Dancing Legs Quiz ~ June Edition

Getting in just under the wire, here are dance routines which debuted in June of their release years. (Some premiered, others were wide-released in the month.) Guess whose legs these are. Then give yourself a bonus if you can name the movie.

1)

2)

Hint: June premiere in Miami

Pre-code Portrayals of Taxi Dancers

This is part of the Classic Movie History Project Blogathon hosted by Movies Silently, Silver Screenings, and Once Upon a Screen and sponsored by Flicker Alley. To read more amazing posts covering film history, click here.

Note: There will be spoilers in this post.

Since the beginning, dance has been a part of the movies. Dance hall girls in particular can be found in films as early as the 1910s with such pictures as Should a Wife Forgive? (1915) and One Touch of Sin (1917). Films such as the Joan Crawford's Taxi Dancer (1927)--her first top billing by the way--reflected the dance hall's evolution into a dime-a-dance establishment. At ten cents a song, dance hall patrons could select the "hostess" with whom they wanted to dance. (Employees were typically women, but there was the occasional establishment with male hosts. These would not make it to film.) Because their time was "rented" much like one might rent a taxi, these women were referred to as taxi dancers. For a society that had only recently accepted the idea of a man holding a woman closely in his arms while dancing, paying to do so was scandalous--a hop, skip, and jump away from prostitution. And yet it wasn't. Dance halls provided filmmakers a setting just dangerous enough to tantalize their audience but safe enough to show on screen without public protest.

In terms of taxi dancers and societal attitudes, two pre-code films that are interesting to consider are Columbia's Ten Cents a Dance (1931) and Warner Brothers' Two Seconds (1932). Released within a year of each other, they give distinctly different portrayals of dime-a-dance gals.

A little music to get you in the mood. 

The song was written for Ziegfeld's Broadway musical, Simple Simon. 

The musical was not a success. The song, on the other hand, was. 

Ten Cents a Dance (1931)

Ten Cents a Dance was inspired by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart's song of the same name. Written from a taxi dancer's perspective, Hart's lyrics bemoan the trials of the profession. Traces of the song can easily be found in the film resulting in a sympathetic portrait of the dime-a-dance girl.

The film gets straight to the point with Barbara O'Neill (Barbara Stanwyck) standing at the edge of a dance floor appearing bored. A sailor picks her up for a dance. He brags that his paycheck comes in tomorrow, but she is not impressed. Clearly he is not the first to try this line on her. She leaves the floor, claiming that she is wanted on the phone. In the back room, Barbara meets the new girl (Sally Blane, better known as Loretta Young's sister) who is confused by the matron's instructions on how to dance:

She told me to be very careful. And yet she sort of gave me the idea she wanted me to be not so careful. She told me...uh...well to be intimate, intimate but ladylike.

Barbara listens but doesn't offer an explanation. (Is this a case of ignorance is bliss--no matter how temporary?) In the next scene, she meets Bradley Carlton (Ricardo Cortez), a customer who gave her $100 just for sitting with him. For him, she breaks down the matron's job:

She's got to keep the place hot enough to avoid bankruptcy and cold enough to avoid raids.

Ah, now the audience understands. The goal of the dime girl is to live up to standards that contradict each other and therefore are impossible to meet.

In case there were any doubts as to what went on behind the $100, Barbara reiterates that she can't figure out Brad because after visiting the dance hall three times, he hasn't once propositioned her. In other words, propositions are a daily nuisance in the life of a taxi dancer. 

It seems like a Cinderella story: the poor gal who works at a dance hall because her "brains are in [her] feet" meets the wealthy man who gives away money without asking for anything in return. If it were that simple though, there wouldn't be a movie. 

Stanwyck via DoctorMacro

Barbara has already given away her heart to a neighbor, Eddie Miller (Monroe Owsley), though he doesn't know it. She also gives her $100 to him when she discovers he is in a jam. Eddie accepts the cash. The two go on a picnic the next day and he asks about her job. Ashamed, she keeps her profession a secret, telling him that she is a dance instructor. The subject is dropped and Eddie calls her an angel. The way Stanwyck repeats the word quietly, almost to herself, shows that this may be the first time her character has been called the term in earnest. Her ears are accustomed to the harsher words of dance hall patrons. In this one moment, Stanwyck is able to show us why her character has fallen for this parasite. 

When Eddie finds out where Barbara actually works, he is outraged. He calls the place a "dump" and expresses disgust in the notion that any man could hold her for ten cents. (Ironically, he didn't begin to show affection towards Barbara until after she had given him money.) Barbara tries to explain that the dance hall isn't as bad as he thinks. Eddie will have none of it and indirectly proposes marriage. She consents, which means she needs to break it off with Brad for good.

The dialogue that most closely resembles Rodger and Hart's song comes by way of Barbara's good-bye to Brad. Before they part, she describes what it's like dancing with taxi hall patrons:

He mauls you around and steps on your toes and tears your dresses and breaths into your face. He has a pocket full of dimes and only one idea in his head.

Barbara will not miss her job. 

Oh, and if audience failed to catch it the first two times, Barbara repeats, "When you gave me that $100, it was the first time in my life I ever took something for nothing." The writers want to drive the idea home, yet the statement also implies that maybe not all of her dances have been so innocent.

Eddie turns out to be a good-for-nothing gambler and cheater who won't admit he is married. He stays out late and is verbally abusive to Barbara. When there is not enough money to pay the bills, she secretly goes back to work at the hall. The signs are there, but Barbara doesn't discover Eddie's true character until the end. When she does, she gives him the heave-ho with words that bite, delivering the lines as only Stanwyck can:

You're not a man. You're not even a good sample.

She reunites with Brad, her "prince" (to use the words in Hart's lyrics). The message of this tale? Maybe the best place to meet your ideal mate is on the dance floor. Well, at least don't be too hasty to rule it out. Anything is possible.

Two Seconds (1932)

Where Ten Cents a Dance tells the woes of taxi dancers, Two Seconds warns of their danger. The film is told in flashback as the main character is executed in an electric chair. The narrative is based on the premise that in the time it takes to be electrocuted (two seconds), one's entire life can flash before his or her eyes. The film does a magnificent job utilizing sound to periodically remind the audience that a man is being electrocuted. As scenes transition, sounds mimic the chair's surging electricity: the buzzing of a drill, pounding of a drum, fizzing of a soda machine, squealing of a radio, humming of a fan. Brilliant.

The story tells of the demise of John Allen (Edward G. Robinson), a working class Joe who represents the everyman. He may not be rich, but he has money in the bank, food on the table, and lofty ideals. He doesn't gamble or waste time on "dames" like his careless roommate, Bud Clark (Preston Foster, who reprised his role from the Broadway play). This changes when John's path crosses with a taxi dancer named Shirley Day (Vivienne Osborne).

At first, Shirley appears similar to Barbara O'Neill. The audience witnesses what Barbara only alluded to in Ten Cents: a dance patron "mauls" Shirley and claims she owes it to him because he paid a dime to dance with her. (I love her witty retort, "You paid to dance with your feet, not your hands." You tell 'em, Shirley!) The hall manager apologizes to the patron and sends her back onto the floor with John who has accidentally wandered into the hall. John tells Shirley how she seems different from the others. She thinks he is feeding her line, revealing how common it is for men to try to trick her into bed. While John gets more tickets, another patron attempts to "play around" with her. Though it is already evident that she can take care of herself, John feels the need to rescue her, punching the guy. Shirley gets fired.

John takes her to a soda shop, where he sums up his righteous opinion about her profession:

That's what's the trouble with your job. You know, it makes a guy think you're...well, what he said you were. You hadn't outta work there anymore.

Shirley insists she is "decent" and explains that she can make more money working at the hall than any other career. (Research shows this is true.) She tells of sick parents whom she supports and mentions that she is scared about "being all alone in New York without any money." Up to this point, Shirley has been a fairly sympathetic character. Something is fishy though when she begins the damsel in distress act and perks up upon hearing about John's steady paycheck. It is significant to note that Barbara of Ten Cents was not swayed by money. Maybe the two characters are not as similar as originally thought to be... 

Seeing that John is impressed by an education, Shirley spins a yarn about wanting to go back to night school, but refuses John's offer to get her a job in a factory. She explains, "Oh no, that wouldn't give me time to study." Suspicion confirmed. Osborne's taxi dancer is the polar opposite of Stanwyck's. She is everything the audience had ever heard about dime-a-dance girls. And perhaps worse.

I know your kind. And so do lots of other guys, I bet. 

Bud sizes Shirley up in no time. Apparently it takes one sleaze to know another. (Earlier in the film, Bud has no qualms cheating on his steady.) At the same time, we are not meant to feel that Bud is all that sleazy. His faults are forgiven, Shirley's are not. Double standard.

Shirley sees to it that she gets hitched to John...and his $62.50 a week. Her spot in the sun is short lived, however, when John loses his job and goes a little crazy (it's a long story; check out Kristina's excellent review of the film here for the 411 on what happened). Like Barbara, Shirley has to go back to work at the dance hall to support her husband. Unlike the Ten Cents character, she has no problem flaunting this in her husband's face. She enjoys the power that comes with being the breadwinner. Another reason she stays married to him? 

I've found out that a missus can get away with things that a miss can't. 

The line is a slap across the face and makes sure we know she's rotten to the core. Our sympathy is supposed to lay with John who is facing a fate worse than death: living off his wife's dirty dance hall money. To make things right, he murders her then explains to the judge,"I sunk as low as a guy could get." To be clear, he's not talking about the murder. 

John has completely lost it, and we know whom to blame: Beauty. If she had only stayed home and wallowed in poverty along side him, everything would have been okay. Watching Robinson's intense dramatics, the audience begins to fully comprehend what a grievous sin Shirley has committed. Let this be a warning to the little ladies of the house: Don't do this to your husband!  

Vivienne Osborne (from the movie trailer)

And yet I still feel kind of sorry for the dame that was shot...


Lessons Learned

If you really want to get your hubby mad, work in a dance hall. Better yet, support him with the money from said hall. Use this information at your own discretion. 

Just kidding....

Taxi Dancer (Life Mag, 1937)

In all seriousness, though, the audience learns the evil of dance halls. Both films reveal that society viewed this type of establishment as a "dump" (the term used in both movies) that no decent girl would want to work in. 

On the other hand, a gal could make a good living out of being a dance hostess. Money meant more power and independence. Virtuous or rotten, these working women, who could pay the bills and buy nice clothes without the aid of men, were threats to the male ego. Which begs the question, is this why dance halls were portrayed negatively at a time when jobs were scarce?  

Sources

AFI Catalog of Feature Films. Web. 25 June 2015.

Cressy, Paul Goalby. The Taxi-Dance Hall: A Socialization Study in Commercialized Recreation & City Life. 1932. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008. Web. 14 March 2015.

Mordden, Ethan. Make Believe: The Broadway Musical in the 1920s.  New York: Oxford University Press, 1997.

Hope: Entertainer of the Century

ISBN 978-1-4391-4027-7

Last November I was fortunate enough to win a copy of Hope by Richard Zoglin from Aurora at Once Upon a Screen. I spent the next six months slowly consuming the book. (This has nothing to do with the writing, which is superb. I'm just a busy gal during the school year.) I was hoping the biography would grant a peek behind Hope's comedic mask, perhaps uncovering what made him tick, what dreams may have gone unrealized, what inner demons plagued him, and what served as his daily inspiration. None of this was revealed, but not through the author's fault. If Hope had deeper aspects of his persona, he kept them well hidden from his closest friends and family. With Hope, what you saw is what you got: an entertainer through and through. He was on the go 24/7, the poster child of workalcoholics.

But oh what a poster child! Hope worked hard to achieve success, and successful he was--in every medium he touched. Therefore, Zoglin's biography becomes a study on the evolution of entertainment over the last century. Hope worked his way up through vaudeville, landing on Broadway. While on stage, he began dabbling in radio where his show would eventually reach first place in the Hooper ratings. On the silver screen, his movies were box-office hits regardless of the strength of the material. He wrote several books, finding himself on the bestseller list multiple times. In television, his specials would garner record-breaking Nielsen ratings year after year.

Part of Hope's success can be attributed to his revolutionary vision, which Zoglin details throughout the biography. Hope was the first to hire a team of writers devoted to developing his material--a common practice now but unheard of in the 1930s.  He had the foresight to research the locale of upcoming venues (via his writers, whom he would send ahead of time), so his jokes would be relatable to the audience. He took "Thanks for the Memories," the song he performed in The Big Broadcast of 1938, and turned it into a "branding tool" by reworking the lyrics to fit his radio and USO appearances, forever bonding his name with the tune. He pioneered breaking the fourth wall in films, a comedic device that made the audience feel a special connection with the comedian--like they were in on the joke with him. And this was the other part of Hope's success: his ability to create a pseudo intimate relationship with his viewers and listeners (and I'm not talking about his many extra-martial dalliances which Zoglin also objectively covers).

At the cost of his family life--he likened his stays at home to "doing another personal appearance, only with meals" (198)--Hope remained accessible to the public. If someone requested his presence at a charity event, he was there regardless of the organization's prestige. (Zoglin reports that Hope entertained at 562 benefits during two years in the early 1940s. Age did not slow Hope down: he made 174 appearances in 1983.) If a fan wrote him a letter, more than likely he answered it. Per Zoglin, "He replied to an amazingly high proportion of his fan letters--with the help of a battery of assistants, to be sure, but with the kind of care and personal detail that only he could have supplied" (10). He entertained the troops through numerous wars--from World War II to the Persian Gulf, in an attempt to raise the soldiers' morale and bring them a slice of home. His success during the early wars led to a loyal fan base. (Vietnam was not a shining moment for Hope, who was on the wrong side of the generation gap.)  All this took time, but Hope valued his fans. Zoglin quotes Hope:

Never make 'em think you don't care. Your time's not your own. You owe 'em. (486)

Entertainment was not just a job for Hope. Entertainment was his life.

Work Cited

Zoglin, Richard. Hope: Entertainer of the Century. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2014. Print. 

Interested in learning more about Bob and Bing's relationship? Read my Dueling Divas post which cites info from Zoglin's biography. 

2015 TCM Film Festival ~ Day Three

It is almost three months late, but here is the conclusion of my TCM Film Festival adventure. (Curious about the first days? Click for Day One and Day Two.)

Day Three - Sightseeing

Sunday morning brought us another must-see movie:

Theatrical Poster

Since mom spotted me for 42nd Street, I covered the cost of Calamity Jane. (Both were not included with the basic pass, but we love our musical comedies, so it was worth it. Say, that's an idea...a musical comedy pass!) 

By now we knew where we were going and how the routine worked. After getting our line numbers, we decided to go Hollywood Star searching while the traditional LA tourists; i.e., Michael Jackson star seekers, were sleeping in. You will notice a theme--all things music and dance related:

Glenn Miller ~ Ruby Keeler ~ George M. Cohan

 

Ginger Rogers ~ Judy Garland

My hero: the one, the only Fred Astaire

Dancing Legs Quiz ~ May Edition

Is it spring fever that makes May such a popular month to release a musical? Here are five dance routines which debuted in films during May of their release years. Guess whose legs these are. Then give yourself a bonus if you can name the movie.

1) 

2) 

2015 TCM Film Festival ~ Day Two

This is a continuation of my adventure at the 2015 TCM Film Festival. Read about the first day here. 

Day Two - A Couple of Hollywood Gals

After our late night adventure, I was torn between sleep and Why Be Good? (1929) the following morning. Raquel's (Out of the Past Blog) review of the silent greatly peaked my curiosity in the film and its flapper star, Colleen Moore. The TCM showing was the perfect excuse to finally see it. On the other hand, my stomach had not settled since the drive down, so a good breakfast might do it well. Plus, I wasn't sure how mom would feel about seeing a silent. For that matter, I wasn't even sure how I felt about sitting through a full length silent, no multitasking, full attention--I had never done it. Was I ready for this big step? And my stomach.... I rolled over and went back to sleep. Coward. Oh well, just as long as we made it to:

From the get go, 42nd Street (1933) was my one non-negotiable, absolute must see movie of the festival. The thought of seeing those elaborate Busby Berkeley numbers on the big screen thrilled me. Not to mention Ruby Keeler dancing and Dick Powell singing. This is where it all started. The birth of the big budget musical. 

Unfortunately, the gods of comedy thought it would be funny to send me a screwball kind of weekend fitting of the films I so often enjoy. After waking up later than intended, I skipped breakfast because there was no way in heck I was going to miss 42nd Street. A few bites of fruit should do the trick, right? Mom and I rushed downstairs to wait for our transportation: Uber. The bustling Friday night life had been replaced by a serene silence--brrrrrumm--by a serene silen--brrrrumm--by the buzzing of jackhammers? Yes, jackhammers, orange cones, and men in hard hats. We were staying at hotel in downtown LA, and what better time to do construction than on a weekend when the week's workers were at home? Mom's cellphone rang. In all his wisdom of LA's great grid, our Uber driver could not find us in the maze of one-way streets and construction zones. Oh, and by the way we were carpooling, so ours would not be his first stop. Forehead to palm of hand.

Mom and I walked to the non-construction side of the hotel. As we peered at each passing car's license plate in search of our ride, the thought crossed my mind that we must look like the prior evening's women of the night minus the spandex. I had to chuckle. The Uber eventually arrived and dropped us in front of Grauman's Theatre. We hustled up the stairs and found our spot at the back of the line. Before the TCM lady would give us our place-holder numbers, she asked to see our passes. Sure, no problem, we thought. She took a quick gander at them and informed us that we were in the wrong line. Huh? 

I am ashamed to admit it, especially since much of my job is to read and relate correct information, but I misunderstood the perimeters of our passes. I thought all of the Chinese Grauman screens were included under the TCL Chinese Grauman Theatre IMAX umbrella. (This has been the case with the Fathom screenings I have attended in my home town.) 42nd Street was in the Chinese Multiplex House. Oops. I guess it was just as well that we slept in and missed Why Be Good? We were directed to the standby line where we would have to pay $20 to get in. If there were seats available. Bummer. Not willing to let this get me down in the happiest place on earth for classic movie fans, I searched for the sunny side of the street. According to the festival programming guide, there were 477 seats in House #1, so we should get in. And at least this would narrow our film choices significantly; we were only paying for absolute must-sees. No heart-wrenching decisions between two beloved films for us. 

Our line began to move. We were going to get in! "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" rose to my lips but was cut off by the words "$20 cash". Cash? What is this thing called "cash"? Mom scrambled through her purse and after a bit of digging, she fished out two twenty-dollar bills. (Thank you, Laura for your 'public service' tweet about the Egyptian Theatre's cash only snack bar. I relayed the message to my mom, which is why she had cash on her.)

Even though we were one of the last to enter the theatre, we found phenomenal seats. Christine Ebersole, who played Dorothy Brock in the Broadway version of the movie, introduced the film. She pointed out the play she performed in was an anomaly--typically movies pattern themselves after popular Broadway shows, not the other way around. The film was as fabulous as expected and worth the obstacles to get there. The dialogue was snappy and sexy. (For once, I was able to hear all of it without the interruption of children squealing through the room during the day or me playing remote volleyball* while the children sleep at night.) The pre-codeness of the lines had us in stitches:

Lorraine - You remember Ann Lowell.

Andy - Not Anytime Annie? Say, who could forget her? She only said no once, and then she didn't hear the question.

*remote volleyball - the act of going back and forth with the remote's volume: down when music is loud, then up when dialogue comes on, and down again when the music returns; ultimately results in missed pieces of dialogue
 
A lot of the fun came by way of the secondary actors, who made the audience laugh without saying a word. Witness Una Merkel's and George E. Stone's facial expressions (much clearer on the big screen than my YouTube screenshots), which tell the story behind their relationship. It's not love keeping them together:

 She wants to make sure he sees her among the gals auditioning. 

He does. Can you tell how thrilled he is?

She plays it off in front of the gals, but Una's facial expression shows what is really going on. 
She's using him for a job, and he's using her for some nooky.

And then there was Busby Berkeley's genius: 

Need I say more?

With a tender tummy and movie choices eliminated, it was as good a time as any to grab some chow. We headed over to Mel's Drive-In. The diner is modeled after the one featured in American Graffiti (1973). In fact, the picture at our booth featured Candy Clark, Charles Martin Smith, and Ron Howard from the film:

I soooo wanted a burger, but my stomach was having none of that. Instead I opted for the tomato soup and grill cheese special. Not bad for a second option. The food was delicious, the waitress hilarious, and the atmosphere had a vintage vibe. I would definitely go back.

Outside I was not feeling the craziness of Hollywood Boulevard. I needed a quiet place to sit and just be. And what better place than the watering hole of classic Hollywood?

(Okay, maybe not their watering hole--that would be 

the Brown Derby or Chasen's, but just go with me here...)

At last, our timing was perfect. The book signing I was curious about was in progress. I got to peruse the book (Mike Kaplan's Gotta Dance: The Art of the Dance Movie Poster), pick up some souvenirs, then sink into a comfy chair and relax. I'm pretty sure I spotted some bloggers, but felt too socially awkward to introduce myself. Besides, I'm relatively new to the blogging world and didn't want to interrupt their conversations.

After a while, my twitter feed was abuzz with people who were already lining up for The Apartment (1960)--not surprising considering Shirley MacLaine would be the guest of honor. Off we went to the grand Grauman's Chinese Theatre.

We snagged the last spots before the front line was roped off. The people who followed us would have to wait upstairs. I was an unashamed tourist, taking pictures of the theatre's exterior and the footprints below us. Mom and I visited with Lynn from Classic Movie Favorites who, as luck would have it, was standing next to us in line. Then the moment came. We were in the presence of a great film star. Shirley MacLaine. Wow. She was frank, funny, and did she say she slept with Jack Lemmon? Anyone else catch that? I digress. It was interesting to hear how the moments that unfold so naturally on the screen came to be. MacLaine shared how Wilder motivated her to tears by degrading her acting skills, and how in other parts, she pulled on memories of a bad relationship to help her emote her character's pain. This was the first time I saw The Apartment in its entirety. Lemmon, as always, was endearing despite his character's flaws. MacLaine's pain felt genuine. And Fred MacMurray? Well, he came across as the jerk he was supposed to be. I can see why Matthew Weiner required his Mad Men actors to watch the Manhattan apartment-motel movie in preparation for bringing their characters to life (Vanity Fair).

Monroe's dress from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

After the movie, we took some pictures of the costumes in the theatre's lobby. Then we decided to call it a night so we could wake up fresh for Calamity Jane the next morning. As we waited for our Uber ride--who for some reason could not find us although we were in front of the historic Roosevelt Hotel--I ran into Aurora from Once Upon a Screen. It was a real treat chatting with her. I love her idea of wearing twitter handle pins so we can easily recognize each other next year. She also gave me the lowdown on nearby hotels, which was much appreciated considering all of mom's and my Ubering troubles. We eventually made it back to the hotel safe and sound.

Come back soon for the conclusion of our TCM Film Festival adventure.  

National Classic Movie Day ~ Sound of Music

This post is part of the My Favorite Classic Movie Blogathon in celebration of National Classic Movie Day (May 16th). Click here to view the schedule listing all the great posts in this blogathon.
 
I have a confession to make. The Sound of Music (1965) is not my absolute number one favorite movie. On most days that honor goes to Casablanca (1942). When it came to selecting a film to celebrate National Classic Movie Day, though, I wanted to go with a movie favorite that embodied the sentiment of the holiday: one that profoundly affected my life. For me, that movie is The Sound of Music.

~Theatrical Poster - Source~

Now I know a lot has been written about Sound of Music because of its recent 50th anniversary. I don't want to bore you by rehashing information that has already been narrated far better than I could ever write. Instead, this is a purely personal post about how a movie has touched my heart through the years.

My mom recorded Sound of Music on VHS when my brothers and I were kids. It was the perfect family film. Because of the age range of the von Trapp children, year after year we had someone new with whom to identify. There were love stories for young (Liesl and Rolfe) and old (Maria and the Captain), action for the boys (the Captain versus the Nazis), and songs for all. We laughed together--sometimes at parts that were not intended to be funny (in particular, we thought the oldest von Trapp boy's facial expressions were hilarious). My brothers and I watched the movie so many times that whenever I watch the film today, I still half-expect a fuzzy line to roll across the screen where the tape had been stopped to edit out commercials.

"Sixteen Going on Seventeen"

The songs in Sound of Music became the soundtrack to my life. In grade school, our choir teacher used "Do-Re-Mi" to teach us the musical scale of notes. When twelve or thirteen, I went around the house singing "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" because I had a crush on a boy a year older than me. The song remains a favorite of mine not only for sentimental reasons, but also for the fabulous dance routine in the gazebo. (Come to think of it, this could be where my love of gazebos originated.) For those rough teenage years of feeling restless and out of place, "Maria" described how I viewed myself: a big contradiction. In young adulthood I hummed "I Have Confidence" during each new move and endeavor, and "Climb Ev'ry Mountain" continues to be an inspiration for every new adventure on which I embark. I expect "Edelweiss" will take on its own significance as I age, a final farewell song as it was for Hammerstein when he wrote it.*

*For those who don't know, Hammerstein was dying of cancer when he wrote "Edelweiss."

In addition to familial bonding and songs, I could relate to Sound of Music in a way I could not with other films. Here was a positive image of my religion and more importantly, of strong Catholic women. 

Mother Superior (Peggy Wood)

The nuns looked like the nun doll my dad had given me. His deepest wish was that I should become a nun someday, and on the screen was the process of how this was accomplished--along with the counterargument that not everyone was cut out for religious life! I also related to Maria's great love of nature. Like Maria, I found inspiration in the beauty of a mountain, meadow, and rose. Chills ran down my spine every time that wide shot of the mountain zoomed in on Maria as she belted out "The Hills are Alive"  (which, having attended the 50th anniversary viewing, is even more amazing on the large screen).

Finally, Sound of Music was the first movie that inspired me to go to the library and do research. I was twelve and discovered that the film was based on real people. I wanted to know more, so I checked out a book about Maria von Trapp. I can't remember the title of the biography, but it ignited a burning desire to learn as much as I could about the films I watched. It has taken years to get to this point, writing a classic movie blog, but it has been a rewarding journey, and I owe much of it to The Sound of Music. 

Happy Birthday to the Great Kate!

Senior year during high school, my student government teacher took us outside and sat us in a circle. He asked the following: 

 
If you could dine with someone famous--living or dead, past or present--who would you select? Why?

The answers ranged from the conventional (George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr.) to the contemporary (Coolio, Will Smith, various Spice Girls). I went with neither. Instead I chose...

 

Source

...Katharine Hepburn because 
"she was a strong woman in early Hollywood."

While many of my classmates envisioned the Spice Girls when they heard the term "girl power," I thought of Katharine Hepburn. Hepburn was strong, independent, a force with which to be reckoned. In high school, I had not read her biographies to confirm this, yet I intuitively knew she possessed these qualities. The evidence was in the way she entered a room, shoulders back, head held high. It was in how she delivered a line, unapologetic, completely committed to her character. It was in her style, the pants she wore long before they were fashionable and the roles she chose, women who stood up for themselves and for what they believed in. Whether struggling to capture a loose leopard (Bringing Up Baby), climb the social ladder (Alice Adams), accept human frailty (The Philadelphia Story), win a court case against her hubby (Adam's Rib), or place her favored son on the throne (The Lion in the Winter), Hepburn's characters had a feminist streak, and I dug that. They were fiercely independent and triumphed in a man's world.

So here's to you, Kate! Thank you for teaching me and countless others how to be a strong woman.  

_May 12, 1907 - June 29, 2003 - Source_

Join in Katharine Hepburn's birthday celebration by reading more posts in The Great Katharine Hepburn Blogathon hosted by margaretperry.org.

 

By the way: I have since read several Hepburn biographies, including one that is covered in the blogathon, and Katharine is every bit--if not more--the women she played on film.

2015 TCM Film Festival ~ Day One

In honor of Mother's Day, I bring to you a personal adventure involving me, my mother, and a little gathering known as the TCM Film Festival.

~~~

The end of March brought an exciting first for me and my mother--attendance at the annual TCM Film Festival. The trip was a learning experience, at times resembling a screwball comedy and its series of misadventures, but what a place to have a misadventure!

Day One - Getting there

The commitment to attend the Festival came late when I realized it led into Spring Break, allowing me the luxury of staying all day Sunday without worry of rushing back to work Monday morning. As a result, my pass would not be delivered in the mail; it would be necessary to pick it up at will call. Not a problem until it dawned on me--or rather, on my mom who texted me hours before I was to leave, that will call might not stay open as late as Rebecca's start time. My already tight time table was reduced by an hour. It would take perfect traffic to make it to the Roosevelt before 8 pm. We're talking LA traffic on a Friday. Is that tummy ache excitement, nervousness, or illness?

Luck was a lady. Mom and I rushed into the lobby of the Roosevelt at 7:58 pm. We asked the first official-looking guy where will call was. He sent us upstairs. The lady upstairs inquired as to whether I was picking up media credentials (I wish--not yet, the blog is still in its infancy). No? Oh, you need to go downstairs. I checked my phone. 8:01 pm. My heart sunk. Images of closed bars, old movie ticket booth style, and a giant closed sign popped into my head.

Down the stairs we went. (Can you see the screwball comedy-ishness yet? All we needed was Asta trailing us.) We spotted the empty Info Desk. Just as despair began to set in, a smiling TCM employee greeted us, more than happy to help. Allelujah! We were on our way to:

Dancing Legs Quiz ~ April Edition

Where oh where has April gone? Couldn't let the month pass without celebrating the dance routines which debuted in films during April of their release year. Guess whose legs these are. Then give yourself a bonus if you can name the movie.


1) 

NY premiere was March 31st, but April wide-release per AFI.

A Marriage of Convenience

This is part of the 2015 Pre-Code Blogathon hosted by Danny at Pre-code.com and Karen at Shadows and Satin. Read more fantastic posts by clicking here.

The acting is rough, the sound and lighting need work, but for anyone who has ever been thrown over for someone new, Consolation Marriage (1931) is just what the doctor ordered. The film has not one, but two thwarted lovers looking for someone with whom to drown their sorrows.

The movie opens on an overjoyed Steve Porter (Pat O'Brien) en route to marry his long time sweetheart Elaine (Myrna Loy). He arrives at Elaine's abode only to have her inform him, rather unaffectedly, that she was married the Tuesday prior. Steve is sunk and does what many a brokenhearted soul would do: he gets good and drunk and stays that way--at least until he meets Mary (Irene Dunne). But more on their meeting in a moment...

Like Steve, Mary has been jilted by her amour. Aubrey (Lester Vail) is a struggling pianist who has decided to advance his career through marriage to a wealthy Mrs. (the film does not indicate if the woman is widowed or divorced). Mary is the stereotypical good sport. Without tears or fight, she allows Aubrey to profess his love to her though his bride-to-be waits in the car below. Instead, Mary chooses to say "good-bye with a smile." 

Later that evening, Steve introduces himself to Mary in a bar. There is some talk regarding whether or not the unchaperoned Mary is a "nice" girl (virgin/whore dichotomy surfacing), which in a roundabout way brings the characters to the realization that they are in the same boat love-wise. (She explains that she is without a chaperone because he [Aubrey] is getting married to another.) Mary comments that she is ready for her entitled good cry, and Steve offers to join her.

 Clip via TCM.com.

Misery loves company, and no one can commiserate like another person fresh off a breakup. It is no surprise then when Steve and Mary begin spending time together, discussing how their former flames understood them like none other. In lighter moments, they banter back and forth naturally, laughing and enjoying each other's company. On one of their outings, Steve and Mary adopt a dog. This leads to an impromptu proposal from Steve, who wants the pup to have a proper home. And here is where the pre-code shines through the script:

Steve suggests that their marriage be one of no obligations. If it doesn't turn out, they simply leave with a "good-bye and good luck"--no questions asked. Mary likes the idea and agrees. They even liken marriage to a football game. No harm, no foul. An incredibly radical idea for the day, and I would venture to say that it still is. Despite the high divorce rate (or perhaps as evidenced by it because we are too quick to fall in the first place) in the USA, we tend to marry with the intent of staying married.

The film wastes no time showing that Steve and Mary's marriage is indeed one of convenience and not flaming passion. Tokens of their ex-loves remain present in their home: Aubrey's wedding gift of a cupid clock and Elaine's hearts-and-flowers handkerchief. Even so, Steve and Mary's union produces a child, which means they were, ya know, doing it even though they weren't in love. This is another clear mark of pre-code movie making.

Elaine comes back into the picture. In a note to Steve, she explains that her marriage has failed (surprise!), and she is getting a divorce. Mary has caught on, and though she puts on a brave front, we can tell (via Irene's facial expression, no words necessary) she is worried about losing her husband. A similar note arrives from Aubrey, and Mary jumps at the "chance at happiness." As Mary prepares to leave Steve and their daughter, she reasons with the baby, explaining that "a baby is only an episode in a woman's life," and she would think her mother foolish if she gave up the chance for happiness because of traditional values. Suitcase in tow, Mary ends up at Aubrey's apartment.

*** Spoilers Ahead ***

Up to now, Mary has touted a carefree attitude, and for beat, it looks as though the unconventional marriage will reign supreme. However, it doesn't take Mary long to realize that she has changed. Life does that. Aubrey and his tunes are no longer enough.  "My baby needs me," she explains to her befuddled ex-beau, "Or I need my baby. I don't know which." Mary rushes home. She has forever closed the door on her past love, knowing full well that Steve may not do the same when he gets his turn.

Mary doesn't have to wait long for this to happen. On Steve's invitation, Elaine shows up on her doorstep that evening.  She stands poised and confident, the perfect homewrecker played by the woman who would later be typecasted as the perfect wife. Although Loy got her start in roles as the other woman, I'll admit it was kind of weird seeing the future Mrs. Charles swoop in to steal another character's husband. In true martyr fashion, Mary prepares Elaine for Steve, going so far as to powder Elaine's back and fix her hair.

Elaine goes to Steve, and he takes her into the garden. While she talks of moonlight, Steve relates what he and Mary have been planning to do with the yard. To Elaine, love still exists in the abstract--the beauty of the night, the bursting of bubbles. Steve, on the other hand, has moved beyond their childhood poetry and into the concrete. Love is an action not an abstract noun. He excuses himself from Elaine and returns to Mary who has been crying in their daughter's room.

In the end, Mary and Steve discover they have misplaced their romantic yearning and are in fact in love with each other. While the ending seems traditional, it is pre-code (im)morality that permits their enlightenment. The fruit is never forbidden, so each reaches awareness in their own time. Fortunately for them, they have similar timing. Magic of Hollywood. Not sure that would work in real life.

Nonetheless...there is something I love about this movie. Maybe it's the friends to lovers formula. (I'm a sucker for When Harry Met Sally.) Or it could be the more mature viewpoint that true love is not always found in fireworks, but silently blossoms over time, in the everyday ordinary. Either way, Consolation Marriage has become a guilty pleasure. 

Now if only the film would be digitally remastered on DVD...

Currently Consolation Marriage is only available on VHS.