TV Timewarp with "Leave It to Beaver"

As I scrolled through my Netflix queue the other day, considering a new TV show to watch, I was reminded of something I hadn't thought about in years: I adore "Leave It to Beaver."

I remember when I was 7 years old, watching the old Nick at Nite line up, before the TV Land channel became a thing. My family would squat in front of the TV every night for "I Dream of Jeannie," "Bewitched," "I Love Lucy," "The Munsters," and "Get Smart," always to switch the OFF button when the theme song for "Dragnet" started. It was like clockwork. Some nights there was Mary, other nights some Dick Van Dyke, but never once was there "Leave It to Beaver." And I figured that was alright, because it seemed like a silly show anyways.

When I was in college, my dad felt it was time I was educated on the ways of the Beav (it shouldn't be a coincidence that he looked eerily like Jerry Mathers in 1959). I was 21 years old, and definitely not a little kid. I hummed and hawed, declaring how uninterested I was, but he popped in his newly received Season 1 DVDs anyways, and the rest was history.

On the surface, "Beaver" looks like a glossy, untainted view of life in the 50's—a mother vacuuming in pearls, a father peering over a newspaper, and a couple of rowdy kids with nothing better to do than get into mischief. The stakes are never too high and no one is ever too unhappy. But as you watch, you realize it's not nostalgic. It's not filmed with any sense of criticism or ironic hind-sight. It's not making an overt comment about progressiveness within a conservative system. It just is. The messages are subtle, but they're effortless.

We see it all as quaint and naive now. That doesn't diminish these truths, though: Wally is the world's best big brother to Beaver. June and Ward Cleaver may just be TV's most sympathetic, understanding, and patient parents. And seeing the show as an adult, I connected with it in a way I wouldn't have as a child. Where once I would have noticed only the trials of boyhood, I now see parents navigating parenthood, ending the cycle of corporal punishment, and the development of brotherhood.

All this rambling is just to say that I want to share my love of this show with you all. Netflix has all six seasons (which originally ran from 1957 to 1963), and I recommend you give it a try, if you haven't already. Watch it with your kids—especially if you have young boys.

Has anyone else watched the entire series? Were you a kid when you watched it, or were you an adult? What are your thoughts?

my first love, Lauren Bacall

Lauren "Betty" Bacall, 1924 - 2014

This has truly been a week of tragedies.  Today, my first love, Lauren Bacall, has died.

She was a figure of inspiration and admiration for as long as I can remember.  Since the age of 10, when I carried a large, hardbound copy of Humphrey Bogart's biography around my 5th grade class for 2 weeks straight... she has been a part of my life.

I'm sort of at a loss for words.  She wasn't young.  At 89, she (along with Mickey Rooney, who passed earlier this year) was one of last remaining icons of the Classic Hollywood era.  Her passing marks the end of that chapter in our film history, and something about that truly brings me to tears. 

When I was a child, and my father showed my sister and I a series of Bogart movies, I was immediately taken with To Have and Have Not.  The reason had everything to do with Bacall's presence.  Her first movie.  She was 19 - he was 44;  and they fell in love.  I fell in love with both of them.  It took me a long time to understand the crush I had on her.  But not long at all to truly embrace it.

Her beauty was like nothing I'd ever seen before.  For my young mind, it was like seeing a real life Sleeping Beauty, because no living person had ever been so beautiful.  She was captivating, and to read about her life is to see evidence of just that;  just how enamored everyone was with her. 

I could talk about her movies.  About how my essay on To Have and Have Not changing my life is what [probably] got me into college.   About how I would watch this scene from The Big Sleep every day before walking to school in the 5th grade.  Or about how this scene was my study on how to really kiss.

But no, it wasn't her movies.  It was her.  It was her husky voice; as a husky-voiced girl, myself, I learned early on that having a deep voice could be sexy.  Her presence, the way she walked into a room and commanded all the eyes to turn.  Throughout her entire life, she was magnetic.

The world lost a true legend today.  My heart goes out to her children, family, and friends. Bogart and Bacall are once again together.

Goodbye Betty.  I can only lament that I never met you to thank you for all that you've done for me; more than anyone will ever know.  

I will never forget you for all the rest of my days.  xx

AFI Top 100: #96 "Do the Right Thing"

Spike Lee in Do the Right Thing (1989)

Slowly but surely, we're counting down the AFI Top 100 movies of all time... This week we've come to #96, the 1989 classic Do the Right Thing. Written, directed, acted—probably even gaffed—by Spike Lee, this controversial and racially charged film tells the story of an eccentric cast of characters living (or working) on a single day in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn.

There are many layers to this film that I, personally, can't relate to—I'll say that first thing. The majority of characters are racial minorities—or minorities to some extent. And while tensions are high, they certainly don't completely segregate themselves based on their race. New York is a melting pot, and so is this community. As the film begins, we meet Mookie (Spike Lee), as he wakes up to sweltering heat on the hottest day of the year.  

Oh yeah.  It's important for you to know just how hot it is the entire movie. It's a component of the story that Lee carefully cultivates, not just in the dialogue, but even in the way the film is shot. The colors are saturated to an extreme, everyone is glistening, and you can't watch this movie without feeling a prickling of sweat break out on your own forehead. What better way to set the stage for tensions to boil over?

Back to the plot. Mookie spends his days working just down the street at a popular pizza joint, Sal's Pizzeria. Sal is an honest, hard-working guy, who also employs his two sons. Youngest son, Pino, and Mookie get along great, but both are easily pushed around by Pino's older brother, Vito.

Vito is a racist, and he doesn't really care who knows it. Yet it's the kind of racism where the person knows their hatred is stupid. Racism acts as a weapon used to "one-up" other people; to try to stop them dead in their tracks. To say, "Hey! You can't get the best of me! I'll just have to knock you down first!"  It's a defense-mechanism. 

Most of the people Vito admires are black—Mookie even makes one of my favorite observations in the film. When trying to level with Vito, Mookie states, "You know deep down inside, I think you wish you were black."

Self-hatred and insecurity are cross-cultural and not race-specific, and they play a big part in Do the Right Thing.  Every character carries with them feelings of inadequacy: Mookie and his inability to provide for his girlfriend and son;  local drunk, Da Mayor, battling to find respect and acceptance;  even Buggin' Out, the instigator of a protest against Sal's Pizzeria for only hanging up pictures of famous white people—even he struggles to find a cause that would give him a sense of importance.

The world these people live in is very small—a narrow, unimportant block in Bed-Stuy. Their lives aren't flashy, even if they do try to prove otherwise by rocking pricey Air Jordan's or carrying around the latest and greatest boombox. Most of the characters just sit on their stoops and spend their days trying to matter to even one person.

And regardless of their efforts, big things are happening in the outside world—fights for racial equality, political struggles—and they can only stand on the periphery with an opinion and plenty to say.

Spike Lee composes a film that gives us the same voyeuristic view of peoples' lives that Hitchcock's Rear Window did. But instead of peering through apartment windows in secret, everyone's lives have just flowed out onto the street. They're out in the open, and just as vulnerable. 

The climax of the film is greatly debated. I won't spoil it for people who haven't seen it, but the boiling point is reached and everything comes to a head around Sal's Pizzeria. Mookie, normally calm, collected, and reasonable, allows his own anger and resentment to influence his decisions. Did Mookie 'do the right thing'? I can't answer this question. But it's undeniable that Lee's film starts this conversation—and no matter how uncomfortable the audience might be with the racial tone of the subject matter, there's no turning away from it.

Something unique that Lee does here (and something he's done frequently in his career since), is using racist language and mentalities to incite a laugh. This movie is really funny. And sometimes you laugh when you feel you shouldn't. By approaching racism in this way, he's not giving it the heavy-handed treatment (*cough*Crash*cough*)—instead, he's showing simultaneously just how ridiculous, and at the same time, deep-seeded, it can be.  

There's so much more I could speak to, but this isn't an essay on the film's perspective on race relations—or its influence (though it's hard not to see continued parallels, considering the tragic events in Ferguson, MO that occurred the same day we watched this film).

Solely as a motion picture, I absolutely believe Do the Right Thing has earned a spot on this AFI Top 100 list. Lee has been notoriously snubbed by film honoring committees—and while it can be argued that filling a cast with characters that can go from 0 to 60 and never land in the middle is only going to alienate viewers, I don't believe that should matter.  

As a director, Lee is a visionary and a true auteur. His style is unique and rarely duplicated—at least successfully. And Do the Right Thing was the start of it all. 

Rating:  ★★★★ / 5 stars

[Watch the Trailer] | [Read More AFI Top 100 Reviews]

If you want to participate in this weekly movie countdown, feel free to follow along with me! Next Sunday's movie: #95, The Last Picture Show!

AFI Top 100: #97 "Blade Runner"

Harrison Ford & Sean Young in Blade Runner (1982)

Four weeks down, and we're still going strong! Not bad, if I do say so myself (just don't remind me that we have 96 more weeks to go)... Sunday, we came upon the first "cult" favorite on the AFI Top 100 list:  #97 Blade Runner. Specifically, the Theatrical Version. I had a long chat with my Masters-in-Film-Studies holding, brother-in-law, Jonathan, about which version to screen: US Theatrical, Director's Cut, or The Final Cut - and that's just 3 of the 7 cuts that are out there!

Because this is the Top 100 list, I felt that historical consistency was important. This list was released the same year as the Final Cut, which automatically disqualified it from contention. For that reason, we viewed the US Theatrical - and arguably, "less good" - version of the film. 

I will be reviewing it as a standalone, not in comparison to the other cuts (because, frankly, the other cuts make it an entirely different movie). So please keep that in mind, and try not to yell at me about how the others are better -- because, as you'll see... that's not a hard accomplishment.

Blade Runner is a neo-noir based on the Philip K. Dick novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Set in 2019 Los Angeles, the world is an over-populated, dystopian haze. A new life on one of the off-world colonies is but a dream for all who remain on Earth. Human-like androids, called "replicants", are used as slave and military labor off-world, and are forbidden from returning to Earth, due to the danger they could pose to humans.

That's where our protagonist comes in. After four Nexus-6 generation (the most advanced) replicants escape the colonies and find their way back to Earth's surface, the police call on Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter cop known as a "Blade Runner," to track them down for one last job.

Harrison Ford plays Deckard with all the subtly of a punch to the throat. He's a man struggling with the emotional strain years of "retiring" humanoid replicants has put on him. He doesn't want to do this job. But not badly enough to fight very hard to turn it down. As his search begins, he starts - where else? - at the beginning: the place the replicants were "born." In Los Angeles, that means the Tyrell Corporation. Tyrell is a brilliant business man and visionary; a man who has learned to play God with his creations.

At the Tyrell Corp, Deckard meets the person who will change everything for him. Rachel (Sean Young), Tyrell's assistant, is offered up to Deckard as a subject for the replicant detection test - you know, "to see how a human would grade." A hundred questions later, it is clear to Deckard that Rachel is (spoiler! but not really) a replicant -- she just doesn't know it. Replicants, with their four-year life spans, are emotionally immature and easily spotted through their emotional response to normal human experiences. Basically, they're baby sociopaths.

Given their short life spans (which essentially means they "power down"), the motivation for the replicants becomes clear: extend their lives, by any means necessary.

This is where I begin to have issues with this film. Motivation is a driving force behind every character's actions... except everything just feels... off. Like every second. Deckard's motivation is never very clear, even with his languid narration interspersed throughout. He wants to catch the replicants, that part is clear. Because he was told to? I guess. Pretty flimsy, if you ask me.

And his resolve for that outcome is only weakened by the introduction of Rachel, whose only purpose is to instill additional uncertainty in Deckard's already emotional mentality (she also made me want to scream "Laces out!" every time she came on screen - but I digress). So what's the motivation now?  "I have to stop them... I guess?"

Now, to the replicants, and the B Story - unarguably the more dynamic and interesting aspect of the film. I'm going to refrain from recounting each detail of the story -- after all, my point isn't to give a full summary. Yet it's important to say that a lot of time is spent showing two of the four replicants (Roy & Pris) as they struggle to hide from the blade runners, while still seeking answers to their plight.

And that plight is hugely motivational. They want to survive! Sure, they're violent and homicidal, but considering what's at stake, that's pretty darn justified! Again, this just poses more problems for the movie. Sympathetic antagonists are nothing new (Ian McKellan's Magneto comes to mind); they often make the protagonist more interesting, by default. Yet Blade Runner does a HUGE disservice to these characters by making them weirdo, crazy, mindless killers in one scene -- and then flipping the switch and giving them all of our sympathy in the next, leaving none left over for Deckard.

Deckard's scenes with Rachel are forced and awkward. They have absolutely no chemistry, and Ford effortlessly gives off a "rape-y" vibe, which is apparently supposed to be sexy. He also struggles to even function when coming face-to-face with the replicants.  Isn't this guy supposed to be the best? Why is he so inept at hand-to-hand combat? And why does he come off as a powerless coward in his face-off with replicant leader, Roy? This is never explained (other than to say, "Oh but he just feels so much more now." Wait, what? No.)

Too much time is spent merely suggesting that Deckard is a replicant, yet... not really? Other versions (I promised to avoid this topic!) broach this subject in more effective ways. Unfortunately, this isn't that version. I can't commend a movie for what it could have been. Instead, we have to look at what it is. And what it is is a beautiful looking, artistically ground-breaking mess. What's worse is... it's really, really boring.

the art direction of Blade Runner

There are themes galore (What is humanity?), but the movie doesn't do them justice. The pacing makes it nearly impossible to fully realize any subtle suggestions or implications. Anything deeper can only be shoehorned in by the viewer. In the end, it focuses so much on its own style and completely disregards anything that could really give the plot and characters the dimension they deserve. If the B plot were the A plot, and our protagonists were the replicants fighting the good fight... I can't help but think that would be a much more compelling story.

Director Ridley Scott may have lost control of the film due to studio interference. Which is unfortunate. But does what he tried to do warrant putting this under-whelming film on the AFI Top 100? Not in the slightest. Hollywood has gotten dystopian sci-fi films down pretty pat over the last 30+ years (12 Monkeys, The Matrix, City of Lost Children, the list goes on). Let's give them a shot in the ranking, and let Blade Runner fall off the list for good.

Rating:  ★½ / 5 stars

[Watch the Trailer] | [Read More AFI Top 100 Reviews]

What are your thoughts? Do you agree? Or strongly disagree (as I'm sure many of you Blade Runner fans do!) Let me know in the comments!

♦   ♦   ♦   ♦   ♦   ♦   ♦   ♦   ♦   ♦   ♦

Check out #96 on the AFI Top 100 list, Do the Right Thing!

And please, if you feel so inclined, share this blog and these posts with others who may enjoy them -- or "Follow Me" to receive updates about new posts right in your Blogger feed! Thanks for your support, everyone! xx

AFI Top 100: #98 "Yankee Doodle Dandy"

Joan Leslie & James Cagney in Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942)

This past Sunday night, my heart grew three sizes. We hosted a low-key screening of our third AFI Top 100 film, Yankee Doodle Dandy, #98. It's been easily 13 years since I've seen this movie (it is featured on the list of Nominees for the Best Picture Oscar, my long-running personal challenge), so it was something I've ticked off in passing, along with many others. With that in mind, I realized... I didn't really remember anything about Yankee Doodle!

The plot is simple enough: A glamorized biography of legendary Broadway song-and-dance man, George M. Cohan, as only WWII-era Hollywood can deliver. But... was the movie any good? I hadn't the slightest idea. A stressful question, considering I'd strong-armed (not really) people into watching it with me. So I crossed my fingers, spouted a few warnings, and pressed play.

First, the plot. The above-mentioned 'tagline' is, quite simply, all the movie is about. George M. Cohan, born in 1878 to popular Vaudeville-performing,Irish immigrant parents, hits the road with the family as soon as he can stand up in tap shoes.

For decades, they tour the country as the "Four Cohans", edging ever closer to the big time.  Little Georgie Cohan is precocious and arrogant -- oh, and extremely talented. But his attitude costs his family many opportunities over the years, and in an effort to save them from his own failures, George sends the now 'Three Cohans' off to keep touring while he pounds the pavement of Broadway looking for his big break.

He sings. He dances. He acts. He writes every word and lyric. Some inventive cons and fast-talking later, George finds himself a rising star at the center of the Broadway theatre-scape.

His reputation as a "flag-waving patriot" is considered a negative; old-fashioned, Civil War-era jingoism -- that is until the World War breaks out. Soon, his hit musical theater songs, such as "Grand Old Flag" and "Over There," are ringing through the streets of not only Broadway, but the nation.

This is a very glossy view of Cohan's life, and that's evident by the fact that there are very few stakes throughout the picture. Cohan's troubles are always followed by towering triumphs, and that is only highlighted by the fact that he narrates the movie while sitting in the Oval Office in front of President Franklin Roosevelt. He made it, and we all know it from the start.

But to my surprise, there is a lot of humor in this film. The script is clever and creative, with a timeless quality. Cagney's Cohan peppers jokes, one-liners, and jabs like it's a compulsion, and he had me and my guests just cackling with delight. The scenes where he meets his longtime business partner, Sam Harris, as they both try to pitch separate stage productions to the same producer is particularly memorable.

Looking past the epic stage shows, sets and chorus girls, we glimpse briefly in frequent montage sequences (which, by the way, are so incredible and intricate, they put Vegas to shame) -- at its core, the movie is all heart.

James Cagney, best known for playing Hollywood gangsters, is spirited and joyous with a constant kick in his step. His charm carries the film and gives it life, particularly during scenes with his family.

It is rumored that George M. Cohan previewed the movie in 1942, the year of his death. His response was, "That was a good picture.  Who was it about?" Such a reaction encompasses the beautiful, yet wholly fantastical, film that is Yankee Doodle Dandy.

Hollywood's view of Cohan might be idealized -- even false, at times. But while it may be false, it is not dishonest. More than a biography of a man, Yankee Doodle Dandy is the patriotic pulse of a war-torn nation and audiences hungry for a tale about the American spirit. Cagney absolutely kills it at every second, whether he's making us laugh or making us cry.

And never in a million years did I expect to tear up like I did during the film's finale. The elder Cohan witnessing the march of soldiers heading off to battle as war breaks out for a 2nd time, as the sounds of "Over There" ring out... Cagney deserved every ounce of that Best Actor Academy Award.

In the end, I was very impressed. AFI knew what it was doing keeping this movie from falling off its list. I hope very much that it remains there in the future. Patriotism and flag-waving isn't as celebrated as it once was, which could make this movie seem antiquated and naive to modern audiences. But that's why we have films like Yankee Doodle to begin with -- to remind us just how magical and uplifting that American dream can be.

Rating:  ★★★★ / 5 stars

[Watch the Trailer] | [Read More AFI Top 100 Reviews]

Check in next week for #97, Blade Runner!

AFI Top 100: #99 "Toy Story"

Woody & Buzz Lightyear, Toy Story (1995)

As weekly movie nights continue at the Johnstone/Grande household, we were joined by a handful of friends for our second AFI Top 100 screening.  This week?  #99 Toy Story.  It was a bit of a relief to present something that wasn't such a time suck, and at 81 minutes, Toy Story offered one of the most delightful at-home movie viewing experiences I've had in years.  

This now infamous Pixar creation - and the first fully computer-animated, feature length motion picture - tells the story of a cowboy doll named Woody as he struggles to maintain his position as "top toy" in his owner, Andy's, bedroom.  This once unchallenged title is threatened when Andy receives spaceman action figure, Buzz Lightyear, for his birthday.  Woody attempts semi-graciously to reason with this new toy:  Hey buddy, I know you're new here, but, just so you know...  Only to discover that not only does Buzz not care, he doesn't even realize he's a toy!  A back-and-forth begins as Woody's jealousy and anger builds, and he begins to lose everything he once held dear.

We're all familiar with this story.  It was such a part of my childhood, and my friends', I don't remember a world where Tom Hanks wasn't Woody and Tim Allen wasn't Buzz Lightyear.  These characters are iconic.  No less so now than they were 20 years ago.  The script is finite brilliance, each beat perfectly timed and each line hitting its mark. Joss Whedon has subtle influence here, having written an early draft and punched up certain lines -- everyone in attendance Sunday night had a world of fun randomly shouting out "That - that right there - that was totally Joss," like we even had any idea.  But Whedonverse fans just know, don't we?

Toy Story has this strange impact on me, and during this viewing (easily my 20th), I tried to figure out what that impact stems from.  Nostalgia, certainly.  That idea that we all had our "Woody" or "Buzz" somewhere in our own bedrooms growing up (all my other toys were jelly of my P.J. Sparkles doll).  Beyond that, the movie is just really intelligent.  It expects us to be intelligent.  It's witty and quick and doesn't beat around the bush.  It's one of the things that makes it a perfect movie.  Characters that, by their definition, should be lifeless, are in fact multi-faceted and complicated.  Certainly full of faults.  Even our two (sometimes one) dimensional human characters are wondrous.  Not because we get to know them but because of how the toys feel about them. 

While looking for pictures to feature in this review, I ran across this image.  And I welled up in a teary-blob, followed by spontaneous giggling at my own foolishness.  My office-mate even asked to make sure I was okay.  I simply said, "Nothing wrong, I just looked at this."  He totally got it. 

That's what it does.  Disney's Pixar created something special and it can't be denied.  It may not be their most impressive venture, but it's certainly their most groundbreaking.

Who knows?  Maybe the magic of Toy Story wouldn't be as alive and well today had it not spawned two brilliant sequels -- and one of the most emotional and satisfying trilogy endings in movie history (no hyperbole).  But the original is where it all began, and I predict it will rise significantly on the AFI Top 100 list in subsequent editions.  

What do you guys think?  Do you think it deserves a bump?  Or are you over it (i.e. dead inside)?  Let me know your thoughts!

Rating:  ★★★★½ / 5 stars

[Watch the Trailer] | [Read More AFI Top 100 Reviews]

Check back next week for my review of Yankee Doodle Dandy at #98!

AFI TOP 100: #100 "Ben-Hur"

Charlton Heston, Ben-Hur (1959)

This past Sunday kicked off the weekly viewing of the AFI Top 100 Movies of All Time contenders.  Beginning at the tail-end of the list, and working our way to #1.  

Kicking off this list at #100 is Ben-Hur (1959), starring Charlton Heston and directed by William Wyler.  This film, which won the Oscar for Best Picture that year, begins in 26 A.D. and tells the story of Judah Ben-Hur (a.k.a. Judah, Son of Hur), a young and wealthy Jewish prince and merchant living in Jerusalem, as he witnesses the steady Roman takeover of the city.  His dedication to his people and stance against Rome is tested when his childhood friend, Messala, comes back into his life.  Messala is now a tribune of Rome, influenced by the surrounding power of the State.  Despite his evident love for his old friend, his priorities are clear:  recruit Judah to the Roman cause and convince him to betray his Jewish brethren.

Spoiler Alert:  He refuses.  This refusal contributes to Judah, as well as his mother and sister, being unjustly arrested and tried for treason.  Not knowing what becomes of his family, Judah finds himself slaving away in the galleys of a Roman ship for more than three years -- with the prospect of one day seeking vengeance  the only thing keeping him alive. 

There is a B-story here that could almost be considered the main storyline.  Throughout Judah's journey and eventual freedom, there is a not-so-subtle littering of the life of Jesus Christ just on the periphery.  The revenge and hate that seeps through Judah Ben-Hur's veins is counter-balanced by the teachings of forgiveness that the people he encounters along the way are beginning to incorporate into their faith.  This parallel all culminates to a climax that, quite literally, washes all the characters of the sins of their past.

This is a film I saw many times growing up, and there are features I remembered distinctly:  the stunning beauty of the art direction (matte paintings galore!), being irrefutably scarred by the Valley of the Lepers, and of course, the epic enormity of the famous chariot race.

But one thing I didn't remember was just how religious the film was.  Pretty absurd, right?  Considering the movie is a remake of the 1925 film, Ben-Hur:  A Tale of the Christ.  Somehow, though, in my young state, the Christian under- and over-tones completely escaped me.  For my father, the Methodist minister and movie-lover, classic film-making history trumped religion every time.  

And so, as a result, I followed suit.  Re-watching the movie now, as an agnostic adult, I'm shocked at what went over my head as a child;  what didn't quite sink in.  The visual references aside, there are many instances where Judah and his family are affected by the religious change around them.  The storyline incorporates these details really beautifully, and it can't be denied that the "birth of Christianity" is at the core of the film. 

Stephen Boyd (Messala) and Heston

Technically speaking, this film is spectacular.  On more than one occasion, my movie night guests remarked loudly about the incredible lighting, the composition of the scenes, and the truly groundbreaking dolly shots.  Most who haven't seen Ben-Hur in its 3½ hour entirety are still aware of the climactic chariot race sequence -- yet there is so much more here to enjoy.  Wyler certainly takes his time navigating Judah's story, and at many points, it feels pretty laborious.  Yet I can excuse those pitfalls because, in some instances, dragging out a moment offered some of the best subtleties ever to grace Code Era cinema!  Rumors of writer Gore Vidal's influence on the character of Messala, and his suggestion to actor Stephen Boyd to play the role with a deep-seeded, unrequited love for Judah Ben-Hur, is a noticeably inspired undertone that immediately changes every moment of their interactions.  Given that any suggestions of homosexuality were forbidden by the Hayes Code at the time, watching Stephen Boyd's longing glances (completely unbeknownst to Heston) is a pure delight.

The American Film Institute originally listed this movie as its #72 pick for the first Top 100 Movies list in 1997, and it dropped considerably on this 10th Anniversary list.  And many believe it will likely fall off the list altogether in 2017's revised tally.... But I don't think so.  In fact, a predict a small rise.  While the religious aspects hold less sway over audiences now than they may have in the past, there is so much more to honor here.  And I'm happy to have revisited it after so many years.

Rating:  ★★½ / 5 stars

[Watch the Trailer] | [Read More AFI Top 100 Reviews]

Check back next week when we watch Toy Story!

Deanna Durbin: America's [Forgotten] Kid Sister

During the mid-1930s, Hollywood studios scrambled to find child stars that would capture the heart of American audiences.  Just as 20^th Century Fox had Shirley Temple, other studios were on the lookout for monumental talent, and oftentimes, their greatest discoveries were made by accident.  Universal Studios’ most popular singing discovery of the '30s came in the small, but feisty package of 13-year-old Deanna Durbin. 

Her sudden rise to fame changed Hollywood as she became the mold which future teenage stars of the era would be compared.  Surprising audiences with her crystal clear soprano that rivaled even Jeanette MacDonald, Durbin came onto the scene by chance and enjoyed an intense but short seat at the top.  Her musical films were so popular and lucrative that she single-handedly saved a studio from bankruptcy and brought pleasure to audiences all over the world. 

The girl once referred to as “America’s Kid Sister,”¹ has been preserved in Hollywood musical history as the first great teenage star to be embraced both as a child and as a grown woman. With her tenacious spirit and heavenly soprano, Deanna Durbin’s short career, while forgotten by most, paved the way for young female singers on film for decades to come.

Deanna, born Edna Mae Durbin in December, 1921, came from humble beginnings in Winnipeg, Canada before her family migrated to Los Angeles when she was still an infant.²  Her parents never set their sights on Hollywood careers for their daughters, but instead, wanted their youngest daughter, Edna Mae, to nurture her talent that they discovered when she was very young.  It was Edna’s older sister Edith, in fact, that proposed to their parents that Edna receive singing lessons.  The young girl had an angelic voice, which only grew and developed into the mature voice of a woman by the time Edna was thirteen years old.

She studied opera and trained classically for many years before anyone took notice, and it wasn’t until 1935 when a talent agent from MGM Studios, Jack Sherill, stumbled across her during her own singing recital.³  At the time, MGM was developing a biography picture on opera diva Madame Schumann-Heink and were on the lookout for a child opera singer to play the performer as a young girl.  Sherill didn’t look any further than Durbin, who was tested for MGM and signed for an optional contract in late 1935, which was renewable every three months.  Unfortunately for Durbin at the time, the picture (tentatively titled Gram) never materialized due to Schumann-Heink’s premature death, and Durbin’s contract was not renewed.[4]  It was believed by not only her family, but by Durbin herself, that her career was over before it began.

Durbin did, however, make one picture with MGM before finishing with them completely. The musical short, titled Every Sunday (1936), was an 11-minute presentation featuring two young girls, whose singing styles were contrasted by combining opera with swing.  Durbin appeared alongside another future teenage singing sensation, Judy Garland, before either of them appeared in the films that made them stars.  Several rumors surround this rare film, particularly in regards to Louis B. Mayer’s decision to drop Durbin from her MGM contract, signing Garland’s instead.  The first rumor stems from a misunderstanding, in which the film’s producer, George Sidney, was told by Mayer to “dump the fat one,” referring to Garland.  Sidney, however, thought he meant Durbin, so he got rid of her instead.[5]

This rumor was refuted by some who note that while Durbin’s character in the film is named “Edna,”[6] she is credited during the final credits as “Deanna Durbin.”  Durbin’s screen name, “Deanna,” wasn’t given to her until after she signed with struggling studio Universal in June 1936.[7]  Skeptics of the previously stated rumor argue that Durbin was already signed with Universal before Every Sunday was produced in July 1936, but that her optional contract with MGM stipulated that they could use her for up to sixty days following the contract’s termination.  Either way, the short film was hardly a star vehicle for either singer, but it was the launching pad for two very different careers.

 

Once Durbin was picked up, almost reluctantly, by Universal Studios, her singing and acting skills were tested relentlessly.  The studio felt her acting was lacking any real substance, though her singing voice was unparalleled for someone her age.  Sherill fought with Universal executives, claiming that Durbin was just the kind of star they needed to raise the studio out of its financial and creative hole.

Ultimately, the studio took a chance on the teenage soprano, pairing her with two European filmmakers that were also facing their last chance for a hit: director, Henry Koster, and producer, Joe Pasternak.[8]  Koster believed he could make Durbin a star, and in September 1936, the trio began production on a new musical comedy, titled Three Smart Girls (1936.)  What followed for the newly renamed Deanna was unexpected and immediate worldwide fame, spanning the decade in what film historian, Clive Hirschhorn, dubbed “The Durbin Era.”[9]

Over the course of Deanna’s thirteen-year career in Hollywood, she made twenty-one films, all musicals to one degree or another.  While her characters varied slightly, the majority of her films possessed a very unique musical style, and the musical sequences themselves were just as distinct.  The films were called musicals because they featured Deanna Durbin singing, but with very few exceptions[10] did any other character in the film sing as well.  Regardless, the musicals during most of Durbin’s career could be categorized as modern fairy-tales, revolving around a sophisticated, big-city community or household.

On some occasions, Durbin’s character would infiltrate this privileged, wealthy society, usually by accident. Her appearance is almost always troublesome for one or more of the side characters, who see her as an outsider and unworthy of their attention.  The trouble she causes is eventually trumped by the love she creates in the hearts of wealthy old men, snotty rich girls, and of course, eligible young suitors who only needed to be shown how much better a woman could be.

On the other side, many of Durbin’s characters actually come from this same privilege, but she manages to develop a down-to-earth, kind nature that rejects all selfish behavior and attitudes.  Throughout the film, it would become her job to set her personal “kingdom” right again.  During her teens, the formation of the couple in her films wasn’t always traditional: the “couple” might refer to her and a male suitor, a family member and the person they love, or even a man and his dream.  This “couple,” once formed, would bring peace to Durbin’s world and end happily ever after.  Such a formula became Durbin’s own brand of musical that took a step away from traditional format.

In that sense, there was rarely dancing in her films, and the musical interludes were always introduced through dialogue with Deanna’s character’s motivation to sing thoroughly explained.  While that motivation may have seemed a tad contrived or forced, it was never shocking or confusing when the singing began, because it is always established that her character possesses the talent to sing.  Motivation simply came from the presence of a stage or piano, sometimes an entire orchestra, while other times, Deanna’s character would ask with a smile and a squint in her eye, “Would you like to hear me sing?”

The answer was always yes, and without hesitation, she’d break into a stunning operatic aria.  The songs didn’t always directly reflect the plot, but the simple act of singing was a means for her character to achieve her goals.  It was that moment in every film when she opened her mouth to sing where it was clear why she would go on to capture the world’s heart.

 

(Promotional publicity stills © Universal)

The teenage Deanna Durbin was portrayed in her films in a very distinct and deliberate way.  In the beginning, the success of her first film, Three Smart Girls, skyrocketed her to fame and fortune, not to mention top-billing in every film she would star in for the rest of her career.  Three Smart Girls was such an undeniable success and its new discovery such a bonified star, the film literally saved Universal Studios from bankruptcy.[11]  This success quickly accelerated Durbin’s career; her contract was extended and she was signed to appear in a handful of new pictures designed completely around her and the image the studio created for her.

Her characters were developed to fit the image of a fiery, sassy, forward-thinking, and often impudent girl with an obvious lack of restraint, but a big heart.  Durbin herself later called this character “Little Miss Fix-It,”[12] referring to her characters’ desire to make all things wrong with the world right again.  She connived and fought to unite lovers, help her family and friends, and bring harmony and joy to those around her.  Her first five films illustrate this exactly, the first of which, of course, was Three Smart Girls.

In the movie, Durbin plays Penny Craig (a role she revived for two sequels), the youngest daughter of three who convinces her sisters to fly from Switzerland to New York to keep their father from remarrying and reunite him with their mother who still loves him.  At only 15-years-old, Penny’s rapid-fire talk, always clear and eloquent no matter what the ramblings, stole every scene.  Her very next film, 100 Men and a Girl, showcases this same determination when her character, Patricia Cardwell, fights to help her struggling musician father and his unemployed friends form a symphony orchestra.  The plots of her films are always comedic, yet heartfelt, and they are enhanced by the insertion of Durbin’s musical performances.



Durbin [center] in Three Smart Girls Grow Up (1939) © Universal

Her singing voice has the power to captivate and enthrall, as if hypnotizing everyone around her, including the audience.  The musical sequences are often shot to convey this, with little to no movement from the camera or actors.  The focus is placed solely on Durbin with interchanging close-ups and medium shots, often expanding to include reaction shots from the characters around her who have fallen under her spell. The music makes everyone else forget, even for a moment, where they are and what they’re doing.

For example, in Three Smart Girls, Penny’s father, Judson Craig, comes to his daughters to demand they go back home to Switzerland at the request of his selfish fiancée.  Before he can, Penny asks her father if he’d like to hear her sing.  Without waiting for a response, she slides into the emotional and powerful ballad, “Someone to Care for Me.”  Her voice is so sweet and so entrancing that Judson forgets what he came to request of his daughters.  The same thing happens later in the film when Penny runs away from home, only to be intercepted by police officers and brought back to the station.  There, she tries to convince them she’s a famous opera singer and breaks into song, singing “Il Bacio” in the middle of the crowded station.  Before the audience knows it, every officer has surrounded her in awe, as if drawn to her innocence and sweetness.

While her talent is apparent, her innocence is often contrasted with the fact that she’s using her talent to con and seduce adults into helping her achieve her goals.  Thankfully for Durbin’s screen image, those goals were always for the benefit of those around her, not just herself.  Commonly, other characters in the film, her family included, drastically underestimate her capabilities because she is so young; but just like her singing voice, her tenacity and spunk manage to surprise them, and ultimately, she saves the day.

Deanna Durbin became the idealized version of the “perfect daughter,”[13] one whom parents around the world could watch and wish was theirs. The popularity of this image was so great that Universal worried before Durbin was even 18 years old what kind of affect her maturity would have on audiences.[14]  While her contract wasn’t set to expire for another couple of years, the studio knew that they would have to make a handful of hard decisions regarding their top star.[15]

By 1940, Durbin had achieved unprecedented successes, ranking as the highest-paid actress in Hollywood.[16]  With Judy Garland breaking out as a rising star in 1939’s The Wizard of Oz at MGM, Universal wondered how long they’d be able to keep Durbin’s squeaky-clean, child-like image believable on screen.  It didn’t help that Durbin, nearing twenty years old, was rumored to be engaged to Vaughn Paul, an assistant director who worked on her first five films.[17]  Universal was faced with the choice of continuing Durbin’s innocent screen persona, letting her out of her contract, or simply allowing her to grow up naturally.[18]  

Several of her late 30s/early 40s films, which still held onto the aforementioned image, began hinting at Durbin’s progression into womanhood, regardless of what the studio wanted. In particular, the romantic comedy musical First Love (1939) featured Durbin’s very first on-screen kiss with actor, Robert Stack. This kiss generated great worldwide publicity and prompted some very strong reactions from fans the world over.  One older male fan from Russia considered Durbin to be so pure and saintly, he requested that Universal avoid having any of her characters kiss or embrace men on camera.[19]

Durbin in First Love (1939) © Universal

Eventually, word got around town that Durbin had married Vaughn Paul, so Universal took a chance and allowed their star to take on more adult roles.[20]  The first of which was the 1941 film, It Started with Eve, where Durbin was paired alongside an aging Charles Laughton, who played a cantankerous dying man wanting to meet his son’s fiancée before he dies.  In a desperate attempt to find someone, the son (played by Robert Cummings) runs into Durbin on the street and brings her home.  Complications arise as the old man’s health improves and his affections for Durbin intensify to the point where telling him who she really is may only further affect his health.

This riotous comedy set up a new formula for Durbin pictures, which transformed her teenage innocence into adult earnestness.  As a result, the public embraced the new, grown-up Deanna Durbin with open arms, noting that with age, her voice was fuller and the lyrics she sang more powerful.[21]  The forward-thinking attitude of her younger self translated to a greater confidence and mischievous sensuality as her music style changed.  Operatic pieces still dominated the soundtracks, yet more modern swing and jazz numbers gave Durbin the sophisticated maturity of a modern woman capable of making love.

During the next few years, Durbin took on two dramatic roles, first in Christmas Holiday (1944) and again in Lady on a Train (1945), both of which step further away from the Deanna Durbin mold.  The films were well-received, but focused much less on the musical sequences than on the film noir plots.  It became apparent that Durbin wanted to establish herself as a serious actress, not just a singer, but Universal refused to give her a film that did not include singing.  By 1945, the era of Deanna Durbin came to an end, even though she continued to make pictures on through 1948.  Her popularity never really decreased throughout the 40s, but her films weren’t as well-received year after year.[22]

After making her two last films in ’48, Something in the Wind and For the Love of Mary, Durbin abruptly got married for the second time and quit Hollywood, moving to the outskirts of Paris, promising never to return.  She later revealed her longing for “a life of nobody,”[23] and though she is still alive as of 2007, she has not spoken to the press or appeared publicly since the early 1950s.  In 1958, however, she did allow a letter to her fans to be published, in which she explained her need to escape the false image of “Deanna Durbin,” whom she says never really existed.[24]  By removing herself from the spotlight, she was able to become who she really is, allowing the image of Deanna Durbin the public grew to love to be how she’s always remembered.

Durbin’s contribution to the musical film genre may seem slight, considering the lack of cult appeal that followed her peers.  Judy Garland, remembered as the greatest musical film star of all time, couldn’t hold a finger to Durbin during her prime.  MGM’s desperate attempt to capture what Universal managed to find in Durbin only a few years before is one of the reasons the mega-studio took a chance on the lesser known Garland for what became her break-out hit, The Wizard of Oz (1939.)[25]

Durbin’s film mentors, Koster and Pasternak, eventually went on to MGM along with so many others, trying to recreate the magic of Deanna by bringing up new discoveries Jane Powell and Kathryn Grayson.[26]  Pasternak even remade the Durbin classic Three Smart Girls into the Jane Powell star vehicle, Three Daring Daughters (1948).[27]  Durbin’s career was short-lived, but she never failed to capture the audience’s love; in that respect, she will never be forgotten.

Her music remains as pure sounding and impressive today as it did 70 years ago, and her films hold the same magic and sweetness they did when audiences first experienced them. As radio legend Eddie Cantor said of Durbin in 1936, “To hear her is to adore her. To both see and hear her is to take her to your heart for all time.”[28]

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[1] Dan Churchill, “One Smart Girl,” The New York Times (1939)

Article location: http://deannadurbin.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!5E8DA30B074705F8!180.entry

[2] Ibid.

[3] Jim Tully, “Fifteen & Famous,” The Los Angeles Times (1937)

Article location: http://deannadurbin.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!5E8DA30B074705F8!176.entry

[4] Churchill, “One Smart Girl,” The New York Times (1939)

[5] Rumor widely accepted by Deanna Durbin fans, which suggests that Garland owes her entire career to Durbin’s luck. (source: http://www.deannadurbin.org)

[6] “Edna.” Deanna’s birth name; Judy Garland’s character was named “Judy”

[7] Cited from a blurb written in The Hollywood Reporter (June 1, 1936); author unknown.

[8] Tully, “Fifteen & Famous,” The Los Angeles Times (1937)

[9] Clive Hirschhorn, The Universal Story (New York: Crown Publisher, Inc, 1983), pp. 96

[10] The only Durbin films that featured other characters singing were Something in the Wind (1948), It’s a Date (1940), and Can’t Help Singing (1944), the latter of which was the only one with a traditional musical form

[11] Hirschhorn, The Universal Story (New York: Crown Publisher, Inc, 1983), pp. 96

[12] Adele Fletcher, “Totally Happy,” Modern Screen (1972)

Article location: http://deannadurbin.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!5E8DA30B074705F8!134.entry

[13] Kay Proctor, “Deanna Off the Screen,” unknown periodical (1941)

Article location: http://deannadurbin.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!5E8DA30B074705F8!164.entry

[14] Ibid.

[15] Ibid.

[16] Churchill, “One Smart Girl,” The New York Times (1939)

[17] Proctor, “Deanna Off the Screen,” unknown periodical (1941)

[18] Ibid.

[19] George Benjamin, “Our Deanna,” Modern Screen (1940)

Article location: http://deannadurbin.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!5E8DA30B074705F8!181.entry

[20] Evans Plummer, “Deanna the Wife,” Movie Radio Guide (1941)

Article location: http://deannadurbin.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!5E8DA30B074705F8!167.entry

[21] Ibid.

[22] Hirschhorn, The Universal Story (New York: Crown Publisher, Inc, 1983), pp. 157

[23] Quote alleged, but original source is unknown. IMDb.com: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0002052/bio

[24] Garvin Hudgens, “Deanna Herself for Once,” Syracuse Herald (1958)

Article location: http://deannadurbin.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!5E8DA30B074705F8!136.entry

[25] Ibid.

[26] Clive Hirchhorn, The Hollywood Musical (New York: Portland House, 1991), pp. 127

[27] Ibid.

[28] Quote featured in the original trailer for Three Smart Girls (Universal, 1936)