Christmas Eve - 1947

 

Christmas Eve (1947) coasts on its title and its setting on Christmas Eve to enter the hallowed sphere of yuletide movies, but it’s not very Christmas-y.  The sentiment, what little there is of it, seems forced and we have to even wonder what the point is. 

Ann Harding, fresh off her great role in It Happened on 5^th Avenue (1947) has a very different role here as a much older, frail, wealthy dowager who is lonely and a bit eccentric.  Her nephew, played by Reginald Denny, wants control of her finances.  The judge will decide her competence, and perhaps even her moral value, on the contest if her three adopted sons will return home to visit her on Christmas Eve.  We need to accept a lot of plot points on face value if we are to enjoy a movie, especially a Christmas movie, but this seems to stretch things not only beyond belief but beyond our ability to perhaps even enjoy the film. 

She is most proud of the fact that her three adoptive sons left home years ago to make their own way in the world and not sponge off her, like Reginald Denny.  Will they come home if she bids them?  She has had no contact with them for years.  That is the suspense of the story, but we are taken down avenues of the men’s current adventures that may make us doubt not only that they will make it home, but that they are even worth seeing.

George Brent plays her son Michael, who is a playboy, bankrupt, and not above writing bad checks, and trying to marry heiresses on the strength of their family fortune.  Regular gal Joan Blondell attaches herself to him like a barnacle and intends to drag him to the altar whether he likes it or not.  She’s probably the only thing that can save him from himself.

George Raft plays her son Mario, who is a gangster, but we see he has his good points too, taking the rap years ago for a crime Reginald Denny committed, just for the old lady’s sake.  His side story is the most interesting, an action-packed episode of fisticuffs with Nazis on a yacht off South America. It’s a risk for him to enter the U.S. with the feds after him, but anything for Mom.

Randolph Scott plays her son Jonathan, a rodeo cowboy who drinks quite a bit, and isn’t the sharpest blade in the drawer, but he proves to be a good guy, too, when he adopts (or runs off with) three baby girls and with luck, manages to entangle himself romantically with the lady officer incognito who is trying to break up a black-market baby adoption ring.  His rash action makes Ann Harding an instant grandma, and she couldn’t be happier.

By the end of the film, the boys have made it back to Ann Harding’s mansion, and the judge lets her keep control of her finances, and Reginald Denny is in trouble.  John Litel’s along as an FBI agent here to escort George Raft to prison, but he’s a good egg and they all have Christmas Eve dinner first. 

They bow their heads to say grace, and then the fade-out.  It’s a Christmas movie in spite it itself, but leaves us wondering, “What the heck was that?”  You can believe in Santa Claus, but it’s harder to believe this.

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Get your copy of CHRISTMAS IN CLASSIC FILMS here at Amazon in print or eBook...

...and here at Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo, and a variety of other online stores.

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Jacqueline T. Lynch is the author of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. and Movies in Our Time - Hollywood Mirrors and Mimics the Twentieth Century and Hollywood Fights Fascism and Christmas in Classic Films. TO JOIN HER READERS' GROUP - follow this link for a free book as a thank-you for joining.

Work in Progress - Stars on Stage on Mt. Tom

This is a playhouse within an amusement park, up on a mountain, at the edge of a New England factory town.  You may not find a more unlikely place for a summer theater than this, but it was a giant in its day.  Some great actors--before they were famous, and some after they became famous--performed here.

I am currently writing a book on this place and the companies which performed on Mt. Tom in Holyoke, Massachusetts, from 1895 to 1965.  I hope to have it available in December.

Hal Holbrook debuted his the full-length version of his one-man show here: Mark Twain Tonight!  He was a member of The Valley Players here long before he won his Tony award, and his fame, for playing that role that he created.

A generation earlier, George Brent, before he came to Hollywood (and before he was George Brent -- he still used the surname Nolan) was the leading man here for a couple summers. 

Betsy Drake, before her film career, and her marriage to Cary Grant, performed here as a young ingénue.  James Coco was a member of the company here, and Mary Jackson, long before you knew her as Miss Emily Baldwin on The Waltons, played here.

Others performed at this playhouse, long called The Casino, and in later years, The Mt. Tom Playhouse, after they had achieved their fame:  Walter Pidgeon, Van Johnson, Alexis Smith and her husband, Craig Stevens, Kathryn Crosby, Eve Arden, Dana Andrews, and Tallulah Bankhead, to name a few.

You may have never heard of Jackson Perkins, or Lauren Gilbert, Jean Guild, or Anne Follmann, Hugh Franklin, or John O'Connor.  Maybe some of you will remember Joseph Foley only from his turn as the principal on the Mr. Peepers TV show in the 1950s.  I am equally excited to be presenting their stories.

We've discussed in these previous posts the summer theatre work of Ann Blyth, and film stars on stage at the La Jolla Playhouse, and at the Storrowton in West Springfield, Massachusetts.  Theatre is such an exciting art form, and it enriches any community lucky enough to have live theatre.

Those who love classic films often follow their favorite stars' career paths into television.  Theatre is another world, one that required enormously hard work, self-discipline, and for which they did not always receive a great deal of money.  It was done for the love of it.  I would encourage all classic film fans to explore the dual heritage of the history of theatre as it may relate to your favorite film stars.

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The audio book for Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is now for sale on Audible.com, and on Amazon and iTunes.

Also in paperback and eBook from Amazon.

Red Canyon - 1949

Red Canyon (1949) was Ann Blyth’s first Technicolor picture, first and only big-screen western, first time she received both top billing and name above the title.  She was 19 years old and had hit her stride.

It was a pinnacle of a kind, and the beginning of new trail.  After a string of six heavy dramas that gave her intense roles to prove herself a major up and coming actress, her last film before Red Canyon, Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid, which we covered here, was a complete change that charmed the public and clued-in the studio that Ann was also athletic, and that her beauty was as much an asset to selling a film as her acting skill.  Her trim body, also, could lend itself to more than posing in a crisp Noir wardrobe. 

It also reminded studio that she was young.  In those dramas, from Mildred Pierce through Another Part of the Forest, Ann’s characters were increasingly poised, knowing, sophisticated, and wore a mantle of worldly experience even though in real life she was still some years away from being old enough to vote.  Her characters were restless, mean, sad, tragic.

Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid, because of her fanciful character and its exotic costuming, her silent communication through her expressive face, and the joyful silliness of the plot, actually managed to re-set the clock on her screen sophistication.  She was suddenly much younger again.  For the next several films she would play more innocent ingénues, most of them in comedies, and this one western.

In Red Canyon, she plays the spirited tomboyish daughter of George Brent on a late nineteenth century homestead in the west.  Brent is a self-made man who runs a stagecoach line and a prosperous ranch, where he breeds and trains bloodstock for racing.  His prize horse is a great white stallion, his hope for winning an upcoming race, and he won’t let Ann near him, which infuriates her.  She wants to ride him.

George Brent has third billing here, and in that inevitable bittersweet Hollywood turnstile, no longer playing the romantic lead.  That job goes to Howard Duff, pulled away from a string of Noirs for his first romantic lead, and also his first western.  There would be many more westerns for him after this.  (Ann would have to wait for TV’s Wagon Train, in which she appeared in five episodes—we’ve discussed them all this year—to appear in more western stories.)

Mr. Duff plays a saddle tramp trying to capture a wild black stallion hereabouts known as Black Velvet (which was the film’s original working title).  Duff travels under an assumed name to distance himself from his no-account relatives.  That would be our old friend John McIntire, who played in so many of Ann’s films, as Duff’s wily outlaw pa.  Lloyd Bridges is his sneering no-account brother.  

Their gang steals horses, and many years ago made a raid on George Brent’s ranch, which resulted in the shooting death of his wife.

Jane Darwell, fussy and bossy as ever, plays George Brent’s sister, who has helped to raise Ann and is determined to make a lady of her, “If I have to break every bone in your ornery body to do it.”

We open on Ann’s birthday, when her pa and auntie present her with a gift of women’s duds.  Ann examines them with a wariness borne of not wanting to be changed by anybody, and a genuine fear of that metal rat-trap-looking thing called a bustle.  One look at the whalebone corset, and she bolts, climbing out the window.

Later, at the barbecue to celebrate her birthday, Ann appears in her feminine finery to the general approval of the crowd, including several would-be suitors.  They present her with an armload of gifts—the kind she likes—lariats, riding crops, saddles, bullwhips.

Bullwhips?

Catch the scene where she enters the outdoor party by walking down a flight of simple wooden stairs from her second-floor veranda, as the hem of her dress ripples down the steps and she gains confidence with every compliment.  By the time she’s reached the bottom step, she’s the belle of the ball.  As we’ve stated before on other films where the lady makes her entrance on a staircase, this is really the way to join a party.  A much-used device for showing off the heroine, but dang, it works every time.

Ladies, if you’re going to try this at home, all you need is an open staircase and a killer dress.  But make sure you don’t trip and take a header down the flight of stairs; it puts a damper the whole effect.

James Seay, another horse breeder and potential suitor for Ann, remarks she is “Prettier than a string of blue-nosed trout.”

This is apparently a compliment, because she is pleased.  One of the fun things about this movie is it is chock-full of euphemisms of the kind our western pioneers were evidently so fond.  Jane Darwell cracks off a string of them, starting with “flapdoodle” to describe the layers of feminine undergarments to which she introduces Ann.

About the only one in the movie who does not use euphemisms is George Brent, probably because, as we are told, he is originally from Massachusetts.  We in Massachusetts are not imaginative enough to compare a pretty young girl to a string of blue-nosed trout. 

We prefer cod, anyway.

The champion user of euphemisms in a particularly cussed manner is Edgar Buchanan, who plays Brent’s stagecoach driver.

The cod is the state fish of Massachusetts.

Mr. Buchanan is as big a teller of tall tales, and vain a man as you can get, trying to cover his nearsightedness, which will prove a danger to him and others. 

Cape Cod is in Massachusetts.  Oh…forget it.

Buchanan’s speech is so tangled up in the most outlandish and complicated blustering euphemisms that I’m surprised he could remember half his lines.  I’d love to see the outtakes; they're real tongue-twisters and he had to have messed up sometimes.

Tired of driving the stagecoach for Mr. Brent, Buchanan invites himself to be Howard Duff’s partner in catching the wild stallion, and voila, we have instant comic sidekick.  He is of no help, as comedy relief seldom is.

Ann’s first meeting with Mr. Duff is contentious, were he leaves her without a horse in the desert, and she catches up to him at a pond, coyly suggests they strip off and go swimming, and then steals his clothes and his horse.  Not a promising start to the romance, but gradually they each find something in the other they can respect. Duff stands up to her father, which she admires.  Ann is a better trainer for Black Velvet than Duff.  His bullying tactics to train the horse, once he’s caught him, only get him thrown off and lying in the dirt with a wrenched back, and the horse escapes from him.  Ann finds Black Velvet on the trail, where he is caught by a rope snagged on a limb.  The sudden jerk brings the poor horse crashing to the ground.

Ann’s gentle manner with Black Velvet goes over big with the horse.  She frees him, and leads him back to Duff, the horse trotting along beside her, happy as a puppy because she’s so purty and talks nice to him.  Duff’s astonishment is a hoot, but, to his credit, he lets her take over the job of training the horse without any ego.  He later tells her, “I would have been whipped.  Black Velvet’s too tough for me.”

Ann has an ulterior motive, she wants to ride Black Velvet in the upcoming horse race and beat the pants off her father, who won’t let her ride his white stallion, and says things, like, “You’d better realize you’re a girl,” as if that were a bad thing. 

Ann looks well on a horse and her confident riding is impressive.  She looks quite skilled and comfortable, even in the exciting shots where she is riding at a speedy gallop, leaning over the horse’s great neck, her hair flying.  I suppose we must credit the Hollywood studio training system for teaching a girl from Manhattan to ride like that. 

Since this is a Technicolor film, her hair has been lightened to a reddish brown.  I guess dark hair is only for black and white films.  For a tomboy, she wears a most vivid shade of red lipstick, similar in hue to the big red first letters in the words of the title.  You can’t waste Technicolor, you’ve got to make the most of it.  Likewise, the title Black Velvet becomes Red Canyon.

Westerns are really meant for color film stock, anyway.  A city scene artfully filmed in black and white can evoke a strong range of powerful emotions, but with an open range of small scrub, a gray palette does not distinguish detail as well as color.  Outside a closed set, there is less ability for the cinematographer to manipulate conditions.  In black and white, the western prairies look as desolate as the moon, but color film brings out depth and warmth to the rugged landscape, stark, challenging to the body and soul, and utterly majestic.

Howard Duff displays a quiet strength in this film, a virile self-confidence with an absence of swagger; he looks comfortable.  A likeable loner; if we never get to know him well it is not because he is complicated, but because he keeps his own counsel.  He faces down his conniving outlaw father and treacherous brother, as well as George Brent, who dismisses him as a saddle tramp.  Though his romance with Ann is tentative; there are no fireworks between them, in part due his reticence about getting involved with the girl who was made motherless by his outlaw family—nevertheless, their scenes together are genuine and reticence is natural to both their characters.  He is living down the burden of his family name; she is discovering her womanhood.  

Duff (in real life some 15 years older than Ann Blyth, but doesn't seem it) looks like he belongs to this landscape, as if he is a part of it.  George Brent does not; he still carries the aura of a transplant.  That, too, is natural.

Possibly the biggest star of the film are the uncredited horse wranglers.  The two great, spirited stallions, and especially the herd of wild horses under the lead of Black Velvet must have taken an extraordinary amount of handling. The camera work, too, is very good, with long and close shots sweeping over the backs of the galloping herd of wild horses.

One scene is a bit unsettling, when Howard Duff captures Black Velvet by forcing him to leave the refuge of a small, narrow canyon by starting a brush fire.  No wonder the horse doesn’t like him. 

By the end of the film, we have a horserace, a showdown, and a shootout.  Most surprisingly, Howard Duff and Ann Blyth decide to return the horse to the wild, and our last shot is not the usual happy couple pressing their cheeks together, but of a magnificent black horse tearing across the open range, rejoining the wild herd of which he is the leader.

The movie was filmed at Kanab, Utah, which was enjoying what was touted in the local press as the birth of a Hollywood-rival in location shooting.  (Howard Duff’s film with Yvonne DeCarlo Calamity Jane and Sam Bass (1949), which we covered here, with the same director and producer: George Sherman and Leonard Goldstein, would use the same racecourse and scenery the following year.).  Locals appeared as extras.  The Deseret News noted in October 1948:

During the past summer, southern Utah hotels, eating houses, stores and workmen reaped a rich harvest from the movie people on location around Kanab and Cedar City.  At the former site, Ann Blyth, Jane Darnell [sic] and George Brent captivated the citizens during their stay while filming Black Velvet.

The excitement of seeing Hollywood stars in their midst was accompanied by the thrill of knowing their part of world was getting attention, as the Deseret News recorded at the time of the film’s premiere in March 1949:

Red Canyon is a picture that’s worth thousands to Utah in the form of publicity.  Many who see the film when it is shown in theaters across the country will want to visit the region in which it was made…

Whether tourists thereafter clamored to get to the Kanab region, or only occasional film companies looking for sagebrush and scenery, but for one afternoon and evening in March 1949, Salt Lake City held the spotlight for the premiere of Red Canyon.

On the morning of Wednesday, March 16th, stars Ann Blyth, Howard Duff, Edgar Buchanan and Chill Wills, along with producer Leonard Goldstein, arrived at the train station on the Union Pacific Streamliner.  The mayor welcomed them, and they appeared on a live radio broadcast right there on the depot platform for the Breakfast in Hollywood program.  Among their personal appearances was to ride in parade through town the next afternoon along with the Downtown Days Queen—part of the Downtown Days festival run by the Retail Merchants Bureau of the Salt Lake Chamber of Commerce.

The evening of the 17^th was capped by the premiere showing of Red Canyon at the Utah Theater, with an overflow crowd going to the Capital Theater.  After the movie, the stars appeared on stage, with Chill Wills acting as emcee.  Ann sang.  The Deseret News commented:

The little Blyth girl especially won the plaudits with three songs which showed she is versatile in several fields of entertainment.  She left little doubt of her singing ability after she sang “Galway Bay” as her final selection.

Well, it was St. Patrick’s Day, after all.

If any of our readers attended that event, or know someone who was an extra, I'd love to hear from you.

The next day, the afternoon of Friday, the 18^th, it was the train back to Hollywood for the actors, leaving Salt Lake City with only its Downtown Days queen to maintain the magic of celebrity.

For Ann, the following week brought another celebrity experience when she attended the Academy Awards as a presenter, handing out the Sound Recording award.  The host was Robert Montgomery, with whom she was now working in Once More, My Darling, which we covered here.

It was her second appearance at the Academy Awards; you’ll remember her first was three years earlier as a Best Supporting Actress nominee for Mildred Pierce.  She had been a newcomer then; and if presenting the Sound Recording award was less exciting than being nominated, it signaled that she was part of the Hollywood establishment now. 

As you can see by the screen caps, this was recorded off the Encore Westerns channel.  I don't believe Red Canyon was ever released in VHS or DVD, but you can probably find a gray market copy. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Come back next Thursday when we return to Ann Blyth’s first year of filmmaking, before any thought of Oscars, and the 1944 release of her final two teen musicals from Universal: Babes on Swing Street and Bowery to Broadway.

To all our American readers:  Happy Thanksgiving.

©Jacqueline T. Lynch, 2007-2014.  All rights reserved.  If you're reading this on a site other than Another Old Movie Blog, please be aware that this post has been stolen and is used without permission.

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Bonham Daily Favorite (Bonham, Texas) – November 18, 1951-  “Tiny Ann Blyth Proves Durable in Film Roles,” p. 2.

Deseret News, October 1, 1948 – “Movie Makers Turn Eyes to Utah” by Olive W. Burt, p. M1; March 18, 1949, “Red Canyon and Stars Win Plaudits at Premiere,” p. F-3; March 2, 1949, p. B1; March 17, 1949, p. B1; March 15, 1949, p. A8; November 11, 1948, “Kanab Runs Hollywood Close Second of Movies,” p. F-3.

Wiley, Mason and Damien Bona. Inside Oscar - The Unofficial History of the Academy Awards. (NY: Ballantine Books, 1986), p. 187.

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THANK YOU....to the following folks whose aid in gathering material for this series has been invaluable:  EBH; Kevin Deany of Kevin's Movie Corner; Gerry Szymski of Westmont Movie Classics, Westmont, Illinois; and Ivan G. Shreve, Jr. of Thrilling Days of Yesteryear.  And thanks to all those who signed on as backers to my recent Kickstarter campaign.  The effort failed to raise the funding needed, but I'll always remember your kind support.

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UPDATE:  This series on Ann Blyth is now a book - ANN BLYTH: ACTRESS. SINGER. STAR. -

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The audio book for Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. is now for sale on Audible.com, and on Amazon and iTunes.

Also in paperback and eBook from Amazon, CreateSpace, and my Etsy shop: LynchTwinsPublishing.

 "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.

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A new collection of essays, some old, some new, from this blog titled Movies in Our Time: Hollywood Mimics and Mirrors the 20th Century is now out in eBook, and in paperback here.

More Than a Secretary - 1936

“More Than a Secretary” (1936) is like a time travel adventure.  It is impossible to watch this movie about the editor of a fitness magazine without being reminded of the all-pervasive diet industry and social consciousness about health today.  The setting is1930s screwball patter, and man-crazy dumb blondes who connive to marry (or be kept by) their bosses. We travel back and forth through time in every scene, reevaluating our perspective, old and new.

Today’s post is part of the Comedy Classics Blogathon sponsored by the Classic Movie Blog Association. Have a look here for a schedule of the other participating blogs.

January, typically a month for resolutions about changing one’s life, and being deluged with diet and fitness ads and infomercials, is an especially fitting time to watch Jean Arthur try to change herself.  She runs up against the extremely high standards of George Brent.

Mr. Brent plays the editor of “Body and Brain” magazine, who runs his office and his personal life with the discipline of a professional health guru. In 1936, however, when this movie was made, he is seen as a freak. Much of the comedy is derived by sensible Jean Arthur’s bewildered reactions to his diet and exercise regimen.  He pulls raw carrots out of his desk drawer and chomps on them like Bugs Bunny.

Jean is the co-owner (along with reliable sidekick Ruth Donnelly) of a secretarial school. We first see them in their classrooms droning repetitious typing dictation for their students, who pound away at clunky black manual typewriters the size of Buicks. I must confess, I view this scene with some fondness. It is how I learned to type. That quick brown fox and lazy dog are old pals of mine.

In fact, considering how much I type and have typed through the decades since, that one semester of Typing 101 in high school was probably the most beneficial and practical class I ever took.

And working for so many years (ago) on a manual typewriter, I have fingers like Hercules. I continually wear out flimsy plastic computer keyboards. I run through them like Kleenex. I could crush you like a bug.

But Jean’s and Ruth’s students, or at least some of them, do not envision decades of typing, or any career at all. They are there to learn the skills that will get them jobs as executive secretaries to rich businessmen, and then marry them. Or be kept as mistresses.

This is student Dorothea Kent’s objective.

Dorothea Kent comes pretty close to stealing this movie.

She had a less than stellar career in B-movies as the dumb friend, but here her “Maisie” character, despite the high-pitched whine and clueless attitude, is really quite street-smart and self-sufficient. She knows what she wants, and she goes out and gets it. Also, coloring her dumb blonde act is a biting nastiness that makes her fascinating, even as you want to club her for her blatant rudeness to Jean. Her supposedly obtuse double entendres are perfectly executed. She blithely but with a spin of sophistication talks of the corporate head to whom she finally becomes…indispensible. “You’ll never know how he leans on me.”

Charles Halton plays the head man who eventually gets Miss Kent on a rent-to-own basis. He had a long career on screen as a fussy, humorless, officious type, but he began on the New York stage and had trained at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts.

Ruth Donnelly, too, had spent her earlier years on Broadway, but came west as did so many when the Depression hit and movies became less demeaning to those on the “legitimate” stage. The two of them would spend their careers as bit players in a studio system which would guarantee them work as “types” but rarely challenge them.

For Jean Arthur, 1936 was a busy year. In this one year she did five movies. Along with this one there was “The Plainsman” (see our previous post here), “The Ex-Mrs. Bradford”, “Adventure in Manhattan” and “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town”. Each role was different, and we see that though the studio system could be something like a conveyor belt of sameness in roles for many actors and actresses, Jean refused to cooperate with studio head Harry Cohn enough times to forge her own mark on her career.

Here her portrayal is of the career businesswoman who falls for the boss -- exactly what she cautions her students against, preferring that they take the honorable tack of learning proper business skills.  She seems a more somber character than what we are used to seeing in her screwball roles.

It is as if she is still working through the transition of so many earlier roles where she played the sad but forthright heroine seeking love (“Danger Signals” 1930) or justice (“Party Wire” - 1935) to the working girl whose delightful sense of irony is her self-preservation (“Public Hero #1” - 1935) and (“If You Could Only Cook” - 1935).

The further along in her career she got, the more of the world’s troubles she took on her shoulders and she became the moral compass of screwball comedies. “Mr. Deeds” and “Mr. Smith” were ahead of her, but by then she would be ready for them.

Here she has George Brent, who might not seem like the answer to this frustrated businesswoman’s prayers.  We last saw Mr. Brent here in "My Reputation".   I think I really prefer him in light comedy to drama.  He has nice touch with slightly absurd characters.  Here, his delightfully serious naiveté, despite the science of his health beliefs, both maddens and appeals to her.

She visits his office because he has fired so many of her graduates. He is very demanding. He is pleased by her business suit and spectacles, thinking she is brainy and serious.  People who wear glasses are usually very brainy and also quite glamorous. 

What was I talking about?  Oh, yeah.   George.  Jean.  He mistakes her for another applicant, and brusquely runs her through a quick job interview. Intrigued, she decides to play along and take the job, and see what this weirdo is all about.

Much to the consternation of her business partner, Ruth Donnelly, who wonders why she would leave her business to take a lousy $25 a week job.

We see, before Ruth does, before Jean does, that she is smitten with George Brent.

He has a good role here, and plays it most charmingly. He is intelligent and disciplined, two qualities which Jean admires, being both herself, but he is also a little out of touch with the real world, and this is what mystifies and intrigues her. Soon, he grows dependent on her capability in the office, which compliments his own need for order.  It is not until very late in the movie that he realizes he loves her.

Jean has to jump through a lot of hoops before that happens. First, there is his confounding health regimen which he imposes on his staff. His right-hand man, Lionel Stander, a body builder straight from the gym, puts the office workers through morning calisthenics. Brent opens the windows and breathes deeply, ordering Jean to follow along with deep knee bends and provocative lunges.

He treats to her a lunch of a bran muffin, and a vegetarian supper. I think my favorite line is when, half-starved she buys groceries on the way home and, tired about hearing how her regular diet is bad for her, plucks an enormous raw steak out of her shopping bag. Just before dropping it in the frying pan, gives it an enthusiastic kiss,

“Steak, come kill mama!”

Much of George Brent’s health regimen is used for comic effect, too ridiculous in 1936 to be taken seriously. Today, in a US where obesity has become common, many people watching this film now probably are on diet restrictions for various medical concerns. What was once freakish became fad, and now has become a matter of life or death for a lot of people.

Another facet of George Brent’s rigid outlook is his refusal to use images in his magazine that are sexual. He is a proponent of bodily grace and physical perfection, but the idea of using cheesecake to illustrate his articles is abhorrent to him. Jean has to turn him around on this one and convince him that a little glamour will sell more magazines.

Today, our magazines images (as well as articles) are examples as to how sex sells. Poor George would be aghast.

But George’s modern ideas on health and Victorian ideas on how to sell it are only the least of Jean’s problems. Dorothea Kent comes back into her life with a vengeance.

Her boss, whose wife is returning from Europe, must get rid of her for a while, and palms her off on the unwitting George Brent.  Mr. Brent hasn’t the sophistication to deal with so avid a man-chaser and so inept a secretary as our Dorothea. He is overwhelmed by her, and hasn’t the mettle to send her packing.

He succumbs to her…charms.

He makes Jean his assistant editor to keep both ladies happy, and Jean makes good at this new challenge, but is crushed that he now spends his days, and nights, with Dorothea. Dorothea has another good scene where she insults Jean through the sheerest gauze of innocence, “And you actually thinking you had a chance with him,” she laughs. You want to sock her.

Jean is more angry at herself for not being able to compete with such fluff. In her way, she is very much like George Brent, a lover of order and routine, a hard worker, and a social misfit. She quits, and there are layers to her disgusted remark to Brent, “You’re such a fool.”

Here George finally figures out he loves her and wants her back. He pushes the ambitious Dorothea Kent onto the big boss, Charles Halton.

A couple of fun period items in this movie - Brent’s Art Deco office furniture, and the trailer or “land yacht” Jean and Ruth buy to travel and start over.

Ruth exclaims, “If I’d known how much fun it was to quick work, I wouldn’t have slaved the last 18 years without a vacation.”

Jean shows us how not to park a car with a land yacht attached to the back of it.

I love George Brent’s look when Dorothea Kent returns unexpectedly just as Jean is about to come back into his life. It is a priceless expression of horror and dread. All he needs is one of Curly’s “Nyah, Nyah, Nyah” groans of anxiety to complete it.

The scene where, brooking no more nonsense, Jean (“The time has come.”) spanks Dorothea like the naughty child she is, and tells her that, “I can’t bear looking at you!” -- is a resounding moment of screwball retribution.

A cute ending, and one in which Jean finally gets to shed her somber mood, is when she’s about to explode and cut into Brent, but the morning calisthenics interrupt her. Like the other office automatons, when given the order by Lionel Stander to inhale and begin the stretching exercises, she unthinkingly extends her arms. Brent grabs her in a cuddle, and her “exhale” position is to wrap her arms around him.

See? Exercise is good for you. It makes you feel better.

Don’t forget to check out the other great posts in the Comedy Classics Blogathon.

My Reputation - 1946

This week we have A Barbara Stanwyck Christmas with “My Reputation” (1946) and “Remember the Night” (1940). When you count in “Christmas in Connecticut” (1945), which we previously covered here, it seems Miss Stanwyck became one of the leaders in the Christmas movie genre.

A young relative of mine, 10 years old to be exact, in between mouthfuls of chocolate cake, informed me quite solemnly that new Christmas movies were not as good as “classic movies”. She was so firm in her opinion I could not help but agree (she doesn’t know anything about this blog), pleased with the flourish in her use of the word “classic.” She is as familiar with “It’s a Wonderful Life” as any old movie buff.

She could not, however, precisely tell me why old Christmas movies are better, though in time she will likely come up with several reasons. She’s a rather analytical type of person. Don’t know where she gets it.

For my part, I think one of the chief reasons “classic” Christmas movies are so powerful is that, ironically, they are not all about Christmas. Christmas is only the backdrop to a collage of story lines, subplots, and images, sometimes only a scene or two in a movie that otherwise deals with non-holiday drama.

To be sure, Christmas comes with its own drama, which is why many people are stressed out this time of year. It is a checklist of tasks we must accomplish. It is a recurring nightmare of family feuds. Annually, we seem to fail to measure up to a goal of spiritual, and temporal completeness.

I think modern Christmas movies, TV-movies, etc. are less powerful and satisfying than classic films because they tend to put this holiday frenzy as the crux of the story, instead of allowing it to be the backdrop. As every classic film fan can tell you, we notice the backdrops. We study them. They are important just where they are. Bedford Falls is the backdrop; James Stewart and his stupendous meltdown and the reasons for it are the story. But through the telling, we know all about Bedford Falls, and it becomes a character in the movie. The Christmas climax is fitting because Christmas is not the nightmare; it’s just the time the nightmare occurs.

Another way to look at it: let’s say Christmas is the painted backdrop of a stage set. The actors perform in front of it. However, if you make Christmas the focus of the story, i.e., it’s like moving the backdrop downstage closer to the audience.  The actors are now performing behind it and we never see them.

By keeping Christmas in the background, the classic Christmas movie becomes so much more meaningful than the trite “finding the true meaning of Christmas” or having “the best Christmas ever” stories we have today. The classic Christmas film is about life and death, prison and sickness, lies and deceit, and never getting what you really want. Then the Christmas scene -- like the thunderous ringing of church bells or the clash of symbols that accompany it, makes us feel triumphant in a colossal way, because we have discovered again we are human and survived being human, and have forgiven others for being human.

Christmas movies made during the early 1940s have a special tension to them. World War II was, shall we say, a rather bigger impediment to holiday serenity than standing in a long checkout line. We know, just as the characters know, this may be their last Christmas together. Ever. Or, maybe not. Depending on the role of the dice. There is no way for us to replicate that dramatic tension today.

I guess it’s about time I got to the movie.

“My Reputation” deals with a woman’s adjustment to widowhood and then opening herself up to a new romantic relationship. Christmas slides in at the end of the movie like a runner rounding third base and stealing home.

Barbara Stanwyck plays a new widow with two sons, ages 12 and 14, played by Scotty Beckett with his customary easy charm, and Billy Cooper. Cooper made only a handful of films, but his portrayal of the sensitive older son is quite nice. The boys have little idea of the horrors of their father’s longtime illness or their mother’s devoted care giving. They will be equally ignorant of how lonely she is, and how lost she is now that her social position seems to have changed with her husband’s passing.

Her mother hammers this home to her. Played with her usual frank, thoroughness of character, Lucile Watson is the dragon lady, Miss Stanwyck’s upper crust mother to whom duty and honor are substitutes for joy and happiness. She has been a professional widow for 25 years, and has worn black every day like a uniform. She expects Barbara to do the same now.

Note the hanky Miss Watson sniffles into. Even that is edged in black.

Miss Watson gets a wry, comic scene where she describes a friend’s fight with the local ration board about getting a larger gasoline allotment because her luxury car only gets 9 miles to the gallon. Her indignant friend, another woman from “good society” complains, “They’re just doing everything they can to break our spirits. It’s pure class prejudice.”

Ah, the rich resenting calls for equity put on them by a democratic society in wartime, calling it class prejudice. Sound familiar?

“Stick to your rights,” Lucille Watson tells her, “This is still America.” Yes, but whose?

Another footnote to the war is the scene where Stanwyck shops at the local market with her ration book. In this post last year about “Love Letters” (1945), we noted that not a lot of wartime movies showed the omnipresent ration books, but here we get to see Stanwyck flipping through hers. $1.38 for a pound of bologna, plus 24 points. You could have all the money in the world, but if you didn’t have 24 points, either in the form of stamps or little round fiber-celluloid tokens (like game pieces, red for meat and fats, blue for processed foods), you went home empty.  (Note, this movie was made during the war, but not released until 1946.)

Stanwyck shrinks from the horror of her bossy mother’s code of behavior. With her sons about to leave for boarding school, she suffers from the anxiety of being nobody’s wife, nobody’s mother, with her only role left of being her mother’s dutiful, and dutifully spiritless, daughter.

Barbara Stanwyck plays, or rather underplays, this woman with impressive sensitivity. Her long career showcased the enormous range of her talent, but strong women became her forte. When she had to, she could chew scenery with the best of them. This role required a different tone, and she demonstrates her intelligent reading of a character, her tasteful delineation of what is appropriate.

She gently plays a gentle woman, and hits all the right notes. A scene early in the film where she reads a letter written to her by her deceased husband is particularly moving. She exhibits a lot of control in her shaky voice, as well as through the movie when she has moments of nearly breaking down. It is never forced, it is always genuine.

Luckily for her, Eve Arden is her pal. She tries to buck her up and encourages her to stand up to her mother, but it’s a long, slow learning curve for the emotionally brittle Stanwyck. Miss Arden provides her customary sensible support, but there’s not a lot of wisecracking for her in the film.

Jerome Cowan, however, who we saw in “Beloved Enemy” here, leaps off the screen in a small role as the husband of a friend who makes passes at Stanwyck. He’s the smarmy fellow who can’t keep his hands off her when his wife isn’t looking, and when he offers to drive her home, we can foresee better than Stanwyck does that he means her no good. A brief tussle in the front seat, she gets away from him, but there’s no comeuppance for this creep. Cowan plays him with the right sort of grinning lust and self confidence.

Thoroughly shaken, Miss Stanwyck is more upset by the prospect of being alone than being assaulted by a friend because she is now “a woman on the loose.” Soon, she will have a new worry: how to be open to a new love when he shows up.

This turns out to be George Brent, who meets her on the ski slope. Eve Arden and her husband have taken Stanwyck to Lake Tahoe. The foursome get along swell, but the twosome is harder to evolve. Stanwyck is reticent to take up so soon with another man, despite her loneliness, and Brent is too much of a free-spirited bachelor to want to be tied to anyone, especially a woman who requires such deft wooing. Wooing is not Mr. Brent’s forte. He comes from the grab-them-and-plant-a-forceful-kiss school of romance. And if she is so insulting as to struggle, ridicule her for her childishness.

Some have criticized Brent for being wooden, not just in this role but period. I can’t really fault him for this performance, though, because we don’t get too much of his side of the story of this relationship. The movie isn’t really about them, it’s about her. At the end of the film, when Brent decides he wants to make a commitment, he’s not really believable. It seems too sudden a transformation. I don’t think Brent can be entirely blamed for a script that doesn’t let us see his struggle.

One scene between them doesn’t work at all. They have known each other for a while, and she comes to visit him in the apartment he is using while a friend is away. They sit on the couch and he attempts to seduce her with an unwanted martini and Jerome Cowan’s patented pawing technique. This does nothing for Brent’s role as the designated hero in this film.

Contrast it with the famous and astounding erotic scene between Joel McCrea and Jean Arthur in “The More the Merrier”, discussed here. He has his hands all over her, but she is not unwilling as Stanwyck is in this scene; rather she is only awkward. She is a reserved and prudish woman awakening to the wonderful world of sexual arousal, and McCrea’s perseverance is softened by the comedy accompanying the wooing. In the scene between Brent and Stanwyck, we have none of that, and it’s a shame, because Stanwyck had a similar quality to Miss Arthur’s ability to play both drama and comedy at the very same time.

A funny note about Eve Arden’s relationship with her husband, however -- I think this is the only time I can remember seeing a man and woman lying prone in bed together in a film of this era. Granted, she’s bundled up because of the freezing cold of their mountain cabin, and he is reading and giving her only minimal attention. Also, he calls her “my pet”, which is about as romantic a term of endearment as calling her “you pinhead”, in my book. Still, there are four legs in that bed, not one of them on the floor. Chalk that up to some kind of record.

The climax of the movie comes at Christmastime, when our everyday lives become suddenly more intense due to the enormity of tradition, and the ties that bind.

Stanwyck invites Brent to her home to meet her boys and share in the festivities, which features Eve Arden and her husband, the sassy housekeeper played by Esther Dale, the family friend and attorney played by Warner Anderson -- who is barracking to be the new man in Stanwyck’s life, and her disapproving mother.

When they gather around the piano to sing carols, George Brent is the odd man out, watching them and not even trying to fit in. More could be done with this scene, but we get the point.

Stanwyck gets serious that whirlwind week between Christmas and New Year’s, but when the boys, home from school, hear gossip about their mother at a party, we see that Lucille Watson’s warnings about her reputation have come back to haunt her.  She has a nice scene where she confronts her so-called friends.

Janis Wilson and Ann Todd play friends of the boys. Young Miss Wilson only made a handful of films, but she was terrific in her debut film “Now Voyager”. Young Miss Todd had a longer career, and we saw her in “Roughly Speaking” here. The inevitable Bess Flowers also plays one of the society friends at the party, but then she always shows up everywhere. I think we’ve mentioned before she has the biggest “walk-on” career of just about anybody.

I think I ran into her at the grocery store the other day.

At their own New Year’s Eve party, Stanwyck and Brent get the paper streamer treatment, the conga line, and the champagne, and when he drops the bad news that’s he’s being sent overseas, she wants to follow him to his point of embarkation, New York City, to spend all the time she can with him. Her mother, in a sensible and reconciling gesture, takes responsibility for her sons when they run away because their mother is a floozy, and Stanwyck comes down to earth, content to wave to Brent on the train platform and not go with him.

A nice touch to the end is when the train pulls out and a group of sailors hanging out the train windows whistle at her. It may do more for her morale about getting back in circulation than anything Brent has done the entire movie. She gives them a shy salute. Her sense of humor, and her sense of control, are back now.

Have a look here at Laura’s recent take on this movie at Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings. Come back Thursday for Barbara Stanwyck’s turn as a crook about to be reformed by Fred MacMurray one Christmas week in “Remember the Night.”