Book Review: Songs My Mother Taught Me

"I can draw no conclusions from my life because it is a continually evolving and unfolding process." 
- Marlon Brando, Songs My Mother Taught Me

It seems strange that, back in 1994, Marlon Brando agreed to reconstruct his own life into book form (albeit co-written by New York Times columnist Robert Lindsey). Seventy years old at the time it was published, Brando only agreed to the project if he was excused from making any mention of his three former wives or 10 children -- he was adamant that the privacy and protection of his loved ones remain intact. As a result, Songs My Mother Taught Me is the rare celebrity autobiography that doesn't make detailed mentions of torrid romances or resort to name-dropping.

The famously private and reclusive actor often shied away from the spotlight, preferring to wile away his hours on Teti'aroa, his private Tahitian island, or within the confines of his gated Hollywood mansion -- unless, that is, it concerned his political beliefs or a group of people he believed needed to be defended in public.

In the introduction of his autobiography, Songs My Mother Taught Me, Brando makes a point of stating his real reason for agreeing to the book (published by Random House): he wanted the profits to go towards one of the numerous causes close to his heart, namely the American Indian Movement (AIM). Brando wanted to use his celebrity for good -- and made sure his readers were aware of that fact.

It's hard to envision someone like Brando sitting at a computer, typing away his many adventures and misadventures. For anyone who has followed the actor's career closely, it just doesn't seem like his style. Although Brando never admits it, I find it likely that he related his stories to Lindsey orally, while the journalist culled together a cohesive narrative from his various anecdotes. The end result is an often compelling, sometimes frustratingly vague, account of a life that involved a broken home, a career in film, multiple failed marriages and a passion for political causes -- including a (controversial) stint with the Black Panther Party.

I was initially skeptical about Brando's sincerity when, early on in the book, he starts casually brushing off the accolades he received over the years as an actor -- or when he claims that men like Shakespeare and Beethoven were true artists, unlike actors who mug for the cameras for money and business tactics. Yes, Hollywood is a business. However, I find it hard to believe that Brando can be so flippant about how he made his bread and butter considering he quite often took acting very, very seriously -- by introducing the Method to North America (with the help of the legendary Stella Adler) and virtually disappearing into roles like Terry Malloy and Vito Corleone.

However, as you get further into Songs you begin to realize that Brando remained true to his word -- he says very little about Hollywood, instead focusing on his later years on Teti'aroa, his role with the American Indian Movement and his musings on the Vietnam War. It takes the reader about 50 pages to understand where Brando's true interests and passions lie -- and that his seemingly false modesty is really a form of brutal honesty. He truly appreciates that he was able to make a lot of money in his chosen profession, yet he always made the conscience decision not to let it rule his life.

In Songs Brando is at his most candid when talking about himself -- he openly displays both his inflated ego and the events that have left him humbled.

Brando with his biggest fan, James Dean.

And while Brando takes the high road when it comes to discussing intimate family and friends by refusing to even mention them by name out of respect for their privacy (a classy move reminiscent of loyal Hollywood friend Elizabeth Taylor), he does offer tantalizing tidbits on legends like James Dean and Marilyn Monroe.

He acknowledges Dean's borderline-obsessive fascination with him and his acting abilities. Brando admits to being uncomfortable at Dean's middle-of-the-night phone calls and his constant mimicking of Brando's lifestyle. 

On Dean: "He was tortured by his insecurities, the origin of which I never determined... once he showed up at a party and I saw him take off his jacket, roll it into a ball and throw it on the floor. It struck me that he was imitating something I had done..." (p. 224).

Brando reveals very little about conversations that took place between him and Dean. He alludes to one particular late night chat that revealed much about Dean's personality, but pulls back from sharing too much. Whatever was said between the two, Brando took it with him to the grave. He was true to his word about not revealing salacious details about family and colleagues, even the ones as long-deceased as Dean.

He offers even less information about his brief romance and friendship with Monroe, saying only that he was one of the last people to talk to her before she died in 1962 and that he firmly believes she was murdered -- stopping just short of directly pointing his finger at the Kennedy clan.

Songs is somewhat chronological, but it's mostly a narrative of loose thoughts stitched together. What I didn't expect was how much Brando would reveal about his political colours and how willing he was to open up about a childhood spent with alcoholic parents. His memories from his youth are particularly compelling as they are random snippets of childhood, both beautiful and sad, that feel so genuine and relatable.

On his mother: "My mother was always unconventional. Sometimes when it rained, she wore a shopping bag over her head with a little visor she had torn at the corners; it was absurd, but she thought it was funny. I was always embarrassed by it, though if she did it today, I'd be gasping with laughter." (pp. 4-5).

In the end, Brando's autobiography is not your traditional celebrity tell-all. There are many questions left unanswered, specifically when related to his career and personal relationships. But he more than makes up for the gaping holes by taking genuine pleasure in sharing with readers his love for Tahitian culture, his passion for the American Indian Movement and his affection for his (long deceased) pet raccoon.

What you walk away with after reading Songs My Mother Taught Me is the sense that Brando, despite all his wealth and talent, really was just an average boy from Omaha, Nebraska who tried to lead a good life, yet made many very human mistakes along the way. He doesn't hide behind his errors in judgment (like the time early in his career when he slept with one of his stalkers) nor does he apologize for the person he is, and that just makes him so normal -- and it's also what makes his autobiography so refreshing to read.

NOTE: Songs My Mother Taught Me is now out of print. I purchased my copy at a Toronto film memorabilia store, The Hollywood Canteen. You can also buy it from sellers on Amazon.

Classic Film Review: The Misfits (1961)

Montgomery Clift, Marilyn Monroe and Clark Gable

Two days ago, August 5th, marked the 50th anniversary of the death of Marilyn Monroe.

To mark the date I chose to watch John Huston's 1961 modern western, The Misfits. Instead of watching my favourite Monroe film (Some Like It Hot) I went with The Misfits because, not only is it her final appearance, it's arguably her finest performance.

The Misfits is often referred to as a "film of lasts": The last part Arthur Miller wrote for Monroe and the last film for both Monroe and Clark Gable before their untimely deaths.

Based on a screenplay by her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Arthur Miller, The Misfits follows a trio of down-on-their-luck men and the alluring woman who joins their ragtag group as they travel rodeo circuits and catch wild horses to sell in Reno, Nevada. They also spend weeks at a time wallowing in their sorrows together in a forlorn desert ranch. Each has a sad story to tell and they crave each others company as much as they sometimes seem to resent it.

Miller fashioned the part of Roslyn Tabor specifically for Monroe, and it shows. The role leaves room for Monroe to be both beautiful and complex, strong yet vulnerable. It plays to her strong points as an actress and really allows her room to just let go. Although she's mostly celebrated for her comedic talents, it's a shame she never got more dramatic roles to work with. The Misfits was a fitting final film because it was her strongest and most personal role.

The other characters each have their own issues to work through. Gay Langland (Clark Gable) is a fiercely independent loner reflecting on his past experiences as a great cowboy. Guido (Eli Wallach) is a heartbroken, embittered mechanic who hasn't been the same since the sudden death of his wife. Perce Howland (Montgomery Clift) rounds out the group as a rodeo rider who is fixated on mother figures and openly welcomes Roslyn's nurturing nature.

It's the mirroring of real life that can make a viewing of The Misfits so uncomfortable. Perhaps that's why I chose to watch it instead of some of Monroe's earlier, lighter fare. It was a sad production for everyone involved in the making of the film.

Monroe and Gable in their final scene.

At the time Monroe was in and out of rehab -- she was also in the process of finalizing her divorce from Arthur Miller. Director John Huston had a disruptive drinking and gambling problem. Monty Clift, never the same since his near-fatal car accident in 1956 and the subsequent reconstructive facial surgeries, was addicted to the prescription pills that temporarily relieved his chronic pain. And, finally, a mere few days after production ended on the film, Clark Gable passed away of a heart attack at the age of 59 -- a heart attack many blamed on what he put his body through in order to physically and mentally prepare for the role of the rundown Gay Langland.

It's themes of disappointed dreams, thwarted ambitions and broken characters served to lend the film a grim realism it didn't necessarily mean to invoke when production first got underway. As Monroe's Roslyn says at one point: "We're all dying, aren't we? All the husbands and all the wives. Every minute. And we're not teaching each other what we really know, are we?"

The role of Roslyn Tabor in The Misfits was the crowning achievement of Monroe's lengthy career. While not necessarily the best film she appeared in, her performance rang tragically true and is remembered today as a powerful final bow.

Film Noir Series: Clash by Night (1952)

My latest Film Noir Spotlight entry for Next Projection. The ninth film on my list is Clash by Night (1952).

It would be easy to dismiss Clash by Night as a simple melodrama – one that shouldn’t be categorized as a film noir. And while the film – based on the 1941 play by Clifford Odets – is a domestic drama, it carries over familiar noir themes.

After a 10-year absence, 30-something Mae Doyle (Barbara Stanwyck) returns to her hometown of Monterey, a tiny fishing village in California. Tired of her life as the mistress to a married man, Mae decides to reconnect with her brother, Joe (Keith Andes), to help take her mind off her cynical outlook on relationships and love. When Joe’s girlfriend, Peggy (Marilyn Monroe), asks Mae why she decided to return, Mae responds, “Home is where you come when you run out of places.” After Mae meets nice-guy fisherman Jerry D’Amato (Paul Douglas), she agrees to marry him after a short courtship, much to the surprise of the townsfolk. Enter Earl Pfeiffer (Robert Ryan), Jerry’s younger, hotheaded work colleague that Mae immediately finds herself drawn to. Shortly after giving birth to Jerry’s daughter, Mae embarks on a torrid love affair with Earl which isn’t kept secret for long.

In a departure from his usual dystopian fare (like classics Metropolis and M), Austrian director Fritz Lang opens his film with multiple shots of crashing waves, a foreshadowing of the domestic strife about to emerge. With his use of images from nature – screeching seagulls and clouds drifting swiftly over the moon – Lang reflects the ever-changing emotions of his central characters.

Robert Ryan and Barbara Stanwyck

As Mae, Stanwyck shines. She easily draws men – and viewers – into her tangled web, moving effortlessly back and forth between being likeable and being despised. Even in this unconventional noir she remains the very essence of a femme fatale.

Monroe plays against type, sporting bulky pants and a rough and tumble attitude about relationships and gender equality as the adorably plucky Peggy. Constantly picking fights with Joe – both verbal and physical – Peggy admires Mae’s take on life, much to Joe’s concern. In 1952, Monroe was on the cusp of the stardom that would result in her icon status. Her portrayal of Peggy hints at the greatness to come.

Douglas gives a sensitive, if somewhat stagy and overacted, performance as the cuckolded Jerry. He depicts him as too soft to properly defend himself against Mae and Earl, but his intentions are always in the right place.

As the irascible Earl, Ryan gives a startlingly brutal performance. His character is hard to like and, instead of trying to make him more vulnerable, Ryan runs with it – the chemistry between he and Stanwyck is raw animal magnetism. It’s hard to believe there is any real love there, only a mutual understanding that they share commonalities of character.

More than anything, Clash by Night acts as postwar gender commentary, a familiar trope in noir. Mae tirelessly rants about the changing masculinity, resentfully referring to men as “little and nervous, like sparrows.” While talking to Peggy, Mae expresses her desire to wind up with a man who has confidence – confidence to allow her to have her own strength of character and independence but without feeling emasculated by it.

Unfortunately, the film closes with a moralistic return to “order.” The conclusion does little to truly resolve the issues at hand, instead leaving the audience to believe that Mae could suddenly embrace a reformed nature. Although not the finest example of the genre, the film’s central themes hit all the right notes.

Like many noirs before it, Clash by Night features a fundamentally decent man in Jerry, showing how a wayward femme fatale could lead him astray. The themes of betrayal and loss of power result in an uncomfortable tension simmering just beneath the surface so that, even without the criminal element, the film is justifiably classified as film noir.

FINAL GRADE: B

Film Noir Series: The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

My latest Film Noir Spotlight entry for Next Projection. The eight film on my list is The Asphalt Jungle (1950).

Coming off his 1949 Oscar win for The Treasure of Sierra Madre, director John Huston crafted a tightly coiled caper brimming with murder and corruption and told almost entirely from the point of view of its criminals. The Asphalt Jungle, a seminal work in Huston’s impressive filmography, has a gritty realism that sheds light on a dark corner of society.

Based on the novel by W.R. Burnett, The Asphalt Jungle zeroes in on “Doc” Erwin Riedenschneider (Sam Jaffe), a German immigrant who masterminds the ultimate score during the seven years he spent in incarceration. Funded by Alonso Emmerich (Louis Calhern), a treacherous businessman with his own set of objectives, the jewel heist is meticulously plotted. Regarded as a flawless scheme by the diminutive Doc, the puzzle pieces finally fall into place once he recruits a safecracker (Anthony Caruso), a driver (James Whitmore) and a street-savvy hooligan named Dix Handley (Sterling Hayden) whose desire for wealth masks his inherent decency. When the heist backfires and the men retreat to their own separate hiding places, The Asphalt Jungle chronicles the descent of each of them as they struggle to survive both the police task force – and each other.

There’s an artistry to the film that only someone with Huston’s impressive credentials can bring to what is, essentially, a low-budget B-movie about tough guys and their dames. With its richly textured black and white cinematography, expertly lensed by Harold Rosson, and its sparse and rundown city streets, The Asphalt Jungle has a claustrophobic documentary style. Devoid of the contrived dialogue that is often a staple in the noir genre, there are times when conversations feel almost entirely improvised and natural. With a large cast on his hands, Huston, who co-wrote the script with Ben Maddow, weaves each plot point into a deeply absorbing – and dialogue-heavy – endeavour. Following a linear narrative (the rare noir without any flashback sequences), The Asphalt Jungle is a relatively quiet urban crime drama with only brief bursts of violence and action.

The jungle – that seedy underbelly of society that lies beneath city streets – is chock-full of corruption, backstabbing and dead ends.

Marilyn Monroe

Huston’s inspired casting is most notable with his two leads – Jaffe and Hayden, as Doc and Dix. As Doc, Jaffe is quietly commanding as the cool and collected mastermind of the failed heist. Nominated for Best Supporting Actor, Jaffe brings a softer approach to a role that is traditionally filled by a “tough-guy” thug. Meanwhile, Hayden stands out with his performance as Dix – an idealist whose life comes crashing down around him as the jungle swallows him whole.

A woman’s touch is keenly felt with two electric supporting performances from Jean Hagen and a then-unknown Marilyn Monroe. Hagen is the standout as Dix’s long-suffering girlfriend, Doll Conovan. In one notable scene, Hagen, in the middle of an emotional breakdown, rips her fake eyelashes off, while mascara drips down her face and mingles with her tears. Her nervous smile, always so eager to please Dix, is heartbreaking in its poignant honesty. Monroe is a knockout as the much-older Emmerich’s mistress, Angela. Beautiful and vulnerable, Monroe shines, giving audiences a glimpse of the star she was later to become.

One of the few downfalls in a film with a plot as crammed with characters as The Asphalt Jungle is that the character development of some of the other players falls short. There’s also the underwritten role of Commissioner Hardy (John McIntire), a preachy moralist who is inserted into the film simply to counter the actions of its central figures. As Hardy sermonizes to his police troops: “Suppose we had no police force, good or bad …Nobody to listen, nobody to answer. The battle's finished. The jungle wins. The predatory beasts take over.” It’s excess baggage that weighs down an otherwise tight script.

But those “predatory beasts” that Hardy rants against are very regular people making very big mistakes – tough guys and their dames, just trying to make it in the world by any means possible.

Welcome to the jungle.

FINAL GRADE: A-

Movie Review: My Week with Marilyn

Williams and Redmayne as Marilyn and Colin

My Week with Marilyn (2011)
Based on the Memoir By: Colin Clark
Directed By: Simon Curtis
Starring: Michelle Williams, Eddie Redmayne, Kenneth Branagh, Julia Ormond and Judi Dench

There are certain stars from a bygone era of Hollywood that are difficult to interpret on the silver screen. Imagine actually finding someone who could successfully portray Marlon Brando, Elizabeth Taylor or Paul Newman? Marilyn Monroe was once put into this category -- few dared to try and portray her in a film until now. Some celebrities are just too big and any attempt to give a genuine glimpse at the star will likely come off as little more than imitation. My Week with Marilyn succeeds with some aspects of Monroe's personality, but disappointingly not in other areas.

Based on the 1995 publication of the personal diary of British documentary filmmaker, Colin Clark, My Week with Marilyn focuses on how a 23-year-old Colin (Eddie Redmayne) became the third assistant director to Sir Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) during the tumultuous production of the 1957 film, The Prince and the Showgirl. A dream job for a film buff like Colin, he recognizes his upcoming opportunity to meet Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams) in person will be a dream come true. What he didn't anticipate was the friendship that would blossom between them over a brief period.

The script by Adrian Hodges leaves enough room for Williams to shine, but any chance she had at truly running away with the picture was diminished by the fact that the film frustratingly centres on Colin -- a man who claims to have shared moments of genuine love with the megastar. It's a shame too because Williams will likely prove some naysayers wrong (myself included) who thought she was woefully miscast as the blond bombshell. Although there are moments when Williams stumbles in her performance (she's never entirely convincing as Marilyn, which is disappointing), she does have a couple of lovely, subdued moments -- less silly, flirty Marilyn and more vulnerable Marilyn with tears of disappointment in her eyes.

These glimpses that we do get of Marilyn (albeit through the eyes of the lovesick Colin) is of a beautiful and sad woman who seems in over her head -- things we already knew about Monroe. This inability to bring anything new to the table nearly topples the film in the first half when most of the attention remains focused on the dull Colin.

Williams as Monroe

The underutilized secondary characters who share scenes on the set of The Prince and the Showgirl is a disappointing misuse of its cast. Halfway through the film it's easy to forget Judi Dench was in the picture as Dame Sybil Thorndike and audiences are expected to care that Colin has slighted some nice costume girl named Lucy (Emma Watson) who really, really liked him until Marilyn came along. Julia Ormond, a lovely actress, is, alas, no Vivien Leigh.

That being said, there's an interesting film buried underneath it all -- and this is where My Week with Marilyn improves. There's an early scene that shows what this movie could have been when a script read-through briefly touches on the changing norms in Hollywood during the 1950s in terms of acting technique. Olivier, a legend of the stage, is dumbfounded by the fact that Monroe needs her acting coach Paula Strasberg to work her through the art of a "Method" performance. He struggles to understand why Marilyn can't simply "play pretend" like other actors of his generation. In the same scene, Marilyn stares admiringly at Olivier as he reads through his portion of the script, suggesting she is uncomfortable in her own skin when it comes to acting alongside the longtime pros she respects, like Sir Laurence. Perhaps the film would have benefited more had it actually been about the making of The Prince and the Showgirl and the clashes between Marilyn and Olivier. Both were incredibly insecure actors at the time -- he, because of the changing art of performance on film and her, because she struggled to be taken seriously as an actress on an almost daily basis. Showcasing the incompatibility of these two actors would have allowed Williams and Branagh to really let their talents loose -- both of them had their finest moments in the film occur when they were together.

But, the focus is on the time Colin spent with Marilyn. Oddly enough, what allegedly happened between Colin and Marilyn fails to live up to Colin's over-dramatic narration at the beginning and end of the film. While Colin waxes poetic about how he "understood" Marilyn and how they shared this glorious bond, you realize there was actually very little that was real between them -- only a handful of flirtatious laughs and a couple of spooning sessions after some sight-seeing tours around London.

A woman often defined by her sexuality or the men in her lives, it does her legacy a great disservice to have her relegated somewhat to the background. All those burning questions you may have had about what Marilyn was like when she was away from the cameras still remain largely unanswered in the film.

The film amounts to little more than a lopsided venture that struggles to put both Colin and Marilyn front and centre. The plodding pace (especially in the middle of the film) and heavy-handed direction diminish whatever excitement the film was able to build in certain scenes. More frustrating than enjoyable, the real standouts are Williams and, especially, Branagh -- another instance of a couple of performances being better than the overall finished product. If only the film had been about Marilyn Monroe and Sir Laurence Olivier and a behind-the-scenes glimpse of the making of The Prince and the Showgirl. Marilyn deserved a better picture.

FINAL GRADE: C+

Movie Rant: Why I'm Not Completely Sold on the 'My Week With Marilyn' Trailer

While on my lunch break today, a colleague and I talked  about the trailer for My Week with Marilyn.

Neither of us are completely sold on it.

I'll still watch the movie, despite the fact that the early buzz has been pretty mediocre. I'll give most films a fair chance, especially ones that centre around Hollywood icons from the past. However, there a couple of things about the trailer that left me feeling a little disappointed.

1) Michelle Williams. I was initially excited when I first heard that she landed the role. One of the most talented actresses of her generation, Williams improves with each performance (most recently in Blue Valentine). Although she actually looks nothing like Marilyn Monroe I really liked a lot of the image stills from the set while it was still in production.

But when the trailer came along recently, something didn't feel right. I felt like I was just watching an actress try to portray Monroe -- and not doing a particularly convincing job of it. It was surprisingly underwhelming. I know, I know ...I haven't actually seen the film yet and I should reserve my judgment until then, but, as my co-worker, Cara, put it -- if you didn't know the movie centred around Monroe, you'd wonder what the hell was happening. The performance looks more than a little awkward but I hope it proves to be wonderful once I actually see the film. I hope.

2) There's also the fact that the film should have been about Marilyn herself -- not some British guy she may or may not have spent one full week with. Monroe deserves her own picture. She was a fascinating women in her own right; however, she's usually only ever associated with the men in her life. I'd rather see an in-depth biography on her rise and fall and how Hollywood continues to idolize her.

I know most people will disagree, but I think a significant part of why I didn't like the trailer was simply because the story looks dull in comparison to something that could have (should have) focused more on Monroe herself.

I'm a lot less excited about the film now. 

But, that's just my two cents. And my co-workers. ;)

What do you think of the trailer?

30 Day Movie Meme: Day 23

Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis as Daphne and Josephine

Day 23: FAVOURITE COMEDY FILM


I've written about this 1959 classic a bunch of times already. My obsession with this film has continued, unabated, for more than a year now -- ever since I watched it twice in one week and wondered why it had taken me so long to watch it in the first place.

Sure, it may not constantly have laugh-out-loud moments and it may not be to everyone's personal tastes, but Some Like It Hot has one of the cleverest scripts to ever come out of Hollywood, thanks in large part to director Billy Wilder and co-screenplay writer I.A.L. Diamond. It's so ahead of its time it's unbelievable.

The film is an absolute farce, with a broad sense of humour that revolves around a simple plot involving two musicians who witness a Mob murder and go into hiding by dressing as women and joining an all-girl touring musical band. It has a manic, high-octane energy -- everything feels as though it's moving in fast forward. Devoid of any dull moments, Some Like It Hot is as intelligent as it is hilarious. The jokes are whip-smart, the social commentary is sharp and the starring cast of Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe are all impossibly perfect in their respective roles. The most startling thing about the film is that, to this very day, it remains as fresh and relevant as it was in 1959.

Marilyn Monroe as Sugar.

How many films of the 1950s and early-1960s openly challenged traditional gender roles and sexuality the way Some Like It Hot did so effectively? The first time I watched it I was blown away by the fact that it even managed to bypass the rigid Hollywood Motion Picture Production Code censorship guidelines. With it's jokes about gender identity, sex and Jack Lemmon's character openly embracing and revelling in his new life as Daphne (even going so far as to accept a marriage proposal from the millionaire Osgood Fielding III), it's amazing that the film even went on to become a monster hit in 1959. Hollywood executives were left reeling, but the film remains a classic -- one of those genuinely superb films that actually deserves the laurels and praise of being labelled a 'comedy classic.'

Some of my previous entries about Some Like It Hot:
(1) 30 Day Movie Meme Day 16: Favourite Quote
(2) Hollywood Tidbits: Some Like It Hot Part I.
(3) Hollywood Tidbits: Some Like It Hot Part II.

Classic Film Review: Seven Year Itch

Seven Year Itch (1955)
Written By: Billy Wilder & George Axelrod
Directed By: Billy Wilder
Starring: Tom Ewell and Marilyn Monroe

"I think it's just elegant to have an imagination. I just have no imagination at all. I have lots of other things, but I have no imagination."
~The Girl (Marilyn Monroe)

I've been on a Billy Wilder binge lately, re-watching all those classics that made him a legend -- Double Indemnity, Some Like It Hot, Sunset Blvd. and The Apartment. It was during this time that I realized I'd never seen Seven Year Itch. It was about time to finally see the film that brought audiences the famous image of Marilyn Monroe standing on that subway grate, dress billowing.


Every summer, the heat in Manhattan is so unbearable that husbands pack up their wives and kids and send them off to spend those months with in-laws. Meanwhile, the men enjoy their temporary bachelor freedom while working to support their families and flirting with single women. The always-soliloquizing Richard Sherman (Tom Ewell) has just unceremoniously dumped his wife and son off at the train station. Within minutes, he's playing back-and-forth with himself over whether or not he should flirt with all the beautiful "dames" he passes in the streets. He's feeling that seven year itch -- marriage for him has become the ultimate sexual repression. One evening he meets the beautiful (and, apparently, nameless) woman who lives upstairs (Marilyn Monroe). The two forge a tenuous bond -- he's attracted to her, while she's bored of being all alone in the big city and seeks companionship.

Based on the play by George Axelrod, the film version of Seven Year Itch controversially played with the original source by eliminating the actual physical affair aspect between Richard and The Girl. Instead, the film has the two flirt and banter their way through the two hour running time. Considering Richard's vivid imagination (he envisions various scenarios with beautiful women and conjures up ideas on how conversations with his wife would go), I found it worked better that Richard and The Girl never followed through with an affair. It would be hard to fathom how a jittery, irritating man would land someone like The Girl. His full-blown imaginary conversations make Richard come off as a basketcase -- lucky for him, The Girl isn't too picky about her friends.

Seven Year Itch is, obviously, structured like a play. While there are secondary characters that make an appearance on occasion, it's all about Ewell and Monroe in long scenes of witty dialogue.

The Girl is unlike anyone Richard has ever met -- flighty and flirty, she thinks dipping potato chips in wine is "just elegant." Her infectious energy and naive curiosity is of the kind that only Monroe could pull off successfully without grating on the nerves of the audience. While Monroe will never be ranked as a talented actress of the calibre of, say, Katherine Hepburn, she had an undeniable screen presence -- and it was more than just her beauty that got her steady work in Hollywood. It was her knack for physical comedy and comedic timing, which is on full display throughout Seven Year Itch.


Ewell doesn't fare as well, bogged down by the fact that his character, Richard, is irritating and bizarre. Monroe shines on her own; however, Ewell doesn't have any real chemistry with her. The dialogue is sharp (which is to be expected in a Wilder film) but both failed to fully click with one another.

It's an enjoyable, if dated, peak at sexual repression in the 1950s. Although I'd hoped for more insight into the sexual politics of married people at the time, Seven Year Itch still serves as an enjoyable distraction, albeit not of the same calibre of Some Like It Hot. 

FINAL GRADE: B+


Question: What do you think? Has the film aged well, in your opinion?

Hollywood Tidbits: Some Like It Hot (Part II)

The continuation from my previous entry on Tony Curtis' The Making of Some Like It Hot (2009).

One of my friends asked that I post some more bite-size quotes from the book (which I've almost completed).

* How Tony Curtis managed long hours on the set without taking washroom breaks: “I put my thinking cap on and built a funnel-and-hose thing. It went around my thigh, down the inner side of one leg, and was hidden inside the silk stocking that I was wearing. I didn’t have to stand up or sit down. It wasn’t all that comfortable, but it worked. I should have taken out a patent on it …One day Jack (Lemmon) caught me in the men’s room. I was adjusting the thing. 'What the fuck are you doing?' he asked. 'Never mind,' I answered. 'I’m inventing something.' I didn’t tell him because he might judge me. He was kind of conservative in an odd way." (p. 82)

*  Billy Wilder and his perfectionism: “I remember the scene in Poliakoff’s office, the agency where Jack and I are scrounging for work. Jack got excited, and after finishing a speech with the line ‘Now you’re talking,’ he repeated the line. Billy froze. ‘That’s not how the speech reads,’ he said. Jack pleaded. It felt right to him to say the line twice. Billy walked over to Izzy (co-screenwriter I.A.L. Diamond), who was sitting a short distance away. They started talking in low tones. This went on for close to half an hour. He finally came back to us. ‘Okay, you can repeat it,’ he said solemnly." (p. 111) 

* Marilyn Monroe once took 81 takes before nailing a scene which required her to speak only one simple line - 'Where's that bourbon?' - She directed her frustration at Billy Wilder: "Jack and I were like two bad little kids in school. We wanted to laugh out loud so badly, but we had to turn away and do it into our hands. It was fucking outrageous. Next Billy tried putting cue cards inside the drawers. Even that didn't help. But he had to get the shot. There was no way to cut around it. I wish I'd bet a thousand dollars on eighty takes. It took eighty-one. 'I swallowed my pride,' recalled Billy. 'If she showed up, she delivered, and if it took eighty takes, I lived with eighty takes, because the eighty-first was very good.' Cut. Print. Faint." (p. 167). 

* Curtis always seemed to be in awe of Jack Lemmon: "I was delighted to have Jack as a costar. He could be theatrical without worrying if he was making a fool of himself. He was comfortable in his own skin. That giggle he did as Daphne wasn't just clever. It was brilliant. Jack didn't mention his personal life at work. We both came from a certain tradition. When you were on the job, you never discussed politics, religion, family or sex. It just wasn't done in those days. But when I saw him at Hollywood parties, he had a glass of whiskey in his hand and he was more forthcoming ...A lot of men who are gentle need to drink because they're embarrassed about not being cavemen. That's my theory,  anyway." (p. 159)

++ I find this passage really interesting because, if you've read the book, it's yet another example of Curtis being literally in awe of Lemmon's ability as both a comedic actor and as a human being. Curtis rarely wrote about Lemmon in The Making of Some Like It Hot (he tended to focus more on Monroe and Wilder), but when he did mention Lemmon, it was always respectful and tasteful. Curtis denied being jealous of Lemmon's talent but I wonder how true that really was because of how he writes about Lemmon -- both praising him and also pushing him into the background in favour of Monroe and Wilder. One thing I think Curtis does convey really well is the simple fact that Jack Lemmon was a class act. And Hollywood doesn't make them like that anymore. 

Hollywood Tidbits: Some Like It Hot

My obsession with Some Like It Hot continues, one year later.

I got the late, great Tony Curtis' last book, The Making of Some Like It Hot: My Memories of Marilyn Monroe and the Classic American Movie for Christmas. I started reading it this morning and I haven't been able to put it down.

Curtis had a really simple, engaging style of writing. It's more conversational -- like he's narrating this high point in his film career directly onto the page.

There are those (film critics, celebrities and the general public) who label Curtis as an outright liar and paint him as an opportunistic man prone to exaggeration. Did he or did he not impregnate Marilyn Monroe? Did they really have a torrid, top secret romance? Curtis says yes, while others point out that Monroe isn't around to tell her side of the story. Nor is the film's director Billy Wilder or his co-star Jack Lemmon. Curtis wrote his book in 2009, many, many years after the deaths of Monroe, Lemmon and Wilder (and a year before his own).

Regardless, I take everything Curtis wrote with a grain of salt. I know to make sure I don't fall into any traps as I read The Making of Some Like It Hot. But damned if the man doesn't spin a great behind-the-scenes yarn. I'm a sucker for those largely unknown Hollywood dramas that often played out in between takes, I'm only 60 pages into the book, but here are some interesting (and likely true) tidbits in this gospel according to Curtis:

* He was once roommates with Marlon Brando for four months: "I respected him. But I wasn't interested in the Method. He was great because he was Marlon, not because of the Method. I thought it was phoney. Why complicate the job of acting? Memorize your lines. Learn the part. Find out what the director wants. Then show up on time and act. This idea of trying to remember when your sister stole your peanut butter sandwich so you can give an angry performance is bullshit. If you can't turn it on by yourself, you don't belong in front of the camera." (p.39)

++ An interesting commentary on the much respected Method acting technique (introduced by Brando), to say the least.

* Marilyn Monroe's intelligence: "Marilyn was not unintelligent. She was bright, perceptive and insightful -- but only about other people. When it came to herself, or to issues relating to herself, she didn't have a clue. She needed constant reassurance." (p.39)

* His first encounter with Marilyn: "We walked to my car and I opened the door for her. I got behind the wheel, drove out the gate, and turned left, heading for Hollywood. I angled the review mirror a little so I could see her face. To my surprise she winked at me. We laughed." (p.31)

* The first time he and Jack Lemmon walked in front of the cast and crew dressed as women: "I blushed under the makeup and let the actor in me take over. I launched into a little routine. I was coy. I was reluctant ...When Jack came out he did it in a big way. He was in character as Daphne. He flew out, twirling and pirouetting. He danced ...I just stared. How the fuck could he do that? I was envious, but it was the first and last time. I loved the guy." (p. 59)

30 Day Movie Meme: Day 16

Day 16: FAVOURITE QUOTE


This one wasn't as tough as I expected, given the love I have for Billy Wilder's 1959 comedy, Some Like It Hot. 


A few runners-up:
(1) "I am big! It's the pictures that got small."
(Sunset Blvd.)
(2) "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."
(A Streetcar Named Desire)
(3) "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship"
(Casablanca)
(4) The "patron saint of mediocrity" speech.
(Amadeus)
(5) "You keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."
(The Godfather Part II)

It all comes back, though, to the final scene (the final few seconds, to be exact) of Some Like It Hot. You've got Jack Lemmon, one of the masters of exaggerated facial reactions, dressed as a woman. On a speedboat. With a millionaire named Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown). Osgood is the one who utters the famous line: "Well, nobody's perfect."

Lemmon plays Jerry, a man on the run with his friend, Joe (Tony Curtis), after the two witness a mob murder. Lemmon's Jerry soon becomes Daphne, as the two friends decide to disguise themselves as women as a ruse to throw off the mobsters. While Curtis is off flirting with Marilyn Monroe's Sugar, Lemmon's subplot in the film involves being wooed (and proposed to) by Osgood. The two develop a charming bond (thanks in large part to the great chemistry between Lemmon and Brown), all of which culminates in a simple exchange at the very end of the film when "Daphne" reveals she's really a man.

Jerry: "Osgood, I'm gonna level with you. We can't get married at all."
Osgood: "Why not?"
Jerry: "Well, in the first place, I'm not a natural blonde."
Osgood: "Doesn't matter."
Jerry: "I smoke! I smoke all the time!"
Osgood: "I don't care."
Jerry: "Well, I have a terrible past. For three years now, I've been living with a saxophone player."
Osgood: "I forgive you."
Jerry: "I can never have children!"
Osgood: "We can adopt some."
Jerry: "But you don't understand, Osgood!"
*Jerry pulls off wig*
Jerry: "I'm a man!"
Osgood: "Well, nobody's perfect."


Why I Love This Quote: It's arguably one of the best fade-out lines in film history. Both actors are perfect in this scene, especially with Lemmon's growing exasperation as he gently tries to break his engagement to Brown without revealing the fact that he's a man. Brown's nonchalance and unconditional love is unwavering with each new shocking revelation. What is so incredible about the scene (and the Daphne/Osgood relationship, in general) is the suggestion that Jerry (as Daphne) was happy in his new role as a woman. This is evident in the scenes where Daphne is being wooed by her rich millionaire. Jerry, as Daphne, is thoroughly enjoying the attention. A later conversation between Jerry and Joe reveals that Jerry has accepted Osgood's marriage proposal and is smitten with his new beau and his big, shiny diamond ring. When Joe asks him why he'd want to marry a man, Jerry responds: "For security!" A movie that started out about two men evading gangsters turned into something much more interesting: Jerry embracing his new feminine way of life.

Interesting trivia: Co-screenwriter I.A.L. Diamond wrote the line the night before the scene was shot.

In Memoriam: Tony Curtis (June 3, 1925-September 29, 2010)

Another Hollywood legend has passed away.

It made me realize how many of the classic actors of the 1950s and 1960s are slowly disappearing. The death of Curtis, at the age of 85, is much like the loss of Paul Newman last year: it reminds us that the "golden days" of Hollywood are rapidly disappearing with the deaths of its legends. Their old film stories and anecdotes are going with them.

Curtis was famous for openly sharing his experiences as an actor and a celebrity. Whether you believed his stories or not (and there are many who accuse him of being an outright liar), he acted as though he were an open book. Curtis wrote books on the subject of celebrity and filmmaking (most recently, 2009's The Making of Some Like It Hot: My Memories of Marilyn Monroe and the Classic American Movie, something I can't wait to read once it comes out in paperback). He fanned the flames of gossip when he claimed that Monroe miscarried their child (the product of a brief fling) soon after filming wrapped on the 1959 film. He was famously married to Janet Leigh and is father to actress Jamie Lee Curtis. He essentially put all his cards on the table, regardless of whether you liked him or not. He was a classy actor, even when sharing the most explicit details of his life in Hollywood.

I'm kind of ashamed to admit I've only seen three films in his extensive resume. The Defiant Ones, which I saw on TCM a good five years ago (I'm due for a re-watch), Spartacus and one of my all-time favourite films, Some Like It Hot. I saw the latter film for the first time only last year, when I bought it on a whim. It really lives up to its honour of the Best American Comedy (bestowed by the American Film Institute). As Joe/Josephine, Curtis is paired with two wonderful co-stars in Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe. When I first bought the film, I watched it twice in one week (no lie!) and a total of three times in that first month. While every aspect of the film is wonderful, Curtis' performance is one of the highlights.

Curtis was also a talented painter and was technologically savvy. He knew how to communicate with fans in the age of the Internet. You can check out his official website (run by Curtis Enterprises). He still offered to mail autographs to fans (a snail mail address is included on his website) and all of his most recent paintings were displayed in his online art gallery. Curtis was also the founder of Shiloh Horse Rescue and Sanctuary, a non-profit organization (started in 2003) which rehabilitates homeless and abused horses. His website claims that it has saved the lives or more than 500 horses.

His memorial service (according to his blog, run by Shiloh Horse Rescue and Sanctuary) is on October 4th and will be open to the public to allow both family and fans to pay their respects. I was really surprised by this ...it's so rare for an open memorial service for a celebrity).

Regardless of your opinion of Curtis, he was a charismatic screen legend and, up until now, one of the few who were left from an era long gone. Hollywood is now short one more star.

Classic Film Review: All About Eve

ALL ABOUT EVE (1950, Best Picture)
DIRECTED BY: Joseph L. Mankiewicz
STARRING: Bette Davis, Anne Baxter, George Sanders, Hugh Marlowe, Celeste Holm and Marilyn Monroe

"If nothing else, there's applause...like waves of love pouring over the footlights." ~Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter)~

The corruption that comes with wealth and fame, and the desire to be publicly adored, has been a recurring theme in Hollywood cinema for as long as we can remember. 1950, in particular, was a big year in terms of films dealing with fame and how fleeting and unforgiving it can be. Sunset Blvd. came out the same year as All About Eve and each film boasts wonderful lead performances from their actresses, Gloria Swanson and Bette Davis, respectively. While Sunset Blvd. addresses the perils of aging and being forgotten in Hollywood, All About Eve tackles another dark side to fame: ambition and, ultimately, betrayal.

Aspiring actress Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter) closely scrutinizes every performance and real-life drama of her Broadway idol, Margo Channing (Bette Davis) to the point of obsession. Quiet, polite, although obviously a little unhinged, Eve goes out of her way to integrate herself into Margo's elite inner social circle; quickly rising up the ladder to success as she goes from shy and awkward assistant to close friend and confidante to the star. Right from the start, everyone loves Eve. Playwright Lloyd Richards (Hugh Marlowe) and his wife, Karen (Celeste Holm), are beyond smitten with the young ingenue. Director Bill Sampson (Gary Merrill), who also happens to be Margo's younger beau, is intrigued by the odd young woman who has suddenly entered their lives. Even arrogant British theatre critic, Addison DeWitt (George Sanders), has the urge to learn more about the enigma that is Eve Harrington. However, all winds up going horribly wrong as Eve shows her true colours through her driving ambition to be famous and the backstabbing betrayal of her former idol, and new nemesis, Margo Channing.

Like Sunset Blvd., All About Eve has a sharp, witty and clever script. The dialogue is rife with astute Hollywood references and inside jokes. One particular interesting decision was casting Marilyn Monroe in the role of rising ingenue, Miss Casswell. She shows up on the arm of more than one famous beau and, while at a party, is encouraged by her agent to mingle and flirt with the variety of directors, playwrights and producers in attendance. Monroe's own career was undoubtedly built in a similar fashion. Being young and beautiful in Hollywood or on Broadway can go a long way towards making one famous.They'd need to be on standby to replace the aging Margo Channing's of the world.

Despite the fact that it was released well over 50 years ago, its story and themes are still relevant today. It takes a bleak approach to the gritty and cheap actions done behind the scenes by people who thrive in the limelight and also fear it when it starts to falter and dim. Margo Channing is 40 years old. She knows she can't play a 25 year old on stage anymore. Eve Harrington is 24 years old and talented and everyone on Broadway knows it. Eve wants nothing more than to be Margo Channing from 15 years ago.

As superstar Margo Channing, Bette Davis is a revelation. Always one of Hollywood's leading ladies, Davis steals the show, as usual, with her spot-on portrayal of an aging actress who is aware of her own mortality and the fact that fame can be fleeting. Ever confident and overly boastful by nature, Margo never felt her talent was under threat until the appearance of Eve Harrington. When faced with a pretty, young talent, Margo becomes all too aware that her reign as the queen of the stage may have reached its final curtain. Davis instills Margo with a fiery temperament and determination to prevail. It's fascinating watching her confidence in herself waver at the hands of a younger rival. Despite her diva-like ways, Margo is likeable and sympathetic and this is all thanks to Davis' wonderful performance. As a viewer you root for her success and want nothing more than for this 40 year old woman to remain the stage's leading lady.

As Eve Harrington, Anne Baxter is appropriately eerie and unlikeable. Initially, her fascination with Margo Channing is chilling in its quiet and penetrating stillness. She allegedly has a tragic past, involving a husband who didn't return from the Second World War. In gaining sympathy, (including from Margo, who cries when Eve tells her sad tale) Eve becomes a fixture in Margo's camp. As the film progresses, Eve further and further alienates the viewer as she flirts and laughs her way to the top. Baxter makes Eve a fascinating and unsettling study of non-violent aggression and behind-the-scenes backstabbing ambition.

Ironically enough, when the 1950 Academy Award nominations were announced, Anne Baxter fought to have herself in the Best Actress category alongside Bette Davis, as opposed to Best Supporting Actress. Baxter obviously saw her role as equal to that of Davis in terms of both screen time and talent. It's likely the reason why Davis didn't win a much-deserved Best Actress that year, as the fact that both actresses were nominated for lead performances likely split the vote.

Ah, when life imitates art.

All About Eve is a classic film that should still be talked about amongst movie fans and critics alike and dissected in film courses. Like a fine wine, this film has aged incredibly well.

FINAL GRADE: A