Jack Lemmon arrives home late at
night to his New York City apartment, a second-floor walk-up in an ancient
brownstone. It’s a cold, misty night in
the late autumn. He pops a TV dinner in
the oven, and when it’s ready, he drops the hot aluminum foil slab on his
coffee table and parks himself in front of the TV. He is cheered by the prospect of Grand Hotel (1932) being broadcast, but
is fed up with commercial sponsor interruptions by the announcer, and flicks
channels (surprisingly, on an early cable manual remote dial), runs through
a western and another show that do not hold his interest, before he lands back
on Grand Hotel and finally gives up
at yet another commercial. He snaps off
the TV, and it blips into a single white spot, as if the cathode ray tube has
been engulfed in a cosmic black hole.
Had his character, C.C. Baxter
ever seen this, then 28-year-old movie, before?
Or had he only heard of it?
He is clearly excited at the prospect of seeing it as the announcer
trumpets the names of the cast, including Joan Crawford and Lionel Barrymore.
Most of us recognize this scene
from The Apartment (1960). It always fascinated me as possibly one of
the first depictions of the old movie buff.
Today we discuss the evolution of the classic film fan, which, as we’ve
mentioned on this blog before, was a result of television.
But it was also an exciting era
of entertainment in a new format.
Dramas, many of them live, featured stars and character actors of
Hollywood’s Golden Age. We might wonder
how they felt about sharing the airwaves with old movies featuring their much
younger selves? Here was graphic proof
that they had aged—not something helpful in promoting a current career in
middle age. (Catch Claude Rains in an episode of The Naked City below, and Gloria Swanson starring in her own program.) It's difficult enough to compete against other actors, but to compete against one's younger self?
November 9, 1960
February 8, 1955
The studios were breaking up or
had broken up by this time, and the broadcast rights to these movies were
sometimes held by no one connected with the making of them. Certainly, none of the actors received residuals.
But it must have seemed amazing
that these old movies—which most studio execs back in the day could never have
imaged would have a life beyond the vault—were now being shown to a new
generation. A few “art house” movie
theaters across the country might chime in with a retrospective on a particular film or star, but none of
these venues could claim the huge audience numbers of a single night of
television.
The 1960s, so forward,
fast-moving, and futuristic, was not a particularly nostalgic period, though we
see on this TV Guide page an early
documentary series, Hollywood and the Stars. Most remarkably, though, have a look at Silents Please, a program which showed silent movies and listed the credits.
October 7, 1963
October 3, 1962
Most Baby Boomers, though having
benefited from the Late Late Show, the Million Dollar Movie, etc., since the
1950s, would recall the 1970s and the curious nostalgia boom as the mechanism
that really launched a generation of old movie buffs.
That’s
Entertainment!
(1974) had a huge hand in launching it.
Originally intended as a television special for the 50th anniversary of MGM, producer and director Jack Haley, Jr. and the studio execs decided to
gamble on a feature release, and its popularity surprised everyone and led to a
soundtrack album of highlights. (I don’t
really remember, but I think it could have been one of the first albums I ever
bought.) The tag line “Boy. Do we need
it now.” was both an acknowledgement of the fatigue over the political and
social upheaval over the past several years, and a slap in the face to modern
movie makers, whose style and subject matter were vastly different from the
classic era. It was one of the highest grossing films of the year.
Aha. There was a market for this old-time stuff.
The clips are wonderful, but some of the film's most powerful moments are the introductions to each segment hosted by stars of the Golden Age on the run-down sets of the back lot. These scenes of aging star reviving warm memories of elegance -- on a dilapidated set rotting away -- hammer home the lure of nostalgia like nothing else.
Here is a clip of the festivities and roll call of the stars from the 1974 premiere. These stars need not have worried about competing with their younger selves anymore. That was water over the bridge. They could look back safely, and even enjoy being in the limelight for one more special evening.
And for the first time, their fans shouting at them as they walked the red carpet were not their contemporaries -- they were young enough to be their children and grandchildren.
But some modern movie makers,
perhaps spurring the nostalgia era, perhaps capitalizing off it, paid tribute
to Hollywood’s golden age. What’s Up Doc? (1972) was a modern film, but a direct tribute to the screwball
classics of decades past. Paper Moon (1973) was not a parody, but a slice of life
of Depression-era America, filmed in black and white. The Sting (1973), decidedly in color, a planned art deco palette. Young Frankenstein (1974)—also filmed in glorious black and white— represented
the most common tribute to classic film in this era—the parody. Add to this Neil Simon’s The Cheap Detective (1978), a knockoff on Casablanca (1943) and The Maltese Falcon (1941).
During this era we can thank The Carol Burnett Show for making us
laugh with superb old movie parodies.
Parodies, and kitschy merchandise (Betty Boop was reborn as key rings
and coffee mugs long before anybody thought of rebroadcasting the old
cartoons.) fed the old movie nostalgia boom, and a few slim books that tried to
cram names and facts if not a deep understanding or analysis of film at this
time.
Such books include Richard
Lamparski’s Whatever Became Of…?
series, and Jerry Lang and Gösta Viertel’s Who
Is That? and many others. These were
photo-filled books, lightweight, without much depth to them, but certainly a
kind of survey course for newcomers. Most had little substantive narrative, with a
reliance on cliche, and sometimes, as in the case of Who Is That?, an awkward handling certainly in the "separate but equal" gallery of “Negro Actors” along with a
roster of vamps and bad guys. These high school yearbook-style books at least put a name to the face, long before IMDb gave us movie credits. In all
these ways, serious and spurious, the decade was waking up to classic films.
One could argue the
chicken-and-egg scenario: did these items feed off the merchandising craze of
the nostalgia boom, or did it create it?
Critics and film historians
Pauline Kael and Jeanine Basinger wrote contemplative
essays on classic film, and colleges began film appreciation courses. Leonard Maltin published his first book of
reviews, which would be updated for the first time during the decade, and, of
course, Robert Osborne’s Academy Awards
annual became bibles in the homes of movie buffs.
The term "film noir" came into popularity in the 1970s.
Those of us who were around then, educating
ourselves on classic film from public library encyclopedias and biographies,
and many late nights in front of the cathode ray tube, welcomed these and That’s
Entertainment and it’s sequel. It
was fun to be reminded of great musicals in an era where they were dying and we
were told they would never come back because they were too expensive, but
mostly too corny. Its success, and that
teasing moniker, “Boy. Do We Need It Now.” seemed to legitimize our love of old
movies.
Television remained our main
source for classic film, and in an era where old movies were often shown on
primetime, we recall that the very first showings on TV of Gone With the Wind (1939) in 1976 (engendering a famous Carol
Burnett parody), and The Sound of Music
(1965) in 1975 were huge events and received the highest ratings of the
era. Subsequent yearly showings
continued to reap great ratings and became annual favorites for new
generations.
Interesting that The Wizard of Oz (1939), another film
that received a huge boost from TV and probably would have been forgotten
without it, really took off with the advent of color TV, where its special
effects could be better appreciated.
I don't believe The Wizard of Oz has been shown on broadcast TV in years.
Another TV tribute—and I’d love
to see how many remember this—was the series run on PBS stations called Matinee At the Bijou in 1980 and ran for five years. It was probably a first for showing in each
episode a cartoon, a short subject, and a serial or “B” movie. Rudy Vallee was brought out of retirement to
sing the show’s theme song. It was a
real treat for the old movie fan to have access to these less prestigious
examples of the studio era. All well and
good to celebrate Casablanca, but for
the serious film buff, the giants do not tell the whole story, nor satisfy our
yen for what else is in the vault.
On the horizon—a tsunami. The VHS cassette. Old movies were now being produced in video
format to be purchased for home use. To
be sure, collectors of 16mm print films had enjoyed a select assortment of
classic films, shorts and cartoons for decades (and some still prefer them),
but the VHS cassette offered a less expensive alternative that was easier to
use, required less equipment, and a larger variety of movies. Icing on the cake was the ability to actually
record on blank video tape at
home. Now the Late, Late Show offerings
were funneled into our private collections.
Watching a particular movie anytime you
wanted. Mind blowing. A Flintstones-era “on demand” TV.
And THEN came the movie rental
shop. And “please rewind.”
DVD, of course, was the next big
advancement, and Blu-ray, but even before this came on the scene, what I think
was more profound to the evolution of the old movie buff and the perpetuation
of familiarity with classic films to a new generation was the American Movie
Classics channel, and its hosts Bob Dorian and Nick Clooney. It ran from 1984 to 2002 and was our go-to
network for classic movies. Since AMC
(now called American Movie Channel) abandoned classic film programming in 2002,
there is always that reference to their going to the “dark side” and fears that
one day Turner Classic Movies might follow their example.
TCM, launched in 1994, I think we
can all acknowledge, has been a giant in the appreciation of classic film. No other TV source has promoted the wide array
of studio era films—from features, to shorts, documentaries, live events such
as the TCM Film Festival and the TCM Classic Cruise. We may scorn its drifting into modern films,
and the trite “let’s movie” slogan, but TCM is a haven for classic film buffs
in a way no other venue has been, not since the old neighborhood movie house
from the teens to the late 1950s. Robert
Osborne has earned the respect and love of millions of classic film fans for
many reasons, most especially for the dignity with which he presents the
movies, for the way he represents us.
Not since the “Boy. Do We Need It Now.” has the appreciation of classic
films been raised to the level of esteem it deserves.
We may have reached a climax of
sorts—for, as discussed in the first part of this series here, the demographic of the Millennials do not get their entertainment from cable
television. With few classic films shown
on broadcast TV these days, younger generations are not apt to be introduced to
classic film just by switching the dial, as we were, if they do not subscribe
to TCM.
But there are some interesting
new venues to promote classic films.
Blogs and websites certainly, but also the growing experiment of showing
old movies in cinemas for special releases, allowing fans to see their
favorites once again on the big screen.
There are also some intriguing
home-grown programming—such as Dana Hersey, who hosted The Movie Loft on Boston-area TV-38 in the 1980s is launching an Internet classic movie streaming channel. Other hosts of online podcasts demonstrate that being a classic film fan is continually
evolving according to the technology that allows us to appreciate old movies. No longer content to be “programmed to”, the
classic film fan is now taking the reins and doing the programming. We'll talk about that more later in the year.
Come back next month, Thursday,
May 5th, for part 5 of this series when we discuss the TCM Classic
Film Festival.
Come back next week for our
regularly scheduled programming—the CMBA “Words! Words! Words!” Blogathon. My entry is the use of letters in old
movies. Please join us next Thursday for
this fun blogathon.
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"Lynch’s book is organized
and well-written – and has plenty of amusing observations – but when it comes
to describing Blyth’s movies, Lynch’s writing sparkles." - Ruth
Kerr, Silver Screenings
"Jacqueline T. Lynch creates a poignant and thoroughly-researched mosaic
of memories of a fine, upstanding human being who also happens to be a
legendary entertainer." - Deborah Thomas, Java's Journey
"One of the great strengths of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer.
Star. is that Lynch not only gives an excellent overview of Blyth's
career -- she offers detailed analyses of each of Blyth's roles -- but she puts
them in the context of the larger issues of the day."- Amanda
Garrett, Old Hollywood Films
"Jacqueline's book will hopefully cause many more people to take a look at
this multitalented woman whose career encompassed just about every possible
aspect of 20th Century entertainment." - Laura Grieve, Laura's
Miscellaneous Musings
"Jacqueline T. Lynch’s Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is
an extremely well researched undertaking that is a must for all Blyth
fans." - Annette Bochenek, Hometowns to Hollywood
Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star.
by Jacqueline T. Lynch
The first book on the career of actress Ann Blyth. Multitalented and remarkably
versatile, Blyth began on radio as a child, appeared on Broadway at the age of
twelve in Lillian Hellman's Watch on the Rhine, and enjoyed a long
and diverse career in films, theatre, television, and concerts. A sensitive
dramatic actress, the youngest at the time to be nominated for her role
in Mildred Pierce (1945), she also displayed a gift for
comedy, and was especially endeared to fans for her expressive and exquisite
lyric soprano, which was showcased in many film and stage musicals. Still a
popular guest at film festivals, lovely Ms. Blyth remains a treasure of the
Hollywood's golden age.
The eBook and paperback are available from Amazon and CreateSpace, which is the
printer. You can also order it from my Etsy
shop. It is also available at the Broadside Bookshop, 247 Main Street,
Northampton, Massachusetts.
If you wish a signed copy, then email me at JacquelineTLynch@gmail.com and
I'll get back to you with the details.
**************************
