Trivia Answers - Women in Men's Jammies

I'm impressed by how you folks notice the little things, and especially to our Caftan Woman, who certainly knows her PJs like nobody's business.  The answers to Monday's pictorial trivia are:

A - Jean Arthur, checking herself out in the full-length mirror as Ronald Colman watches.  They're his pajamas, and this is "The Talk of the Town" (1942).

B - Alexis Smith donning Bing Crosby's pajamas for a wrestling lesson in "Here Comes the Groom" (1951).  We talked about this movie a few weeks ago, and that's when the idea for this stupid trivia post occurred to me.

C - Patricia Ellis, wearing Oliver Hardy's jammies, but still maintaining her lady-like demeanor by not taking off her hat, in "The Block-Heads" (1938).  I have to hand it to you here, Caftan Woman, I thought this would be a difficult one.

D - Finally, we have Claudette Colbert in Clark Gable's pajamas from "It Happened One Night" (1934).  She's off to use the showers "and things".

Minna Gombell

Minna Gombell, who we last saw as Oliver Hardy’s battleaxe wife in “Block-Heads” (1938), played a wide variety of roles, perhaps a greater range than many other character actors of her day. She was Mrs. Godfrey in the musical “Here Comes the Groom” (1951), and also played the kindly but careworn Mrs. Parrish whose son returns from the war with both his hands amputated in “The Best Years of Our Lives” (1946).

She played in a number of westerns, and also played the raucous Queen of the Beggars in “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” (1939). She stands out in the small role of the combative, streetwise floozy Mimi Jorgensen in “The Thin Man” (1934). Miss Gombell could play the sympathetic and sedate matron, or the loud floozy. She did not specialize, and perhaps if she did she might have been known for one attribute or one shtick that she could milk as a character actress. Instead, she was less a typical character actress and more like a lead actress with very few lines.

Two of a Kind Movies

Laurel and Hardy’s “Block-Heads” (1938) was a remake of their earlier “Unaccustomed As We Are” (1929). It was a common feature in the silent days when a plot was just a series of gags for a gag to be re-worked and re-used until it reached some kind of climax, achieved some point of perfection. Then use it again, because it worked.

“Unaccustomed As We Are” was the duo’s first talking picture. A simple plot, Hardy invites Laurel home to dinner. Mrs. Hardy, played by Mae Busch, is a battleaxe whose aggressive complaining embarrasses Hardy. Meanwhile, Mr. Hardy’s innocent friendship with the neighbor lady, Mrs. Kennedy, gets complicated when, because Laurel has caused a gas explosion in Hardy’s kitchen, twice, she runs over to help and Mr. Hardy rips her dress off. Because she has caught fire. He gallantly covers her with a tablecloth. His wife returns. Much angst.

More angst when we see that Mr. Kennedy is a tough cop.

A funny scenario, but they expand it with “Block-heads” nine years later. Here they create a back story for Laurel. The pair had been in the Army in World War I, and years later, Stan is still patrolling the trench because he does not know the war is over. When found and brought to a VA Hospital near Hardy’s home, Hardy goes to visit his old friend.

There is some funny stuff when Hardy mistakenly believes Laurel to be an amputee, and heroically carries Laurel around as tenderly as if he were a child, invites him home to dinner, and tries to bundle him into a car. His impressive girth aside, Oliver Hardy must have had the strength and endurance of an Olympic decathlon champ to manage this scene.

In this film, Hardy and his battleaxe wife, played by Minna Gombell this time, live in an apartment building. We have a multi-level set which makes things interesting. One of the best gags is when a kid from another apartment, played by Tommy Bond, more familiar as the bully “Butch” in the “Our Gang” series, plays with a football in the hall. Oliver kicks this pest’s football down the stairs, a couple of times, where each time it smacks the front desk clerk in the face. It’s a beautiful gag.

One cute bit is when Stan, rather like a Looney Tunes cartoon, takes a full glass of water from his pocket, and then takes ice cubes from the other pocket. He also fills his bare fist with tobacco and smokes his thumb like a pipe.

In this remake, the nice neighbor lady is Mrs. Gilbert, played by Patricia Ellis. Her husband is a bombastic big game hunter, even more volatile than a tough cop, and played to the hilt by Billy Gilbert.

In this film we also have a kitchen gas explosion, and Oliver without pants, and Mrs. Gilbert who comes to help. Unfortunately, she is locked out of her apartment, and then soaked by a punchbowl, and he gives her his pajamas to wear. His wife returns. Much angst. The hot-tempered Mr. Gilbert arrives. More angst.

When his shotgun goes off, men all over the neighborhood are seen leaping out of windows in their underwear.

These films illustrate Hollywood’s favorite belief that if something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing again and again.

Movie Luggage

These days we have soft luggage made of lightweight material, with shoulder straps, a million zippered pockets, and quite often on wheels. We still struggle with our bags through airports (where our luggage is sometimes reduced to a clear plastic ziplock bag), struggle with jamming overstuffed suitcases in the ever-smaller trunks of cars, and drag on gummy wheels “pilot’s cases” on sprints through subways and train platforms.

George Bailey wanted a “great big” suitcase in “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946) to take with him on the wonderful adventures he was never to have. It was a hard boxy second-hand thing with no retractable handle and certainly no wheels. One wonders how far he could have gotten anyway.

Rosemary Clooney and Vera Ellen hustle to catch a train in “White Christmas” (1954) and lament they must leave behind their trunks. Their trunks? Their trunks with no wheels? Can you imagine traveling these days with a trunk? John Candy, maybe, in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.” Nobody else would dare.

Actually, Laurel and Hardy tried to take off with a neighbor lady in a trunk, twice -- once in “Unaccustomed As We Are,” (1929) and once in its remake of “Block-Heads” (1938), but didn’t get very far either time. Too unwieldy.

One of the iconic images of “The Best Years of Our Lives” (1946) was Dana Andrews’ hauling around an overstuffed army suitcase through the entire movie. It is with him at the beginning when he arrives home from the war, and at the end when he bitterly decides to leave his hometown. It is one of the few times I can remember where a suitcase actually looked heavy. He clearly struggles with it, leaning to keep his balance as it bangs against his hip. Usually the luggage carried in old movies looks light as a feather. The characters carry their worldly belongings and never seem out of breath.

That is, of course, because the suitcases are actually empty. The prop guy made sure Dana Andrews’ bag was stuffed to the gills. Even Gladys George won’t let him leave without an additional sweater.

Charlie Chaplin sometimes carried everything in a bandana tied to the end of his cane. Holds about as much as a clear plastic ziplock bag, so you can see how far we haven’t come.