MENTAL MONTAGE: Epic Lovers' Brawls!

A young and sultry Lupe Velez: every man's fantasy. 

(Be careful what you wish for)!

Oh, love... Ain't it awful? More than a few celebrity couples would agree, considering the number of divorces and infidelities that are more the rule than the exception in a town of pretty (messed up) people. Maintaining a relationship in the fast-paced, ego-centric world of film and television isn't easy, and many lovers have let their affections for each other pay the forfeit. After the split, most of them put on a brave face for the cameras and say that they're "still friends," all while harboring still simmering jealousies and a plethora of pain. Some break-ups break our hearts even more than the wounded couples'. Yet there is a select club of bedfellows who are well recalled for their knock-down, drag-out fights. Their love affairs remain fascinating, not for the romance, but for the gossip-worthy, quite public feuds that they had with each other. Press releases about their brawls were often more hoped for than their next movies. Pristine social lives don't tend sell papers. As such, the following members of the "I Love You to Death" club continue to draw fascination and open mouthed shock, or laughter, at the heinous brutality of their not-so-eternal devotion.

It should have been clear to everyone when Lupe Velez started attending the fights at Hollywood Legion Stadium, during which she ravenously screamed "Keel him! Keel him!" that the lady had a taste for violence. For some, violence is a rare, cathartic release. For the pint-sized Lupe, it was a lifestyle. Take her notorious love affair with Gary Cooper. "Loop and Coop" (left) had a mutual fascination and passion for each other, which was great. What was not so great was their totally polar temperaments. Lupe was a high-strung, night owl who was constantly moving-- even when standing still she seemed to vibrate with energy-- while Coop was a more passive, quiet nights at home,  early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy. Their intense passion not withstanding, the relationship quickly went from butterflies to vampire bats. Coop was so smitten, he would generally just follow Lupe's lead-- against his will-- which meant he got very little sleep, lost about 50 pounds, and-- due to the expensive gifts he bought her-- nearly went broke. Jealousies also erupted, given that Lupe was a very sexually forward woman, and Coop was never short of willing lovers.

Add to this Lupe's confusion over his mother Alice's intrusion into their relationship, and her battle with what many believe was bi-polar disorder, and... you've got a problem. Out of nowhere, Coop would be sitting quietly or cooking dinner, and Lupe would come at him out of nowhere with a knife and slice him! Often, these outbursts came from her frustration with his uncommunicative nature and the fact that he would not stand up to her onslaughts. It was like trying to have an argument with a brick wall, albeit a pretty one. Coop would show up at the studio with scratches all over his face, bruises, bite marks, etc. One time, he even had to allegedly fight back-- not his style-- when Lupe flew (too far) off the handle. Their altercations became so public that when the studio saw the toll that Lupe was taking on Coop's health, they sent him abroad for five months. It was the official end of their relationship. Well, almost. When Coop tried to take off in the train for his trip, Lupe surprised him by firing a gun at his head! Luckily for us, she missed. Though they separated, the duo would never forget each other and are rumored to have carried on an intermittent affair through the rest of Lupe's life. In the end, they both laughed and bragged about their past quarrels and war wounds. Coop proved to be rather proud of his scars, in the end, and the fact that he had survived "The Mexican Spitfire." (The distance the duo should have kept from each other, right).

You would think this information would make any man steer clear of Lupe's volatile temper, but Lupe at her best and most charming was a woman difficult to refuse. Enter Johnny Weissmuller, the only man she ever married (left). An Olympic gold medalist, Johnny had conquered the world of film just as easily as aquatic sports when he became a movie star and the eternal "Tarzan." Yet, in his case, the story went: lucky at life, unlucky in love. He wed five times, but second wife Lupe became the most memorable notch on his belt. Things progressed in much the same fashion as they had with Coop, except that Johnny was able to give Lupe what she wanted: commitment. Unfortunately, marital bliss soon turned to marital discord almost immediately after their 1933 wedding. The passion that brought them together soon drove them apart. It all seemed hilarious in retrospect, and Johnny would laughingly recall the porcelain throwing tournaments that they had, each tossing plates, vases, etc, at each other in moments of heated dispute. After awhile, Johnny taught himself to always go for the inexpensive decor. However, the most hilarious bit of arguing occurred in London when the couple was staying at the famous Claridge's Hotel. Lupe was feeling ignored by Johnny, who had been publicized as being "out on the town" with other women. He professed that it was perfectly innocent. Apparently, Lupe didn't believe him. So, she did what any sane woman would do and hit him on the head with a shoe while he was sleeping. Commence craziness.

Lupe continued tossing random objects at Johnny as he tried to approach her and calm her down, then she ran from their room. Johnny followed, trying to retrieve his hysterical bride, which led to the two of them doing laps around their floor. Oh, did I mention that Johnny was pantless??? Seems he had a habit of sleeping in the buff. At one point, an elderly damsel opened her door and peeked to see the naked madness ensuing, yet she surprisingly cheered Johnny on: "Go a little faster, Johnny!" Indeed he did, and he eventually caught his wife. The heat of the chase turned immediately sexual, and the duo returned to their room to... make up. The next day, they were nearly thrown out of the hotel for their hijinks, but were saved at the command of no less than the Queen of Denmark, who just so happened to be their cheerleader from the night before! Divorce came by 1939 when the hostilities overcame the romance, but Johnny apparently held no grudges. Later, after the separation, he was at a party when a drunken, clearly disturbed girl started telling him how much she "hated him and his face." Johnny grinningly said: "You're lucky I'm not married to Lupe Velez now, or she'd kick the stuffing out of you." (A little calmer, right).

Another knock-about couple was Errol Flynn and his first wife, Lili Damita (left). The two met while Errol was en route to America for the first time and Lili was aboard the same ship. The attraction wasn't instant. Lili, who was five years Errol's senior, was a beautiful, strong-willed, and already successful movie star when the smitten Tasmanian set his sights on her. She ignored him at first, but Errol was, of course, Errol: a boyish rake with dashing good looks and the charisma to match. Needless to say, he won her over. At the beginning of their relationship, Lili acted as both lover and mother in a way, guiding the totally movie-biz ignorant Errol into the world of Hollywood and its machinery. It is rumored that she even was the reason that he got his first big break in Captain Blood when she suggested him to her ex-husband, director Michael Curtiz. All was not bliss, however. The couple's yelling matches were notorious, as was the flying furniture. It was all pretty much fore-play in the beginning, as their love-making was rumored to wake the dead! 

However, Errol was a free spirit who didn't want to be tied down, and Lili was possessive and jealous-- this despite the fact that both had numerous affairs during their union. Further evidence of her controlling behavior can be noted by the fact that she wept after seeing Errol's premiere in Captain Blood. He was phenomenal! He was going to be a big star! Instead of being supportive, Lili felt her relationship's death knell, which is both sad and a little bit catty. Instead of sticking by her rising star husband, she combatted her insecurity by picking vicious fights with him instead, in which Errol-- whose intense mistrust of women had already been well implanted by his abusive and neglectful mother-- agitatedly and angrily participated. Lili once broke a champagne bottle over his head, which gave him a concussion! Their physical and verbal fights, which were oozing with obscenities, became expected side shows at every party they attended. In time, their love turned to hate, and they divorced. Lili wasn't done however, and her monetary demands haunted Errol for the rest of his life (see right). Her last fatal blow was in gaining possession of his beloved home on Mulholland Drive, which she had never even lived in. Errol was forced to take refuge at sea with third wife Patrice Wymore. Love became a mystery that he would never solve, so it seemed appropriate that he spent a large portion of his later life literally adrift.

Next on the list is the only man Mr. Flynn ever met who could drink him under a table: this one's a double Bogie! The Mr. and Mrs, otherwise known as Humphrey and Mayo (Methot), were more popularly known as "The Batting Bogarts" (left). Mayo's own personal nickname would fittingly be "Sluggy." Sluggy and Bogie; Bogie and Sluggy. Sounds almost like a nursery rhyme. It wasn't. Not by a long shot. This duo couldn't even make it through their wedding without quarreling. In fact, Bogie stormed out of the reception without his bride and spent the night carousing with friends after their first of many husband-wife spats. Both members of this party had tempers, but Mayo's has become legendary. Bogie would definitely fight back, but he was often at the sore end of Mayo's woman-handling. As with the aforementioned coupled, the violence was a bit of a sexual turn-on, but sometimes it was just downright brutal. The pair's home was quickly dubbed "Sluggy Hollow," and it was Humphrey who took most of the beatings. Anything could happen. Mayo liked to toss any object within reach at her partner-- with great ferocity and velocity-- be it decor, dinnerware, or the food itself. She aimed for the head always, including the time she sat on Bogie's back and repeatedly slammed his face into the pavement. She wasn't above pushing him overboard when they went yachting or setting the house on fire either. She also had a gun, which made life a bit more complicated for the entire neighborhood, as her bullets were known to go blasting through the front door, which had to be constantly replaced. She also had a knack for knives apparently, for she once stabbed Bogie right in the back, which left him with several stitches.  

Initially, the male member of this duo found his wife's temper alluring and even sort of comical. But while he was proud of Mayo's venom, their friends and guests were often terrified of the couple's interactions. Gloria Stuart witnessed one horrific evening of flying bullets, and David Niven was present when a violent fight broke out in a restaurant. On this occasion, when a pushy drunkard accosted her man, Mayo let him have it! David and his wife dove under their table, and later Bogie appeared beside them and said, "Don't worry, Mayo's handling it." Their spats, wars, and maniacal wrestling matches became some of the most anticipated and feared shows in town. They seemed like a turbulent pair for the ages, yet soon enough they seemed to wear each other out. Bogie especially was growing weather worn and exhausted. He decided to keep friendlier company with the equally defiant, yet much more submissive, Lauren Bacall, creating a union as blissfully mythic as his previous one had been toxic. "Bogie and Bacall" reigned in Hollywood until his death in 1957. Mayo had oppositely spent all she had on Humphrey, her third and final spouse. She outlived their divorce by a little over five years, dying as a result of her alcoholism-- a passion she and her former husband had once so enthusiastically shared. (They substitute tea for liquor, right).

However, not all Hollywood abuse involves battered husbands. The case of Bette Davis and Gary Merrill was just as notorious for his battery of her-- and much less comical beings that the slaps and threats were administered by a man much stronger than his feisty but smaller wife. The two were wed not long after their astounding chemistry brought them together in All About Eve. A clear social ladder climber, Gary had actually tried to hit on the younger, unresponsive Anne Baxter first, but was a bit honored when Bette honed in on him. After their wedding, they spent a lot of time on their property in Maine, appropriately named "Witch Way," which was probably meant to be a play on words but earned much more evil connotations as rumors began to spread through the town that all was not well with the new, famous neighbors. Gary had a fierce temper and a total lack of control when he lost it. He also had an absence of decorum, often walking around the house in the nude in front of the servants. It was hard for the family-- which included Bette's daughter B.D. and the couple's adopted children Michael and Margot (left)-- to keep anyone employed, so quickly did the hired staff run screaming for the hills. It didn't take long for Gary to start taking his anger out on Bette, who was constantly suffering from his brutal hits. 

Yet, being the brazen woman that she was, Bette often instigated these attacks, pushing Gary's buttons to purposely get a reaction and draw forth his rage. As B.D. herself said: "She liked being brutalized. It was the only way she could understand a male-female relationship." A strong woman who for so long had elbowed her way around every man, woman, and child that came across her path, it was almost as if Bette were seeking some sort of punishment. Or, perhaps having a man dominate her at last was a sexual fantasy realized. This 'fantasy' was ugly. B.D. often put herself in the middle of the fights to protect her mother, which only enraged Gary more. Soon, he started hitting B.D. as well, perhaps due to his own sexual frustration and attraction to her. He even attacked one of her young friends when she visited the house! Slumber parties were never a good idea. It wasn't unusual for him to kick down his step-daughter's door and threaten her out of the blue. Adding more fuel to the fire was Margot, who was unfortunately born brain-damaged, was violent herself, and equally difficult to handle. As if in competition with Bette's relationship with B.D, Gary favored Margot and refused to send her away to a school where she would be better attended. Son Michael was all but ignored. Bette eventually paid her servants for silence. She would leave Gary and return to him ad nauseum until, finally, she left him for good and sought refuge at a friend's house. Though Gary howled at the windows for her, the damage was done. Ding-dong, the "Witch" couple was dead. Gary began dating the equally emotionally frail and sexually confused Rita Hayworth and did not even appear at the divorce proceedings. After four failed unions, Bette understandably never married again. (The couple right in All About Eve).

'Tis a thin line between love and hate, as they say. Were the blood-thirsty passions these couples felt for each other directly proportionate to their love? Or were they all disturbing and confused messes from the beginning: accidents just waiting to happen? Addiction and attraction are very different things, as are obsession and adoration. Just as certain chemicals, when brought together, can be combustible, these spouses caused explosions wherever they went. Perhaps it's possible to love too much. Perhaps psych evaluations should be a prerequisite to matrimony...

Didja Know: Part III

Here are the latest facts that were "news to me." Didja know that...

Cagney gets a little rough with Bogie in Angels with Dirty Faces.

... James Cagney almost slept with the fishes???

In 1939, James Cagney and George Raft went to work on the intense prison film Each Dawn I Die (left). The two leading men knew each other and got along well. Both had grown up "in the hood" as it were, and had rubbed elbows with some of the nastiest ne'er do wells-- some of whom would go on to become leading gangsters and Mafiosos. However, both managed to keep themselves from becoming too deeply involved in the mobster lifestyle. For his part, Jim stayed completely away from the men he considered morally reprehensible. George, on the other hand, forged certain alliances when acting as a chauffeur for certain goons in his Hell's Kitchen days, yet he never got into the deep stuff. A suave guy, he knew how to play the game, kept things social, and stayed out of the business, while giving the bad guys just enough allegiance to maintain their respect and his own separate life. These connections would come in handy. James and George met again in Hollywood, and Jim got George one of his first big breaks dancing the "Peabody" in Taxi. Later, George would return the favor.

During the big Hollywood shakedown, when gang warfare had resulted in physical and financial intimidation of the studios-- who were forced to use mob managed union workers-- the notoriously stubborn Jack Warner must have been causing the big guns a little bit of irritation. While on the set of Each Dawn I Die, George happened to see his old pal Willie Bioff wandering around the set. Bioff's eyes landed menacingly on Cagney, no friend to the mob, then moved up to a large klieg light hanging above. George then witnessed Bioff give a signal to a worker standing in the rafters. What George didn't know, was that Bioff was planning a celebrity assassination: he wanted to take Cagney out by dropping a light on his head! Offing one of Warner's biggest stars was a definite way of sending the big-wig a message. It has been popularly recalled that George stepped in to save Jim's life, but this is only partially true. George clearly knew that something was afoot, but he didn't know what, and he also knew better than to get in the middle of it. Later, after the film wrapped, Bioff told George that he was indeed going to bump Cagney off, but had been halted because they didn't want to screw up filming for George. So, in effect, George did save Jim's life, even if indirectly. One wonders if Jim ever knew how close he came to curtains???

Of course, Jim always knew that life on a film set was dangerous. Not only is a film celebrity's career constantly in jeopardy due to changing public tastes, competitive talent, or demanding moguls, but before the advent of the Screen Actors Guild-- of which Jim was a proud member and instigator-- performers were often put through the mill emotionally and physically. Overworked, underpaid, and unprotected, the company brass had little concern for the pawns in their money game. After all, if you lose one actor, you can just hire another. This mentality led to the lackadaisical way actors were put in danger. Ever notice how in those old Cagney pictures and likewise gangster films, the shooters are always pointing their guns at a downward angle? This was because they were often shooting with live rounds. For those big productions, when Jim had to outrun or dodge an array of bullets, he wasn't acting. When working on The Public Enemy, for example, a man named "Bailey" was hired as a professional sharpshooter. Having served in the Great War, Bailey was an ace shot. The director would set up the scene and direct the movement, then Jim's character would be instructed to run this way or that away from the spray of bullets, which Bailey, from his gunner platform, calculatingly fired behind him, leaving authentic bullet holes along the walls of the set. Filming these scenes took a lot of guts-- or stupidity. As good a shot as Bailey was, it took a lot of trust for Jim to perform knowing that if he moved a hair out of place, he might lose his whole head! Luckily, the miracle of special effects has made this method of gun play obsolete on the sound stage.


... John Barrymore had one up on Al Jolson?

Everyone recalls The Jazz Singer as being the miracle film that moved cinema from a land of silence to a world of sound. However, this transition did not occur overnight. Even The Jazz Singer itself was not an in toto sound film from start to finish. Instead, it is a silent piece with synced music in various places, into which Al Jolson stealthily added a line of dialogue or two. Before continuous music and dialogue became the norm, there were films produced with random sound effects, profiting off the gimmick of the new innovation. Inserted into the fray were a whistle here, a car horn there, and occasionally entire songs. But, before The Jazz Singer was released in 1927, John Barrymore's romantic epic Don Juan was produced in 1926 (left). It represented another step toward sound film in that it was actually the first film Warner Brothers released with the use of the novel "Vitaphone." Warners really spearheaded the sound film movement by investing in and acquiring this new apparatus, while the rest of the industry remained hesitant both about the change and the huge costs it would incur-- not only in production but in restructuring theaters to suit the new technology. The first Vitaphone feature film, Don Juan was synced from start to finish with sound effects and music, though dialogue was still noticeably absent. When played to packed houses, it was often accompanied by more talkie shorts and even an intro by the fearful censor boss, Will Hays.The film was a huge success as a result, but despite big box office, it failed to recoup its financial losses. This put Harry Warner off a bit, but Sam Warner-- the most forward thinking of the brothers-- really pushed for continued use of the device. His pegged the next Vitaphone feature as The Jazz Singer. Though not the first film produced with the Vitaphone, it would in time prove to be the most vital. Ironically, Sam would pass away one day before the premiere of his greatest success.


... the Egyptian was the first Hollywood movie theater?

Back in the early Hollywood days, the awkward transition from live performance to recorded film was evidenced in the film premiere. These days, one merely sits back as the opening credits start to roll, but in the 1920s especially, the film premiere was made to be almost as big a production as the film itself. Sid Grauman personified the extremities of cinematic extravagance with his plush movie palaces, complete with vast stages for elaborate pre-show performances, skits, dance numbers, and songs. The theater-going experience was just that-- an "experience," and one ripe for the senses. In addition to transporting his paying customers and clientele to various different places as they watched the screen, Sid too constructed his theaters to resemble far off, exotic locales. Grandeur, splendor, pleasure-- there was no holding back, and customers paid to be awed. While his Chinese Theatre is best remembered, he too had great success with a previous venture, The Egyptian Theatre, which opened 5 years earlier in 1922, mere blocks away on Hollywood Boulevard (right). This was the first official Hollywood movie theater because it was built specifically for cinema and was not a transformed storefront or vaudeville theater like the others, including The Iris.

Modeled after the infamous African country, and cashing in on the invigorated interest in the recent King Tut phenomenon, Sid covered the Egyptian's walls with ancient artwork and hieroglyphics, convincing audiences that they were sitting in the midst of a desert mirage. Lining the red carpet entrance, where fans stood to watch their favorite stars attend premieres, there too were rows of vendors offering souvenir items and showcasing costumes and props from the latest flick. Needless to say, the largess made it a huge success. To Sid, it was all in the details. He even had a sentinel fully costumed, standing on the roof of the theater to announce when showtime was about to commence. After the pre-show hooplah, the fan mayhem, and the dancing girls, it's a wonder anyone had any energy left to even watch the scheduled movie. Because Sid created this first massive theater, he literally brought film to Hollywood, which until then wasn't considered the hub of the industry it is today. With studios scattered all around Los Angeles, Hollywood and cinema had little connection until Sid came along, which is why he was given the name "Mr. Hollywood." After nearly 90 years of operation, the Egyptian is still going, though it's interior has changed a great deal. Nonetheless, it remains the oldest running 100%-movie-theater in Hollywood.

 ... "virgin" is a dirty word?

In 1953, Otto Preminger decided to tackle Hugh Herbert's smash play and turn it into a film. The Moon is Blue, a comedy of wit and manners, may have read like a modern Oscar Wilde play, but it translated like a bombshell. Opposing forces took offense to the very open and lighthearted dialogue with regard to sex. The film's heroine is a young, outspoken, and charming girl played by newcomer Maggie McNamara, who just happens to be a virgin and makes no apology about it. After she meets architect William Holden on the Empire State Building observation deck (where else?), he becomes completely smitten, but is mostly consumed with the idea of-- politely-- ridding her of the tedious "virgin" label. What results is a inept seduction with fellow suitor David Niven thrown into the mix and both boys realizing that they're no match for Maggie's smarts. Despite the fact that all ends well, in matrimony, MPPDA head Joseph Breen was hot under the collar due to the casual way with which sex was discussed, not to mention the open way in which the characters of Holden and Niven went about hatching plans to seduce their innocent prey. Breen refused to give the film the censorship's seal of approval, but Preminger released the film anyway with the help of United Artists. Such a thing was unprecedented. Due to the film's themes and the use of words like "seduction," "mistress," "pregnant," and "virgin"-- the latter of which had never been used in such context in a film before-- several theaters refused to show it. It started at small venues, slowly drumming up a fan following, and eventually earned a hefty $3.5m dollar profit. "Virgin" thus became the word that started the toppling of the production code administration. The film was additionally successful in earning McNamara an Academy Award nomination and winning Niven a Golden Globe, (which was doubly eventful for him, since originally the studio didn't want to cast him, thinking he was old news). 


... porn is nearly as old as film itself?

That's right. We've all been dirty perverts a long, long time. It's nothing new. While some pinpoint early German sexual education/health films as the earliest source of pornography, the movie labeled as the first official stag film is 1915's A Free Ride (right). There is some debate as to the year of its release, which may actually have been later, around 1923, but thus far it is the oldest surviving product of our cinematic debauchery. The plot is about as intricate as those today: some random guy picks up some random girls on the side of the road. After he pulls to the side to relieve himself in the desert, one of the two females follows him to do the same. The sight of her panties dropping apparently is more than he can handle, and before you know it... Yadda yadda yowza! Because such levels of sexuality and outright raunchiness were illegal, the film was not released publicly but was instead shown in all-male clubs, so as not to offend delicate, female sensibilities-- excluding of course the two female leads. What can be said about this now hilarious attempt at celluloid erotica, is that the filmmakers apparently embraced its comedy. The director is credited as A. Wise Guy, the DP as Will B. Hard, and the title writer as Will She.

CAST AWAYS: Part VI

The time has come for some more cinematic "What ifs." Hope you like the latest lot:

Judy Garland, wondering where her latest part went...

Toward the end of Judy Garland's MGM career, there were many roles that were snatched out from under her. Or rather, several roles that she let slip away. As her disenchantment with the studio's slave-driving and her own personal and substance abuse problems increased, her work became less consistent-- in quantity if not in quality. Judy missed out on an opportunity to re-team with Fred Astaire in The Barkleys of Broadway. After their success in the triumphant Easter Parade, MGM was looking to put the duo back together again, a gig that both stars were looking forward to, since they got along swimmingly-- or should I say dancingly? (Interestingly, Gene Kelly had originally been slated to star in Parade, but his injured ankle called Astaire out of retirement). Sadly, a reunion for Fred and Judy was too not to be. Judy was still worn out from the previous film-- pale and gaunt, she lacked the energy to fulfill her obligations. In the end, it was Ginger Rogers who was called upon to take back her place as Fred's most famous waltzing partner. This would be the first time the two had appeared together since 1939's The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle. A decade later, they were still a sight to behold (see left). It would be the last movie the famous pair made together, ending an 10 picture winning streak.

In 1949, Judy was also slated to star in Annie Get Your Gun, however there were several strikes working against her. She had recently and admittedly separated from her husband, Vincente Minnelli, and the realization of his true sexual tendencies was a crushing blow to her feelings of security as a woman. In addition, the film's director was to be Busby Berkeley, an arch nemesis who had driven Judy to the brink of collapse in her earlier, childhood roles. Judy too disliked the frumpy wardrobe (right), which further inhibited her already enormous physical insecurity. Judy's response was to arrive late or not at all. In addition, her health was poor as a result of the temporary electroshock therapy she was undergoing. As her weight dropped and her hair began to fall out, her one coup was having Berkeley replaced with her friend Chuck Walters, but even he couldn't save Judy. She was offered an ultimatum by the studio-- show up on time, or you're fired! Judy left in a huff and Betty Hutton, everyone's favorite, loud-mouth mug, stepped into Annie's stirrups. It remains her most famous role.

Betty Hutton, guns blazin'!

Errol Flynn is remembered as America's Favorite Swashbuckler. It seems that this Tasmanian Devil was destined for fame, for the beginning of his career was guided by a power greater than himself. His big breakthrough role as Peter Blood in Captain Blood was a phenomenon (left with Olivia De Havilland). Jack Warner took a big gamble in allowing the unknown Flynn to be cast in Michael Curtiz's epic pirate adventure. Originally, Robert Donat was slated to star as the doctor-turned-seafaring hero. After he dropped out due to illness, Leslie Howard, Ronald Coleman, and Fredric March were also considered. 22 other actors in total were given screen tests for the role.  It was Errol's own wife, Lili Damita (a bigger star at the time), who encouraged Curtiz (her ex-husband!) to cast him. He did, and the gamble paid off. The film was a box-office bonanza, and Errol Flynn was a star! Lili was in tears at the premiere, not out of joy but out of despair. She knew that Errol's rising star would mean the end of their tempestuous marriage. She was right.

This didn't mean everything came easily to him in the casting world. The role with which he is most synonymous, Robin Hood, was almost one he never got to play. It appeared for a time that James Cagney (right) was to be the eternal man in tights. However, due to professional disagreements, he walked right out of Nottingham, leaving the way free and clear for another leading man. Again, Errol was chosen, and he will forever be remembered as that delicious cad in green, fending off foes in Sherwood Forest. As one of Warner Bros. greatest films, it is impossible to imagine anyone else wooing Olivia De Havilland's Maid Marian. Besides, Cagney looked better with a gun than a bow and arrow... Errol's good friend David Niven was also supposed to step in as Will Scarlett, but he couldn't be torn away from his vacation in England, so Patric Knowles took the job.

Patric and Errol relax between takes in Sherwood.

William Holden's struggle for and with the role of Joe Bonaparte in Golden Boy is a story many love telling. The "rich kid" had been studying chemistry but had always had a penchant for the dramatics. He was on a high when cast in the role of a lifetime in Golden boy, but this unknown was immediately humbled when he found that he quite simply couldn't act under pressure. Bumbling around the set, flubbing his lines, and looking mighty awkward, director Rouben Mamoulian was shaking his head wondering why he had cast him in the first place. John Garfield too must have been pondering the same question, since he was the actor that author Clifford Odets had originally penned the role for when it was to go up on the New York stage. At the time, The Group Theatre chose Luther Adler to take on the role instead. In response, John quit the group and went to Hollywood. When word came that the play was to become a movie, John thought his time had finally come to take on the role that he had always wanted to play. This time the part went to the unknown Holden. After some help from Barbara Stanwyck, Bill got his grip on himself and the role of a lifetime and had his day in the sun as the Golden Boy (left). Garfield was ok, though. By this time he was a well on his way to becoming a big star too, having performed in the very popular Four Daughters the year before.

John Garfield would get to play a boxer later 

in Body and Soul. He would also play
a violinist opposite Joan Crawford
in Humoresque.

In struggling to choose the greatest romantic comedy of all time, I go back and forth between two films: The More the Merrier and Roman Holiday. It is hard to choose the greatest of them all, but often I veer toward the latter. The star-making performance of Audrey Hepburn, the amiable dignity of Gregory Peck, the fun and adventure of a Princess's day as a normal girl, and, of course, the heartbreaking end when she must return to a life of discipline and reserve. All of these elements came together so beautifully that it is impossible to imagine the film any other way. But, it very nearly was an entirely different film, one which was to star Cary Grant and Elizabeth Taylor. Oy! Though both of these performers were fantastic, the lighthearted innocence of the film would have been lost. Grant is both too sophisticated and too comically playful to take on the newspaperman next-door role that Peck created so gracefully, and Liz had too much maturity and sensuality to carry off the delicate and naive enchantment that Audrey delivered. Thus, the one-two punch of Greg and Aud' was the right combo, creating the profound chemistry needed to illicit love in 24 hours. Heart-- the most crucial element to any romance-- is very poignantly felt because of both actors' performances, and when Peck walks away from that empty silent hall at the end, it is completely clear just what he is leaving behind-- a love that could have been and a cinematic legacy.

Ahhh, movie heaven: Audrey and Greg 

in Roman Holiday.

TAKE ONE, TWO, THREE...: Oh, Baby!

Olivia de Havilland eyes the baby she was forced to give up in

To Each His Own.

Back in the days when the "unwed mother' was ostracized for her immoral life choices, her options were few. She could either A) Keep her baby and deal with the hostile prejudices of an unsympathetic society and brave the world alone, B) Find a discreet doctor to help erase her... situation, or C) Leave the little bugger on a doorstep, and hope that the inhabitants would give it at better life. This seems outrageous in these modern times when pregnancy without a wedding ring is more readily accepted and single mothers are favorites of the magazine rack: from the latest mommy to be, Natalie Portman, to all those "Sixteen-and-Pregnant" girls I seem to be hearing about everywhere. Back in the days when there were more concrete rules for acceptable behavior and more vocal contempt against those who dared to stray outside the norm, one's reputation was everything. Thus, one would rather be caught dead than unwed with a bun in the oven. This spawned a plethora of films possessing a very similar plot: "good girl" finds baby and claims it as her own and is thenceforward labeled as a "bad girl." Comedy ensues. This time, I have not three movies to compare for you, but four: Tess of the Storm Country, It, Bachelor Mother, and Bundle of Joy. Let's move forward chronologically.


Tess of the Storm Country:


(I saw the 1922 version of this film, starring the incomparable Mary Pickford, thinking it was the only one. However, upon further investigation, it appears that this film alone has been made and re-made several times, the first of which was in 1914, also starring Ms. Pickford. Future versions were made in 1932 with Janet Gaynor and in 1960 with Diane Baker. As it is based upon a novel by Grace Miller White, I suppose the continued use of the story makes sense. However, I will refer to the 1922 version, as this is the only one I have viewed).

The plot of this movie involves a backwoods girl, Tess, who is squatting with family on the wealthy Elias Graves's land. Needless to say, Elias tries to remove the impoverished nuisances from his property. The usual battle of rich versus poor ensues, and in the meantime, Frederick Graves, son of Elias, becomes fond of Tess and takes her side in the argument. Meanwhile, Fred's sister Teola becomes pregnant out of wedlock by a law student who is quickly murdered, and thus unable to marry her and make the baby legitimate. Humiliated and suicidal, Teola is desperate. Enter Tess, who out of her good heart pretends that the newborn baby is her own to save Teola's face. The only problem is that now Frederick thinks that the girl he was falling for is really a no good scamp. Fred turns his back on Tess, and so Tess is left alone to raise the baby. The truth is eventually discovered when Tess brazenly tries to baptize the child herself after being initially denied the privilege by the church-- it's  a bastard child, after all-- and Teola and Elias witness the event. Teola is so moved that she spills the beans and confesses that the baby is hers. Fred feels like a cad and apologizes to Tess, whom despite her low class has more courage and goodness in her than anyone in his elite circle. After declaring his undying love, the two embrace, the two feuding families call a truce, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Tess and Fred, played by Lloyd Hughes, fall in love.

The plot of the film is quite bold in that it makes the unwed mother a sympathetic character, however it is still the innocent Tess that is lauded as the true hero. Yet, what she symbolizes also speaks volumes: the hypocrisy of prejudice. Tess is labeled as something she is not, and is shunned by the man she loves. The world looks down on her, but considers her behavior typical of a woman of "her kind," meaning poor, uneducated, and uncouth. By the end, we learn the age old lesson, "don't judge a book by its cover." Tess not only possesses more grace than the upper classes that are judging her, but it is also one of their own that is the true culprit of immoral behavior, Teola. The guilt of blaming one woman for another's crimes, and the imminent death of Teola, who dies shortly after her revelation of motherhood, causes people in the community to open their eyes and rethink the harshness of their own criticisms. If you live in a glass house, don't throw stones. So, the movie preaches open-mindedness, while at the same time being church-friendly in suggesting that we all try to be "good"-- it is much better to be a Tess than a Teola. The movie itself is an entertaining silent, and one of The best of Mary Pickford's remaining gems.


"It":

Lord love Clara Bow (right). This 1927 movie will forever be the one most associated with one of the hottest flappers to ever va-va-voom onto the silver screen. Clara wasn't known for her dancing, of course, but for her electric presence, which sizzled in the camera's adoring eye. This film was fashioned for her with the help of Elinor Glyn as a publicity campaign to boost the already rising star. Clara was labeled as the "It" girl: one completely possessing of that mysterious X-factor that separates the superstars from the rest of us civilians. Many are familiar with the concoction of Clara's title as "the It girl," but few are familiar with the film that awarded her this stamp. Upon comparison, it is quite clear that it is, or rather was, a more modernized version of Tess of the Storm Country but in the raw and bustling environment of the roaring twenties.


This time around, Clara stars as Betty Lou, a single working girl trying to get by, who has a job behind the counter of a posh store. Brimming with energy despite her financial woes, Betty is Miss Congeniality as far as her friends are concerned, but her low class keeps her from her recent crush-- the store Manager, Cyrus Waltham, Jr (Antonio Moreno). Cyrus is already involved with another woman, but when he finally notices the lovely Betty Lou, he can't help but be taken in. She takes him out for a night of fun at Coney Island, where for once he gets to let his hair down. However, things turn sour when he leans in for a kiss only to receive a slap-- Betty Lou isn't that kind of girl! Cyrus is a bit shocked, but still intrigued. However, any of Betty Lou's plans are foiled when her roommate gives birth to an illegetimate child, only to have welfare workers threaten to take it away. Betty Lou steps in, claims the child as her own, and insists that she is able enough to take care of it. Now, Betty has to walk around with a scarlet T on her face (T for Tramp), and any chances of love between her and Cyrus are ruined-- the heir to a fortune can't be swindled by some hussy who's clearly only out for a good time, particularly when she teased him with that left hook!

Clara shows her sales skills (to William Austin).

Instead, Cyrus offers a compromise: since she's obviously a loose woman, Betty can settle for being his mistress. She does not take well to this suggestion, believing that his love for her should be enough to see through any alleged past mistakes she's made, and at the very least he should not insult her with such an offer! Cyrus chooses appearances over love and kicks Betty to the curb, but she's not to be outdone. She shows up at a party on his yacht, seducing him with her innocent wiles once again, and she gets her sweet revenge when he finally proposes marriage. She tosses it back in his face with a defiant "Thanks, but no thanks" and  secures her pride once more. Afterward, she and Cyrus are thrown overboard, and they find themselves in each other's arms. Now that Betty Lou has taught Cyrus a lesson, and he knows the truth about the baby, they reconcile and live happily ever after. Again, the same themes of upper class hypocrisy and lower class... class. We see that Betty is more moral than those financially and socially superior to her in that she refuses Cyrus's attempts to make a whore of her, consequently making him the true embarrassment. Compassion for the unwed mother is too explored, but just as Tess, Betty Lou is put on a pedestal for her ability to be both decent and demure. Her raw sexual magnetism too makes a statement that a woman can be sexy without being a mere sex object. In both this and the aforementioned film, the baby and its destiny is less important than how it effects others' lives or at least the images of them. A silent classic, this too is one of the leading lady's best.


Bachelor Mother:

Baby makes three in 1939 with Ginger Rogers, David Niven, and everyone's favorite character actor, Charles Coburn. Hereafter, the plots remain quite similar to It in that the main character is a shopgirl trying to make a living who gets caught up in a case of mistaken motherhood instead. Love, of course, is always found in the process. Thus, Ginger stars as Polly Parrish, working at J.B. Merlin's department store (left). Polly is fired over the Christmas holiday, and soonafter sees a baby that has been left on the stairs of an orphanage. Fearing that it is going to roll right off and be injured, she hurries to pick it up. The baby is mistaken as her own, and she is left to care for it and defend the fact that the little thing isn't even hers. JB (Coburn) gives Polly her job back, feeling guilty about firing an unwed mother, especially during the holiday, and his son, play-boy David (Niven), becomes equally involved in the welfare of the baby and its mother. As a relationship between Polly and David grows, she no longer tries to deny that the baby is hers, if only because it is the one thing that keeps David in her life. He equally falls for her, but is too snobbish to admit that he has fallen for a lowly shop girl, let alone one with an illegetimate kid-- nevermind the fact that the Lothario probably has had his own fun around town. More hurdles are thrown into the mix when a search for the true father is begun, which includes JB's belief that his son is the true father. David is surprised to find this out, but is delighted to discover that his dad is fairly happy at the prospect of having a grandson and eager to have him settle down and make the family legit. David, after initially insulting Polly, finally admits his true feelings to himself and thus to Polly and Baby John. Soon enough, the fictional family becomes a real one. With this description, I can immediately jump to the next film, for it is a direct re-make.


Bundle of Joy:

In 1956, Bachelor Mother was remade as a musical to showcase the talents of married sweethearts Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds, as well as to capitalize on the fact that the two had had their first child (Carrie Fisher). This film, therefore, has the exact same plot as the one mentioned above, but with more musical numbers. This time, Debbie is Polly and Eddie is Dan Merlin. Adolphe Menjou steps in as wealthy store manager, and proud grandpapa, JB Merlin. Both Bachelor and Bundle have their merits, but Bundle is more obviously cheesy. Debbie is her usual sunshine self, and her gift at comedy and charm is the saving grace of the film. Eddie does well enough, but doesn't possess the same charm as David Niven. Ginger, of course, is superb as ever in the earlier film, and it is her performance-- with a keen sense of timing and strong delivery-- that makes Bachelor a more graceful interpretation.

Modern family: David and Ginger play house.

The alterations in the script in these latter films make the male character a bit more likable in that he tries to become a part of the child's life from the beginning, even if just as a make-shift uncle, rather than turning up his nose in disgust and running away. The relationship between the leading actor and actress comes about because of and not in spite of the baby, as opposed to the first two films, and a sense of family is professed over that of romance, (though in Bachelor and Bundle the writers would have us believe that the two go hand in hand). In the enforced production code era, it should come as no surprise that the ideal set-up of husband, wife, and baby be extolled, and in both movies the sad mother who abandoned her child is never even seen by the audience. It is much nicer to just pretend that she doesn't even exist, and that no out-of-wedlock sex was ever engaged in. The child, therefore, just dropped from the sky. Indeed, sex is not an issue, especially in Bundle, where innocent kisses between Eddie and Debbie take the place of the sexual propositions of It. Thus, with the first two films, we are taught more of a lesson about social hypocrisy and moral prejudice and with Bundle we are taught "family first." Bachelor is somewhere in between. Also, the theme of mistaken identity plays a much bigger part to the central plot of the movie in the last two features than in the first two, wherein it was just another log on the fire to much bigger shenanigans.


It is difficult to recommend just one of these films, for they all have good points and are equally entertaining. However, as I am an obvious Clara Bow fan, It remains my favorite. If I were to suggest one of the latter two, I would offer up Bachelor Mother, if only for performance's sake. It is interesting to investigate these films, to watch them chronilogically, and to witness how clearly social attitudes changed with the times. The silent duo are more free and uninhibited, if only because they arrived before 1934's production code and the disarming alterations of the great depression. They too are a bit more ballsy, with Mary being brazen and almost naively heroic, and Clara pushing the envelope further by adding a dash of sex appeal into the mix. Their heroics were done not necessarily for any great moral stance, but simply because it was the right thing to do. The latter two films come after the end of the hooplah twenties, but Bachelor maintains a little more naughtiness than Bundle, which is pretty much family fun from concentrate. In Tess we were taught to stand for something, in It we were taught to stand up for ourselves, in Bachelor Mother we're encouraged to simply try to stand still while the chaos ensues around us, and in Bundle of Joy we're lectured to stand as a family unit. I guess the film you relate to the most, will equally tell you where you stand.

Have a Happy New Year!!!