Frankly, My Dear: Gone with the Wind Revisited

ISBN 978-0-300-16437-4

The day Molly Haskell's Frankly, My Dear arrived, I was bursting with excitement. For one thing, it is written by Molly Haskell whom I admire for her candid analysis of movies while never losing sight of her love of films. Secondly, I have a very personal connection to Gone with the Wind (1939). My mom loved the movie--so much so that I am named after one of the characters. Watching Gone with the Wind was a momentous event in our household. To this day, I get shivers whenever I hear "Tara's Theme." In many ways, this emotional response is what Haskell's book is about: why the movie and corresponding novel have been embraced by the American public year after year and how the two have influenced society. 

Before purchasing the book, I researched the reviews. There were some complaints that this wasn't a book about the making of the film; however, knowing the author, I didn't expect it to be. That being said, Haskell does include interesting tidbits and anecdotes about the making of Gone with the Wind (hereafter referred to as GWTW) including the exhaustive search for the perfect Scarlett, Clark Gable and Leslie Howards's aversion to making the film (and what enticed them to do so), the amount of writers and directors the overzealous Selznick went through, and the final cost to produce the film ($4,250,000). I already knew most of these facts and suspect GWTW enthusiasts will as well. Point being that Frankly, My Dear is for someone who is looking for something beyond basic trivia.

After establishing the historical importance of GWTW--the first chapter is called "The American Bible"--Haskell discusses the similarity of the three principles: David Selznick (the producer), Vivien Leigh (the star), and Margaret Mitchell (the author of the novel). She describes their backgrounds, arguing that their ambition, internal conflicts, and intensity contribute to the success of the film.  Each had something to prove, to stoke the fire: Selznick to avenge a wrong against his father; Leigh to personify Scarlett in order to win the coveted role, then to complete the film and return to her beloved Olivier; and Mitchell to expose the hypocrisies of upper-crust Southern society. 

'20s flapper, '30s matron

Although Mitchell did not like the insincerity of high society, she was not willing to abandon her South for Hollywood. In the chapter, "Finding the Road to Ladyhood Hard," Haskell explores the conflicts which plagued the author and thereby shaped the novel and movie. Haskell describes Mitchell as an "outsider/insider" (123). She was both tomboy and Southern lady, a free-spirited flapper and settled society matron, a social butterfly and recluse. Mitchell resisted and then surrendered to the Southern ideal of womanhood. This tug-of-war on her identity is present in GWTW through the virtuous Melanie, who was Mitchell's intended herione, and the scandalous Scarlett, who is the embodiment of Mitchell's rebellious side, too strong to keep subdued on the sidelines. 

Under the guise of  demure Southern lady, Scarlett "gets away with [nonconformity] in a way that is rare, not to say unprecedented in movies, given a double standard that generally grants such immunity only to the male of the species" (98). New concepts of womanhood are allowed to emerge. Haskell points out that Scarlett lacks a maternal instinct (shown more completely in the book than on screen) and rebuffs the idealization of marriage: "'Marriage fun?' replies a disbelieving Scarlett. She's not buying" (102). Additionally, the backdrop of war and Reconstruction makes it possible for the genteel Southern woman to show strength and take on the 'masculine' qualities of leadership and self-preservation:

The woman who wanted nothing more than a shoulder to lean on has become, by default, the mainstay, the authority figure upon whom others must lean. (94)

Men's roles are also transformed in GWTW. Typically reserved for women, the categorization of virgin and whore can be applied to the leading men of GWTW. Female viewers are given the choice between Ashley, "the wan and perfect blonde" and Rhett, "the lustrous and passionate brunette" (185). Additionally, the idea of the handsome hero going off to war is called into question. Haskell argues that the manly heroes of D.W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation (1915) become weaklings in GWTW. They go off to play a game of war while women face the true hardships of home. From the mouth of Scarlett:

"Fighting is like champagne. It goes to the heads of cowards as quickly as of heroes. Any fool can be brave on the battle field when it's be brave or else be killed." (194)

Haskell contends GWTW "is genuinely antiwar"--once the battle field's "adrenaline rush of violence" is removed, the reality of war sets in (201).

An analysis of GWTW would be incomplete without considering the portrayal of the African American experience. Haskell acknowledges Mitchell's guilt of painting "slavery with a happy face" (209). At the same time, though, the film challenged the prevailing thought that African Americans were aggressive and dangerous as was portrayed in Griffith's Birth of a Nation. Haskell explains that,

With Mitchell, the taint of slavery was transmogrified into harmonious cohabitation, a hierarchy [...] in which the white trash Slatterys were far more lazy, noxious, and parasitic than Negroes, especially the house 'darkies,' who look down on the field hands [...] (209) 

Haskell brings her own experience of being both Southern (born and raised) and Northerner (her current home) to explain the inability for people outside of the South to understand the interdependent relationship between blacks and whites, which is shown in the book and film, where they "complement and complete each other in important ways, their intimacy a fact of life" (210). The thought reminds me of the recent novel The Help (2009) in which the young white children, particularly the main character, have a special relationship with the black women who care for them. The author of The Help, also a Southerner, and Haskell seem to share a special understanding elusive to those not from the South.

Hattie McDaniel

Haskell points out that current film scholars agree that despite the obvious racism, there is much to applaud in "the strength of the black presence at a time when there were few roles of color at all" (211). Unfortunately for Hattie McDaniel, who played Mammy, the NAACP did not see the film in this light. Although she won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress--the first awarded to an African American, the head of the NAACP attacked McDaniel for betraying her race. She also faced racial discrimination when her invitation to the premiere in Atlanta was rescinded, and when she was not allowed to sit at the white cast members' table at the Oscars. Nonetheless, McDaniel's role was one of vital significance, and Haskell purports that GWTW "contains unusually finely drawn portraits of blacks who are given voices, humor, and importance" (209).

 ...

Frankly, My Dear was a light, quick read. Enjoyable. Definitely for those who love the film and/or the novel. Haskell explores the many messages put forth by the movie, but also provides insight into the effects of the various directors, writers, set designers, cinematographers, and actors.  She looks at why the American public is so enamored with the movie, and how the movie became the institution it currently is. I can't wait to read this book again.
 
 This is my final submission to the:

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Just for fun, here is a video of screen tests:

 

A Tribute to Lauren Bacall

The movie that introduced me to Lauren Bacall was The Big Sleep (1946). I was twelve and didn't have an inkling as to what was going on. Since then, I've seen the movie over a dozen times. I still am not completely positive on what is occurring, but according to many film critics' analyses, I'm not in the minority. Regardless of my level of understanding, I fell in love with the film. More specifically, I fell in love with Lauren Bacall. 

I was drawn to her. Her throaty voice. The way she was tough, yet exuded sexiness at the same time (her wiggle dance at the end of To Have and Have Not (1944) is a fabulous example of this - see below). She had an edge. She was dangerous, a little bit bad but not unforgivingly so. Here was a woman who was flesh and blood, not categorized as virgin or victim. Here was a woman I wanted to grow up and become.

 

Bogart, Bacall, and Sinatra

She also had swagger--there was no doubt she could keep up with the boys (and growing up the only girl among boys, this was an extremely important characteristic in my young eyes). My later discovery that she--along with hubby Bogie--was one of the original members of the Rat Pack only confirmed my suspicion that she could hang with the boys. 

All this and she had style too. My college years introduced me to such classics as How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) and Designing Woman (1957), in which fashion took center stage. I was often so engrossed in the fashion of these films that I forgot to follow the plot. Oh that gorgeous purple and white number with those incredibly impractical, yet breathtakingly beautiful puff sleeves! Yes, this was a woman I wished to emulate.

Visit GlamAmor for more on this film's fashion.

So when the news came that she had passed, I couldn't help but be filled with sorrow. And when TCM shows their tribute clip to her, my eyes water (should I be embarrassed by this?). I know she was 89, a good age with a full life. But there was something special about Lauren Bacall. She was my hero, my role model. The only consolation in her death is the knowledge that she is reunited with her Bogie at last. 

The legendary Bogie and Bacall - Source

Lauren Bacall's aforementioned "wiggle dance"

Double Standards in the Bedroom

A few months ago, I discovered Sunday in New York (1963), a gem of a film that questions society's dividing line between madonna and whore. In less than ten minutes, Sunday in New York cuts to the chase when Eileen (Jane Fonda) asks her older brother Adam (Cliff Robertson), 

"Is a girl that's been going around with a fella a reasonable length of time supposed to go to bed with him or not?"

Her brother gives an emphatic no, so she rephrases the question. "Is she expected to?"

Despite being the virtuous girl, the madonna, Eileen's long time beau has dropped her because she wouldn't--to use the lingo of the movie--loosen her morals. This isn't the first time she has lost a boy for this reason. So what will big brother say--big brother who has intimate flings unbeknownst to sister? I bet you can guess.

"Men marry decent girls."   

And how exactly did we know this would be his answer in spite of his own amorous activities? Because when it comes to the bedroom, Hollywood has taught us there is a double standard between men and women. While men are allowed, nay, expected to sow their oats, women concern themselves with maintaining their reputations and reforming their wayward men. 

Consider the worldly Rock Hudson characters to Doris Day's virginal ones, 

"You are my inspiration..."
 from Pillow Talk (1959) - Source

Fred MacMurray's bureau full of pictures in Millionaire for Christy (1951),

Frank Sinatra's parade of women in The Tender Trap (1955), 

and when Jean/Lady Eve (Barbara Stanwyck) wants to punish Charles (Henry Fonda), she knows the surest way is to marry him and then reveal an unholy history. 

Lady Eve lists her many (invented) paramours 
in The Lady Eve (1941).

It is through her virtue, that a woman wins the grand prize: marriage (granted the pursuit of marriage as an end goal is a bit dated--although if the wedding industry is any indictor, we remain a marriage-centric society). Eileen has found the message false; she has been virtuous and "lost quite a boy." She questions the black-and-whiteness of labels:

"The catch is in the word decent. It seems to have a comparative connotation. Like the girl who was a little bit pregnant."

Indeed, the decade prior saw plenty of girls arrive at the alter "a little bit pregnant" (National Vital Statistics), suggesting that sometimes "decent" girls give in.  

When Eileen discovers her brother's hypocrisy, she attempts a fling of her own with an unsuspecting stranger, Mike Mitchell (Rod Taylor). Mike--like her brother--has had experience with women, but when he finds out Eileen is a "beginner," he won't go through with the seduction. He explains that there are two kinds of girls, and she doesn't belong in the group who has "affairs." 

Ah yes, the dichotomy of the female race. A quick gander at Saved! (2004) or Easy A (2010) will illustrate that Sunday in New York retains its relevance. No matter how far we say we've come from the 1960s, the truth remains that women are still divided into two categories. And while Sunday in New York goes easy on the language, we know that one group of gals receives derogatory titles based on their sexual activities whereas men are not so classified. Or if they are, it is done by taking a female derogatory term and adding "male" to the front of it. Point being, there is no male-exclusive equivalent. The double standard. 

The movie attempts to break free from pigeon-holing women into two types. And in some ways, it does. On the sidelines,   Mona (Jo Morrow) is perfectly willing and eager to meet Adam for one of their romantic jaunts; it is evident she is not a beginner. A series of comical mishaps prevent their affair, and by the end of the evening, Mona gets what every girl wants (according to another message in the movies) from Adam: a proposal of marriage. It may seem to be a result of staying chaste this particular Sunday, but she is virtuous through no fault of her own. Remember Adam's words earlier in the film? 

"Men marry decent girls." 

In his proposal, the movie redefines "decent." 

Eileen also gets the boy. While the voiceover at the end of the movie would have the audience believe that "nice things [...] happen to a girl if she remains virtuous even on a rainy Sunday in New York," we know it was not through Eileen's own doing that she remains virtuous. There is a hint that she may not make it through the night. We last see her in a passionate embrace with her new fiancé. The room is dark and they are wearing only pajamas. 

In his February 1964 review of the film, Bosley Crowther comments that Sunday in New York, in the light of "the past 10 years, [where] the once-unmentionable has been discussed at almost tedious length in films," is "a wee bit old-hat." Old hat is the voiceover; however, if you look closely at the peripheral and peek around the corner, there is a new message trying to break through. 

Doris Day: The Untold Story of the Girl Next Door

ISBN 978-0-7535-1809-0

In 2008, Virgin Books released David Kaufman's biography of the quintessential girl next door, Doris Day. The book is over 500 pages long (tiny print), but given the length of Doris Day's successful career--ranging from singing to acting to advocating and spanning over five decades--any book worth its salt would have to be biblical in proportion to other stars' biographies. Day not only recorded hundreds of hit songs and starred in dozens of films (appearing in 39 total), she was also a cultural icon, representative of the ideal American woman in the '40s, '50s, and early '60s. She retains the distinction of being the number one female box-office star of all time, faltering only when America's social mores evolved and her image did not.  

Kaufman's book delivers; it is a comprehensive account of Doris Day's life, which was much more complex than the sunny image she projected on screen. Although the world associated her with the virginal all-American good girl, she had already survived an abusive marriage, given birth, and divorced twice before she ever arrived in Hollywood.

Day singing for Les Brown's band

 She was also an established singer, who had found great success performing with Les Brown's band with such hits as "My Dreams Are Getting Better All the Time" (1944), "You Won't Be Satisfied" (1945), and most notably "Sentimental Journey" (1945). She was popular among soldiers--including a then unknown Rock Hudson--"join[ing] the ranks of Betty Grable, Rita Hayworth, and Dorothy Lamour as one of their favorite pin-ups" (39). Here was not the pristine Day that America would come to know. As Oscar Levant once remarked, "I knew Doris Day before she was a virgin" (399).

Publicity photo from
Romance on High Seas

 Once in Hollywood, she was a natural in front of the camera. Her first film performance in Romance on the High Seas (1948) scored predominately positive reviews. Marty Melcher, who worked with her agent at Century Artists, took note and soon after became both her manager and third husband. The result was more of a business partnership than marriage.  Kaufman quotes many people who observed that Melcher treated Day like a commodity, and several speculated that he wanted to hitch himself to her rising star. To be fair, Kaufman balances this information with Day's own comments which are confirmed with others' accounts that the relationship was mutually beneficial: "'Marty had no desire to be a celebrity, and Doris had no desire to sign the checks'" (283). Out of Melcher's managership emerged Day's carefully coiffed image of the wholesome all-American girl:

Day circa 1955 - Source

Kaufman provides brief descriptions of movie plots; i.e. doesn't go overboard as some biographers do, which allows him to focus on how Melcher created the Doris Day persona and how she, in turn, became a cultural icon. Melcher insisted on final approval of media (no approval = no interview with his famous wife), strategically selected Day's film roles, and arranged promotional activities to keep Day in front of the public. For an example of how specific Kaufman gets, consider this promotional detail: a $3.98 album featuring two songs from Lover Come Back "could be 'yours for only $1 and 2 larger crowns from the fronts of 2 Imperial [butter] packages'" (299).

Doris Day paper dolls - perfect
promotion of her films and fashion

He also includes information on movie budgets (Day's numerous costumes notwithstanding--after all, her beautiful clothes were a big part of her image), behind the scene decisions, and public opinion. By including such information, Kaufman transports the reader to another time when Day reigned. 

Day, a workaholic, became all product. She was the sunshine girl at all times. If she didn't like a hairdresser or camera man, Melcher would take care of it and she would smile on. If she didn't like a question or comment, she ignored it as though the words had never been spoken.

Top: Day as Ruth Etting
Bottom: Day as a terrified
wife in Midnight Lace

On occasion, glimpses of the real turmoil beneath the image-- the tip of a large iceberg hidden in the water--came through in the form of a film role.  Such was the case in the role Day herself believed to be her greatest performance: Ruth Etting in Love Me or Leave Me (1955).  There were several similarities between the real life Etting and Day: both were singers, both had husbands who beat them (Day's first husband), both had husbands who were managers and tirelessly "promoting and exploiting [their wive's] natural talents" (184). If Day was incredible as the made up girl next door, she was ten times as great playing a character who resembled herself. In Midnight Lace (1960), a film that Melcher insisted his wife undertake despite her apprehension, Day again tapped into fears she would have preferred to have kept bottled up. When Day becomes hysterical in the movie, "'[...] that isn't acting. She really means it'" the director, David Miller, observed (273). 

But for the most part the real Day remained submerged beneath the publicity, film roles, fancy outfits, and confident smile. She was plagued with insecurities,  unable to watch the film rushes or to perform in front of a live audience or orchestra after her initial band days. Everyone wanted something from her, and she had a history of misplacing trust: Day's first husband abused her; her third husband exploited her; her lawyer attempted to abscond with her fortune; and her fourth husband involved her in a pyramid pet food franchise scheme. While Day befriended and maintained  superficial relationships with many of her fans and the people with whom she worked, she found it difficult to truly get close to anyone. Her relationship with her son Terry--the one person with whom she should have been close--was in her words, more akin to a "brother and sister" (42). While she played the perfectly devoted and loving mother on her television show, her grown son wept backstage for "the love and attention she never gave him" (411). Day, who brought so much joy to the rest of the world, could not find happiness for herself--at least not by way of people. Instead, she preferred her pets: 

"I love people and animals--though not necessarily in that order," Day also told Stu Schreiberg for the article. "I've never met an animal I didn't like and I can't say the same thing about people." (514)  

Courtesy of DDAF

After divorcing her fourth husband, she moved to Carmel where, to this day, she happily houses dozens of dogs and cats. She returned to TV in the '80s only to promote pet health and care on Doris Day's Best Friends. She continues to be an advocate for animals through the Doris Day Animal Foundation.  

Kaufman is thorough in his research for this biography. He gathers information from a variety of sources, including interviews from a multitude of people who worked with Day over the years. He diligently presents both positive and negative perspectives of Day, her work, her husbands, and her relationships with colleagues and employees. He also includes Day's opinion, pulling from the biography on which she worked with A.R. Hotchner (Doris Day: Her Own Story - 1975) and her interviews with the media through the years. He is meticulous in giving the context of her statements, so one might consider the motivations behind them, and making corrections when her timeline is mistaken. 

There is so much more to the book than I can possibly include here. Kaufman sprinkles interesting tidbits throughout, bringing the reader into a bygone era. He includes quotes from fan magazines, gives the reader a glance at early product placements in That Touch of Mink (1962), and chronicles how the Manson murders where connected to Doris Day via her son (her son being a target, not a murderer). Because Day was such a significant figure in American culture, Kaufman's book essentially becomes a time capsule of Hollywood history.

Doris Day in the 1960s - Source

One final thought. Day came to regret and wanted to distance herself from her virginal image. It is humorous that this definitive biography of her life is published by a company with 'virgin' in the title: Virgin Books. She just can't escape the association. But you know what? I kind of enjoy that image--even if it is make believe.

This review has been part of the: 

Hosted by Raquel Stecher at
Out of the Past

If you could be a TCM Guest Programmer...

Yesterday's TCM Facebook feed asked what movies we would choose given the opportunity to be a Guest Programmer. I thought, Oh yeah, I've got this. That is until it dawned on me that Guest Programmers only choose four movies. Four movies? How could any lover of classic movies choose only four movies???

A self-proclaimed organizational nerd (and proud of it), I opened up a Word doc and began to list personal favorites as well as those that anyone new to old movies should see (the educator coming out in me). My thoughts raced. Every golden decade ('30s-'60s) should be represented. A screwball comedy should be there. And everyone should see the fabulous pairing of Fred and Ginger. 

Oh and a musical. A bonafide, all out, glorious Technicolor, dance routines and catchy songs musical. And what about Hitchcock? 

Hitchcock definitely deserves a place. And the list needs to be rounded out by a '60s sex comedy. Not to mention some of the movies I love just because. The narrowing down of the list, movie versus movie, began to look like my hubby's Super Bowl bracket and still I was not satisfied. It was a case of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie: 

if you give a gal a choice of four movies, she's going to want to add another musical. If she adds another musical, she's going to want to add a film noir. Add if she's adds a film noir, she will be taking over TCM's programming for a day (or two).

Fortunately in this little corner of the internet, my list can encompass more than four films. For readers who are new to classic films, here is a list to get you started. And for those of you who have mileage under your belt, I'm interested in hearing your input. So without much further ado, here are a dozen recommendations:

Pre-code - Made prior to the Hays Code, which strictly censored movies from mid '30s to early '60s. For the new viewer these movies will appear shockingly modern in their content. (Confession: I'm relatively new to these, so the pool of movies I'm pulling from is rather small.)

1. Consolation Marriage (1931) - Story focuses on a marriage not for love, but for convenience with the mindset that divorce is an option at any time (yet the wife gets pregnant, which means this non-loving couple must have...gasp!). Features: Irene Dunne's first starring role and blonde pre-Thin Man Myrna Loy,  unfortunately not available on DVD 

2. Finishing School (1934) - Story was written prior to but released after strict enforcement of Hays Code, so some of the 'naughtiness' is implied rather than straight out told. Drinking ladies, pre-marital sex, and abortion are some of the taboo subjects hinted upon in this film. Features: Ginger Rogers in an early non-dancing role

Screwball Comedy - Known for its crazy antics, it will require you to suspend belief, but if you play along, oh the fun you will have! 

3. Bringing Up Baby (1938) - This is the quintessential screwball comedy with non-stop sticky situations and laughter waiting around every corner. Features: the great Kate Hepburn and debonaire Cary Grant (two very important Golden Age stars)

And this is only part of the fun...

Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers - The greatest dance team ever to grace the celluloid deserves their own category. (For the greatest single dance routine, see Astaire and Eleanor Powell tapping to "Begin the Beguine" in Broadway Melody of 1940.) 

4. Follow the Fleet (1936) - When it comes to this team, you can't go wrong with any of their pairings, so I went with my favorite. Why am I partial to this one? Nautical theme (I may have a few rooms decorated in said motif *wink *wink), message of the songs "Let Yourself Go" (yes, everyone should dance!) and "Let's Face the Music and Dance" (again dancing is the answer--can you tell I like to dance?? sure it's metaphorical, but it doesn't have to be--just look at Fred and Ginger), and fabulous '30s fashion. I could go on, but this is getting a little long.  Features: Betty Grable and Lucille Ball before they were famous, Harriet before she was Harriet Nelson, and pre-cowboy Randolph Scott

World War II Films - Okay, so I created this category just so I can include two of my all-time favorites. From film to fashion, I am a little obsessed with this time period.  

5. Casablanca (1942) - I hate to be cliche, but this is simply the greatest movie ever made. I'm a dialogue person and this movie doesn't waste one word. Every line adds to the characters' relationships and pushes the plot forward. The film leaves the audience with a great message that stretches beyond war propaganda and into any era: do the right thing no matter what the personal costs. And then there's that lovely last line, which if you think about it, is really redefining 'family' and in so doing offers hope despite the tears. 

6. More the Merrier (1943) - From drama to comedy... I saw this movie for the first time several years ago and laughed the whole way through. Watch for the hilarious doorstep scene when Joel McCrea's and Jean Arthur's characters are necking; it's like he has eight arms and she's battling to keep them off her. (I'm sure many a girl can relate.) Of course, she's only resisting because she has a fiancé. In the end...well, you can imagine what happens. [Side note - Turns out McCrea was a total hunk when he was younger. Who knew?] Features: suggestive split screen over fifteen years prior to Pillow Talk's famous scene

From More the Merrier

Hitchcock - Must see because everyone should know why Hitchcock is known as the Master of Suspense.

7. Lifeboat (1944) - This is another category where you really can't go wrong with the Hitch movie you choose. This lesser known film is one of my favorites. Why? For one thing, I've always identified with Tallulah Bankhead's character: a tough writer who arms herself with a typewriter and lipstick. She even finds a little romance before the closing credits (or rather, romance finds her...by now you may sense that I'm a sucker for romance). The whole movie takes place in a boat with an array of characters who normally would not associate with each other. Awesome set up and the first of its kind. The viewer wonders, How is Hitch going to pull off a story with such a limited setting? And more importantly, how is he going to make his legendary cameo? Well, it works and he does, but you're going to have to watch the film to find out how. 

Film Noir - Crime drama known for detectives, femme fatales, and stylized black and white cinematography. I might have some backlash from movie buffs on my choices here. These are just my personal favorites. Other films I considered: The Big Sleep (1946), The Blue Dahlia (1946) and The Third Man (1949).

8. Double Indemnity (1944) - Barbara Stanwyck not only pulls Fred MacMurray into her web, but also the viewer. This was the first movie I saw where I realized I was rooting for the bad guy. Reality check. But I bet you will too. [Side note - Growing up watching Fred MacMurray in reruns of "My Three Sons" and Disney movies such as The Shaggy Dog, I was surprised to find out he was kind of sexy - see Millionaire for Christy (1951) for further example of said sexiness.] 

9. Gilda (1946) - It's worth the view if only to understand what Rita Hayworth meant when she famously said, "Men fell in love with Gilda, but they wake up with me." The role haunted her for the rest of her life, becoming a factor in her downward spiral as she tried to cope with the image it helped create. There is a love triangle in the movie, killer lines, and of course, Rita at her sexiest. The fiery relationship between Glenn Ford's and Rita's characters as well as the one between Ford's and George Macready's lends itself to some interesting discussions for those of us who love to analyze films. Watch for Rita's rendition of "Put the Blame on Mame" sung only to the washroom attendant. She acts it (I say "acts" because her singing voice was actually dubbed) with such sadness, you can't help but feel that her character personally knows what it is like to have blame misplaced on her. There is a lot more going on than meets the eye.

Musical Comedy - Show tunes generally with a light, fluffy plot. Sunshine in a film canister. The stuff happiness is made of.

Cyd and Kelly--what a dance routine!
Look at those lines!

10. Singin' in the Rain (1952) - This has it all: vibrant Technicolor; brilliant dance routines featuring Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, Donald O'Connor, and Cyd Charisse;  fabulous songs; plenty of comedy and a strong plot that recounts early Hollywood's transition to talkies. Jean Hagen is not too shabby either (you'll know what I mean when you see it).  

11. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) - I love this musical for sentimental reasons--it's a old favorite that my mom and I watch every time she's in town (or I'm over there). Listen to the lyrics; they  are incredibly funny and there is a lot of truth to them. While my mom was chuckling when Marilyn Monroe pointed to her derriere and sang, "Men grow cold/As girls grow old/And we all lose our charm in the end" (and after a few kids, I can appreciate the humor), we both understood the meaning behind, "Then someone broke my heart in Little Rock/So I up and left the pieces there [...] I came New York/And I found out/That men are the same way everywhere."  This spot on the movie list is all about passing on the fun from my mom and me to you.

Sixties Sex Comedy - Everybody is talking about sex in these movies, but nobody is having it.

12. Lover Come Back (1961) - This follow up to the successful Pillow Talk (1959), has Doris Day once again being duped by Rock Hudson's character. Fun because we know what Hudson really means when he tells Day's character, "I'm taking you in" complete with a big fish eating a little fish in the background--if you've missed this, look for it the next time you watch this film. Features: fab fashion like its predecessor, beautifully designed apartment (take note: yellows and whites with red and blue accents--even Day's outfits in the apartment match), Ann B. Davis (better known as Alice in "The Brady Bunch"), and Tony Randall  

This list is by no means complete. I know a western should be there somewhere and probably a campy sci-fi as well. I could have  included several holiday movies, but that is easily a list of its own (on which would be three notable names missing from this one--Jimmy Stewart, Judy Garland, and Bing Crosby), so I've saved that for another day.

Oh and those four choices? It wasn't easy, but I finally made up my mind and posted them--for better or worse--to TCM. What would your four be?