She Blogged By Night

This morning while nursing a cold, I found myself watching Robert Montgomery and Franchot Tone trying to out-suave each other in the 1935 romantic comedy "No More Ladies" (pictured). It's a fun enough movie, but it's difficult to not make fun of a film which consists mostly of one handsome man in a tuxedo and slicked-back hair try to be more sophisticated and charming than another handsome man in a tuxedo and slicked-back hair. Joan Crawford adds to the fun by wearing a dress with a stiff white collar that must be at least 4 feet wide. I am not exaggerating. Her false eyelashes are the longest and silliest I've ever seen in a 1930s film, and while they look nice enough from a distance, if the camera comes in for even a medium shot of Crawford, they're so noticeable as to be distracting.

While mentally measuring Crawford's lashes (Good gravy, those things are, what, 2 inches long? More? And didn't anyone laugh at that enormous collar back in '35?!) it occurred to me that my previously-announced hiatus is going to last much longer than one week. Thanks to a snucky cold, school work, and an upcoming vacation, I may not have any significant updates for several more days.

In the interest of keeping my devoted readers happy, I thought I'd leave you with a few tidbits of things to read and some fun stuff to hopefully brighten up your Monday morning.

My dear husband is an overstuffed genius when it comes to crappy 1970s and 1980s pop movies and television shows. Occasionally he convinces me to partake in this vast cultural morass, which is how I ended up watching Superman II (1980) last night. As anyone who is familiar with the film's cult status knows, one of the few redeeming qualities of "Superman II" is Terrence Stamp's relatively understated performance as General Zod. Stamp is quite a good actor, and I hope to feature him in a serious article soon. Anyhow, if you're wondering just how we went so quickly from talking about a classic 1935 romantic comedy to a Superman sequel, let me tell you: Zod spends much of his time standing around being fabulously suave and well-groomed. Clearly, General Zod is a modern-day Franchot Tone.

"Superman II" is one of the most blatant examples of film-making entirely for the sake of money that I've ever seen. Featuring a tissue-thin plot, complete lack of character development, and sloppily done stand-ins and re-shoots, the most vile thing about the film was the product placements, especially the ones for cigarettes. Absolutely disgusting, especially in a movie aimed at kids.

Ultimately, you cannot deny the charm of a trio of sophisticated villains in cool black leather clothes, or the fascination with the many controversies and two versions of "Superman II" now available.

In that vein, I leave you with these links:

Dave Kellett's hilarious cartoon strip "Sheldon" features Zod a few times. The first series with Zod begins here. The second is here and the third starts here. Guaranteed to cheer you up, even if you don't need it.

I normally don't link to Wikipedia, but right now, the article on the "Donner cut" of "Superman II" is quite good. In 5 minutes the article might be replaced with a picture of a lolcat, but as of now, it's informative and useful. The Variety blog is equally interesting.

Just want me to shut up about Superman already and talk about the classics? Check out this Joan Crawford page "The Best of Everything" by Stephanie Jones - absolutely jammed with terrific photos. You could spend a whole day on this wonderful site.

A contemporary review for "No More Ladies" in the New York Times can be found here. Sometimes the page asks for a login. To bypass this, go to Google and search for "no more ladies" review and click on the link there.

This post originally appeared on my previous blog in 2007, and was moved to SBBN in 2008.

In October, 2008, I received a lovely email from Harry Morgan and Eileen Detchon's grandson Jeremy Morgan, who confirmed that the photo of Mildred Potter in "M*A*S*H" is indeed his grandmother, Eileen Detchon. I would like to again thank Jeremy Morgan for his email and for the confirmation!

In the meantime, here is the detective work I originally did, if you call reading a post by Larry Gelbart and fiddling around with photo editing software "detective work". Basically, what you should get from this post is that if anyone tells you that photo is Spring Byington, they're wrong. Jeremy Morgan and Larry Gelbart said so.

***

Fans of the show "M*A*S*H" will remember Col. Potter's photo of his dear wife Mildred, placed on his desk the first day he arrived at the camp, and which remained there until the war was over. For years I've heard that the lady in the photo was actress Spring Byington. Byington and Harry Morgan, who played Col. Potter on "M*A*S*H", were both in the television show "December Bride", which ran for five seasons in the 1950s. Because there was a link between the two actors, and not being that familiar with Spring Byington, I assumed the rumor was correct.

Until I saw Ms. Byington in more films, that is. Recently I took a good look at the picture of Mrs. Potter during a "M*A*S*H" rerun and realized that it's not a photo of Spring Byington at all. In the interest of research with more than a hint of silliness, I'll compare the two.

The photo at the beginning of this article is from the episode "Dear Mildred", the 7th episode of season 4. This is the episode where Colonel Potter, new to the 4077, writes home to his wife on their anniversary. Frank and Margaret, in an epic attempt to kiss up to the commanding officer, have a bust of Potter commissioned by a local artist (played by the inimitable Richard Lee-Sung) as an anniversary gift. Radar wins the day, though, by presenting Colonel Potter with Sophie, the horse.

This second photo is of Spring Byington in the 1960 film "Please Don't Eat the Daisies". Byington plays Suzie, mother of Doris Day and, of course, grandmother to her four rambunctious sons. This was Byington's last film; she appeared in several television shows until the late 60s, and passed away in 1970.

I chose "Please Don't Eat the Daisies" because Ms. Byington's age seems to be about the same as the age of the woman in the photo of Mildred Potter.

Of course, I compared the two by cropping and fooling with the black & white feature on my photo editor, just like any sane person would do:



While I see similarities, the two actresses are not the same. Larry Gelbart said in this Usenet post from 2000 that the photo is of Harry Morgan's first wife. According to the IMDb, that would be Eileen Detchon, a stage actress. I was unable to find any photos of her to make a full comparison, but I'll take Mr. Gelbart's word for it.

LINKS:
Spring Byington biography

The subject line says it all: What a horrible week for a movie blogger to be on hiatus! With all that's happened the last few days, I figured a brief entry about a few of this week's major movie events was warranted.

Everyone's been talking about the remastered DVD release of "The Jazz Singer", the revolutionary 1927 musical and first part-talkie film. I was so engrossed in all that responsible stuff I'm supposed to be doing that I was unaware of this 80th anniversary release, until I caught the movie starting on TCM last Tuesday. While watching it (again; this must have been my third viewing) I noticed the intertitles and musical elements had been cleaned up. It's a nice print of the film, and the sound has been noticeably improved. I ventured to the Internet, repository of all knowledge, and discovered this was the 80th anniversary of the film. Silly me! Forgetting such a thing, especially when I remembered the August anniversary of "Wings" (1927).

More about the restoration of "The Jazz Singer" can be found on AMC's blog here. Dave Kehr's NY Times review of the restoration DVD is a must-read; a contemporary 1927 review of the film has been excerpted here on the Usenet group alt.movies.silent by Jason Liller.

The new restoration is quite good, but I confess I find movie itself to be quite mediocre. Jolson is not my favorite entertainer -- many have said that his performance style simply didn't translate well to film -- and he's far too old for the part. Just as I noticed with another Jolson film, "Wonder Bar" (1934), many of the songs seemed out of date for the time. The film's portrayal of the old ways versus the new is ham-fisted and rather insulting to devoutly religious persons; just because one is devout does not mean one is inherently out of touch. And, of course, there's the problematic minstrel number done with Jolson in "traditional" blackface. One would have to be deliberately obtuse to ignore the importance of the blackface number; contemporary posters, movie stills, and even the enormous Warners Theater sign (pictured) focused on the minstrel show number. Most of my fellow film buffs disagree with me about this, but I find the accessibility and entertainment value of a movie is hampered by any racist, sexist, and similar outdated social ideas shown in the film. I can acknowledge and understand that in 1927, a white man in blackface was not seen as impossibly inappropriate, but that doesn't mean I am able to ignore its modern-day implications.

On a sad note, actress Deborah Kerr passed away on Tuesday, October 16, in England. She was 86. A fine obituary via the BBC can be found here, as well as a nice photo montage of her career. I'd recently re-watched "The Innocents" (1961), one of my favorite movies, and was again compelled by Kerr's intense portrayal of the governess Miss Giddens. She was never one to shy away from controversial parts, as evidenced by "The Innocents", as well as "Tea and Sympathy", "From Here to Eternity", and "The Gypsy Moths". I happened to also re-watch "Casino Royale" last week and was impressed by Kerr's willingness to be silly for the sake of fun. She clearly enjoyed her role and played the part with great enthusiasm, and as such was one of the few actors in who really seemed to fully grasp the idea of this Bond spoof. She is one of my favorite actresses, and she will be missed.

The last member of the famous Rat Pack, Joey Bishop, died on October 17. He was 89. I didn't know much about Bishop; I've seen him in "Ocean's Eleven" (1960) and "A Guide for the Married Man" (1967), neither of which impressed me. His live routines were apparently much funnier than anything he did on the big screen. A terrific biographical page of Bishop can be found here at the Favorite TV Classics site.

CREDITS:
Deborah Kerr photo from Jet Set Modern.
"The Jazz Singer" photo of the Warners Theater from audioheritage.org.

For my regular readers (all 6 of you! Hi!): This blog will be on hiatus most of the week. I may move some posts from my old blog over here, but there won't be any strictly new content.

If you're looking for some tasty film content, try Sixmartinis and the Seventh Art, or If Charlie Parker Was a Gunslinger, There'd Be a Whole Lot of Dead Copycats; this image was shamefully stolen from the latter.

"Goldwyn: The Man and His Movies" (2001) is a TV documentary about Samuel Goldwyn, legendary movie producer, and is based on the excellent A. Scott Berg biography Goldwyn: A Biography The book, published in 1989, is a lengthy and detailed while remaining highly readable and entertaining. Berg was also one of the credited writers of this documentary, as well as occasional interviewee. Unfortunately, the documentary doesn't compare to the book at all.

There's not much about Goldwyn I can tell you from this documentary that you can't find almost anywhere online, so I'll sum up:

Born Schmuel Gelbfisz in Warsaw, as a teenager he walked across Europe to emigrate to London. It was there he Anglicized his name to Sam Goldfish. He earned money -- his daughter says relatives told her he stole the money to afford ticket fare -- to sail to America, but he got off the boat in Canada to avoid immigration officials. Again, he walked on foot from Canada to New York City and eventually landed in Gloversville, New York, where Goldfish became a successful glove salesman.

One day while walking to his office, he stopped in a movie theater and immediately decided the film business was for him. He convinced his brother-in-law, Jesse Lasky (a former vaudevillian) to invest in films with him. Together they hired playwright Cecil B. DeMille to direct their first film, "The Squaw Man". The film was a success and their company soon merged with Adolph Zukor's Famous Players to form Famous Players-Lasky.

Goldfish left Famous Players-Lasky rather acrimoniously and formed a new company with Edgar and Archie Selwyn. The company, called Goldwyn Pictures -- "Goldwyn" being a combination of the first half of "Goldfish" and the last half of "Selwyn" -- was somewhat successful. Goldfish legally changed his name to Goldwyn, but again, fell out with his business partners and was kicked out of his own company. The company partnered with Metro Pictures and Louis B Mayer to form Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The use of Goldwyn's name in a company that he never was a part of upset him his entire life, but Goldwyn's son said in the documentary that if he could get free publicity from people thinking he was involved with MGM, he'd always take it.

In 1923, Sam Goldwyn formed his own studio and independent production company. He was in business until 1959, well-known for his frequent malapropisms and for producing many critically-acclaimed films such as "The Best Years of Our Lives", "Wuthering Heights", and "Stella Dallas". Goldwyn retired in 1959, and died in 1974.

The documentary, narrated by Dustin Hoffman, tells us the basic details of Goldwyn's life and career. While there are some interesting interviews from people who worked with Goldman, by far the most interesting interviewee is his daughter Ruth. Goldwyn was a difficult man, and his first wife, Blanche Lasky, wasn't about to put up with his temper or philandering. Their daughter, Ruth, went largely ignored by Goldwyn for most of her life. A lively woman with lots to say, she was both tactful and honest in her interview. Ruth revealed much about her father, but also about her grandmother, a large, angry woman who Goldwyn both hated and honored. We're also treated to reminders of just how important it was for Sam Goldwyn to be fashionable and socially well-connected. His second wife Francis, a beautiful former actress, spent her entire life making sure Goldwyn threw the best and most well-attended parties in Hollywood.

Despite the lack of in-depth information, there's plenty to see. The documentary includes lots of stills and clips from Goldwyn's career, as well as family photos.

The biggest flaw in the documentary was the narration. Dustin Hoffman narrates with a stumbling, disconnected manner that sounds like he's having trouble reading the script. His pronunciations are off; when he says "Merle Oberon", one gets the impression that he's never heard the name before in his life. The writing in the narration is quite bad, as well. A prime example was this gem about Goldwyn: "This time, he would not make the same mistake twice." What does that even mean? It's not only cliche, it's confusing.

For those wanting to know more about Goldwyn, I recommend sticking with A Scott Berg's 1989 biography.

LINKS:

PBS' American Masters page on Samuel Goldwyn

Hollywood Renegade Archives

Note: this post originally appeared on my other blog, Stacia's Stuff, on the 80th anniversary of the premier of "Wings" to a general audience. Due to formatting constraints, the pictures on this entry will be wonky until my layout update is complete. Thanks for understanding.

Eighty years ago today the silent movie classic "Wings" premiered to general audiences. "Wings," directed by William Wellman and starring Clara Bow at the height of her career, originally premiered on April 12, 1927, at the Criterion Theater in New York, four months before its general release.

"Wings" is about two young men, Jack (Charles Buddy Rogers) and David (Richard Arlen), who sign up for military service as pilots in the U.S. Signal Corps during WWI. However, complications arise through a classic love quadrangle: Mary (Clara Bow) loves her neighbor Jack, but the poor boy is oblivious. He's in love with Sylvia (Jobyna Ralston), so much so that he doesn't realize she and David are lovers. Just before he leaves for the war, he visits Sylvia and mistakenly believes a locket she's intended for David is actually for him. Sylvia doesn't have the heart to tell Jack that the locket was for David, and lets Jack take it.

David and Jack end up in basic training together, along with comedy relief Herman Schwimpf (El Brendel). Now, I know it's not cool to like El Brendel, but I can't help but be charmed by the little guy. He was the personification of the goofy Vaudeville ethnic performer, and his trademark line "Yumpin' yimminy!" wouldn't elicit even a chuckle today. What viewers need to remember, though, is that Brendel was a relatively fresh face in 1927. After a career on Vaudeville, he entered films in 1926, and "Wings" was only his fourth movie appearance. He was wildly popular and, according to film critic Richard Barrios, was the most popular comedian in the country by 1930. Today, he's largely forgotten.

I had intended on including El Brendel in one of my "In the Background" posts, but Brendel's role in "Wings" is no bit part. After providing the comedy relief during basic training, we discover Herman (Brendel) has flunked out, only to become an airplane mechanic who appears throughout almost the whole movie.

The real bit part in this movie is Gary Cooper's role. Cooper became a star soon after "Wings" was originally released, and movie posters for the 1929 re-release of "Wings" list Cooper as a co-star. In fact, Cooper is only in the film for about two minutes, and gives one of his trademark half-bored performances. I'm not a fan of Gary Cooper, and it's somewhat disheartening to see his stiff acting style so solidified even in his small early roles. Many critics have complained that Richard Arlen was only hired for his good looks, but I think in this film that charge can be leveled more squarely at Gary Cooper.

Jack and David dislike each other at first, but by the end of basic training, they're fast friends who support each other throughout the war. They always bunk together, fly together, and even go on leave together. What keeps this from becoming a trite and boring buddy film is the simmering intensity of Richard Arlen's performance, especially when contrasted with Charles Buddy Rogers' boyish enthusiasm. David always appears to be brooding over something that no one else around him knows, or would even understand if told.

Rogers gives a good performance as the naive Jack, especially during the scenes where he and David are on leave in Paris and have hooked up with some French floozies. After drinking too much champagne, Jack charmingly hallucinates bubbles during his extended drunken stupor. Mary (Clara Bow) is now a soldier herself, having joined the Women's Auxiliary as a driver, and she sees Jack while he's on leave. She immediately realizes Jack's about to lose his virtue to a floozy and, in a scene that's almost believable, she rescues Jack by changing out of her uniform and into gorgeous slinky dress. The thin plot here is of no importance: while Clara's getting back out of the evening dress, the audience gets a brief glimpse of her breasts. Who's going to complain about that? Nobody, that's who.

Clara Bow is absolutely luminous in this film. She's perky, charming, lovable, and wears her heart on her sleeve. It doesn't hurt that she's drop-dead gorgeous. Her role isn't particularly meaty, even in the more salacious Paris scenes, but she gives it a fun-loving realism that's incredibly entertaining to watch.

"Wings" is often criticized for having a weak, uninspired plot. I feel that's far too harsh. The comedy and romance isn't deep by any means, but if you're expecting deep, you're expecting too much. The comedy is simply relief from the war, and the romance provides little more than the necessary friction between Jack and David.

The battle scenes and dogfights are as intense now as they must have been eighty years ago. The effects are simply amazing. Wellman not only filmed experienced pilots re-enacting WWI dogfights, but he attached cameras to the fronts of the planes to film the pilots head on as they flew. The effects of burning planes crashing to the ground are quite good for the time. Smoke canisters were attached to the planes while flames were added via animation in post-production. The result is spectacular.

"Wings" doesn't hold back when it comes to wounded or dead soldiers. In one scene a huge explosion results in a soldier being thrown violently across the screen. Wounded pilots cough up lots of blood and writhe in half-unconscious pain until their plane crashes into the ground.

"Wings" was one of three films given an Academy Award at the first Oscar ceremonies in 1928. The three awards given were "Outstanding Production" for "Wings", along with "Outstanding Artistic Quality of Production" for "Sunrise" and "Pioneering Outstanding Production" for "The Jazz Singer". By the next year's ceremonies, there was only one award for films: "Best Production" (given to "Broadway Melody").

The winners of the first Academy Awards were announced months before the ceremony. The dinner and ceremony itself, held at the Hollywood Roosevelt, attracted almost no media in the small audience (pictured). However, the 1928-29 awards the next year attracted quite a bit of attention, including the first live radio broadcast.

Midway between the date of general release and today, "Wings" celebrated its 40th anniversary by appearing on an episode of "Petticoat Junction". Stars Arlen and Rogers attended the "premier" of the film at the Hooterville theater; the joke, apparently, was that the theater was so far out in the sticks that it didn't get a chance to show a 1927 film until 1967. In 1967, the audience for "Petticoat Junction" could be counted on to remember a 40 year old film. That's just no longer true.

Despite being touted as the first movie to win an Academy Award for Best Picture, "Wings" is difficult to find. It's available in old laserdisc and VHS versions, as well as in two recent Hong Kong DVD releases which have Mandarin subtitles that can't be removed. However you can get it, "Wings" is definitely worth watching, and I hope to see it released in an English DVD version soon.

Links:
The First Oscars
About.com on the first Oscars
Silents Are Golden, "Wings" Review
Silents Are Golden, Commentary on "Wings"
Wikipedia entry on the U.S. Signal Corps
"Wings" movie facts

The Other Side of the Rainbow With Judy Garland on the Dawn Patrol by Mel Tormé is an account of his time as composer and musical adviser on the 1963 television series "The Judy Garland Show". The book, published just one year after Garland's death, has become rather infamous for its catty tone and inaccurate portrayal of the show and the star.

I recently bought and read the original 1970 printing of the book (as pictured) after hearing how horrible Tormé was to Garland. Perhaps in 1970, this book was the height of tastelessness, but here in the super-futuristic year of 2007, one hardly blinks an eye. There's nothing he says about Judy that we haven't already heard a dozen times over.

That said, Tormé's self-serving faux innocence is immediately apparent. A full two chapters are devoted to Tormé fussing about whether he'll take the job on "The Judy Garland Show" or not. He discusses it with his manager constantly, and even after learning the show is a huge media event and prestige piece for CBS, he still thinks the show will hurt his career. Tormé, who misses no opportunity to beat his own drum, says he's in a bit of a career slump because of that darned "three-chord" rock and roll. He approaches publishers with his songs, but they all sadly turn him away, telling him, "Your songs are good, Mel. Too good."
I assure you I am not making this up.

Tormé's naive, clutch-the-pearls-in-surprise attitude permeates his every memory, and is generally used to slip in some backhanded snarkery. Unfortunately, Tormé is not very subtle. For example, he tells us about the first time he saw Garland in person, in the mid-1940s, where he saw her sit alone in the middle of a huge teen party; even though she was in her twenties and married, she played younger roles so convincingly that Hollywood continued to invite her to parties held for bobby soxers, while she was never invited to adult parties. "Perhaps they were all in awe of her," is what Tormé says, but the insinuation is clear: Garland was a misfit.

It's obvious from the tone of the book that The Other Side of the Rainbow is as much about Tormé as it is about Garland or "The Judy Garland Show", and that explains much of the inaccuracy. One of Tormé 's co-workers on the show is occasionally quoted as saying, "as a historian Mel Tormé is a great singer." Tormé insisted that many songs and performances on the show were terrible, so terrible they probably shouldn't have aired. Everyone involved in the show was depressed after these performances. However, the show is now available on DVD, and in reviews of the DVD set I see no comments about hideous performances. One particular performance that upset Tormé happened after the entire crew had been partying -- what Tormé fails to mention, though, is that they were celebrating his birthday. He claims rehearsal footage had to be substituted for the actual shooting, because Garland was too drunk. However, Scott Schecter, the author of the liner notes for the DVD set, has seen the footage from the actual shoot, and says it's "perfectly presentable." I hope the cut footage is available on one of the DVD releases.

Many who have read Coyne Steven Sanders' book Rainbow's End, also about the making of "The Judy Garland Show", feel it's a much more accurate recollection of what happened behind the scenes. Scott Schecter speculates Tormé was bitter after being fired from the show (as was almost everyone else who worked on the show) and this bitterness motivated the book.

"The Judy Garland Show" was only on for one season. It was praised by critics and fans alike, won 4 Emmy awards, and the pilot episode beat NBC's powerhouse show "Bonanza" in ratings. The remaining episodes of the show did not, however, and the ratings were uneven throughout the entire series. When the show went to an almost all-Judy format for the last few episodes, the ratings climbed, possibly because of Garland's highly publicized rendition of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" sung in response to the assassination of President Kennedy.

The ratings weren't the only uneven thing about the show. Garland had well-documented lapses of interest and confidence in the show, often not rehearsing until the day of shooting. The show also went through three producers, the first of which was George Schlatter(pictured).

o what is "The Dawn Patrol", anyway? According to Mel, it's what Schlatter called the small group of people Garland phoned for help during lonely late night hours. As the show progressed, Judy needed reassuring, usually at 4:00 in the morning. She'd called Schlatter (or whoever was in the "Dawn Patrol") and demand they show up. It's clear that Judy didn't want people to know about her habit of needing help, and she certainly didn't know people were gossiping about it behind her back, using cutesy little phrases like "Dawn Patrol."

What's interesting, though, is despite the title of the book, Judy only called Tormé once. It was a memorable once, though. Judy was afraid of her ex-husband, Sid Luft, and thought he was coming to her house that night. She asked Tormé to come be with her, then asked him to take her to his house for safety. (Tormé defends Luft several times during the book, although Luft was responsible for some of Garland's financial problems and career problems. It's very possible Mel didn't know any of this, however, so I'm willing to cut him some slack on the issue.)

While at Tormé's house, Garland apparently took a handful of sleeping pills, causing Tormé and his wife to call their doctor in a panic. Their doctor claimed to have been Garland's doctor for a while, and he reassured them that she ate sleeping pills "like Cracker Jacks". Later that morning Garland was in a state, hysterically calling for her boyfriend, actor Glenn Ford, so Tormé telephoned all over looking for him. Ford suddenly shows up, threatens Tormé and his wife for "harming" Judy, and carries Garland out of the house.

Garland arrived for the show taping that day a few hours later, looking completely refreshed and in good spirits. Tormé claimed George Schlatter was the only person involved in the show who believed the story, because once Judy showed up obviously sober and functional, everyone else thought Tormé was exaggerating about his night on the Dawn Patrol.

Maybe he was. Let me step back for a moment: you must understand that nearly everything in this book is designed to prove Mel Tormé is good. A good father, husband, songwriter, performer, whatever, he needs you to know how good he is. Because of that need, we're treated to dozens of complaints about his wife "Snow White". "Snow White" is actually Arlene Miles, a model and his second wife. Tormé spends a lot of pages being very, very bitter about Arlene and his marriage, all the while portraying himself as a saint who is unfairly asked to put up with Arlene's shrewishness. Arlene and Mel divorced in 1965, on the grounds of "mutual cruelty", but Tormé never mentions that. It's clear Tormé is on the defensive throughout the book, trying to correct misconceptions and right wrongs and clear his name. It's a tacky thing to do, considering he's using the recently-deceased Garland and her reputation for his own self-serving ends. It should be noted that the Garland estate sued Tormé after the book was published, but the suit was unsuccessful.

So we know Mel had an axe to grind. Maybe that's why he barely mentions the Christmas special. Judy sings "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)" with Tormé, who wrote the song years earlier for Nat King Cole; Judy screwed up a lyric during the performance and Mel snarks, "Close!" When she replaces "reindeer" with "rainbow" a few lines later, Mel shakes his head broadly. One word: rude. _[1]

Mel also had an ego to serve. He mentions several times that Lorna Luft, who at the time was only 11 years old, had a huge crush on him. Almost every example of conversations with Judy that Mel recalls focus on her trying to play mind games with him, games which he, of course, always won. Tormé even complains that Frank Sinatra, who was with Garland in the audience at one of Mel's concerts, didn't appreciate him enough. He goes on to say Sinatra was in a foul mood and got into a fistfight after the show, as though that explains Sinatra's lack of taste.
It's no secret that Garland had personal problems which affected her performances and reliability. For example, after a terrific performance in Sydney, Australia, a director called Judy a "jerk". It made her insecure and upset for the rest of the Australian tour, and until she went back to London a few weeks later, she either skipped performances or did poorly when on stage.

Garland's battle with mental illness is also not in question. She fought drug dependence, depression, and paranoid anxiety her entire life. She attempted suicide several times, most notably in 1950 by cutting her throat, but also in the 1960s just days after her sister Suzy Gumm deliberately overdosed. Tormé makes it clear that he thinks people involved in the show spent too much time catering to Judy's whims. That's not how most others saw it, though. Since Garland's death it's been noted that many people willingly tried to help Garland with her serious drug and depression problems; the members of the Dawn Patrol often recall that they legitimately cared about her. Producers of "The Judy Garland Show" allegedly hired a doctor specifically to control Judy's drug habit, in an effort to make sure she wouldn't take too many pills. Not everyone agreed with Tormé's assessment of Garland as an undeserving leech.

I came away from this book feeling like I needed a good shower. Tormé was always best known to me as the guy who wrote "The Christmas Song", and Judge Harry Stone's favorite singer on "Night Court". Don't look at me like that. Anyway, I'd never encountered Tormé's needy, bitchy side before, so this was quite a shock. Nothing he said about Garland was particularly scandalous, but what he said about himself was deeply revealing.


LINKS, SOURCES, & CREDITS
Mel Torme obituary

Answers.com article on "The Judy Garland Show"

Judy Garland show DVD review and summary

Time Magazine archive article, Mel Torme's divorce

Judy Garland obituaries and articles on her death

Judy Garland in Australia

DVD Verdict reviews of "The Judy Garland Show" DVD set

Review of "The Judy Garland Show" DVD set

The Other Side of the Rainbow review

Thanks to amy_jeanne at LiveJournal for the Judy Garland article scan. The article appeared in the October, 1950 issue of "Motion Picture".

[1] This paragraph edited 9/7/08. Originally this paragraph about the missed lyric said Mel quite broadly rolls his eyes at the mistake. Later he slips in the word 'rainbow' for 'reindeer', to continue the 'joke'." A rather upset little anonymous proclaimed me a horrible liar, saying they'd watched this scene and what I said was untrue and I was clearly biased.

All information in this entry came from the book itself and a few websites. I hadn't watched the show since about 1999 when it was on Nick at Nite, thus, it wasn't a source for this post. I don't honestly remember where I read that Torme rolled his eyes or sang "rainbow". It may have been from a webpage, although I really thought it was from Torme's book, as I recall the word "joke" being a direct quote. However, since I didn't have the time or inclination to go through the whole wretched book again, I found a clip of the song on YouTube here.

Torme doesn't roll his eyes when Garland flubs the line, he snickers and says "Close!" His eyes are rolled toward the ceiling through much of the song, which I suppose could look like eye rolling. Garland herself sings "rainbow" and as she does Mel drops his head down, shakes his head broadly, and does another chuckle that, to my ears, sounds as though he's thinking "unbelievable!"

I stand by my assertion that he comes across as rude in the clip. You can watch it and judge for yourself.

With a title like "Wife Vs Secretary", one would expect a standard 1930s "woman's weepy" starring Kay Francis, George Brent, and lots of inappropriate haute couture for everyday wear. Instead, this 1936 film is a charming blend of romantic comedy and drama, fast-paced and with lots of lively dialogue.

Because I had so many stills from the film, I created a photo gallery here that you might be interested in.

The film opens with a butler preparing for the day. When the butler goes to wake a second butler, we realize that the man of the house, Van "V.S." Stanhope (Clark Gable), is so rich that his butler has a butler. V.S. and his wife Linda (Myrna Loy) meet for breakfast -- remember, the married rich in 1930s films never slept in the same bedroom -- and flirt and coo like newlyweds. V.S. has recently been on an extended fishing trip, and a worried new maid inspires Linda to scold her, saying, "Whether Mr. Stanhope touches his trout or not is no concern of yours."

This fun, entendre-laden dialogue peppers the entire film. The trout in question reveals beautiful diamond jewelry, planted there by V.S. for his lovely wife. V.S., owner of a fashion magazine, returns to his office. There we meet Helen "Whitey" Wilson (Jean Harlow), Stanhope's indispensable secretary. When Linda arrives to visit Van's office with Van's mother in tow, trouble starts. V.S.' mother is suspicious of a beautiful platinum blonde secretary that Van has given a pet name to.

Later, when Linda and V.S. -- and yes, I did get the "versus" pun on his name -- are celebrating their anniversary with a formal and lavishly drunken party, V.S. calls Whitey and has her come to the party so they can work on an important deal that's just come up. Whitey arrives dressed in a stunning formal gown, as she had been going to the theater with her boyfriend but dropped everything to be with V.S. when he called on the spur of the moment. She and Van go into a private room for some time, and return, only to dance cheek-to-cheek while everyone at the party gapes.

At this point it's obvious the film is going to rely on continuous comic misunderstandings. Once you realize it, you instinctively begin to predict what's going to happen, resulting in very few surprises after about the 30 minute mark. It's no surprise when Van can't talk about his secret deal and so works with Whitey in private, when Whitey obviously likes Van but doesn't consider him available, and when gossipy friends and in-laws make Linda worry.

To be fair, the attention V.S. gives to Whitey is rather inappropriate, and his insistence that everything is innocent falls flat. It's an unconvincing contrivance, made almost ridiculous when he takes a business trip to a tropical island and invites Whitey down with him, where they stay locked in his room for an entire weekend. The audience knows they're only working on a contract, but we also know any wife in the world would have a fit about this set-up. When Linda calls her husband after not hearing from him for several days, no one is surprised that Whitey answers and all hell breaks loose.


The film is unsurprisingly dated in its treatment of professional women. Jimmy Stewart appears in an early role as Whitey's boyfriend, a man who thinks women should be in the kitchen instead of the office. Whitey is good at her job and he thinks that's unnatural. However, Whitey probably is almost too good at her job; she sacrifices much of her personal life, and eventually her fiancé, just to make Van happy. In another sign of the times, Van treats his secretary more like a girlfriend. When he orders Whitey to join him on the business trip, he snaps, "Hurry up, toots!" Ah, yes, I never remember that highly-skilled, professional secretaries should all be called "toots".


The film features some beautiful sets but rather uninspired photography. Gable plays, well, Gable, a fun-loving, suave, fashionable man all the women want. Myrna Loy is terrific, easily the best actor in the film. She's witty, charming, soft-spoken and fun in a way that makes her very accessible, unlike the "Thin Man" series where she's occasionally too soused or acerbic to be likable.


Harlow is convincing as an effective secretary who loves both her job and her boss. The only problem I had with Harlow, and I use "problem" loosely, is that she is sadly already starting to show the physical effects of the illness we now know will take her life in a year. She occasionally looks bloated and overly-made-up to cover her pallor.


The DVD set available from Warner Home Video includes two shorts, "The Public Pays" (1936) and "New Shoes" - a surreal musical short where the shoes do the singing. "The Public Pays" is included because an office set from "Wife Vs Secretary" is used in the short. The print is a decent transfer, but I've seen much better. There's a lot of artifacts and scratches remaining in the film, which isn't so noticeable while watching, but became very noticeable as I paused the film.

Here is a gallery of various film stills from "Wife vs Secretary" (1936). Most are from It'll Take the Snap Out of Your Garters! and the Profiles in History December, 2008 online auction program. Enjoy!

Like most of my film entries, this post contains spoilers.

"Murder by Television" is a public domain mystery movie, shown occasionally on TCM and available in various compilation sets. This 1935 z-grade flick starring Bela Lugosi is a well-known cult favorite.

My first impression of the movie was that it was a very early talkie, possibly made in 1929 or 1930. I was surprised to find it was made as late as 1935; many of the bad elements of early sound movies are present in this low-budget film. There was little music in the soundtrack and I swear I saw props that were hiding microphones. The entire movie was shot with static cameras and stiff-as-a-board actors plastered to their marks. The majority of the characters were rich white folk sporting formal dress and fake British accents.

As you can see, they managed to get a cast of men who all look alike. Bravo.

There's quite a bit of confusion about the plot in online reviews of "Murder by Television", and it's no wonder. The plot, simply put, stinks. The film is a convoluted whodunnit with what I suppose is a hint of science fiction thrown in the mix, although I am perhaps too kind. The movie begins with James Houghland, an inventor who has created what is essentially satellite television. Arthur Perry (Bela Lugosi) is apparently Houghland's representative, and knows that some sneaky capitalist swine want to buy Houghland's invention and make gajillions of dollars. Perry tells the capitalist swine that Houghland won't sell his invention for anything, he wants to use it to better mankind, not simply to make money.

Meanwhile, a man who looks exactly like Perry sees Perry's face in the newspaper and hatches a scheme. Both Perry and the lookalike are played by by Lugosi, of course. The lookalike somehow manages to procure the exact same suit as Perry without knowing anything other than what was in the paper, and returns to the capitalist swine's office pretending to be Perry. He says Houghton now will sell his television invention, and takes the swine's money.

At a fancy party, Houghland reveals his invention. Everyone gathers around an enormous big screen TV and watches a crystal clear image, live from various countries around the world. Because of the poor print it's hard to see, but the photo to the right is of a man adjusting the image on a huge television with a live image from Asia being broadcast. These images are shown without live sound, but Houghland is narrating.

It's interesting to note that we didn't actually achieve this kind of visual technology until the 1950s or 60s. To see what television was really like in 1935, see this gallery and this site for examples. Televisions were tiny screens in large wooden cabinets that resembled radio/record player sets of the same era. There were no big screens or clear images. When this movie was made in 1934, images on television looked like this baseball game.

Houghland is on camera in another room in the mansion, narrating these impossible images, when he suddenly grabs his chest and falls to the floor. The guests panic and don't do anything because they are ineffectual twits, and only Perry goes to the camera room, where he discovers Houghland dead. Perry is seen taking some papers, which provides the only bit of intrigue in the movie, as you don't know if it's really Perry or the lookalike. Finally Houghton's wife and daughter enter the room and, as is typical for early 1930s murder flicks, neither seem much bothered by their dead loved one on the floor.

A police inspector shows up, determines Houghland was killed by a blow to the head, and questions everyone. Why no one questions him is beyond me: there was no blow to the head. I know. I rewound. Twice. And presumably the guests know this as well, since they were all watching the television when Houghland fell to the floor, but no one mentions it.

The questioning of suspects begins a segment of the movie I like to call "Racist Stereotypes on Parade". The Houghland's butler is Ah Ling (Allen Jung), a Chinese actor sadly forced to quote Charlie Chan and Confucius constantly. Jung delivers his lines with almost no trace of an Asian accent at all, which makes his faux Confucian broken English platitudes all the more unlikely. The maid is Isobel (Hattie McDaniel), who spends all her time rolling her eyes and shouting "Lawdy lawdy!" There's also an Irish cop, inept of course, with a thick brogue.

During questioning, Isobel is asked about her whereabouts for a few moments. She gets embarrassed and the inspector lets her go, with a comment about how he understands what's going on. Unfortunately, the audience has no idea; was Isobel in the bathroom? Making sweet love to her man? Whatever the reason she was too embarrassed to say where she was, she leaves the inspector's room only to ask the Irish cop, "Is my face red?" The joke being that she's black and therefore cannot blush.

It's all so very, very sad.

The police inspector can't figure out who might have murdered Houghton, so one of the guests, Doctor Scofield (played by improbably-named actor Huntly Gordon), retrieves his "brain apparatus". Scofield is also an inventor and the apparatus is one of his inventions. Simply put, it reads everyone's brain.

This "apparatus" -- seen here next to Lugosi -- is a large wooden box with some whatnots and fiddly bits glued to it. It somehow proves every one of the house guests' brains are incapable of murder. Sound idiotic? It is. Scofield says of brains that, from person to person, "the only significant difference is the size, and scientifically, that has no significance."

Genius.

Of course, the inspector believes everything this so-called apparatus reveals. No one is allowed to leave the home and eventually Perry ends up dead. Minutes later Isobel arrives in a panic, screaming "Lawdy lawdy, I done seen a ghost!" and falling to her knees. She's seen Perry, who was supposedly dead; Houghland's daughter has as well. Lugosi shows up and reveals he is, indeed, Arthur Perry, secret FBI agent. The lookalike is the one who was murdered. Perry reveals the now-dead lookalike was his evil twin brother whom he hadn't seen in decades, and who was trying to scam the corporate swine. Being his twin brother, I suppose, explains the lookalike's precipitous choice in suits earlier on.

Lugosi stands in the drawing room and blandly begins to explain to the guests and audience the solution to the murder.

The only entertaining part of this snoozefest is catching Lugosi's occasional inappropriate facial expressions. According to Perry, Dr. Scofield (inventor of the brain apparatus) had made a phone call to some voice-activated device which sent "waves" to Houghland's studio. These waves mixed with the television signal and created "interstellar waves... or, the death ray!"

The death ray. Not a death ray, nor "a deadly ray of some sort", but THE death ray. Of course.

Scofield's motive was to get the patents for this amazing new invention and sell it to some corporate pigs for big bucks. Perry exposes him, Scofield goes with the cops, and all is well in Whiteyland.

This is a poorly-made movie that I still cannot believe was made the same year as such classics as "Mutiny on the Bounty", "Dangerous", and "Golddiggers of 1935". As the old joke says, if you only have an hour to live, see this movie: it's less than 60 minutes but it feels like a lifetime.



INTERESTING STUFF:

New York Times entry via AllMovies
Watch "Murder By Television" on MySpace Videos


"Murder by Television" is available in compilation sets as well as individual DVD:




Note: This post originally appeared on my other blog, Stacia's Stuff.