Rhapsody in Blue - 1945

Rhapsody in Blue (1945) presents George Gershwin’s piece “Rhapsody in Blue” almost in its entirety.  This, and cameo appearances by some who knew and collaborated with Gershwin: Paul Whiteman, Oscar Levant, and Al Jolson – playing themselves, make this film a worthwhile entry in our series on musicals about composers.  However, it’s so lacking in factual material, or even an interesting fictional tale – that there’s not much else to recommend the movie.

Adding to these detriments is a dour subplot of the main character plodding through life to his well-telegraphed doom.  The film was made some eight years after George Gershwin’s death at the age of 38 from a malignant brain tumor.  The story is told through that lens.  It is less a celebration of his life, ambition, and his prodigious contribution to American music, than it is a quietly haunting march of the walking dead.  Perhaps it was difficult not to film this movie within a prism of grief.

There are bright spots in the film, most notable of which is jazz and classical pianist Hazel Scott, who appeared in a handful of 1940s musicals as a specialty act.  A class act she was: elegant and stunningly beautiful, as well as being sublimely blessed with talent.  She is the most sparkling image in this movie.

Alexis Smith and Joan Leslie are also on hand as George Gershwin’s two (fictional) romantic relationships, with Miss Smith in her customary cool, intelligent beauty role, and Joan Leslie as the loser in the triangle when Gershwin cannot commit to her but seems to forget her in the dust of his ambition. Miss Leslie loses her all-American girlishness in this film that brought her to stardom at Warner’s, and instead appears quite moving and lovely as a sadder-but-wiser woman. 

Robert Alda plays George Gershwin (his screen debut), and though Alda is likable, it’s a performance so low key that it is hard to appreciate what drove this clearly driven man.  Perhaps it is just too difficult to visually depict the inner turmoil and ecstasy of the creative process.

Herbert Rudley is his brother and lyricist Ira, who was his closest relationship.  Sweet and reliable Morris Carnovsky and Rosemary DeCamp are Mama and Papa.

Eddie Marr plays lyricist Buddy De Silva, who we saw portrayed by Gordon MacRae earlier in this series here in The Best Things in Life are Free (1956).

Will Wright plays Rachmaninoff, the thought of which still cracks me up.

Mark Stevens, who we saw earlier in this series in I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now has a brief uncredited role as a singer. I’m pretty sure his tenor voice is dubbed here.

When first viewing Rhapsody in Blue years ago, I remember thinking how unrealistically stupid it was that when George Gershwin’s headaches seemed so severe, nobody thought of taking him to a doctor. I have since learned that when he finally did seek medical help in June 1937, he was ironically given a clean bill of health and told that his problem was hysteria.  A month later he fell into a coma and then it was decided that he had a brain tumor.  Gershwin died having emergency surgery.  So what is least believable in old movies is sometimes what we must believe.

The movie takes us from his childhood days in New York, to Tin Pan Alley, Broadway, and Paris, and the Hollywood Bowl.  We are treated to “Swanee,” by a hyperkinetic Jolson, and snippets of “The Man I love” and “Yankee Doodle Blues” from Hazel Scott, a bit of “Embraceable You,” from Joan Leslie, who was unable to finish overcome by her hurt that Gershwin has brought Alexis Smith to a party.  We have Anne Brown and Todd Duncan recreating their Broadway roles as Porgy and Bess, but not enough of them.  Just bits.  We don’t get enough of Gershwin in this movie about Gershwin.

Oscar Levant and Charles Coburn are welcome additions to the cast, as they anchor the dreaminess of the proceedings with invariably caustic but sensible remarks, but as mentioned in our last entry in this series, I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now, the film would have been better served – especially with the shocking passing of the man still clearly mourned by the entertainment world – with a greater tribute by just presenting performances of his music, and not reminding us with foreshadowing at every turn that he was doomed to live a short life.

I would have rather had a film that left the audience lost in the rapture of his music, and observing the busy course of his full life, have had the sudden end of his life come as a shock, as indeed it did for people in 1937.  That way we can better appreciate his work, and also share in the sense of loss, coming to understand its magnitude on the American Songbook.

“Work is a compulsion.  It’s an obsession,” George says, but the obsession of this movie is not his work; it’s his death.

Come back next Thursday when we cap off this series on musicals about composers with a double-header: a look Cole Porter’s career through Night and Day (1946) and De-Lovely (2004).

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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.

"Murder On Ice" - Quincy, M.E. - 1983

“Murder on Ice” brings a veteran cast together in a snowbound lodge in this episode number 19, season eight of Quincy, M.E., fun for the familiar faces and the tightly written whodunit.  Star Jack Klugman as the intrepid medical examiner is on his honeymoon with his bride, played by Anita Gillette.  There’s nothing like a romantic getaway full of unexpected guests and a few murders to put the damper on romance.

Broadcast March 9, 1983, here Ann Blyth, 54 years old when she played the role of a court psychiatrist, is married to a judge.  They own the mountain lodge where the episode takes place.  The judge invited Quincy to use the vacation home for his honeymoon.  When Jack Klugman and bride arrive—via a horse-drawn sleigh driven by longtime stage and TV inebriate Foster Brooks, they do not expect Ann to be there, and she, trudging through the snow with her skis over her shoulder, did not expect them.  She shakes her head in knowing chagrin, as her husband the judge, a hail-fellow-well-met sort of guy, is always pulling surprises like this, inviting guests without telling her.  But it’s a big place and there’s plenty of room in this rustic hideaway with its wood paneled walls, rough beams, log railings, fireplaces everywhere and a wood box for kindling every three feet.  Very cozy in a do-it-yourself sort of way.

The three of them are, in turn, surprised by arrival of Lola Albright and Robert Alda, also invited by the judge.  I like Miss Albright’s line about Jack Klugman’s entrance on a sleigh, “I might have known it was you arriving like Dr. Zhivago.” 

Mr. Alda, 69 years old here, thought he was going to get to do some hunting, and Miss Albright, a lovely 57 years old here, thought the judge had set her up for a job interview.  Pretty soon, Dane Clark, 70 years old here, shows up, another surprised guest, thinking he was invited for a seminar.  I mention their ages because it’s so refreshing to see an older cast not playing “old,” but playing people dealing with careers, marriages, fun, sorrow, envy, lust, greed—which most TV and movie roles seem to feel are situations best left to younger people, as if people over 40 years old are utterly without dimension.

Lola Albright still twinkles with those big blue eyes and sly smile, a lot of Edie the sultry jazz singer from Peter Gunn ever charmingly present.  Ann’s reddish-brown fashionably curly perm complements the confident, professional woman she plays.  It’s amazing how drastic the change in hair and makeup from only the four years’ difference between this Quincy episode and the one we discussed last week here, shot in 1979, in which she appeared fey and matronly.  Everything’s fashion-forward in the new decade.  All the women and men are dressed in stylish sport clothes to cue us that the casual drapery of the 1970s has been booted out for an entirely new and vibrant makeover.  These folks are not playing retired has-beens; they’re the movers and shakers of their professions.

So far the story begins a little like the Agatha Christie ploy in And Then There Were None, where a group of strangers arrive at a remote location, all invited by the missing host.  The difference here is the characters are not strangers.  They have all met before as professional colleagues in the court system.  

And their host is not missing.  He’s dead.

The episode was filmed at Lake Tahoe, so we get some snowy scenery, and with the roads blocked (aided by a snow cannon that causes an avalanche) they are sufficiently isolated—and sufficiently trapped, leaving them at the mercy of a killer.  The judge, found buried in the avalanche, is soon suspected by Jack Klugman, who just can’t stop being a medical examiner even on his honeymoon, of being murdered by something else.  As his distressed bride exclaims when he wants to examine the corpse, “What is this, a busman’s holiday?”

Still puzzling over why the judge should have invited them all here for different purposes, it’s Lola Albright who figures out that they all have a particular connection with each other:  They are all united by their involvement with a specific criminal case.  In a high-stakes white-collar crime caper, they all helped in one way or another to put an embezzler in jail.  Lola Albright was the prosecuting attorney.  Robert Alda and Dane Clark were the investigating detectives.  Jack Klugman testified in court as a forensics expert, and the deceased judge tried the case and sentenced the bad guy to prison.

And the bad guy escaped from prison a year ago and has been on the run since.

Which explains the shadowy figure in a dark ski suit we see sneaking around.  He’s back for revenge.

But wait, there’s more going on here.  Ann Blyth and Lola Albright are decidedly cool with each other.  Ann’s late husband, the judge, was a notorious philanderer and had an affair with Lola.  Ann, not as much the grieving widow as the bone tired widow: “He certainly gave me enough reasons over the years to stop loving him.  I doubt that he ever loved me.”  She is stony and resigned.

Mr. Alda carries his hunting rifle to bed, and sits awake, flinching at every noise in the night.  There is some professional jealousy afoot.  He complains that his colleague Dane Clark is a hotshot who grandstanded for credit in the old case.  We will eventually learn that neither detective, nor even the judge, was squeaky clean when it came to the embezzlement investigation.  They each succumbed to bribes and a cover-up.  

We have our middle of the night everybody-running-around-in-their-jammies-and-bathrobes scene when the power goes out, and at one point Quincy’s bride boots him out of the bridal chamber so Ann Blyth can bunk with her instead, since it’s not safe in this lodge when another dead body is found.  There will be more gruesome discoveries before the episode ends, and they realize that, though the escaped convict, played by Raymond Mayo, finally makes his chilling appearance, he is not the only killer loose.  One of them is also a killer.

Is it Ann, the not-so-grieving widow?  Or Lola Albright, who was thrown over, many times, by the judge for other mistresses?  The rivalry of Dane Clark and Robert Alda, each with something to hide?  Or did the mute caretaker, played with gentle shyness by Henry Gibson have something to do with it?  He rides off in an exciting snowmobile chase with the escaped convict.

And then the judge’s overnight bag turns up with an interesting document inside for which one or more of them are willing to kill.

Just as we discussed in last week’s episode, I don’t normally give the ending away in a mystery, but I’m going to here again.  Muhwa-ha-ha-ha-ha. After the break of the next several lines, I’m going to talk about the ending.  If you don’t like spoilers, run away now.  Put your snowshoes on.  Hurry up.  C'mon, c'mon, c'mon.

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Still here?  

Okay.  It’s Ann.

Which, once again, is probably why she took this gig.  “I get to kill again?  Sign me up!”

It’s those quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for.

She makes a formidable opponent for Jack Klugman because she is intelligent and fixed things up pretty cleverly, except for the misplaced grocery receipt, which was stupidly careless, either of her or the writers.  But Jack gathers the remaining suspects together and calmly unravels the plot.  Ann’s whimpering cry, burying her face in her hands is the picture of despair of a woman whose one attempt to get the better of her unfaithful husband, not just to murder him, but to top him for spite over stolen diamonds, has come crashing down around her.

Quincy, M.E. season eight is not out on DVD yet, but probably will be eventually.  Right now you can watch it on Netflix.  Sorry about no screen caps this time around.

Come back next Thursday when we celebrate Halloween with an eerie episode of The Twilight Zone from 1964, where Ann pulls out all the stops playing a flashy, mysterious woman who does not seem to age, no matter the fashions or the decade.

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Times-News, (Henderson, N.C.) , February 28, 1983,  p. 12.
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Bon Voyage to Ann Blyth and all the happy wanders currently on board in this year's TCM Classic Cruise.

Ann will be doing a couple hour-long conversation sessions, and will also be on hand for a screening of Mildred Pierce.

Have a look here for the rest of the schedule and events with the other celebrity guests.

I, sadly, am unable to attend this cruise, but if any reader is going,  I invite you (beg you) to share your experiences and/or photos relating to Miss Blyth on this blog as part of our year-long series on her career.  I'd really appreciate your perspective on the event, to be our eyes and ears.  Thanks.
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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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TRIVIA QUESTION:  I've recently been contacted by someone who wants to know if the piano player in Dillinger (1945-see post here) is the boogie-woogie artist Albert Ammons. Please leave comment or drop me a line if you know.

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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.