THE REEL REALS: Ben Hecht

Ben Hecht

Ben Hecht was a prolific author and a very influential figure in the land of Hollywood screenwriting. His intense passion for and curiosity of life began at an early age. Forced to raise himself in many ways due to his parents' job demands, he allowed his own thirst for knowledge and experience to be his guides to maturity. A child prodigy, his keen intelligence and the ease with which he picked up new ideas and talents won him early respect and equally enriched his lonesome early life. He excelled in the violin; he joined the circus. Finally, at sixteen, he ran away from home and began treading the pavements of Chicago as a journalist. By the age of 21, he had written his first novel: Erik Dorn.

Fast forward through many plays, short stories, and further articles, and by 1926, Hecht found himself in Hollywood, (allegedly due to a tip from writer friend Herman Mankiewicz). While critically successful, the writer is ever the starving artist, so Hecht jumped at the chance to earn money through the new medium of "screenplays." With the talkie revolution encroaching, his particular talent would ease this rocky transition with witty, intelligent, and provocative scripts that paved the way for future screenwriters and scenarists. Dialogue was truly a new phenomenon, as the silent era had either entrusted actors with improvisation based upon a general plotline or had otherwise given them a loose script to work with or without. Words meant little in those days when title card writers were as close to literature as film writing got, but those days were about to change. During his tenure in Hollywood, Ben managed to win the first ever Academy Award for Best Screenplay for 1927's Underworld. Other classics were to follow, which were either the result of his solo gifts or partial contribution-- the latter case in which other writers, directors, etc. asked him to assist on their scripts, which he unfailingly improved.

Examples of his work include: The Front Page (1937), Beast of the City, Scarface (1932), Queen Christina, Twentieth Century, The Prisoner of Zenda, A Star is Born (1937), Nothing Sacred, Angels with Dirty Faces, Where the Sidewalk Ends, Gilda, Gone with the Wind, Journey into Fear, The Man with the Golden Arm, and-- as a Hitchcock favorite-- Lifeboat, Spellbound, Notorious, Foreign Correspondent, Rope, Strangers on a Train, etc. As a political activist, particularly during the forties when he wrote tirelessly about the rising anti-Semitism and eventual Jewish extermination in Germany, the only hiccup he seemed to run into with his writing was censorship. A man who palled around with irreverent men like Mankiewicz, John Decker, John Barrymore, Howard Hawks, and even Mickey Cohen (whom he aided in an aborted biographical project), the great wound to his pride was in writing anything less than the truth. His irritation with this was but one of the demons that haunted him throughout his career. H was a man forever hard on himself and always, always pushing for more.

With countless works of art under his belt-- novels, plays, essays, short stories, screenplays, etc-- Ben passed away after suffering a heart attack at the age of 70. He was nearly finished with his adaptation of Casino Royale, which would have been the first serious 007 film. Indeed, it was produced, but his drama of espionage was altered and turned into a spoof-comedy. One wonders what would have happened had another writer and another actor other than Connery initiated "James Bond" into the modern mainstream. In any case, his work has, and still does, provide the backbone of truly great writing, most specifically for our purposes in the land of cinema. Who better to have brought us out of the silence than a man who pulled no punches with words?

THE REEL REALS: Errol Flynn

Errol Leslie Thomson Flynn: June 20, 1909 - October14, 1959

Errol Flynn: swashbuckler, scalawag, and smirking, swaggering screen star with a sinful dose of sex-appeal. I incorporated a lot of S's into that description in order to produce the steaming hot alliteration that this actor deserves: "Tsssssssssssssssssss... Ouch!" (Don't get burned, ladies). During Errol's reign as the pinnacle action star in Tinsel Town, having inherited the sword from silent hero Douglas Fairbanks, he powered Hollywood with enough electric charisma to solve the entire nation's energy problems. However, his glamorous, alluring, and death-defying persona of light-hearted nonchalance, while widely accepted by fans, was both true and false. He was promoted as a handsome devil, lady killer, and man's man (albeit in an occasional pair of tights) who always got the bad guy and could-- and for the most part did-- have any woman he wanted. Indeed, Errol was an adorable bad boy, and debates continue to wage about just how naughty he really was.

Permanently emotionally scarred by the childhood abuse he suffered from his mother, Errol also lived with unresolved feelings of neglect. All but abandoned by both parents at school while they went abroad, he spent most Christmas breaks alone in an empty schoolhouse, which in his own mind, felt like a penitentiary. His rebellion against this isolation built him into a troublemaking adolescent, begging for both attention and discipline. He loved to push buttons, but he circumnavigated anyone who sought control over his life. Errol would continue to both seek and avoid the company and demands of others. He lacked the necessary trust and support demanded of obedience. As such, the teen who got kicked out of school would grow into the movie star who consistently irked and disobeyed Jack Warner in business and loathed all authority figures in general. His quest for affection can too be interpreted in his sexual indulgences. Errol had (and boasted of) many lovers, made many conquests, but he sadly had little experience or understanding of love. Flings were pleasurable distractions that never satiated the need he had to find something more. His life was an eternal adventure for some mysterious, missing thing-- his own personal El Dorado. What he truly sought-- acceptance, enduring love, and happiness-- were within arm's reach, but his itchy feet and lack of trust compelled him to seek beyond the horizon. After all, if one keeps moving, he has no time to be hurt. 

Errol plays the soldier and valiant hero with his usual vigor in Charge 

of the Light Brigade. This was the first film in which he donned his 

signature mustache, and Jack Warner told him to keep it!

Needless to say, Errol had a way of... overdoing it-- maniacally burning the candle at both ends in the hopes of quelling the inner madness and despair that had and would never find safe harbor. He wandered the world, spending his youth voyaging from place to place and country to country on almost ludicrously unrelated business ventures--  from journalism to running a tobacco plantation in New Guinea! He would also spend his later years literally adrift. Aboard his yacht, the Zaca, he found a sense of quiet away from the pain of the past and the superficiality of his Hollywood life, but this was a sorry substitute for the merciful sensation of peace that comes with the true satisfaction of one's happiness. The closest he came to joy was Jamaica. Spending time with equally conflicted friends throughout his life, those that unfortunately exacerbated and influenced his darker tendencies ("Jack" Barrymore, Bruce Cabot, etc), Errol drank too much, smoked too much, and eventually suffered from morphine addiction, which weathered his initially exquisite, God-given form into a prematurely old body, a reflection of his broken spirit.


The great shame of his life was the tagline "In Like Flynn," an unfortunate leftover from the statutory rape scandal that forever ruined Errol's personal reputation and perpetuated his debaucherous public image. Found innocent of the accusations made against him by Betty Hansen and Peggy Satterlee in the early forties, the court case under modern investigation bears all the tell-tale signs of a set-up, and it is often hypothesized that politicos with a vendetta against the less than financially generous Jack Warner decided to take down his biggest star to teach the mogul a "lesson." Whether or not Errol had earthly fun with either of these ladies, whether or not he knew their true ages if so, remains debatable. In any case, both Betty and Peggy, who had once enthusiastically volunteered for a place in the movie star's bed, mysteriously changed their tunes when the prospect of money was dangled before in their faces.

Errol "pokes fun" at his pal Patric Knowles while cozying up to constant 

co-star Olivia De Havilland in their lesser known collaboration,

 Four's a Crowd (Rosalind Russell being #4).

While the contradictory evidence produced in court ended in a mercifully "not guilty" verdict,  the event itself had a devastating effect upon Errol, who grievously felt a slight against his personal character. He had already endured the shame of receiving a 4F classification, which kept him out of WWII and insulted both his bravery and masculinity, but this was worse.  His popularity had been boosted, but he found himself lampooned as a distasteful, sexual joke. This was a grave personal disappointment, as he idolized his educated, scientist father. His desire to prove himself as an honorable and intelligent man-- being impressively self-taught for the most part-- revealed itself in his love of writing books, studying any and everything, and approaching more mature cinematic material with a talent that had only improved and aged with him. Unfortunately, Errol found himself locked into the inflexible Hollywood system-- a disaster for someone with his need for freedom-- and he was never fully able to exercise the personal depth and desire he had for his art. He felt that his gifts were purely superficial and considered himself a laughing stock. In keeping with his mistrustful mindset, while he desired respect for his work, he brushed off all compliments, never believing that his efforts had been worthy. This is the true tragedy, because they absolutely were! 

This Irish lad and "Tasmanian Devil" had only done some modest theatrical work and had completed a meager handful of films, including Australia's The Wake of the Bounty (playing Fletcher Christian, under whose leadership one of his own descendants had mutinied!), when he achieved his breakthrough performance in Captain Blood-- with ultimate leading lady Olivia De Havilland, no less. In the demanding, starring role, Errol would prove himself a clear natural before the camera, and this unexpected cinematic success, accomplished by an unknown nobody, consequently initiated an unparalleled career in the movies. His simple delivery of daunting lines, which would leave a lesser actor feeling foolish or tongue tied, and his assertive, graceful movements on the screen-- in whatever costume, from whatever era, holding whatever prop-- revealed a man who exuded the confidence of an overgrown boy. He presented himself as a brazen acrobat, completely disinterested in consequences and desirous only of living with relished abandon. His love interests were always of secondary importance to the rush of battle-- a parallel with his own life. From pirate (The Sea Hawk), to cowboy (Dodge City), to war pilot (The Dawn Patrol), to sad anti-hero (That Forsyte Woman), to martyr (Uncertain Glory), to icon (Robin Hood), Errol was always excitingly up to any challenge, and as a result, he continuously succeeded in getting his audiences to believe in and cheer for him in whatever rogue battle he fought from film to film. What's more, he also looked damn good doing it.

Errol on his beloved Sirocco, which he owned

prior to the Zaca.

They don't make Errol Flynns anymore, not that "they" could if they tried. So many filmmakers and performers try to duplicate the magic that Errol naturally possessed, but Hollywood's current offerings of reconstituted leading men lack the elegance, spirit, and sincerity of Flynn. His characters, with their mortal vanity and foolhardy embrace of danger, exist at a level of liberty that today's action heroes, with pecs but no personality, cannot understand. No... No one will ever be "in like Flynn" again. But that is only because Flynn is forever. 

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Relationships:

• Wife Lili Damita (1935-1942) - son Sean
• Wife Nora Eddington (1944-1948) - daughters Diedre and Rory 
• Wife Patrice Wymore (1950-1959) - daughter Arnella

Pros:

• Boyish sense of fun and an outlandish prankster.
• Vibrant energy and charismatic presence.
• Loving father to his children.

Cons:

• Alcoholism
• Drug Addiction
• Probable Sex Addiction

Fun Facts:

• Director Michael Curtiz was wed to his first wife, Lili Damita. The two collaborated often, including Errol's big break in Captain Blood, but the men loathed each other.
• Author of  Beam Ends, Showdown, and My Wicked, Wicked Ways (with Earl Conrad).
• Was known as The Baron of Mulholland due to his infamous home in the hills.

Scandals:

• Statutory rape trial - Not guilty (1942)
• Falsely accused of being a Nazi sympathizer by author Charles Higham. Higham was later proven to have shamefully forged government documents to implicate the innocent Flynn. (See Errol Flynn: The Spy Who Never Was).
• Questionable rumors of bisexual affairs with, among others, Ross Alexander and Tyrone Power.

L.A.La's Top Film Picks:

• Captain Blood (1935)
• The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)
• The Dawn Patrol (1938)

NOW THAT'S FUNNY: Part XIII

Don't let the glamourpuss fool ya'-- Loop was a hoot!

Many an adjective could be used to describe Lupe Velez: feisty, fiery, temperamental, and apparently inexhaustible. D.W. Griffith found this out the hard way. Griffth has rightfully earned his place in history as a genius of cinematic glory. Through his innovative techniques of visual storytelling, he was able to elevate film from a place of flash to a place of substance-- and even entrancement. Nonetheless, a psychoanalyst could probably have a field day mulling over the man's personal deficiencies and the ways they manifested themselves in his work. Gutsy and heady actresses like Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish could handle his eccentricities and particular fetishes, but it wasn't until Lupe that ol' D.W. was totally beaten at his own game. The power play he used on his sets regarding women is notorious. Light, ethereal females were meant to fulfill a personal fantasy for him on the screen while submitting to his directorial mental games behind the scenes-- a precursor to the later Hitchcock fiascoes. Lupe was the opposite of Griffith's dream girl-- dark featured, exotic, and erotically charged-- but Griffith hoped to tame her nonetheless when they began filming on Lady of Pavements (1929, right). To show her who was boss and to break her iron will, he was determined to exhaust her into submission. His harassment began the first day, when he decided to shoot her in intense close-ups: take, after take, after take, after take. He expected her to eventually burst into tears, complain, collapse in frustration, etc. Not so. Lupe, as ever, was not only a total, uncomplaining pro, but she was a consistent, dynamic, bundle of energy. By lunch time, Griffith and his crew were collapsing and sweating in their chairs, and Lupe was still brimming with excitement: "Play some jazz; I want to dance!" Precious few can say that they jitterbugged circles around D.W. Griffith. One more point for Lupe.

True, Lupe was a bit of a firecracker. While this aspect of her character could reveal itself in an exuberant, positive attitude, one could also catch the brunt of her anger. There were two simple missteps one could make to incite Lupe's ire. One was to hurt or harm her pets. The other was to mess with her jewelry. She had quite the collection of both, but her array of sparkling gems was one of the most impressive in Hollywood. Lupe didn't spend lavishly on dresses or shoes, but when it came to necklaces, earrings, and-- her favorite-- bracelets, she spared no expense. Her arms could be seen covered wrist to elbow in her stacked duds (see her bling-blingin' left). So exorbitant was the sum of her glittering parts, that she couldn't afford to insure them! As such, she got a little paranoid that they would be stolen, particularly when Hollywood went through its big burglary/kidnapping scare following the Lindbergh tragedy. Lupe kept her jewelry stash at home, which made it easy prey for greedy robbers. So, Lupe saw to it that her entire staff, chauffeur included, were given artillery. Even Lupe was packing heat. Any guest to the house would be greeted by a suspicious doorman holding a pistol. There was more than one occasion when Lupe, home alone, heard suspicious noises around her home, and she just fired randomly through the windows or the front door. Whoever it was lurking about quickly fled. But Lupe didn't need a gun to prove her gusto. She was once nearly mugged-- "nearly" being the key word. When two gangster-ish fellows came up behind her on the street and demanded her chinchilla coat, Lupe spun on her heels and howled out an obscene collaboration of English and Spanish expletives and random threats! The two hoods stared wide-eyed then booked it. Lupe's prized fur remained intact, as did all her jewels.

It could be said that Lupe could run hot and cold, but then, who doesn't love variety? Of course, every man has his type. Some prefer shy girls; some like spark plugs. Some prefer a partner who is down-to-earth; others like a little mystery. Actor and war hero Wayne Morris had definite opinions about what was "hot" and what was "not," particularly when it came to women. He made his opinion known when he put the finishing touches on his bathroom. Instead of labeling the faucet handles as "Hot" and "Cold," he instead labeled them respectively: "Ann Sheridan" and "Greta Garbo" (very icy, right). Once can imagine the light-hearted Ann being tickled by that bit of trivia, but allegedly Greta was not amused, but then, she just proved his point, didn't she?

The steamy Ann Sheridan. Which temperature do you prefer your
 temptresses?

The Big Sleep is memorable for many reasons. It is yet another stylish Howard Hawks classic and the second teaming of Humphrey Bogart and his sultry paramour Lauren Bacall (right). Based on the Raymond Chandler novel of the same name, the plot follows detective "Philip Marlowe" (Bogie) as he tries to uncover a diabolical family mystery that leads to murder. Actually, the story proved to be a bit too mysterious. Even today, upon multiple viewings, many audience members have trouble discerning the strange chain of events and what exactly all the pieces of the puzzle mean. Who is the bad guy? And what exactly did he do??? Don't ask me. Even now, I couldn't tell you with any certainty. Hawks smelled trouble early on. During one pivotal scene, after Bogie uncovered a dead body, he actually had to go up to his director and ask, "Howard, who killed this fellow?" Hawks didn't know. It turned out that even Raymond Chandler didn't know! I suppose by then they had already filmed too much of the film to worry about tying up loose ends, so they completed shooting with this mystery in tact. Thus, The Big Sleep may be the only who-dunnit film in history that doesn't even know who-dunnit itself!

John Barrymore was yet another wild card in a full deck of Hollywood scalawags. An incredible theatrical talent, he was just as idiosyncratic as he was gifted. Genius and madness always go hand in hand, don't they? John was serious about his acting, but he wasn't serious about abiding by Hollywood's rules. When offered the lead in The Beloved Rogue, John demurred, feeling that the adapted material wasn't up to his standards. He disappeared to Honolulu instead, intent on racing his yacht, the Mariner, in a race to San Francisco. The irked Irving Thalberg had no choice but to send his right-hand man, Mr. Fix-it Paul Bern, to reel John back to Hollywood for the film. So, Paul and Alan Crosland sailed out to the middle of nowhere to chum it up with John-- and his pet monkey Clementine (left)-- and sweet talk him into accepting the role. John finally acquiesced, but he had some stipulations: the script needed some alterations, of course, but more absurdly, he demanded a role for his friend's duck! Yeah... In the end, the negotiations were easier than many that Paul had been faced with. They shook hands, and the film was made. (No news on whether the bird ever worked again).

Speaking of John, he and his crew of pals had an interesting romantic rivalry going on with the same girl. The only thing was, she wasn't quite... real. It all began when artist John Decker and buddy Errol Flynn were out shopping for decorations for Decker's new Alta Loma Gallery. Passing a certain store, they both spied a gorgeous redhead in the window. Sure, she was a mannequin, but she had sex appeal. Decker decided then and there that he had to have her! So, he and Errol grabbed her from the store, put her in the back-seat of Errol's car, and probably raised more than a few eyebrows while driving with her to the gallery. They quickly named the lady Mona, and what started out as a gag became a bit of an obsession for Decker, who developed a sort of Pygmalion-like relationship with his muse. Indeed, she became something of the mascot of the group. They referred to her as a real girl, threw parties for her, and even fought over who got to dance with her! Then, to heighten the already absurd proportions of the jest, Decker decided to unveil Mona as his latest masterpiece at his gallery. Everyone was invited and thoroughly intrigued to see what the quirky artiste had come up with this time. Decker expected to reveal his friend Mona to a cluster of confused stares, pretentious nods, and the muffled laughter of his friends. Unfortunately, it never got that far. Before the big moment could arrive, Mona was accidentally knocked over and consequently beheaded! As Decker let out a horrified squeal, a huge brawl ensued, with Lawrence Tierney throwing punches, Diana Barrymore tossing out slaps, and others like Anthony Quinn just standing back in amazement. The authorities were summoned, the party broke up, but while Mona was beyond repair, it is believed that Decker was the one who never truly recovered. Ah, lost love... (Errol, his father, and John Decker, right).

NOW, THAT'S FUNNY: Part XII

Plenty of Chaps' to go around...

By 1917, five years after Charlie Chaplin had come to Los Angeles, not only had he become a full-on movie star, but he was a bona fide phenomenon. His movies were consistently successful and eagerly awaited by his incalculable number of fans. His face was quickly becoming the most recognizable one in America. It wasn't long before his image was finding its way into people's homes, as children bought dolls in his likeness and adults began dressing as him for Halloween parties (or just for fun). To Charlie, his fame was always a bit bewildering. He had gone from being a nobody to being the guy with the most familiar face in the world... Or so he thought. With all of the adulation out there, there was bound to be a community of Charlie wannabes. A series of comedians began appearing on the screen in very similar if not completely copied costumes, and hack Charlie Chaplin impersonators started coming out of the woodwork. Charlie didn't seem to mind too much. After all, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. However, he realized that life had truly become bizarre when he read that a man in Cincinnati had performed a hold-up using a Chaplin costume as a disguise! The final insult came when Charlie decided to enter one of the many Chaplin look-alike contests himself, just for a laugh. Competing against boys of all shapes and sizes (with far fewer years of performance experience), one would think Charlie was a shoe-in for victory. Hilariously enough, he didn't win. He loved telling that story!

Boris Karloff portrayed another cinematic character nearly as historically relevant as Chaplin's "Little Tramp": Frankenstein's Monster. It is strange to think that by artistically bringing to life a creature that was scientifically brought back to life, Boris obtained his own immortality. His depiction of the awkward mash of arms and limbs was haunting, disturbing, frightening, and a little bit sad. Perhaps that is why the Monster remains in the American heart, despite his murderous penchants. But this was but one of many characters that Boris portrayed, which were generally villains, creatures, or good men gone bad in Universal's long line of B-horror films. In his personal life, Boris was far from his movie archetype, being generous, gentlemanly, and most importantly, harmless. He also had a great sense of humor, which some of his co-workers took advantage of. In The Invisible Ray, Boris's character "Dr. Rakh" and Bela Lugosi (left) come to blows over Rakh's latest discovery: Radium X. While filming one particular scene,  Boris was wearing an incredibly hot "radiation" suit as his character is lowered into a smoking pit to hopefully gather some of this strange radium specimen. The crew decided to play a prank. They lowered the sweating Boris down, then when the clock struck noon, they broke for lunch. Boris was literally left hanging! Luckily, his temper was not as easily provoked as his character's. He just started chuckling. Luckily, his co-workers came to retrieve him so he could grab some grub as well.

John Carradine (right) also took part in a few Universal monster flicks, including The Mummy's Ghost and House of Frankenstein. With his thin frame, sunken cheeks, and natural intensity, he could easily step into villainous roles. His acclaimed acting chops had earned him quite the rep on the stage, but his talents on the screen are best remembered in supporting roles, such as the conniving "Hatfield" in Stagecoach or the loyal "Rizzio" in Mary of Scotland. He remains one of many unsung and intriguing fellows in artistic history whose genius to his craft was just as maniacal as his personal demons. He notoriously caused more than one stir with drinking buddies like John Barrymore and W.C. Fields, a group of pals infamous for imbibing their talents and eventually their lives away. The facts are sad in retrospect, yet the brotherhood and prankster shenanigans somehow still make one smile even while shaking the head in "for shame" fashion when pondering the lives of these hard-living fellows. For example, John was particularly lubricated one evening and after giving a cab-driver the wrong address, he wound up spouting orations of Shakespearean verse at Steve Hayes's doorstep. For the record, the two didn't know each other, and John literally had no idea where he was. Steve's pals weren't as accustomed as he (the owner of the popular eatery Googies) to the sudden appearance of a movie star, so they gushingly asked the sloshed actor to join them inside, which he did... after telling them that he was "King Lear." He kept asking for liquor, but after being handed tea instead, decided to show his disdain by urinating off the balcony. John, one doubts, remembered this visit the next day, but his surprised hosts never forgot it.

Marlon Brando (left) is one of those singular guys that is just awesome. He could behave like a punk, skunk, or scalawag, he could be as eccentric as the day was long, but his confidence and diabolical mystery still rendered even his most sinister on and off-screen moments just plain cool. This naturally translated to his sex life, where he pretty much had whomever he wanted. A pop cultural icon who defied pop culture, his dangerous nature worked like a tonic on the ladies. However, he didn't always get his way, despite his strong personality and masterful methods of coercion, charm, and perhaps even hypnosis. Tony Curtis would recall a time when he was roommates with Marlon on Barham Boulevard. The two buddied up while trying to build their acting careers, and naturally, as members of young Hollywood, ran in the same circles. One night, the duo were out at a bar in Palm Springs, when they both took notice of a very attractive girl. As neither fellow had hit it big yet, it is doubtful that she had any idea who they were, but she was definitely attracted to the handsome pair. However, after she boldly approached, she made her choice known. Marlon tried to put the moves on the girl, but she clearly only had eyes for Tony-- who possessed in prettiness what Marlon had in 'tude. Tony didn't know it, but this was a monumental moment in Marlon history. Some time later, Tony went to a party at which Marlon was also in attendance. When Tony walked in, Marlon held up his hand to silence the room and jokingly declared:"There's the only guy who ever took a girl away from me." Clearly, sexual refusal was something Marlon did not encounter often, but at least he took the punch standing up.

Robert Altman, in his 45 years in cinema, carved out quite a niche for himself. He only really produced one major box-office hit, but his work remains intriguing and critically acclaimed for his unique multi-layered style, overlapping storylines, and birds eye view of humanity. If the average director allows you to follow characters through a story, Altman challenges audiences to follow a story through its characters. The effect is disconcerting, yet somehow more real than the more streamlined, conveyor-belt fashion of the majority of products out there. He doesn't extol star power; he translates human beings. The verdict with the public is very divided. You can either take him or leave him. What makes his place in film even more fascinating than his controversial body of work is his graduation into the position of filmmaker. There very nearly wasn't a place for this quirky, definitive character. According to former publicity guru Michael Selsman, Robert Altman got his breakthrough gig directing MASH (cast right) by accident. Michael was in discussions with Darryl F. Zanuck when the mogul was on the hunt for a director to take the helm of this new wartime vehicle. Michael, of course, suggested some of his clients, but Zanuck seemed stuck on The Dirty Dozen's Robert Aldrich. Unfortunately for Aldrich, Zanuck's casting director, Owen McLean, was a heavy drinker and drunkenly transmogrified "Aldrich" into "Altman" when taking the note to make the offer. Thus, the pitch was made to the wrong guy, and unknown TV director Robert Altman got the chance of a lifetime! Everyone may not be a fan, but clearly the Gods of celluloid wanted this guy cemented in artistic history. Crazy, huh?
 

Speaking of controversy, Kirk Douglas's latest literary contribution I Am Spartacus: Making a Film, Breaking the Blacklist is all about it. A fascinating depiction, not only of how difficult it is to make a movie-- let alone an iconic one-- but of mankind's slow undoing of a period of political prejudice in Hollywood, Kirk tells all about his voyage in bringing to film the story of the notorious Thracian slave who tried to take down Rome. The film in many ways is spectacular and holds up incredibly well over time. Somehow, God willing, all the pieces of the puzzle came together-- from the casting, to landing Stanley Kurbick as director, to the financing-- and the masterpiece was made. However, upon its original release, not all of the footage was there that is available today. One very contentious scene between Laurence Olivier's "Cassius" and Tony Curtis's "Antoninus" was originally eliminated for its overt homo-erotic themes. You know the one: Antoninus is bathing Cassius in the giant tub and is asked by his master whether he likes "snails" or "oysters" (left). The snails insinuate a sexual taste for men, and oysters for women. Unfortunately for the bi-sexual Cassius, Antoninus only swings one way. The censors were obviously not having it at the time, and initially asked that Kirk and his team tone down the innuendo making "snails and oysters" "artichokes and truffles" instead. Say again? Kirk refused, after he stopped laughing of course, but this left the scene on the cutting room floor. Later, when the film was re-cut for re-release with the missing footage, the dialogue for the scene had been lost. Thus, Tony had to perform his voiceover once again, which he gladly did, but Larry was unfortuantely already deceased. His wife, Joan Plowright, suggested that Anthony Hopkins step in and perform the dialogue for him, which he admirably did. Watching today, you would never know!

DIDJA KNOW: Part VI

Didja know...

Truffaut and Hitchcock discuss the cinematic effect.
 

...why editing is so important?
 

In his conversations with Francois Truffaut, Alfred Hitchcock discussed the experiment, popular among cinema students, regarding Russian director Lev Kuleshov. In this study of the montage-- now known as "the Kuleshov effect"-- Kuleshov investigated the use of images to evoke a psychological reaction from the audience. It occurred thus: he provided an image of a little girl's coffin to a set of viewers and then showed an unrelated shot of actor Ivan Mosjoukine's face (left). Yet, because the two separately filmed moments were played one after the other, the audience read Ivan's alleged reaction as that of compassion or sorrow. In another test, Kuleshov showed an image of soup, then played the same clip of Ivan's face. The audience reaction interpreted his face this time as displaying "hunger." Oh, what a little film cutting can do... Hitchcock marveled at the technical implications Kuleshov had discovered, and put them to use in all of his films through specific angles, reaction shots, and most importantly editing-- especially when it came to his masterpiece, Rear Window. While this experiment revealed a great deal about the necessity of skilled editing, it also raised questions about film acting. If you had a good director, cameraman, and film cutter, it appeared that a good actor didn't seem to be all that necessary... But then, Hitch considered all actors to be "cattle," didn't he? Look left, look right, turn, stare, scream, etc. Are film actors real actors or merely talking props at the mercy of behind-the-scenes, cinema tacticians?
 

Greta Garbo was, of course, a phenomenal actress, who proved that she could deliver complicated and deeply felt performances so effective that her audiences were moved to tears or even lustful panting. However, even she participated from time to time in Kuleshov's methods. When filming the final scene in Queen Christina, Greta was uncertain how to proceed. Having just lost her lover in the film, she was to stare at the sea from the helm of a great ship as she makes her voyage to a mysterious new life. She conferred with director Rouben Mamoulian. What reaction did he want? Courage or sorrow? Hope or despair? Rouben instructed her not to give anything away. "Just stare," he said. The audience, he asserted, will fill in the blanks with whatever emotion they choose. Greta doubted, but delivered. Thus, after she walked from her lover's death-bed to the front of the ship, she stood and looked forward blankly (right). Rouben was correct. No acting nor tears were needed. The audience projected their own emotions on Greta's face and saw her great pain over her past and equally uncertain future. It was hailed as a brilliant moment of exquisite acting! Had Rouben inserted an image of cheesecake, the audience probably would have sensed her hunger too.
 

...what Garbo found so funny?
 

Queen Christina is notorious for another reason in Garbo's history. While Ninotchka is hailed as the film in which "Garbo Laughs" (left), Greta had actually laughed before, and often. Of course, most of her guffaws were lost to silence in the pre-sound era. However, the first sound film in which she truly "yucked it up" was Queen Christina. Obviously an innovative and skilled director, Rouben Mamoulian knew the importance of this moment. Greta's Christina is supposed to happen upon John Gilbert's hopelessly snowbound carriage and laugh it up at his expense. Naturally, both Greta and Rouben were nervous about the moment. Greta was known for her childish and delightful laugh among friends, but her screen persona was pretty much the opposite of light-hearted. She began putting a great deal of pressure on herself and was a ball of nerves. Rouben devised a plan to help her out. He pulled John and Akim Tamiroff aside and told them that when Greta rode up on her horse, they were to make childish and absurd faces at her off camera. In turn, he told Greta that, no matter what happened during the scene, she was to just continue on as scripted. She complied... and got a surprise! Thus, when Greta turns the corner atop her stead and starts laughing uproariously, she is not acting: she is truly cutting up at the twisted faces and outstretched tongues of John and Akim. Her little girl delight is as honest as it gets.
 

...the connection between Sean Connery and Dick Van Dyke?
 

Certainly no two actors could seem further apart, but it turns out that these two very different performers starred in different adaptations of a certain author's books. Ian Fleming is most popularly remembered for his creation of the character "Bond... James Bond" in his series of 007 novels. Mr. Connery (right) brought Bond to life on the screen in 1962. Yet, despite his thorough knowledge and interpretation of sex and espionage, Fleming is equally noteworthy for another literary offering, which was geared toward a very different audience: children. Indeed, Fleming penned Chitty Chitty Bang Bang: The Magical Car, which was published mere months after his death and transferred to the screen, with the help of Roald Dahl, in the 1968 film starring Mr. Van Dyke. One would hardly draw a comparison between the international man of mystery, who preferred things "shaken, not stirred," and a flying car, but there are parallels. After all, Bond had all sorts of sweet gadgets and weapons that made him a much more elegant looking-- and English-- Batman of sorts. One could imagine him getting his hand on a flying car, albeit a much sleeker one. Then, of course, from the man who gave us "Pussy Galore," the name "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" has a sort of sexual connotation that one could easily transfer to a Bond film... Perhaps we should all re-read the children's book and look for secret clues that Fleming hid within its pages. Maybe the Bond trail didn't go cold at Fleming's death after all??? 
 

...Margarita wasn't the only famous Cansino?
 

Before Rita Hayworth became Rita Hayworth, she was just a little girl touring in a dance duo with her father, Eduardo Cansino (left). An ambitious man of questionable moral character, Eduardo was determined to make something of himself, which he eventually vowed to do through his talented only daughter. However, he too had his day in the sun. Despite his lackluster human recommendations, Eduardo was a phenomenal dancer. When he moved his family of five to New York in the late 1910s, it was his effective feet that got him noticed. In fact, Rita's pop appeared in the movies long before Rita herself. He and his sister Elise were featured doing their tango in a special Warner Brothers exhibition that preceded the premiere of Don Juan, starring John Barrymore, in 1926. Eduardo also used to be one of the go-to choreographers for formerly extravagant film premieres, which at that time included more than just "light's out, start film." The massive pre-shows, with themes, costumed dancers, and actors, were almost as impressive as the increasingly awe-inspiring movies themselves. To make money for his family, in addition to giving dance instruction and continuing his regimental rehearsals with Rita, Eduardo directed many of these shows. Eduardo was such a recognized talent at the time that the likes of Fred Astaire and James Cagney were his fans. However, he never made it as a superstar. His last cinematic effort turned out to be the choreography he provided in Dante's Inferno, which Rita danced with partner Gary Leon in one of her first film performances.
 

...that Spike Lee is a copycat?
 

Well, that's putting it harshly... Let's just say that he made it clear that he was a Charles Laughton fan when he made an homage to the actor's sole directorial effort, Night of the Hunter, in his own Do the Right Thing. In Lee's film (1989), one of the main characters is the boom-box toting "Radio Raheem," who wears four-fingered rings on both of his hands that read alternately "Hate" and "Love." In a film centering around racial tension, prejudice, and the cataclysmic mayhem that misunderstanding can induce, the themes of man's inner and outer brutal battle between these two emotions is violently made. However, what few novices (cough, cough) know when watching this picture, is that the same imagery was used by Laughton 34 years earlier in Hunter. In 1955, Robert Mitchum starred as the murderous preacher conning his way through his latest batch of victims, whom he lures into his trust with his great orations of the eternal battle between good and evil. Tattooed on his fingers, which he balls into fists, are the self-same words "Love" and "Hate" (right). Another theme in this film more obviously broached is that between the evil that comes with knowledge versus the purity of innocence, displayed by the two child actors-- Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce--  who are left to combat Mitchum's Hellish monster. Clearly, Lee saw a bright idea and decided to marry it to his own opus. The use of the conflicting fists is effective in both films... but Laughton got there first!
 

...the identity of the Lady in Red?

 

Red has so many connotations. It indicates passion, romance, evil, anger, or even embarrassment. One thing's for sure, the fiery color tends to stand out. This is something Norma Shearer (left) knew very well, and she put it to use. At the 1936 Mayfair Ball, the dress code was specifically decreed as formal and white. Every one agreed to the stipulation and showed up bedecked in an assorted variety of white, off-white, egg-shell, etc. Everyone, that is, save for one. Norma conversely showed up in a sultry crimson gown! So impudent did many see the action that even the ever-mild and lighthearted Carole Lombard was left seeing red: "Who the f*ck does she think she is, the house madam?!" One can draw a parallel between the effect Norma caused and the stir that Bette Davis's character caused in Jezebel, when she showed up to a demure party in brazen scarlet, while everyone else was dressed in white. Of course, her character seemed to have a tinge of regret about her decision, which Bette indicated in her nervous, sidelong glances on the dance floor. Norma on the other hand??? It's pretty safe to say that she spent the whole night smiling and laughing at the uproar she was causing. Hey, the film business is tough. If you want to get to the top, you have to make your presence known. Norma's unstoppable ambition wasn't going to be ignored by anyone! With the combination of her chutzpah and her more than fortunate alliance to husband Irving Thalberg, Norma pretty much had fame and fortune in the bag. No wonder she made so many women heated... and so many men hot under the collar!