seen Hypocrites,
but those who went with evil thoughts for the gratification of a lustful
curiosity uppermost in their mind, found a searchlight suddenly turned on their
own conscience. I know, I saw it.”
Hypocrites (1915)
In
1916, now the main director with her husband working more behind the scenes,
Weber would release one of her most profound features: Shoes (1916). It was a simple story about the young Eva Meyer who
struggles to set aside enough money for a much-needed new pair of shoes while
also being the breadwinner for her impoverished family. Her shiftless father is
no help, and her mother is busy looking after her siblings. Towards the end,
with her old shoes on the cusp of literally falling to pieces, Eva makes a devastating
decision.
Shoes was based on a short story by
Stella Wynne Herron, who had been profoundly influenced by the book A New Conscience and an Ancient Evil by
social reformer Jane Addams. Addams’ book had examined the tragic lives of
poverty-stricken girls in Chicago who were coerced into prostitution. Weber’s
film would treat its delicate subject with restraint and dignity, deeply
sympathetic to the main character’s plight.
Part
of the reason the film works so well is its subtle performance by the teenaged
lead Mary MacLaren. MacLaren (formerly MacDonald) had worked as a chorus girl
on Broadway and became an extra in Weber’s films. With her thick blonde hair
and features that could be as pretty or as plain as needed, MacLaren was a
“find” and Weber thought she’d be a perfect lead for Shoes. MacLaren played the role not as a naive waif but a jaded
teen who was forced to grow up too soon. One critic would call her “a
full-fledged star in about the fastest time known to screen history.”
Weber
kept the plot succinct, closely following the Herron story, and insisted on
realism for both the performances and the immersive sets. The well-stocked
five-and-dime store and the fully furnished Meyer flat were built at the
studio. During kitchen scenes Weber insisted on having real corned beef and
cabbage cooking on the stove. The most significant departure from Herron’s
story was a wistful “what might have been” sequence, showing how the Meyers
might’ve fared if the father had actually been a success. The Meyers are shown
well-dressed and part of “society,” and Eva’s shown being romanced by a country
boy. The sequence was in the spirit of good taste, as the audience already
knows the sad decision Eva’s been driven to make.
Shoes, released under Universal’s
Bluebird Photoplays, was soon the branch’s most popular film. It received much
critical praise for its realism and powerful story. Moving Picture World wrote: “…In dealing with its subject Miss
Weber has surpassed herself in craftsmanship, turning out a picture that
strikes the heart broadside and overwhelmingly instead of with the muted
‘punch’ of most encounters with problems.” A Wid’s Daily critic summed up its appeal: “It is a human drama,
humanly told and humanly played.”
The
success of Shoes led to more starring
roles for MacLaren, as well as a supporting role in Douglas Fairbanks’s wildly
popular The Three Musketeers (1921).
She left films for a few years to marry a colonel, and returned to the industry
after their subsequent divorce. Having a harder time getting substantial roles
the second time around, by the 1940s she started taking in boarders.
MacLaren
would struggle uncomplainingly for the next few decades. Hauntingly, the
actress who rose to fame for playing an impoverished young woman would
eventually sink back into poverty herself.
Destitute
by the time she reached her eighties, her house of nearly seventy years became
dilapidated and overrun by rats and her many pets. The city considered it a
hazard and put it up for auction, moving the 85-year-old MacLaren to a nursing
home. She only lived a few more weeks. And yet, according to everyone who knew
her at that time, she remained a “lovely” and friendly lady, “just as sweet as
could be” right up to the end.
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.
There are
characters in film noir that are bigger than life, that are in nearly every
scene and who tower over the movie itself like the eponymous inferno.
And then there
are those that you hardly see at all – characters so minor that they often
don’t even warrant a last name (or a name at all) – and yet, they’re
unforgettable.
This month’s Noir Nook takes a look at three of these characters: Madge in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), Girl at Bar in Shield for Murder (1953), and Sally in Sweet Smell of Success (1957).
…..
Madge
(Audrey Totter) in The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)
The Postman
Always Rings Twice tells the tale of Cora Smith (Lana Turner) and Frank
Chambers (John Garfield), illicit lovers who team up to murder Cora’s husband,
played by Cecil Kellaway. As it turns out, both Cora and Frank get off
scot-free (due to some courtroom machinations that, even after all these years
and countless viewings, I still don’t quite understand), but that doesn’t mean
there’s smooth sailing ahead. The two become adversaries, each threatening to
turn the other one in, and when Cora leaves town for a family emergency, well –
you’ve heard the old saying, “When the cat’s away, the mice will play”?
In this case,
the mouse – that’s Frank – finds a lovely plaything in the person of Madge, who
he meets in the parking lot of the train station. She was having a bit of a
problem getting her car started, but she didn’t have any problems starting
Frank’s motor, if you know what I mean. A brief mention about her thin skirt
and the hot leather of the car seat, and he was off to the races.
Madge, like
many a minor character, was only in one scene, with a handful of lines, but she
made them count. She practically purred when she was talking to Frank, even if
all she was doing was complaining about her job as a hash slinger or labeling Frank
an “outlaw [who] can’t stand captivity.” Within just a few minutes, she’d made
such an impression on Frank that he was proposing a trip with her to Tijuana,
Mexico. She made an impression on us, to – and on the critic from the Hollywood
Reporter, who wrote: “Audrey Totter, going the small part of a rather loose
pick-up . . . proves again that she has a great future, with easy command of
what made our top screen sirens stars.”
…..
Girl at Bar
(Carolyn Jones) in Shield for Murder (1953)
One of my
favorite lesser-known noirs, Shield for Murder stars Edmond O’Brien (who
was also making his directorial debut) as Barney Nolan, a police detective who murders
a bookie and relieves the corpse of a cool $25,000. But he’s not exactly pals
with Lady Luck – his back-alley homicide was witnessed by a nearby resident, the
bookie’s boss wants his money back, and the entire case is being investigated
by a young detective (John Agar) to whom Barney serves as mentor and friend.
Stressed by his
attempts to cover up his crime while evading the hoods on his trail, Barney visits
a bar in a local restaurant, where he hopes to collect his thoughts (or maybe
drown them). There, he encounters a young blonde with a knowing smile and
come-hither eyes that run up and down Barney like a searchlight (as Olga from The
Women [1939] would say). Sidling up next to Barney, she starts in with a
line of patter that can best be described as eclectic. She teaches him how to
“look tough” in the mirror. She flips her hair and confesses that her mother
always thought she had “too much spirit.” And before you can say “Jack
Robinson,” she and Barney are sitting cozily together in a booth. (By the way,
even though the film credits her as “girl in bar,” we learn when she introduces
herself to Barney that her name is Beth.)
Beth is a . . .
shall we say . . . interesting young woman; between the mysterious bruise
on her arm (“Somebody gave it to me, I guess,” she half-explains) and the way
her hand forms into a claw on Barney’s face when she kisses him, we don’t know where
this thing might end up. (We never find out, though, since Barney upends the
evening by pistol-whipping two thugs in the middle of dinner.)
Along with Marla
English, who played Barney’s girlfriend, Carolyn Jones was singled out by the
critic for the L.A. Daily News; although he misspelled her name as
“Carilyn,” he wrote that Jones and English “contribute just the right amount of
femme charms to their roles, and although they don’t get much chance to really
emote, both gals show promise.”
…..
Sally (Jeff
Donnell) in Sweet Smell of Success (1957)
In Sweet
Smell of Success, Burt Lancaster is all-powerful, Walter Winchell-like columnist
J.J. Hunsecker, and Tony Curtis (in what is arguably the best performance of
his career) is Sidney Falco, a sniveling, sycophantic, weasel of a man who will
do anything to get ahead. And for Sidney, getting ahead means earning the favor
of Hunsecker.
Sidney’s
“office” (which has a nameplate taped onto the door and a bedroom in the back)
is presided over by Sally, who serves as Sidney’s Girl Friday. She’s not the
kind of glamour-girl assistant you might think a man like Sidney would have; her
face is free of make-up, her clothes are ill-fitting, and her hairstyle is
unattractive. She’s certainly efficient, though, and is adept at fielding a
variety of calls, from dissatisfied clients to vendors trying to collect
past-due bills.
Unfortunately
for Sally, she’s clearly in love with Sidney – and she couldn’t have picked a
worse candidate for her affections. When Sally points out to Sidney that he’s
been left out of Hunsecker’s column for five consecutive days, Sidney snarkily
snaps, “May I rent you out as an adding machine?” When she tells Sidney she
wishes that she could help him, he responds, “You can help with two minutes of
silence.” And when he refers to her “meaty, sympathetic arms,” he actually
reduces her to tears. In just a short amount of time, Sally manages to evoke an
assortment of reactions from the viewer; as we watch her look at Sidney with
those liquidy, puppy-dog eyes, we want to simultaneously shake her, roll our
eyes in annoyance, and give her a massive hug.
In the L.A.
Examiner, Jeff Donnell was praised for her “good job” and the reviewer for
the New York Times included her along with several other minor
characters when he noted the “competent touches in their brief appearances.”
The next time
you see The Postman Always Rings Twice, Shield for Murder, or Sweet
Smell of Success, give an extra look to Madge, Beth, and Sally. All told,
their appearances in these films probably don’t occupy a total of 10 minutes, but
they’re undeniably unforgettable.
And deserve to be remembered.
…
– 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:
On my most recent visit to London, I went to see a
stage production of Agatha Christie’s 1953 play, Witness for the Prosecution,
and of course I had to rewatch the 1957 film adaptation again as soon as I got
home so that I could see how they compared to one another. The 1957 film,
directed by Billy Wilder and nominated for six Academy Awards, differs from the
play in some significant ways but still earned Christie’s approval at its
release. Perhaps, like most of us, she was won over by the outstanding performances
of some of classic Hollywood’s greatest talents, including Tyrone Power,
Marlene Dietrich, Charles Laughton, and Elsa Lanchester. Those performances
ensure that Witness for the Prosecution remains as gripping and
effective today as it was in 1957, especially if you don’t spoil the ending for
a first-time viewer.
Tyrone Power plays the defendant, Leonard Vole, who is accused of murdering a rich widow to get her money.
Tyrone Power stars as Leonard Vole, who asks barrister
Sir Wilfrid Robarts (Charles Laughton) to defend him in the English courts
against the charge of murdering a wealthy widow (Norma Varden). Having recently
suffered a near fatal heart attack, Sir Wilfrid at first refuses but then
becomes fascinated by the details of the case, including the involvement of
Vole’s enigmatic wife, Christine (Marlene Dietrich). When Christine
unexpectedly appears as a witness for the prosecution during Vole’s trial, Sir
Wilfrid struggles to understand her motivation and defend his client against
seemingly damning evidence.
Sir Wilfrid (Charles Laughton) is an experienced barrister who hopes to prove Vole’s innocence in spite of the evidence against him.
Christie published the original version of this plot a
century ago as a 1925 short story titled “Traitor’s Hands.” She changed the
name to “The Witness for the Prosecution” in 1933 and made additional changes
to the ending when she wrote the play (which is the same as the ending for the
1957 film). The play is very much a courtroom drama, but the film adaptation
presents several key scenes that take place at other times and locations. We
see how Leonard and Christine met during the war, and we see how Leonard met
the dead woman, Emily French, and her suspicious housekeeper, Janet MacKenzie
(Una O’Connor). We are even able to accompany Sir Wilfrid in search of a
mysterious person offering last-minute evidence during the trial, which
provides the film with one of its most memorable scenes. More importantly, the
film makes Sir Wilfrid a heart attack patient and adds the completely new character
of his nurse, Miss Plimsoll (Elsa Lanchester). I didn’t miss her character when
I watched the stage production, but the stage version of Sir Wilfrid has no
need for her, while Laughton’s fussy, temperamental take on the barrister
really benefits from the adversarial relationship with the relentless nurse. By
the time they appeared in this film, their tenth together, Laughton and
Lanchester had been married for nearly thirty years, and their easy comedic
sparring is so natural and delightful that it’s hard to imagine the movie
without it. Both Laughton and Lanchester earned Oscar nominations for their
performances, while Power and Dietrich were both shut out.
Nurse Plimsoll (Elsa Lanchester) and Sir Wilfrid bring a lot of comic action to this dark story with their battle over Sir Wilfrid’s activities.
Despite the Oscar snubs, Power and Dietrich both
deliver some of their best work thanks to the meaty, dramatic roles they have
to play. In his last finished film before a fatal heart attack at the age of
44, Power looks haggard, a darker and world-weary version of the dashing
heartthrob who had wooed audiences in the 1930s and early 40s. Power always
wanted to be more than a pretty face and campaigned hard for films like Nightmare
Alley (1947), and Witness for the Prosecution offers a final
testament to the actor’s ability to tackle such roles. Dietrich was deeply
disappointed when her performance yielded no Oscar nomination, but unlike Power
she would live to make other great pictures, including Touch of Evil
(1958), Judgment at Nuremberg (1961), and even an Oscar-nominated
documentary about her life called Marlene (1984). As Christine (renamed
from “Romaine” in the play), Dietrich is a mesmerizing, inscrutable sphinx,
drawing us and Sir Wilfrid in because we never know what she’s really thinking.
Her greatest contributions to the picture come in the most shocking scenes,
which I won’t discuss here except to say that anyone who hasn’t seen the movie
yet needs to do so immediately in order to appreciate Dietrich’s commitment and
talent. It’s much easier to avoid spoilers by praising the supporting
performers who populate the background of Leonard and Christine’s story,
especially Norma Varden as the lovestruck Mrs. French and the great Una
O’Connor as her loyal but cantankerous housekeeper. There are a lot of women in
Leonard’s life, and he seems to inspire strong feelings in all of them, ranging
from adoration to absolute loathing.
Marlene Dietrich gives an outstanding performance as the mysterious Christine.
If, like me, you’re a fan of Agatha Christie film adaptations, check out And Then There Were None (1945), Murder She Said (1961), Murder on the Orient Express (1974), and The Mirror Crack’d (1980). After Witness for the Prosecution, Billy Wilder’s next directorial efforts would be Some Like It Hot (1959) and The Apartment (1960), both of which also earned him nods for Best Director, with The Apartment actually bringing wins for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Writing. Revisit Tyrone Power’s younger days with Alexander’s Ragtime Band (1938), The Mark of Zorro (1940), or Blood and Sand (1941), or see Marlene Dietrich’s only Oscar-nominated performance in Morocco (1930). For more of Charles Laughton and Elsa Lanchester together onscreen, see The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), Rembrandt (1936), Tales of Manhattan (1942), and The Big Clock (1948). If you get the chance to visit London, don’t miss the fantastic stage production of Witness for the Prosecution in the historic courtroom at County Hall, where it has been running since 2017. Even better, make it an Agatha Christie double bill and see The Mousetrap at St. Martin’s Theatre, as well, but remember not to give away the endings for either show!
Her lips are as red as a rose, her skin as white as snow and
though we can’t see her hair, the dark wimple wrapped around her head and
throat is as black as ebony.
In the 90 years since she was introduced in Walt Disney’s 1937 animated classic Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, she has remained an iconic image that is referenced today, most recently in the new 2025 live-action Disney film.
But make no mistake, I’m not talking about sweet young Snow
White, but rather her stepmother, the magnificent Evil Queen.
The Evil Queen is a stunning beauty who lives up to her name in Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.
Fairy tale beginnings
When the Brothers Grimm introduced her in their 1812 fairy
tale, it was simply with the word beautiful. (She was also proud and haughty,
quite unattractive attributes.)
Fast forward more than a century when Disney chose Snow
White as his first full-length animated feature. In the “storybook”
introduction that opens his film, she is called the “vain Queen” – and she has
good reason for that.
The Queen is stunning in her gold crown, oversized white collar, flowing black cape and regal blue-purple gown. Her pale skin is colored by the same rosy cheeks and red lips as Snow White. Her oval eyes are impeccably enhanced with deep purple eyeshadow, long lashes and thin, but pronounced, eyebrows.
She is breathtaking.
As the first character in the film, she’s also immediately
unsettling with a coldness radiating from that beauty. Something is off. She is
calm but stern as she talks to the slave in the mirror, looking for affirmation
that she is the “fairest one of all.” But this time, for the first time, she
isn’t.
That’s when her deep blue eyes turn green with jealousy and
anger, conjuring strong winds that whip around her. Though her posture is erect
in the way that royals hold themselves, her expressive eyes speak volumes as
she glares in a way that makes you think “if looks could kill…”
A queen as a monster
What is the Evil Queen doing in a column about classic film
monsters? Because she is one – a monster that is a beauty and a beast in one.
Her murderous soul orders the chilling murder of a child without hesitation. If she must eat a human heart to get what she wants, so be it. She’s driven by vanity and arrogance without apology.
No explanations, no backstory to soften her evilness as happens in some modern variations like the well-made TV series “Once Upon a Time.”
The Evil Queen is one of my favorite villains, even outside of the Disney universe. I’ve been thinking about her again with the new Disney film starring Gal Gadot in the role. As with any Snow White adaptation, I’m interested in how the Evil Queen looks and is portrayed. Gadot’s Queen is a dark, gothic figure with an impressive crown. Costume designer Sandy Powell based her design on the original film’s iconic appearance of the Evil Queen because “I think it’s a really striking look,” she said in a video shared by Disney.
How did we get here?
The look of the witch on film has come a long way since this depiction of an old hag in the 1932 Silly Symphonies Babes in the Woods.
The changing face of the witch
For centuries, witches were presented in literature as grotesque
creatures with pointy hats and broomsticks. Films of the early 19th
century depicted witches as a mix of frumpy, silly women or as caricatures of
that witch on the broomstick with warts and a snaggle tooth.
That’s how she appears in the 1932 Walt Disney’s Silly Symphonies short Babes in the Woods – a take on Hansel and Gretel – where the witch also had chin whiskers, a crooked nose with a wart and wears a tattered black cape and large brown hat.
Early film witches could be comical like the “Evil Queen” in Betty Boop in Snow-White.
In the 1933 short film Betty Boop in Snow-White, from Max Fleischer’s Fleischer Studios, she was homely, a bit plump and comical with a face that bears a resemblance to, of all characters, Olive Oyl (who also was drawn by the Fleischer studio).
For Walt Disney’s Snow White, his first full-length
animated film, he gave his illustrators a great deal of leeway to experiment –
while also giving some direction, of course. They would create drawings where
she was chunky and comical (an ode to queens of the royal variety) and “a
high-collar stately beautiful type,” according to the book Walt Disney’s
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs & The Making of the Classic Film.
In an early 1934 outline for the film, Disney described her
as “a mixture of Lady Macbeth and the Big Bad Wolf – Her beauty is sinister,
mature, plenty of curves. …”
That’s her, all right.
Two women who look similar to Disney’s Evil Queen are the title character in the 1935 sci-fi film She (portrayed by Helen Gaughan), left, and Uta von Ballenstedt, a noblewoman in Medieval Germany whose likeness is immortalized in a 13th century statue (at right). They are worthy of being an inspiration.
Inspiration for the queen
Though I obviously love the queen’s look, I never thought
about the inspiration for her monstrous beauty until a few years ago. I was watching
the 1935 sci-fi fantasy She for the first time – and there she was:
Disney’s Evil Queen, except she was the title character – She Who Must Be
Obeyed is the full name – played by the stately Helen Gaughan.
Of the multiple theories about the Queen, She is near
the bottom of the list because it’s the one that has never been officially
confirmed. Trust me, you’ll see the similarities.
The moment I saw She on her throne, I pictured the Evil
Queen. Her pale face with thin eyebrows and deep lips is framed by a black
wimple beneath the large crown. She’s dressed in a deep-colored robe with an
ornamental jewel at the base of her neck.
Beyond the clothing and makeup, she recalls the Evil Queen in the way she stands, moves and holds her head high with confidence that borders on arrogance. And like the Evil Queen, she erupts when provoked in the slightest way. She was made two years before Snow White and it seems clear to me that someone at Disney was inspired by this film and there’s nothing wrong with that.
If She is not a widely regarded inspiration for the
Evil Queen, who is? There are three popular theories.
This portrait shows masks by Polish illustrator Władysław Teodor “W.T.” Benda, whose work was referenced in early character sketches of the Evil Queen. (Courtesy of Genthe photograph collection, Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division)
Masks of WT Benda:In the first outline of Disney’s Snow White in August
of 1934, the masks of Polish illustrator Władysław Teodor “W.T.”
Benda, were mentioned as an inspiration. Walt Disney was a fan of the Polish
illustrator whose dramatic masks were used in magazines and in theater. Cold
and mysterious, they held a unique beauty from the dark eyebrows, long lashes
and red lips that provided bold detail to an otherwise pale face. Sound
familiar? Yes, those are the same striking details of the Evil Queen.
A German beauty:For her wardrobe and overall appearance, look to Uta von
Ballenstedt, a noblewoman in Medieval Germany. She is captured eternally in a
famous 13th century painted statue with a fabulous upturned high
collar, large golden crown with a wimple around her face and neck and a cape
majestically wrapped around her shoulders. She has a softness about her beauty
that the Evil Queen lacks, but you can still see the similarity. The statue stands
today outside of Naumburg Cathedral in Germany, where it is a popular selfie
spot, partially because of the link to the Evil Queen.
Actresses who inspired the look of the Evil Queen included Greta Garbo, left, Joan Crawford and Gale Sondergaard (fittingly pictured in a test for the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz). Note all women have high-arched eyebrows, dramatic eye makeup and deep-colored lips – like the Evil Queen.
Hollywood stars:The one-word description of the Queen as being “beautiful”
in the original fairy tale gave much room for interpretation to the
illustrators. So why not look to the glamorous Hollywood actresses of the time
for inspiration? And they did.
Greta Garbo, Joan Crawford, Marlene Dietrich and Gale Sondergaard are the actresses most often mentioned as reference, and you can see that in EQ by looking at their faces. In the 1920s and ‘30s, actresses often had their eyebrows plucked and redrawn in a pencil-thin line. Their eyes and lips were heavy with makeup, their beauty cool and mysterious. They carried themselves like royalty, with a sexy swagger, and they had an unmistakable magnetism and sultry magnetism.
The Evil Queen’s cold beauty and dark heart influenced how the witch is portrayed on film.
Her role in Hollywood
The Disney animators could not have realized how their version
of the Evil Queen would change the depiction of the witch on film. It’s a topic
discussed in the 2020 documentary “Witches of Hollywood.” In the Disney film,
the witch was not the traditional hag (until she changed herself into one), but
an empowered woman (evil, but empowered).
She also was the first witch on film who was beautiful and
evil; “more than one thing,” as author Dianca London puts it.
“She’s not just the beautiful kind of cold, mean queen, or
the hag in the woods – she’s both,” London said. “And she has the ability to
shift between the two things at her own will which I think is a new and
exciting thing.”
Heather Green, author of Bell Book and Camera, said
the Disney film is significant in that it has two important witch figures: the
recognizable crone, as well as the “very first fantasy vamp witch.”
“She is a woman who is out for her own power, who is more interested in her beauty and her sexuality than in anything else. And she’s seeking to destroy a young girl to achieve that,” Green said. “For the first time in American film, we saw a very, very powerful, beautiful alluring woman as a witch.”
Yes, the Evil Queen gave permission for evil not to look monstrous. With her wicked nature hidden beneath her beauty, you didn’t see evil coming for you.
That’s something now common in movies, but it started with
the Evil Queen and that cinematic legacy is her crowning achievement.
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 and board chair of the Classic Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of
the former Buffalo chapter of TCM Backlot and led 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 or on Bluesky at
@watchingforever.bsky.social
Francis Phillip Wuppermann was born on June 1, 1890, in New
York, New York, to Josephine Wright and George Diogracia Wuppermann. His father
was born in Venezuela and of Spanish and German descent, while his mother was
born in the United States and was of English descent. Francis was the youngest
of 11 children, with five brothers and five sisters. His family had earned
considerable wealth through the distribution of Angostura Aromatic Bitters via
the Angostura-Wuppermann Corporation, marketing bitters for use in drinks and
cocktails.
As a young boy, Wuppermann sang soprano in his church’s
choir. He also took on odd jobs, including selling toothbrushes and
advertisements, and bronco-busting—breaking a wild horse or bronco for riding.
Wuppermann attended Cornell University, where he was active
in the Phi Kappa Psi fraternity and Glee Club. He soon pursued an interest in
acting on stage, following in the footsteps of his brother, Ralph. While
working in vaudeville, he changed his last name from Wuppermann to Morgan. His
first stage performance was in Mr. Wu
in 1914, followed by numerous appearances in other shows, including The Lullaby, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Topaze, The Band Wagon, and Hey Nonny
Nonny!
In 1914, Morgan married Alma Muller. They had one son named
George. The couple remained married until Morgan’s passing in 1949.
From 1916 to 1936, Morgan appeared in various silent films. His screen debut occurred in The Suspect (1916). Next, he worked in Raffles, the Amateur Cracksman (1917) with John Barrymore. Of his many siblings, he was closest to his brother, Carlos. While Carlos’ passing was initially deemed a suicide while serving in the United States Army’s Corps of Intelligence Police in Germany, it was later revealed that he was murdered by a fellow soldier. Carlos was a writer and actor, and Morgan appeared in his deceased brother’s play The Triumph of X (1921) on Broadway.
Once he became a contract player for MGM, Morgan appeared in
Hallelujah, I’m a Bum (1933)
alongside Al Jolson. He received an Academy Award nomination for Best Leading
Actor for his performance as Alessandro, Duke of Florence, in The Affairs of Cellini (1934). He soon
appeared in The Good Fairy (1935)
with Margaret Sullavan, The Great
Ziegfeld (1936) with William Powell and Myrna Loy, and Dimples (1936) with Shirley Temple.
In The Wizard of Oz
(1939), Morgan carried out the titular role in addition to four other roles:
Professor Marvel, the Gatekeeper, the “horse of a different color” carriage
driver, and the Palace Guard. Morgan secured the role after the studio tired of
W.C. Fields continually negotiating his potential pay for the part.
In 1939, Morgan was involved in a serious car accident in
New Mexico. While he and his family survived, his chauffer did not.
While in the throes of his film career, Morgan also
performed in radio. He co-starred with Fanny Brice in The Frank Morgan-Fanny Brice Show. When Brice left the program in
1944, Morgan continued for a year with The
Frank Morgan Show. In 1947, he starred in the radio series The Fabulous Dr. Tweedy and also
recorded several children’s records, including Gossamer Wump.
Over the years, Morgan proved to be an asset to the studio
in not only bumbling, comedic roles but also in portraying more serious and downtrodden
characters. He could be seen in Saratoga (1937),
The Shop Around the Corner (1940), The Mortal Storm (1940), and The Human Comedy (1943). Morgan also
received an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor in Tortilla Flat (1942). In addition,
Morgan appeared in a compilation film called The Great Morgan (1946), theoretically playing himself albeit in
familiar bumbling roles. In the film, Morgan jumps at the chance to produce a
film, but it all goes awry when he edits several unrelated musical and comedy
film clips together into his own film. This was considered to be a lost film
until 1980, when one print was discovered, followed by yet another.
Morgan was known to drink in his dressing room. He
occasionally carried a black brief case to work, fully stocked with a mini bar.
Morgan’s final film role was in Key to the City (1950), filmed in 1949 and released after his
death. Morgan had actually filmed some scenes as Buffalo Bill for the musical Annie Get Your Gun (1950) when he passed
away in his sleep from a heart attack on September 18, 1949. He was replaced by
Louis Calhern in the role. Morgan was 59 years old. He was buried in the
Wuppermann family plot in Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York. In 2003,
his son was buried in the same family plot.
Today, there are some extant tributes and points of interest
relating to Morgan’s life and career.
In 1900, Morgan and his family lived at 35 W. 124th
St., New York, New York. By 1917, they relocated to 236 W. 70th St.,
New York, New York. Both of these homes have since been razed.
In 1920, Morgan, Alma, and George resided at 5 St. Lukes
Pl., New York, New York, with servant Maria Johnson. This home stands today.
5 St. Lukes Pl., New York, New York
In 1927, Morgan and his family resided at 430 E. 57th
St., New York, New York, per his application for joining the Sons of the
American Revolution. This building also stands.
430 E. 57th St., New York, New York
By 1940, Morgan and his family had relocated to 1025
Ridgedale Dr., Beverly Hills, California. Also in residence with them were a
nurse (Ruth Halppner), maid (William White), cook (Elma Martin), and chauffeur
(Annanzo White). This home also stands.
1025 Ridgedale Dr., Beverly Hills, California
Morgan has two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, honoring
his work in motion pictures and radio. They are located at 1708 Vine St. and
6700 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood, California, respectively.
Hollywood Walk of Fame Star
The pants Morgan wore to portray Professor Marvel in The Wizard of Oz (1939) are on display at Movie Madness Video in Portland, Oregon.
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.
This
month it’s time for another of my periodic tributes to Western filmmakers as we
visit their final resting places throughout the Los Angeles area.
During
my visits to these sites over the years I’ve spent time reflecting on the
enjoyment each person’s work has given me, especially in the Western genre. I
hope following along here enables readers across the country and around the
world to do likewise.
In this column we’ll start with Oscar-winning actor Burt Lancaster, who appeared in numerous Westerns over his long career, including Vengeance Valley (1951), The Kentuckian (1955), and The Unforgiven (1960); I reviewed Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), in which he played Wyatt Earp, in my column in 2023. Lancaster died in 1994 at the age of 80, and his cremated remains are interred in an unassuming little spot in Westwood Memorial Park.
Burt Lancaster
Back in 2018 I reviewed another Wyatt Earp film, Tombstone: The Town Too Tough to Die (1942). The actor who portrayed Earp in that film, Richard Dix, died in 1949, age 56, and is buried at Forest Lawn Glendale. He’s interred next to his son Richard, who sadly died in a logging accident a few years later. Richard Dix’s other Westerns include Cimarron (1931), an Oscar winner for Best Picture, as well as The Conquerors (1932), The Arizonian (1935), and The Kansan (1943), among others.
Richard Dix
I included Oscar-winning actor Edmond O’Brien in my 2019 column here on “Unexpected Western Leads.” While viewers might first think of him as a “city” type who was in numerous well-known crime and film noir titles, he appeared in a significant number of Westerns, most notably John Ford’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1961) and Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1968). My favorite O’Brien Western is a little-known Western called Cow Country (1953) which I’ve enjoyed numerous times. He died in 1985 at the age of 69 and is buried at Holy Cross Cemetery in Culver City, California.
Edmond O’Brien
Like
Edmond O’Brien, Ricardo Montalban was in a John Ford Western, in this
case Cheyenne Autumn (1964), and also like O’Brien, Montalban
is buried at Holy Cross. Montalban also appeared in William Wellman’s Across
the Wide Missouri (1951), where he unfortunately suffered an accident
that would leave him with lifelong back issues. Montalban was 88 when he died
in 2009; he was preceded in death by his longtime wife Georgiana, who was the
younger half-sister of Loretta Young.
Ricardo Montalban
I’ve
visited the graves of several other cast members of Across the Wide
Missouri, including Richard Anderson. Anderson, perhaps best known today
for his TV roles on The Six Million Dollar Man and The
Bionic Woman, had his second movie role in a Monte Hale Western, The
Vanishing Westerner (1950). He was also in John Sturges’ Escape
From Fort Bravo (1953). Anderson died at 91 in 2017 and is buried at
Westwood Memorial Park.
Richard Anderson
Another cast member of Across the Wide Missouri, John Hodiak, was sadly only 41 when he died of a heart attack in 1955. He’s interred in the mausoleum at Calvary Cemetery in East Los Angeles. Hodiak’s other Westerns included the classic Judy Garland musical The Harvey Girls (1946); a favorite Robert Taylor “Cavalry Western,” Ambush (1950); and Conquest of Cochise (1953), in which he played the title role.
John Hodiak
Like
Richard Anderson, three-time Oscar nominee Eleanor Parker appeared in the
excellent Cavalry Western Escape From Fort Bravo (1953). She
also played the lead opposite Robert Taylor in the comedic Western Many
Rivers to Cross (1955) and was Clark Gable’s leading lady in The
King and Four Queens (1956). In 2013 she died in Palm Springs at the
age of 91 and is buried at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.
Eleanor Parker
Richard
Conte had an early career role in the MGM Western Big Jack (1949)
opposite Wallace Beery. He only made a couple of Westerns, including
Universal’s Riders of Vengeance (1952), but I wanted to
include him here as he’s such a favorite. He also appeared in the military
Western They Came to Cordura (1959) with Gary Cooper. He died
in 1975 at the age of 65 and is at Westwood Memorial Park.
Richard Conte
Director
Frank Lloyd had a long career beginning in silent movies, including filming
silent versions of Zane Grey Westerns. His sound-era Westerns included Wells
Fargo (1937) starring real-life husband and wife Joel McCrea and
Frances Dee; the delightful The Lady From Cheyenne (1941) with
Loretta Young as a Wyoming settler crusading for women’s suffrage; the
“Northerner” Alaska-set film The Spoilers (1942)
starring John Wayne, Randolph Scott, and Marlene Dietrich; and his final
film, The Last Command (1955), about the Battle of the Alamo.
Several sources list Lloyd’s birth year as 1886, while his gravestone says
1888. He died in 1960 and is buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.
Frank Lloyd
Finally,
we return once more to Westwood Memorial Park, the final resting place of
director Louis King. Like Frank Lloyd, King’s early directing career included
silent Westerns. He made several modern-era Westerns which might also be called
“horse” or “ranching” films, including Thunderhead,
Son of Flicka (1945), Smoky (1946), and Green
Grass of Wyoming (1948). He also directed Dick Powell and Evelyn Keyes
in the fine Mrs. Mike (1948), set on the Canadian frontier,
and his final film was Massacre (1956) starring Dane Clark.
King, who was the younger brother of better-known director Henry King, was 64
when he died in 1962.
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.
Some of the best films of the silent era
weren’t necessarily grand epics, experimental dramas, or high-budget
adventures. Some were simple, quiet stories, focusing on just a few
carefully-sketched characters. One film that always comes to my mind right away
is True Heart Susie (1919), a sweet
melodrama by D.W. Griffith that was later described by its star Lillian Gish as
a “rural poem.”
This was one of several nostalgic melodramas
Griffith directed in the late 1910s in between more prestigious projects like Hearts of the World (1918) and Broken Blossoms (1919). Starring Lillian
Gish, Robert Harron and Clarine Seymour, its intimate story and country setting
are infused with nostalgia for times gone by. Today, there’s an added charm in
knowing that when True Heart Susie
was made in 1919, much of that “old-fashioned” world still existed in a sense.
Lillian Gish and Robert Harron
The story revolves around the sweet and naive
Susie (Lillian Gish), a “plain girl” who lives with her aunt in a little house
in the country. Young William Jenkins (Robert Harron), who Susie secretly
loves, lives across the street. He dreams of going to college to become a
minister, but can’t afford the expense. Susie wants William to achieve his
dreams and decides to sell her beloved pet cow and give him the money
anonymously. William is overjoyed, believing the money came from a wealthy
benefactor he’d met in town.
William completes his studies and returns home
a full-fledged minister, much to Susie’s joy. At the local soda fountain he
talks earnestly with her about how young men want to be “plain and simple”
girls, not “painted and powdered” types. Susie is sure that her dream of marrying William will soon come
true–until one fateful day when she sees him with the fun-loving and decidedly
painted-and-powdered Betty Hopkins (Clarine Seymour).
Kate Bruce, Clarine Seymour and Robert Harron
At the time of True Heart Susie Gish had worked in films for eight years. From her
first role with her sister Dorothy in the short Biograph drama An Unseen Enemy (1912) to appearances in
prestige pictures like Intolerance (1916),
her delicate, emotional performances had made her one of Hollywood’s finest
talents. In her autobiography she recalled that by the time of True Heart Susie D.W. Griffith often
welcomed her suggestions for her characters. While a “quaint,” quiet character
like Susie can be a challenge to bring to life, Gish rose to the occasion. She
seemed to understand Susie almost instinctively, using a slightly stilted way
of walking to emphasize her character’s naivete and adding little flashes of
humor at just the right moments. The majority of Gish’s costumes involved
pinafores, slightly out-of-date–dresses, and funny little hats. She’s a deeply
sympathetic figure, and the audience feels for her throughout her various ups
and downs.
Lillian Gish
Robert Harron is also excellent as the bashful
William. An Irish Catholic lad from New York City, Harron had joined Biograph
in 1908 as an errand boy and soon started appearing on screen in bit parts.
Thanks to his hardworking, genial nature he became one of the studio’s most
reliable actors. As his career progressed under D.W. Griffith’s tutelage he
began to show astonishing versatility, his finest role arguably being “The Boy”
in Intolerance. In True Heart Susie he’s convincing as both
a gawky young boy and a self-assured minister, and he and Gish have a winsome
chemistry.
Robert Harron
Clarine Seymour was a relative newcomer to the
Griffith studio. Born in Brooklyn, she started acting in Thanhouser films to
help support her family and soon hopped over to Pathé and then to the Rolin Film Company. Her first
film for Griffith was The Girl Who Stayed
at Home (1919), where she played “Cutie Beautiful” and was charmingly
paired with Robert Harron. Small and spunky with big saucer eyes, she was very
much a “flapper type” just before flappers would start dominating the theater
screens. She makes a strong impression as the flighty, fun-loving Betty who
unknowingly becomes Susie’s romantic rival.
Clarine Seymour
With its warm, homey cinematography and
sentimental storytelling that never feels overdone, True Heart Susie’s reputation has aged like fine wine throughout
the years. It was filmed not long after the debut of United Artists, which
Griffith helped found alongside Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin and Douglas
Fairbanks. It was also released right on the heels of Griffith’s much-admired Broken Blossoms (1919), which is still
considered an artistic masterpiece today. Perhaps inevitably, True Heart Susie was a bit overshadowed
by Broken Blossom’s success. But
today it’s a much-admired highlight in Griffith’s filmography, with particular
praise going toward Gish’s performance
Lillian Gish and Robert Harron
Griffith would pair Gish and Harron one more
time in The Greatest Question (1919),
another melodrama with a rural setting. Seymour starred in The Idol Dancer (1920), a drama of the South Seas co-starring
Richard Barthetlmess. And Harron would be loaned to Metro to be the star of
what was supposed to be a four-picture deal.
Unfortunately, neither Harron nor Seymour
would live to see their careers progress through the impending Jazz Age.
Seymour would fall ill and pass away from an intestinal obstruction during the
filming of Griffith’s Way Down East (1920).
Harron’s life was claimed by a self-inflicted gunshot wound (thought to be
accidental). Only one film had been completed for his deal with Metro, a light
comedy called Coincidence (1920).
Gish alone would go on to have a very lengthy and legendary career on both
screen and stage. To the end of her life she spoke fondly of her time at the
Griffith studio, proud of her work and a bit wistful for an era long gone by.
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.
If it’s
February at the Noir Nook, it’s time to take a look at the 75th anniversary
release of some of my favorite noirs. And 1950 served up a veritable
smorgasbord of first-rate shadowy features! I always single out four films each
year on which to shine the anniversary spotlight, but whittling down the
outstanding releases from 1950 was like pushing a boulder up a steep hill – not
impossible, but darned difficult!
I finally
managed to decide on my Final Four, but I also have to give the nod to some of
the many fine films that didn’t make the cut: The Asphalt Jungle, The
Damned Don’t Cry, D.O.A., No Man of Her Own, and Shakedown.
You can put all of these films in a bag, shake ‘em up, and select any one – you
simply cannot go wrong. But in the meantime, here’s my look at the four
features from 1950 that I absolutely love the best.
…..
The Breaking
Point
The Breaking Point, Patricia Neal and John Garfield
This feature,
starring John Garfield, Phyllis Thaxter, and Patricia Neal, was the second of
three film adaptations of Ernest Hemingway’s 1937 novel, To Have and Have
Not. (The first, with the same name as the novel, was released in 1944 and
starred Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, and the third, The Gun Runners,
starred Audie Murphy and was released in 1958.) The story focuses on Garfield’s
character, Harry Morgan, an ex-Naval officer who lives with his wife, Lucy
(Thaxter), and two daughters, and operates a charter fishing boat in Newport
Beach, California. Barely able to make the payments on his boat, Morgan is
pressured into an illegal operation by a shady lawyer (Wallace Ford) and his
life is complicated further by the presence of Leona Charles (Neal), a sexy passenger
with eyes for Morgan. Also on hand, providing a combination of reasonable
objections and loyal support is Morgan’s right-hand man, Wesley Park (Juano
Hernandez).
The Breaking
Point doesn’t get a lot of attention, and that’s a real shame. It has a
first-rate pedigree: direction by the great Michael Curtiz, a fabulous cast, and
the stamp of approval from Hemingway himself, who considered it to be the best
adaptation of any of his books. I really can’t say enough about how good this
movie is, from start to finish – and speaking of the finish, the ending is one
of the most gut-punching in all of film noir and one you won’t soon forget.
Favorite quote:
“All I got left to peddle is guts. I’m not sure I got any. I have to find out.”
– Harry Morgan
…..
Gun Crazy
Gun Crazy, John Dall and Peggy Cummins
Based on a
short story, “Deadly is the Female,” written by MacKinlay Kantor and published
in the Saturday Evening Post, Gun Crazy tells the story of ill-fated
lovers Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins) and Bart Tare (John Dall), who go
together, as Bart observes, “like guns and ammunition.” After a unique
meet-cute at a carnival where Annie works as a sharpshooter, the two fall in
love and get married, but when they can’t make ends meet, they’re pushed into a
life of crime (with Annie doing the shoving). They start out with small-time thefts,
but eventually advance to bank robberies and an intricate payroll heist – and
Annie’s penchant for shooting first and never asking questions leaves a trail
of dead bodies in their wake. It’s a love story that’s doomed from the start.
Whether they’re
eating (very tasty-looking) burgers at a diner, shooting up a gumball machine
during a robbery of a Travelers Aid kiosk, or doing simultaneous U-turns in the
middle of a road because they can’t bear to part, Annie and Bart are positively
riveting. Director Joseph Lewis (who also helmed the noir gems My Name is
Julia Ross [1945] and The Big Combo [1955]) does a masterful job of
spinning a tale that makes us root for those crazy kids to make it safely to
Mexico and live ever after happily.
Favorite quote:
“I’ve been kicked around all my life, and from now on, I’m gonna start kicking
back.” – Annie Laurie Starr
…..
Night and
the City
Night and the City, Richard Widmark
Directed by
Jules Dassin and set in London, this feature shines the spotlight on Harry
Fabian (Richard Widmark), a small-time grifter whose life revolves around his
determination to get rich quick, by whatever means necessary. His latest scheme
centers on becoming a wrestling promoter, with an aging Greco-Roman wrestler
named Gregorius (Stanislaus Zbyszko) as his prime attraction. The problem is, outside
of Harry’s natural penchant for screw-ups, his business is shakily financed
through a backdoor deal with his boss’s wife Helen Nosseross (Googie Withers), and
Gregorius’s mobster son Kristo (Herbert Lom) is none too happy about his
father’s exploitation by Harry. The plot is superbly supported by Gene Tierney
as Mary Bristol, Harry’s long-suffering girlfriend; Francis L. Sullivan as
Harry’s vindictive boss, Phillip; and Mike Mazurki as a wrestler under Kristo’s
employ.
For my money, Night
and the City gives us Richard Widmark’s best performance, as he brings to
life a character who is alternately pitiable, admirable, and repugnant. As the
centerpiece of the film, he’s got his fingers in all sorts of tangled human connections,
from the estrangement between Gregorius and Kristo, to the miserable marriage
of Phillip and Helen Nosseross, and his own tenuous relationship with Mary. The
film is fascinating on so many levels and delivers a shocking climax that’ll
practically leave you breathless.
Favorite quote:
“Harry. You could have been anything. Anything. You had brains. Ambition. You
worked harder than any 10 men. But the wrong things. Always the wrong things.”
– Mary Bristol
…..
Sunset Blvd.
Sunset Blvd, Gloria Swanson and William Holden
William Holden
stars in this film as Joe Gillis, a down-on-his-luck screenwriter whose luck is
so down that he can’t sell his work and he’s just one step ahead of the men who
are trying to repossess his car. While fleeing the repo men, Joe serendipitously
(or not, as it happens) turns into the driveway of one Norma Desmond (Gloria
Swanson), an eccentric, isolated, former silent film star who gives “living in
the past” a whole new meaning. Viewing Norma as the foundation for an easy
payday, Joe agrees to move into her house and edit the massive screenplay she’s
writing for her return to the silver screen. Unfortunately, for Joe, the best
laid plans of mice and men often go awry, and he soon learns that all that
glitters isn’t gold. (Did I put enough cliches into that?) Adding to the film’s
action are Max Von Mayerling (Erich von Stroheim), Norma’s chauffeur,
right-hand man, and first husband; and Betty Schaefer (Nancy Olson), a would-be
writer who falls in love with Joe.
Arguably one of
cinema’s most iconic films, Sunset Blvd. is one of those features that I
simply cannot see too many times. It’s chock full of unforgettable lines,
scenes, and sets, and helmed by one of my favorite directors, Billy Wilder. And
in addition to the leading quartet of performers, the cast includes small but
standout performances by Fred Clark, as a Paramount Studios producer with
stomach issues; Lloyd Gough, as Joe’s unsympathetic and unhelpful agent; and,
of course, as Norma’s card-playing partners (who Joe dubs “The Waxworks”),
Buster Keaton, Anna Q. Nilsson, and H.B. Warner. It’s a stellar production in
every way.
Favorite quote:
“We didn’t need dialogue. We had faces!”
What are some of your favorite noirs from 75 years ago? Leave a comment and let me know!
…
– 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:
