HISTORY LESSON: TV Movie [Stars] - Part 2

The beautiful Ava Gardner shows her versatility as a special celebrity

guest on the quiz show "What's My Line?"

I Have to Be Home by 8:00, Because...!

There were definitely some major successes in the Movie to TV migration. Whether certain personalities were simply better suited for the small screen or were likewise more seemingly approachable and likable, there are a handful of Lords and Ladies who amplified their power simply by taking their comfy place in people's living rooms. One such person was comedian extraordinaire Groucho Marx (left), whose grease-painted mustache had long been replaced by the real thing. Always a popular guest and the hit of every party he attended, it only make sense that he be the favorite part of any piece of television he poked his ever-rolling eyes into. Not only was he regularly offered guest host spots on the likes of "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson" or "Tonight with Jack Paar," he also participated on "What's My Line?" and even an episode of "Hollywood Squares."

Clearly, America was still Coconuts for him. Thus, after an improvised radio broadcast with Bob Hope sparked the idea, he became the host of his own game show on NBC: "You Bet Your Life." If you've ever noticed that a duck is often associated with Groucho, look to this show for the reason-- in addition to Duck Soup, of course. The format was simple. Average, American guests would be invited on the show where Grouch' would improvise, make conversation with them, and poke fun (right). In essence, he used his wit to draw out many a laugh from the viewing audience as the embarrassed participants turned beet-faced at his shenanigans. Finally, the guest duo would be asked a series of questions from a category of their choosing. In addition to this, there was a "secret word" that Groucho would try to get the players to innocently say in the midst of conversation. If they accidentally uttered it, the infamous duck would descend from the ceiling with a $100 bill in his bill. The show was such a success that the metaphorical ball was later passed to Bill Cosby as host in 1992, but Groucho-- as usual-- was the instigator!

Women in particular seemed to have luck with television, as in the following two examples. Perhaps this is because actual housewives and stay-at-home moms were able to use TV as a daily gateway to the outside world, which their husbands so often took for granted. Having classy, strong, and relatable women telling their stories for them seemed to be a gift from heaven for den mothers, but the fellas enjoyed these shows too. The case of Donna Reed is particularly fascinating. In a little over a decade, Donna had worked her way up from supporting roles in Shadow of the Thin Man and The Courtship of Andy Hardy to an Oscar win for From Here to Eternity. A shrewd business woman, she experimented with television cautiously as it slowly gained its dominion, and in 1958 she signed on for her own series, appropriately titled "The Donna Reed Show" (left). 

Very similar to the recent hit "Leave It to Beaver, " the show was a tribute to the all American family-- or at least the all American family dream-- where misunderstandings and common family problems are humorously and touchingly dealt with. The moral of the show hit home for most viewers with its uplifting storylines, which boosted morale on the home front, and promised not so much that good will come if you do the right thing, but that doing the right thing is just the right thing to do. It was a huge hit that earned Donna a Golden Globe and ran successfully for 8 seasons. Finally, after preaching that a family that sticks together stays together, Donna was burnt out by the weekly demands of the show, and the series came to an end. Donna worked intermittently on other series-- "The Love Boat," "Dallas"-- but with the unprecedented success of the show behind her, she soon put TV behind her too.

Doris Day was always a fan favorite. With her cheery onscreen persona, bright and crystalline singing voice, and average American gal disposition, she became a huge movie star and an obvious candidate for television success. Yet, with a surprisingly complicated and sometimes devastating personal life contrasting her public identity, Doris's entertainment career was both an emotional saving grace and a hefty burden that added to the intensifying pressure cooker of her sanity. But, a girl's gotta eat. Thus, when her contribution to cinema came to a halt in 1968-- after television had more than injected its influence over the American way of life-- she made the jump to CBS to star in her own series: "The Doris Day Show." Despite the show's title, Doris's character was not named Doris Day on the show but Doris Martin-- just as Jean Arthur was Patricia Marshall on "The Jean Arthur Show" and Donna Reed played Donna Stone on "The Donna Reed Show." The lack of creativity in the show's title was simply a marketing ploy by the network to benefit from the celebrity's star power and get viewers to tune in. (Doris in the Season 2 Christmas Special, right).

With Doris, CBS knew they were getting plenty of bank for their buck. Doris's program ran for five seasons but progressed in a very peculiar fashion. The fish out of water plot line essentially followed Doris's widowed character and her two sons as they moved to the country from their posh city lives and bunked up at her family's farm. The usual chaos and hijinks ensued. Strangely, every season altered after the first, with Doris and her sons changing locales, she changing careers, and eventually the sons disappearing from the story completely. Still, the awkward nature of the storyline did not stop viewers from watching one of their favorite celebs every week. It did surprisingly well, and due to its lengthy run (in a world where most series were lucky to make it one season if any), it can be reasonably considered a bona fide success. 

After "The Doris Day Show" came to an end in 1973, Doris basically retired from acting, though she did have another series as a talk show hostess on a program entitled "Doris Day's Best Friends." On the show, she would reminisce with old showbiz pals about the good ol' days on the silver screen and, once again, allow the production company to capitalize off aging nostalgia for Hollywood gone bye-bye. Her first guest on the show was none other than Rock Hudson, her three time collaborator and good friend (left in Lover Come Back). This was, of course, a remarkable moment for viewers and Doris herself, who hadn't seen her former co-star in years. Unbeknownst to her, Rock was already deep in the throes of his battle with AIDs. He had been aware of his illness for a year, having been diagnosed in 1984. When he made his appearance on the show in 1985, his shocking weight loss and sickly disposition had a shattering effect on Doris. Rock would announce his disease mere days after the broadcast and would pass away in less than three months. Thus, what was meant to be a beautiful reunion was practically the bittersweet final note to her pitch-perfect career. "Doris Day's Best Friends" would continue for one season and 26 episodes. Aside from occasional personal appearances, Doris would bid Hollywood farewell, and much like her earlier Doris Martin character, return to a simpler and more private life away from chaos in Carmel, CA.

It's Show Time!

The business of Television is hard. No matter the talent behind the show's writing, nor the creativity of the storyline, nor the appeal of the performers, the comprised efforts don't always result in a hit. Nothing is surefire. All sorts of factors can effect a show's reception-- a competitive time slot, varying audience tastes, a poor chemistry amongst the cast, etc. What seems a possible runaway hit on paper can often tank on the air. Famous or not, TV is a gamble for anyone. A bunch of unknown, struggling actors shot to fame on "Friends" in 1994, and the show ran for 10 seasons; acclaimed actor Dustin Hoffman took at stab at "Luck" in 2011 on HBO only to receive poor ratings, and now the show's tenuous second season hangs by a thread. To even produce a pilot is a success. To be picked up by a network is a glory rarely received. To make it through an entire first season is astounding. Those few programs that run for years and really grip the public are pure miracles. There aren't many, and there are even fewer that will be remembered as classics after the series finale, but some of our superstar wonders were actually able to dine on an exclusive slice of TV heaven instead of sulking over a plate of humble pie.

Loretta Young was a lovely and vulnerable looking young girl when she landed her first major role in the Lon Chaney film Laugh, Clown, Laugh in 1928. Over the next 25 years, she would develop into a powerhouse female lead in numerous major motion pictures. Known as the "Iron Butterfly" for her killer combo of delicate, pre-Raphaelite beauty (left) and a tough and ambitious business savvy, Loretta boasts one of the most impressive resumes in cinematic history. Realizing quickly that television was the wave of the future, she wasted no time in jumping head first into the new medium. Her series, "The Loretta Young Show," was another anthology series that produced a fresh drama every week. She was the first woman to host her own show, and her grand entrance at the beginning of every episode in a new, drop-dead-gorgeous gown was the perhaps the most eagerly anticipated moment of the program.

Like Errol Flynn, Loretta would do an introduction at the episode's opening, and the story would commence with a different plot each week-- akin to the TV movie-- with varying actors. She sometimes would appear in an episode herself. The glamour plus the salivating drama made Loretta's show a huge success that ran for 8 seasons on NBC from 1953-1961. In 1963, she switched networks to CBS to appear in another series, "The New Loretta Young Show," this time strictly acting as a widow who supported herself as a freelance writer. Yet again, though the title bore her name, Loretta played character Christine Massey. The tone of the show bore touches of both drama and comedy, but it only lasted one season. Audiences apparently wanted Loretta to appear only as her glamorous self. Fifty-years-old by the time filming ended, Loretta enjoyed working on a few TV movies and settled into retirement a very wealthy woman-- not to mention a big and small screen legend.

The award for consistency and duration goes to one of the great funnymen of history-- and good pal of Groucho Marx-- Jack Benny (right). From vaudeville, to radio, to film, Benny seamlessly translated his humor to any given outlet. With his always immaculate comedic timing, hilariously underplayed facial expressions, and somehow likable buffoon characterizations-- imagine an uptight Steve Carell in "The Office"-- there was no one immune to his jocular abilities. Unafraid of being the butt of his own jokes, Benny's most infamous persona was that of the irritable miser who both refused to admit he was older than 39 and played the violin abominably (although he was a great proficient in reality). His great gag was the hold-up sketch. The mugger would point his gun and yell, "Your money or your life!" to which, after a breadth of silence and more prodding, Benny would reply, "I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" His great success, specifically on the radio on "The Jack Benny Program," was quickly transferred to television in 1950 on CBS where it ran for fifteen straight years.

Previous to this and during the show's run, he would make appearances on other programs, including the "GE True Theatre" and "The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show," but with  his own primetime spot, he blew all other competition out of the water. His was the show everyone wanted to watch and no one wanted to miss, including everyone from the town butcher, baker, and candlestick-maker to JFK himself. As was the general standard of the time, at each show's beginning, Benny would come out to greet the viewers with an opening monologue and likewise finish the show with a closer. In between, anything was possible in the life of Jack Benny. So closely was he identified with his TV character, that a cab driver, for example, was shocked to receive such a large tip from him in real life! In the end, counting its radio days, "The Jack Benny Program" ran for three decades, finally coming to a conclusion in 1965, the last year of which was filmed at NBC. Benny would bow out while still on top and his presence in the homes of many was deeply missed. Luckily, he would still pop up from time to time on "The Bob Hope Show"or "Kraft Music Hall" before his death in 1974.

Of course, despite Jack Benny's long term hold on the public, there is but one person who is forever identified as the all-time favorite TV personality: Lucille Ball. After struggling vainly for years in her attempts to become a film actress, Lucy could never seem to achieve success at the B-level of filmmaking. Despite her great beauty, there was an earthy, unfinished quality that kept her from being a glamour queen of the silver screen like Carole Lombard. Despite her talent in acting, audiences had trouble relating to her intensity or emotion the same way they could with Katharine Hepburn. It was her union with the ambitious Cuban bandleader Desi Arnaz and her coincidental gig on the radio program "My Favorite Husband" in 1948 that brought her the opportunity of a lifetime. When a deal was struck to take the show from the airwaves to the TV set, Lucy brought her husband and collaborator with her, and the rest is history for eternity. The over-the-top comedy of the Ricardos was hilarious, decent, and relatable. Through "I Love Lucy" (left), the lady herself proved that a woman could be both attractive and a total ham-- and even a basket case. Despite her frustrating antics and the unbelievable amount of trouble she caused each week, she also made a bold feminist statement that a woman need not be perfect to be loved. It was all the varying shades of both devotion and insanity that drew Ricky Ricardo to his red-headed, adorably vexatious bride. Through Ricky's performing career, the trials of parenthood, and from New York to Hollywood to Europe and back, the Ricardo family endured both despite and because of their mix of irritation and passion.

Unfortunately, the real life marriage of Lucy and Desi would not fare so well. Their turbulent and stormy union, which had made such beautiful music publicly, was a private Hell. The "I Love Lucy" show enjoyed six seasons of phenomenal success despite the increasingly venomous relationship the couple shared behind the scenes. Agreeing that the show was worth saving even if the marriage wasn't, "I Love Lucy" changed in format for its 7-9th seasons, becoming hour long episodes that roughly added up to four per year. The guest stars continued, with everyone from John Wayne to Milton Berle making an appearance at some point during the 9 years of "I Love Lucy" and  "The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour." Yet, it finally became clear that the temperaments of the two stars could not bear much more. The program came to a close in 1960 and Lucy left Desi and co-star William Frawley behind to start her own series with Vivan Vance, otherwise known as Ethel, who reluctantly agreed to continue the next chapter of the characters' friendship on "The Lucy Show" (right). This storyline involved the new lives of the widowed Lucy and the divorced Viv, which was clearly a popular plot instigator for a lot of aging female actresses on TV at the time. While Jack Benny-- who shot his own program at the Desilu Studios-- made a few appearances on this series, and several other guest stars popped in, the show's success would not match the brilliance of the original. Still, it lasted six more seasons and was later followed by "Here's Lucy!" which followed a new Lucy Carter as a widowed mother of teenagers again making it on her own. This made it for 6 more surprising seasons, mostly due to Lucy's power than to the show's material. Her final stab at TV came in the brief, single season series "Life with Lucy," now portraying Lucy Barker and her adventures as a grandmother. 

From 1950 10 1986, Lucille Ball made a huge impact on the world of Television, giving it an integrity born of her humanity, drive, and humor that made it more welcoming to those still-questioning film celebrities who feared this mysterious new vehicle for their talents. Clearly, not everyone would enjoy Lucy's success, and in truth, with her personal anxiety, she never really did either, but "I Love Lucy" in particular remains the show that took the little engine that could and made it an uncompromising force of overwhelming power. Today, because of the foundation that people like Ball, Benny, Young, and numerous other personalities of boob tube fame made, the world of television continues to grow exponentially. From "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson" (1962-1992), to "Bewitched" with Elizabeth Montgomery (1964-1972), to "The Cosby Show" with Bill Cosby (1984-1992), to "30 Rock" with Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin (2006-2013), the medium continues to expand. NBC, HBO, FX, sitcoms, soaps, dramas, live, recorded on DVRs, and available post-season on DVD, we continue to expand the possibilities of entertainment, which may not be as focused nor as controlled as it once was but is certainly more varied. Though the presence of thousands of channels can be overwhelming, there is literally something for everyone. Thus, single-theater towns temporarily inhabited by rotating cast of players merely passing through on their vaudeville circuit has become a chosen program on demand starring your favorite actors at the touch of your fingertips. 

Don Adams would portray the incompetent secret agent Maxwell Smart on "Get Smart" 

in the late 1960s on television and, in a role reversal, Steve Carell would bring
the same character to life in the movies in 2008.

While one may often question the integrity of "What Would Ryan Lochte Do?" one can be reminded of the great creativity and bold behind-the-scenes choices of programmers, producers, writers, and actors by seeing glimpses of past brilliance in today's more intriguing, provocative, and evocative series. Lucy can be found in Amy Poehler, the dramatic Loretta Young style may be glimpsed through series like "The Good Wife," and Jack Benny's unconventional family humor has been updated and modernized via "Louie." The couch has provided a more comfortable place for us to participate in and observe our ever-changing society as it grows, changes, and stays the same. And so, as Sonny and Cher said, "The beat goes on..."

BITS OF COINCIDENCE: Part IX

Linda Darnell felt like a star-struck fawn when she began working
with her acting heroes. Little did she know that she would
 in due time become one of the inspirational elite.

Just as the integration of sound in film created an uncomfortable tension between the silent generation and the studio era, so too would the invention of Television topple Golden Era Hollywood's ivory tower. Changing fads, younger audiences, and this new feat of technological competition would-- along with age-- humble many of cinema's greats. The more business savvy Gods and Goddesses immediately hopped on the gravy train, such as Loretta Young who starred in her own TV show. Other, older curmudgeons found it difficult to acclimate, like Clark Gable, who let his MGM contract run out and then sought semi-retirement. Linda Darnell became one of the many who was left to walk a crooked line between sudden, grateful independence from studio control and complete and utter bafflement at what to do next. Like many of her generation, too young to retire and too old to appeal to the new method-acting trend, Linda did a little of everything: the occasional, poorly made film, some television, and most importantly the stage. It was on the stage that Linda believed she truly learned to act and to carve out characterizations that went beyond simply hitting marks and giving good face to the camera. The various plays she did-- A Roomful of Roses, The Children's Hour, Critic's Choice, etc-- were sometimes successful and sometimes flops, but the experience was still an enriching one for her. With mostly positive reviews, her confidence was bolstered, and with younger cast members looking up to her, she gained a self-respect that had been absent from her film work. Many upcoming thespians and later film actors would get a chance to perform opposite the fading but still radiant icon, whom they came to respect and admire for her kindness, generosity, and under-appreciated talent. And so, it was on the stage performing Tea and Sympathy in 1956 that one of the gentle guiding hands of Old Hollywood would help usher in New Hollywood when Linda performed opposite a future leading man... Burt Reynolds.

After years doing stage and television work, Burt Reynolds takes his place

 in film history in Deliverance.

Another, earlier transition in the entertainment world came with cinema's first appearance. Suddenly, the world of the stage was broadened and audiences were introduced to another form of passion plays in flickering lights. Of course, as with all new "fads," many stuck their noses up at film and film actors, thinking it a cheap imitation of true performance. While half the population held tightly to the boards of the stage, another half embraced the possibilities of stories in pictures, resulting in an exciting and contentious era in our nation's past. While film actors endured the shame of ostracization and prejudice from a society that deemed them not only artistically by morally inferior, the actors of the stage dealt with an impending paranoia that the burgeoning new medium of movies was going to shake them out of the business. In time, movies did come to override the theatre as the mass favorite, but the prestige of the stage remained. Yet, with film's new success, attributed in part to the actors and actresses who helped elevate it above the mundane and superficial, respect between the two groups followed. One such example of this can be seen in the tribute one of the stage's greatest actors paid to one of cinema's. Turns out John Barrymore (left) had a bit of a crush on Lillian Gish. Not only did the notorious lecher certainly find her beautiful, but he was apparently in awe of her emotive talents, which he deemed "superlatively exquisite." He was moved to such a degree that he was uncharacteristically too embarrassed to approach her with his compliments. Instead, he used notorious director D.W. Griffith as a go-between. He wrote Griffith a letter full of plaudits, and asked him to pass on his ardent respect to Lillian after seeing her performance in Way Down East: "I wonder if you will thank Miss Gish from all of us who are trying to do our best in the theater." Of course, Jack would later arrive in Hollywood himself and start making his own impression on the cinematic world, but had it not been for his respect for actors like Lillian and their work in the medium, he may well have simply continued treading the boards on Broadway.

D.W. Griffith's "soul," Lillian Gish, apparently reached
John Barrymore's as well.

Another olive branch was extended by none other than Olive Thomas (right). She was at the height of her career when she started filming The Flapper. Life was good, work was steady, and she was quickly solidifying her place as a qualified leading lady. This certainly only served to heighten Olive's perpetually high spirits. Always a generous, free-spirited person, her charm was infectious and endeared many of her colleagues and collaborators to her. One such person was Norma Shearer, an up and coming ingenue who was breaking her way into the tough world of Hollywood through bit parts and extra roles. A fiercely determined girl herself,  Norma-- who landed her first, uncredited role in The Flapper alongside sister Athole-- most assuredly watched every move Olive made with great acuity. Here was a woman she wanted to emulate: charismatic, sensual, talented, and powerful. Never the haughty type, Olive and Norma must have struck up some sort of casual, working relationship while filming, for when Olive learned that the struggling actress had fallen ill, she was deeply concerned. As was her nature, she offered assistance without giving it a thought and wound up forking the dough for Norma's medical bills. It was a debt for which Norma remained eternally grateful and sadly never got to repay, due to Olive's untimely death. But, having indeed learned from a pro, she put this bit of kindness in her pocket and "paid it forward" in her later career, where-- after she became one of MGM's top attractions-- she often lent a hand to other up-in-comers in need, (such as Janet Leigh and Tyrone Power).

Norma Shearer grew to wield her hard-won fame
 energetically and gratefully.

Another type of world that consistently seemed to collide with Hollywood was that of the gangster. The stories of underworld debauchery made their way into cinematic stories as soon as prohibition put a bitter thorn in America's side. While we did not enjoy the truth behind the myth of the booze-pushing mobster-- the man-handling, threatening, and murdering-- we could not help but idolize him in some respect, because at least he was giving us something good to drink! Gangsters too were drawn to the glamorous allure of Hollywood for business and pleasure, and thus our nastiest ne're-do-wells started rubbing elbows with our creme-de la-creme, (see more in a past article here). Linda Darnell's mother, Pearl, would in time come into close, friendly contact with none other than Mickey Cohen (left). After Linda had moved her entire family to Los Angeles and bought them a home, Cohen happened to move in right around the corner. Due to his menacing reputation, many of the neighbors were understandably unhappy. Pearl, a tough cookie, hardly paid his presence any mind. After all, she had been causing a ruckus of her own. More than one neighbor raised an eyebrow at the unconventional Darnell home, where chickens ran amok, snakes were treated like fuzzy bunny rabbits, and Pearl fed her horse through the kitchen window. For classy Los Angelenos, this was the epitome of redneck malfeasance. For a time, Mickey distracted the neighborhood's attention from Pearl-- particularly after a bomb was thrown into his home! Now reasonably frightened, the block started a petition to have the hood ousted, but Pearl refused to sign. She believed him to be the "perfect" resident: he was quiet, had no parties, and kept up his home. When Mickey learned that Pearl had stood up for him, he called personally to thank her. I guess the only person more terrifying than Mickey Cohen was Pearl Darnell. 

Desi Arnaz (right) had his own relationship with the mob, and not just through his television production "The Untouchables." Desi's family escaped the violence and upheaval of Cuba during the revolution of 1933 and settled in Florida. His father, an ex-politician who had been incarcerated for his loyalties, wanted to start fresh in American and went about establishing himself as a businessman. Living in Miami as a teen, the charming and mentally ambidextrous Desi was also interested in business and thus had no penchant for education. Yet, at his parents' insistence, he attended St. Patrick's Catholic High School part time. The one spot of good luck was meeting the boy who was to become his closest friend at the time: Sonny Capone. Desi was aware of who Sonny's father was, but out of courtesy never brought up the fact that ol' Al was doing time in Alcatraz. He would never meet the notorious thug in the flesh, but he did have a bit of a shock one day. As per usual, Desi called the Capone household to chat with Sonny and make plans to meet up and get into the usual boyish hijinks. However, a strange, male voice answered the phone. Desi was thrown at first... and then became even more thrown as he put two and two together: Al was out on parole at the time, and must have traveled to meet with his family. Holy Moly! He was talking to Al Capone! Desi would play it cool at the time, but years later he would have a good chuckle over it. However, after he had found success in Hollywood with wife Lucille Ball, he was surprised to hear from his old friend Sonny, who was deeply insulted by "The Untouchables" due to its subject matter-- an insult to his father. "How could you do it?" Sonny asked. "Why not?" Desi retorted. "Somebody else would have anyway." Sonny's ego was not soothed-- he served Desi with a million dollar law suit. Sometimes, old friendships die hard.

Al Capone: one character not even Hollywood could make up.

DIDJA KNOW: Part I

The latest addition to the L.A. La Land blog is the article category "Didja Know?" This quick-takes column of cinema trivia will hopefully introduce little known facts and miscellaneous brain food for the ever-hungry, movie-savvy devotee. Dig in!

Didja know, on this famous "I Love Lucy" episode, the co-worker Lucy is left 

alone to work with was an actual candy maker, cast by Desi. In the scene, the

 focused, yet inexperienced, bit player was not acting when she slapped Lucy. 

She really let her have it, and left Lucy seeing stars 

(with chocolate running down her face).

TV Loves Desi:

Though the success of "I Love Lucy" is accurately credited to the zany performance of Lucille Ball, her paramour and partner Desi Arnaz had a great deal to do with the show's popularity, as well as some new innovations that he introduced, not only to "I Love Lucy," but to television in general. Firstly, CBS insisted that the show be filmed before a live audience-- which in itself was a first for a sitcom. Consequently, the now familiar cue cards were invented for the audience: "APPLAUSE," CHEERS", and "LAUGHTER." However, it was quickly noted that the 'LAUGHTER' card was unnecessary. The audience guffawed ably enough on their own thanks to the comedic sensibilities of the entire cast: Lucy, Desi, William Frawley, and Vivian Vance. Desi added his two cents to this novel idea by stipulating that each episode be filmed with three cameras filming simultaneously, thus cutting down on shooting time. It was not an easy sell, but with Karl Freund's photography, it worked so efficiently that the three camera setup became a staple of the televised situation comedy. Another added piece that Desi contributed related to the commercials. After watching the first season's episodes, he concluded that the transition between the show and the advertisements was too awkward. Thus, he contrived to have an animated segue added before each commercial break to inform the viewer of the brief intermissions. So, one now sees in re-runs the cartoon versions of Lucy and Desi smooching at the drive-in or playing with the camera before the interruption of the latest miracle toothpaste, cleaning fluid, or (at the time) cigarette brand.


Rasputin and the Jury:

Ever wonder where those annoying disclaimers in the opening credits come from? You know, the ones that say, "Any resemblence to persons alive or dead is complete coincidence..." yadda yadda yadda? Well, we have director Richard Boleslawski's Rasputin and the Empress to thank for that. When the film-- which dramatizes the notorious Grigori Rasputin's relationship with the last Czar (et familia)-- was released in 1934, MGM was sued by Princess Irina Alexandrovna Youssoupoff for libel when she claimed to recognize herself  in the character Princess Natasha. In the film, John Barrymore's character too represents Prince Chegodiefl, who had a direct part in Rasputin's (played by Lionel Barrymore, with John right) murder. It was not this macabre revelation that bothered Chegodiefl and his wife-- he in fact took pride in his part of the assassination; it was the idea that the Princess, or rather her character, was presented in the film as having been seduced by Rasputin, like the many other Russian women of the time. Because of this, the disclaimer was added, and to protect their backsides from future financial attacks, MGM and other studios started adding these shields of dissociation to all films based upon biographical material. Another interesting tidbit about the film is that it is the only time all three Barrymores appeared together onscreen. Though Lionel and John would work together in films like Dinner at Eight and Grand Hotel, Ethel (portraying the Empress in this film) was too attached to the stage to be wooed into too many Hollywood pictures, with her brothers or not.


The "Dirty" Lie:

Since I have been on a bit of a gangster kick lately, I thought I would introduce the following tidbit. Many of us have heard the phrase, "You dirty rat..." which we associate with mobster flicks. Commonly, this derogatory exclamation is attributed to the eternal Movieland hood, James Cagney. However, this credit is undeservedly bestowed, as Cagney himself would attest. The true source of the now iconic utterance is none other than Lon Chaney, whose Black Mike Silva said it, albeit silently, in the 1920 Tod Browning picture Outside the Law (left with Priscilla Dean and Wheeler Oakman). Before Lon became associated with his outlandish makeup concoctions and the macabre and sometimes monstrous performances that would become his token, he popularly played the character heavy and bad guy in a slew of early silent films that explored the dark underbelly of city life. His contribution to the slowly evolving genre of the gangster pic set the groundwork for later cinematic derelicts like Cagney, Robinson, and Raft to tread upon. Other films depicting Lon in a similar vein are The Blackbird, The Wicked Darling, and The Penalty.

 


Miss Quoted:

Another incorrect quote credit involves Ginger Rogers (right), that saucy lady of steps. Beautiful, graceful, and possessing both acting chops and a biting humor, Ginge' made everything she did look seamless and easy. Obviously, this was not the case. Behind all of her street smart characters and effortless dance moves, opposite Fred Astaire, went a hefty bit of diligence, rehearsal, and training. For this reason, because of the woman she was and the success she was able to accomplish, she was in her time, and still today, a popular feminist icon. It is often recalled that she said: "I did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels!" However, she never made this statement herself. The true source was the popular comic strip created by Bob Thaves, "Frank and Ernest," and in particular the cartoon printed in 1982. Yet, because it bore the ring of truth, the famous quote became one of the continuing slogans for girl power. Whether Ginger said the actual words or not, she did indeed live the example, for which women everywhere remain eternally grateful.

The famous Ginger comic strip.  

City Noise:

In the early days of the talkies, directors were trying to find new and innovative ways to not only record and synchronize sound appropriately, but also use it to a film's best advantage artistically speaking. All of a sudden, in addition to awkward staging to allow recorded dialogue, filmmakers began toying with sound effects, atmospheric sound, audio transitions, etc. It was all a little rocky, which explains why so many silent film players were certain that the latest invention was just another fad. Yet, the transition carried over, and slowly the kinks were ironed out and new ideas perfected. One such example comes via Rouben Mamoulian's City Streets (1931) starring Gary Cooper and Sylvia Sidney (left). Mamoulian is credited through the film of introducing the wonder of the "inner monologue." For the first time, a character's thoughts are heard by the viewer while the character herself remains silent. In this case, Sylvia Sidney ponders worriedly about her lover, Gary Cooper, and she hears his voice in her mind, as does the viewer. This technique was poo-pooed by many at the studio, who thought it came off as ridiculous and would never work, but it became a landmark moment. In the same year, Fritz Lang employed the same practice in his first sound film M, starring Peter Lorre as a twisted, child murderer. At one point in the film, Lorre covers his ears and rocks himself back and forth. The audience hears the whistling of "In the Hall of the Mountain King," which is occuring only inside the psycopath's head, both calming him and firing him up for the kill at the same time. This method was soon copied by others until it became a commonplace staple of cinema narrative. No longer does an audience have to guess what a character is thinking. We can hear it too! (Another interesting bit of info from City Streets is that originally, Gary's former lover Clara Bow was to appear in the picture, but she was replaced by Sylvia after she suffered one of the tragic nervous breaksdowns that would send her career on a downward spiral).

MENTAL MONTAGE: Use Your Clout

The ultimate film about the entertainment "cat" race, Stage Door:

Kate Hepburn, Lucille Ball, and Ginger Rogers.

Clawing your way to the top of the entertainment ladder is no easy feat. After completing the seemingly insurmountable task, which not all are able to do, one can either be left with a deluded feeling of euphoria, which erases all memory of the aforementioned climb, or one can continue to bear the cuts, bruises, and war wounds of his battle, which serve as daily reminders of his lengthy diligence and hard work. The former group can at times get lost in the twisted web of fame and fortune, drifting into the annoying abyss of entitlement and egotism. This outcome is rarely good. The latter group, however, usually maintains a devout gratitude for their good fortune and thus a dignified sort of humility. This creates a better path, one possessing clear-headedness, good business sense, and a compassion for the underdog. In the history of Hollywood, there are several tales of various stars sticking their necks out for other struggling artists-- using their "clout" as it were-- to help someone in a position from which they themselves have fortunately evolved. These instances of professional aid are at times minute, but the effect is always profound to the object in need, who will forever remember a small moment of kindness that-- if he or she was really lucky-- changed everything.

When Lucille Ball was still making the rounds at various studios, she landed a contract at RKO, where she primarily wound up in featured roles and bit parts. Despite the fact that, as far as the studio was concerned, she was just another one of the dime a dozen hopefuls, she was able to ingratiate herself to different people on the lot by being forever professional, completely willing, and incredibly funny. Hard work was not something that she ever had a problem with. Perhaps fellow nose-to-the-grindstone actress Katharine Hepburn took note of this. The two didn't have much a friendship, for Kate was higher on the acting echelon and being primed for stardom (in constant competition with another RKO leading lady, Ginger Rogers), but the duo would come into direct contact one fateful day-- which, coincidentally, could have been catastrophic for Lucy. Lucy was in the makeup chair, being prepped for yet another publicity photo to help test/boost her appeal, when all of a sudden, she was unceremoniously ushered away to make room for Hepburn, who was being readied for her daily shoot on Mary of Scotland (in wardrobe, left). Hepburn, through no fault of her own, took precedence over Lucy's cosmetic needs: Mary was a huge project for the studio. Lucy, pursing her lips, made her way into the next room, only to realize that she had left her tooth caps behind. Trying not to make a fuss or disturb "the Queen," Lucy tried to flag down the beautician who was working on Kate. She waved her arms at him through a dividing window, but to no avail. Though he saw her, he directly snubbed her flailing and continued with his work. Insulted, her temper grew red-hot, until she threw a steaming coffee pot at him! Unfortunately, the pot hit the table only to splatter all over Kate and her regalia. Lucy's eyes surely bulged as she began to panic! With Kate's dress dirtied with brown coffee spots, the shooting for the day couldn't be done and the studio was out thousands of dollars. Yet, when the top dogs came for blood, Kate stood by Lucy and refused to blame her for the incident. She used what little power she had to diffuse the situation instead of engaging in the expected diva-temper-tantrum. Lucy was also aided by Lela Rogers, Ginger's mother, who had been giving her acting lessons at the studio's behest. Lela believed that Lucy was one of the more promising young hopefuls and made this known to the enraged higher ups. Because of these two ladies, Lucy's job was saved-- temporarily. Interestingly, though her time at RKO would not last, she was there long enough to appear in Stage Door with both Hepburn and Rogers.

After RKO, Lucy would have help from another lady of the screen. Struggling to find work, and being told over and over again that her time was past-- that there was nowhere for a woman in her thirties to go in her career but down-- Lucy was having trouble holding onto her dream. Her self-confidence was at a bottom low, which was effecting her mentally and physically. She had even developed a stutter. Out of nowhere, she couldn't get through the most normal of sentences without breaking into stunted syllables. Just as suddenly, Olivia de Havilland (right) entered the picture. The two were not pals, barely having exchanged more than the usual "Hello, how are yous" at various parties and social affairs, but for some reason Olivia had taken a liking to Lucy. Perhaps she saw in the woman a another version of herself-- a fellow female fighter. As such, when word reached her that the funny, bubbly red head was on a downward spiral, she stepped in. She told her agent, Kurt Frings, to take Lucy on as a client and help to turn her career around. She just knew that the girl had "it" and only needed the right project to reach the stardom she deserved. Since no one said "No" to O de H-- a lesson Jack Warner learned all too well-- Frings agreed and added the stunned Lucy to his roster of clients. In a whirl, Lucy was still a nervous wreck when she began shooting on her first Frings induced project, Lover Come Back, opposite George Brent. Yet, she pulled it together, and once the cameras started rolling, she lost the stutter and regained her swagger. She remained eternally grateful to Olivia for her helping hand. It didn't turn out to be Lucy's big break, but it did help her get one step closer to success and kept her afloat during a confusing and back-breaking time.

Husband Desi Arnaz had also received a little help in his early career from none other than fellow crooner Bing Crosby. With Bing (left), judging from various accounts, you either loved him or hated him. Desi was one of the lucky ones who caught him on a good night. A very good night. Desi was a struggling musician touring with Xavier Cugat and his band, for which he played the guitar. Their itinerary eventually took the troupe to Saratoga, where Bing happened to be in attendance. Bing must have been impressed with Desi's playing, because he gleefully introduced himself-- in Spanish no less-- to the starstruck young man. Very friendly, and perhaps aided by a little too much liquor, "Bing-o" got congenial quickly and started asking the tongue-tied Cuban what he was earning for his talents. Desi responded with the sad truth: a measly $30/week. Bing, who knew Xavier, suddenly became Desi's champion. "That cheap bastard!" he roared. "Come on! Let's get you a raise!" He took Desi by the arm and the two marched right up to Cugat. Bing demanded that Cugat up the ante on Desi's paycheck. After being placed on the spot by such a huge superstar, Cugat was forced to agree... With one stipulation: that Bing perform a song with the band that night. Bing agreed, and Desi got his raise. Soon enough, ol' Dizzy had the money and confidence to tour with his own band, which inched him closer to Hollywood and his soul mate, Lucy.

In 1943, Van Johnson was just another struggling actor. Minor roles and extra work were the daily grind, until through a stroke of luck, he found himself cast in a supporting role in a major motion picture: A Guy Named Joe. Van was ecstatic! This could be his big break-- the opportunity of a lifetime. Enjoying his good fortune, he was out driving with friends Keenan and Eve Wynn (Van's future wife, but that's another story) when he was broadsided by another car. It was a serious accident, which left him badly injured. Very badly: a metal plate had to be put in his head! (In his future film work, you can see the noticeable scar). This tragedy couldn't have come at a worse time. His role as Ted Randall in the upcoming film was in jeopardy, for he needed extensive time to recuperate. Victor Fleming was put in the unfortunate position of looking for a replacement, until two angels came out of the wings. Both Irene Dunne and Spencer Tracy were impressed with Van and believed he was perfect for the role, and they went to bat for him (all three in the finished film, right). Through much persuasion, they convinced Victor and the studio to postpone until Van was completely healed, promising that his performance would help to make the picture a hit. The big wigs surprisingly listened. It turns out that Van, despite the conflicting evidence, was a lucky man, and the film helped to skyrocket him to Stardom. His accident turned out to be a pain and a pleasure, for due to his injury, he was unable to serve in the military during WWII. As one of the few fellas left at home while other stars went off to battle, his capable leading man potential made him a top box-office star. Thanks to Irene and Spence, he had had his breakthrough and would never look back.

Sometimes, the scuffle for a fellow comrade becomes more than a professional courtesy. It's personal. This is something that Betsy Blair knew all too well. Married to the triple threat actor/dancer/singer Gene Kelly, her own career took a back-seat to his, especially after he found success in Hollywood with his breakout role in For Me and My Gal. Betsy didn't mind. She was fine with playing the role of the supportive spouse and loving mother and putting her own career on hold (see happy family, left). A talented actress and dancer herself, she did make the intermittent film but never achieved the same success or notoriety as her husband. At least, not the same kind of notoriety. During the "red scare," Betsy found herself the focus of the HUAC witch hunts. Though not a communist, her leftist politics, outspoken position on African American rights, and her part in the SAG anti-discrimination committee landed her on the blacklist. Her husband, Gene, who was equally liberally minded if not as outspoken, was safe from the same attack because of his growing box-office appeal. Seeing his wife so mistreated and outcast was difficult, to say the least. Her sadness enraged him, particularly when the role of Clara in Marty-- which he thought she would be perfect for-- was kept out of reach due to the current political tide. Tired of seeing his wife held down, Gene marched into studio head Dore Schary's office and gave him an ultimatum: let Betsy off the hook and give her the role, or Gene would simply stop coming to work! This was a bold move and could have quite easily gotten him into legal trouble for breach of contract, or worse, fired and blacklisted himself. However, Gene Kelly's name on the marquee meant guaranteed money, so Dore took the bait. Betsy landed the role of a lifetime in Marty, which would be the most memorable of her career, and received an Oscar nomination for her heart-wrenching performance. Sadly, this would prove to be one of the last happy moments in the Gene-Betsy marriage, which finally collapsed under the tension two years later. Yet, however the relationship may have ended, Betsy would always speak admiringly of her first husband, his courage, and the bold move that deepened her love and respect for him.

NOW, THAT'S FUNNY: Part IV

Lucy does her usual scene-stealing for laughs 

on "I Love Lucy."

To get ahead in Hollywood, one really has to stand out. This was a lesson Lucille Ball learned early on. An observant girl with an uncanny knack for funny, Lucy would take note when she found something hilarious and would later use it in her own work. When a teenager, she would once have the awestruck honor of witnessing a funny tidbit via silent screen gem Dorothy Gish. While modeling at a Carnegie fashion show, Lucy happened to see both Dorothy (left) and sister Lillian with their two dates. When Lillian and the two gents walked away for a pace, Lucy watched while Dorothy calmly ripped her red program apart and stuck the little pieces to her face. When the trio returned, and Dorothy's pimpled face greeted them, they all burst out laughing. Lucy did too, and she would remember the moment. Later, when trying to land a spot as a chorine in the Eddie Cantor flick Roman Scandals, Lucy would steal Dorothy's gimmick. Applying the pieces of red crepe paper to her own face, she waited as Eddie went down the line of lovely girls, scanning their ripe figures and eying their legs. When he came to Lucy, he stopped in his tracks and started cracking up. He asked her name, and as he walked away, she could hear him say, "That Ball dame-- she's a riot!" Needless to say, she made an impression and got the gig.

"I Love Lucy" co-star William Frawley was also a natural comedian. If anyone on the show knew how to deliver a line, it was Frawley. In fact, he added a lot of gags and one-liners to punch up the already hilarious scripts. Because of this, he was constantly winning the "funny race" backstage. All of the names of the cast and crew were listed on a poster, and when they contributed something side-splitting to the show, they received a gold star next to their name. Frawley's name always outshined the others. However, he sometimes didn't "get" the jokes assigned to him. This is obviously not because he lacked a good sense of humor, but because he only ever memorized his own lines. So, during rehearsal, he would come up to Desi Arnaz and say, "You know, this line isn't very funny." Desi (with Bill on the show, right) continually had to explain, "Well sure, not by itself, but after the build-up it makes a great punchline." He would then describe the scenario, and suddenly the comic button that William's Fred Mertz added made sense. "Oh," he'd say. "Yeah. I guess that is funny." 

Back in the days before personal stylists and make-up artists, an actor was pretty much left up to his or her own devices to contrive the perfect look for a character. In addition to providing your own wardrobe, so too must you possess the ability to "put your face on," because no one else was gonna do it for you. This was information that aspiring young ingenue Leatrice Joy (left) knew all too well. The silent film actress was a novice when she started performing before the camera, but then, in 1918, so was everyone else. However, her jitters got the better of her before the camera started cranking on One Dollar Bid. Panicked about looking her best, in addition to adding cosmetics to her face, she decided to add a white paste to her arms to give them a smooth, porcelain look. When it came time for her to give her co-star and latest crush, John Gilbert, a tender embrace, her hug left white blotches all over his brand new jacket. Since John was also a struggling actor-- as evidenced by his thin-from-starvation frame-- the fact that one of his few personal suits of clothes was ruined was enough to send him into a tizzy. Poor Leatrice was humiliated, but after John sent her into tears, he apologized. When daughter Leatrice Gilbert Fountain later asked her mother what had made her make such a strange cosmetic choice, the elder Leatrice simply said that she thought it would look "pretty." The result was pretty awful.

Leatrice would later make another make-up foul-up when, after making peace, John started courting her. Both actors, while not famous by any means, had by now established some level of stability in the acting world, and Leatrice was flattered that the handsome, growing star was paying her such steadfast attention. Once again nervous, she went to a trusted source of feminine wiles for help: neighbor Theda Bara. The Queen of Sexual Potency (see right) had plenty of advice for the delicate young Leatrice and allegedly gave her a makeover that completely altered her appearance. One might have likened her to... a "harlot." Since John was a couth gentleman, Leatrice doubted that he would take to her new appearance and wiped most of its evidence away before he arrived to pick her up. However, she had neglected to remove the rouge from her earlobes, which Theda had assured her was all the rage-- certain to indicate to her suitor her secret, sensual passion. While dancing, John couldn't help but notice Leatrice's ears, which appeared to be inflamed and infected. When he asked her about them, she fessed up. All John could do was laugh. He helped her to remove the last of Theda's influence, and the two enjoyed the rest of the evening. Leatrice made a pretty good impression on her own. John would marry her in 1922. Despite their divorce two years later, and John's tumultuous romance with Greta Garbo, he would always attest that the sweet, naive Leatrice was the one who got away.  

Ernest Borgnine is not the typical leading man. Yet, after serving some time in the military, the perplexed young fella' was nudged into acting by his mother, who saw a talent that he had never realized. Slowly but surely, the character actor honed his craft and became a dependable and capable commodity to the stage. The next logical step was Hollywood, which was very far from Ernie's roots, but he was willing to give it a go. A fun-loving but old-fashioned guy, he would always recall one of his early screen tests with humor. Richard Siodmak saw some real potential in him, and asked him to come in to audition for The Whistle at Eaton Falls. "Audition" was a very strong word, for Ernie's performance was relegated to basically sitting in a chair and smiling. Awkward and still in a whirl about it all, he was confused when the director gave him his one simple direction: "Say 'Sh*t,' then smile." "What?!" Ernie replied. "Just do it. Trust me." So, Ernest lit up a big grin, looked directly into the camera and said with great joy, "Sh*t!" Cut. (See similar effect, left). Afterward, Richard took the screen test to producer Louis de Rochemont. When he saw Ernest's footage he asked, "What is he saying?" Richard lied: "I don't know, but he's got a great smile!" Louis must have agreed, for Ernest Borgnine was cast in the movie, which was his film debut.

Charlton Heston (right) also made a great impression on director Cecil B. DeMille. But not a great first impression. Cecil wasn't interested when he first saw the actor, considering him too "sinister," but then Cecil was an eccentric guy. After writing Chuck off as just another run-of-the-mill actor, one day, Heston happened to drive past him on the back lot and flash a wave. Suddenly, Cecil had a change of heart. Turning to his assistant, Gladys Rosson, he said, "I like the way he waved just now." Maybe there was something to this kid after all... He seemed to have the confidence and charisma that Cecil needed in a leading man. Chuck was soon put to the test when he was cast in The Greatest Show on Earth as Brad Braden. But, his first role with DeMille might have initially had Cecil rethinking his choice. For his first scene, Chuck had to drive up and jump out of a jeep. Instead, he drove up, hopped out, and fell flat on his face. One can almost imagine Cecil closing his eyes and shaking his head in annoyance. Luckily, Chuck was able to shake off the initial embarrassment and churn out a strong performance. Cecil too was impressed, and he would recast Heston in the pinnacle success of his career The Ten Commandments. It was because of this movie that Chuck's unique place in cinema was solidified. Thanks to that simple wave, Charlton Heston became a star. A little friendliness goes a long way.

Norma Talmadge was one of the divas of the silent film era (as seen left). Sadly, she is too often forgotten amongst her contemporaries, along with her sisters Constance and Natalie. In her hey-day, while married to none other than production chief Joseph Schenck, Norma ruled all. In a powerful position, she had her choice of roles and was able to rake in the dough. She could be seen around town looking very regal in her fine furs and elegant gowns. During the brief time that these untouchable celebs were seen as royalty, she more than played the part-- on and off screen. Yet, it was all a game, and while her more smart-ass sister Connie aka "Dutch" seemed to latch onto this, Norma sometimes seemed to be completely lost in the oblivion of her own narcissistic delusions. It was an "I think, therefore I am" kind of attitude. However, there were times when the aloof veneer would come down and the Brooklyn girl would come out with full force. If there was one man who loved to identify and skewer hypocrisy, it was Groucho Marx, which is why he loved having his pal George Jessel reminisce about the Grande Dame... who apparently had a bit of a drinking problem. To Groucho's amusement, George would recount how he and Norma had been chummy in the old days and had run in the same circles. While George would say that Norma was, indeed, a fine lady, he would stipulate that this was only until she had had her third drink. As he put it: "She was wonderful. Until the third drink, she had the manners of a princess. Courted, she was like a Queen. Third drink, she'd pee on the floor." Groucho loved that part.