Oh, the Stories Bacall Could Have Told

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"You know, you got to be careful of dead bees if you're goin' around barefooted, 'cause if you step on them they can sting you just as bad as if they was alive, especially if they was kind of mad when they got killed. I bet I been bit a hundred times that way."

Eddie (Walter Brennan)

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There was an ... I don't know ... impertinence about Lauren Bacall in Howard Hawks' "To Have and Have Not," which was released 70 years ago today, that was very appealing.

She was 19 when the movie was filmed and pretty ... and making her big–screen debut opposite Humphrey Bogart in a movie directed by Howard Hawks. How could it be much better?

Bacall and Bogart later married and co–starred in three other movies together, each memorable in its own way, but "To Have and Have Not" was always the standard against which the others were judged.

There was an electricity between Bogart and Bacall that simply could not be duplicated completely in their other movies. Part of that may have been the story, but a lot of it, I think, was due to the chemistry between Bogart and Bacall as they began one of the most successful Hollywood relationships of all time. It practically crackled on the screen.

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Like when Bacall told Bogart, "You know you don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow."

That line, by the way, is #34 on the American Film Institute's list of the Top 100 movie quotes of all time.

Lots of movie fans came to think of the character Bacall played as being Bacall herself. I guess that was — and still is — a fairly common misconception.

In fact, as I have heard it, Bacall's character was modeled in many ways after Hawks' wife, who was also known as "Slim," wore captivating dresses, had long blonde hair and a sultry voice and was perplexing.

Ernest Hemingway wrote the original story, but, beyond the title, there really were few similarities between the book and the movie.

I felt it was like a remake of "Casablanca" — perhaps better. Bogart played the same I–stick–my–neck–out–for–nobody kind of character. He wasn't running a night club this time; he was a fishing boat captain in the Caribbean who sometimes smuggled French Resistance fighters to the island of Martinique. His faithful sidekick wasn't Dooley Wilson playing the piano but alcohol–swilling Walter Brennan.

And he had a beautiful love interest — who was even younger than Ingrid Bergman had been. (Was she more beautiful? That's a matter of personal taste.)

Several members of the "Casablanca" cast were in "To Have and Have Not" — primarily minor characters, probably not readily recognizable to anyone who isn't familiar with "Casablanca." But they were there.

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As I mentioned earlier, Dooley Wilson wasn't around to play the piano, but Hoagy Carmichael was there.

There's an old story that says Andy Williams, who would have been about 16 at the time, did the singing for Bacall, but it isn't true. It was confirmed that Williams and some female singers were brought in to audition to do the dubbing because of fears that Bacall wouldn't be able to handle it. But, apparently, those fears were overridden by the wish to have Bacall do her own singing.

And, while I will admit that she wasn't perfect, she wasn't bad, either.

I regret that she didn't live to see this anniversary, the 70th of her movie debut. It would have been great fun to hear the tales she had to tell.

Man Against Nature

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I suppose there were two names that hovered over John Sturges' project, "The Old Man and the Sea," which premiered on this day in 1958 — Ernest Hemingway, who wrote the original novella, and Spencer Tracy, a much–beloved actor, possibly the most beloved of his generation, who played the Old Man in the movie.

Little needs to be said of either, I suppose. Hemingway has been admired for decades for his writing style, so accessible to ordinary readers, in no small part because he continued to follow the style rules of the Kansas City Star, the newspaper for which he worked as a teenager — "Use short sentences. Use short first paragraphs. Use vigorous English. Be positive, not negative."

(I find that credible. I spent many years working for newspapers, all of which followed Associated Press style religiously. I haven't written for a newspaper in quite awhile, but I still write in AP style. It's a part of me now.)

Anyway, I guess that accounts, at least in part, for the popularity of the book — although I wouldn't underestimate the story and the brilliant character study of the Old Man, whose name in the book was Santiago.

And what can one say of Tracy? He was a legend nominated for Best Actor nine times — an accomplishment in that category that has been matched only by Sir Laurence Olivier.

In the movie Tracy was called Santiago by The Boy, but my memory is that most of the time he was simply called the Old Man. It's been awhile since I read the book, but in Hemingway's novel, I believe he was referred to as Santiago more often. He was still called the Old Man but not as frequently.

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Well, anyway.

Both the book and the movie told the story of the Old Man's solitary battle with a marlin. The Old Man was a Cuban fisherman who had gone 84 days without landing a fish and had gained a reputation for being extremely unlucky. Because of this, the Boy had been forbidden to go fishing with the Old Man and was encouraged instead to go fishing with the more successful fishermen from the village.

(By the way, the Boy had a name in the book, too, and it may have been mentioned a time or two in the movie, but I don't remember for certain.)

The Boy continued to visit the Old Man, though. He brought him food and talked about baseball with him.

Early on the 85th day, the Old Man once again set off in pursuit of a fish, and the rest of the movie was really more of a character study than a telling of his battle with an enormous marlin. Still, the battle played an important role. After hooking the marlin, the Old Man was dragged farther into the Gulf Stream in the next two days and nights than he ever intended to go.

On the third day, the marlin was visibly tiring, and the Old Man was practically delirious. He managed to pull the fish close enough that he could stab it and end its life, but he called it "brother" even as he did so.

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Ever since I first saw the movie, I have marveled at how calm the seas were. There were hardly any waves for Santiago to face. He was able to devote all his attention to his struggle with the marlin. I don't remember now if that condition was mentioned in the book — or if it was a by–product of filming on a Hollywood set.

Nevertheless, an epic struggle it was. For Santiago, it was his ultimate test as a man — and, after he won it, he pondered the price the magnificent fish would bring as he turned his boat for home. In the book, though, during his battle with the fish, the Old Man had decided that the marlin had proven himself, and no one would be worthy of eating him.

That was not a problem because sharks were drawn to the carcass by the blood in the water, and they devoured most of it even though Santiago tried valiantly to fight them off. He lost his harpoon in the process and tried to fashion a makeshift harpoon by tying his knife to an oar, but that, too, was lost.

When the sharks had been repelled, though, the Old Man spoke to what was left of the fish, even though it could not hear him (and would not have understood him if it could). He explained that he had gone out farther to sea than he had intended, and he apologized to the marlin.

Only a skeleton remained when the Old Man finally returned to shore. Exhausted, he collapsed in his bed in his modest shack and fell into a deep sleep. While he slept, a group of fishermen congregated around the boat and looked at the skeleton.

In the years since I first saw "The Old Man and the Sea," it occurred to me that it was reminiscent, at times, of two other movies.

It reminded me of "Jaws," obviously, because of the role other sharks played in the story — although they weren't the focal point of the story (and the shark footage was real — no mechanical sharks were used in the '50s).

And it reminded me of "Cast Away" — a story of a man struggling against the elements (and talking to an object that was incapable of responding).

Tracy was nominated for Best Actor, but he lost the Oscar to David Niven. The other nominees were Paul Newman, Sidney Poitier and Tony Curtis — pretty formidable lineup.

I always thought Tracy was ideal for the role. I doubt that anyone else could have been plausible in it.

Hemingway's book, a Pulitzer Prize winner in 1953, was well received, coming on the heels of what may have been his most disappointing work. It was also his last book to be published in his lifetime.

Most of the time, writers aren't particularly pleased with movie adaptations of their work, but my understanding is that Hemingway was pleased with this movie. Leland Hayward, the producer, reported that Hemingway was even complimentary of Tracy — and the two of them were known to have argued.

Sturges, however, was not as pleased with the final product. TIME reported he called it "technically the sloppiest picture I have ever made."

We should all be so sloppy.

Bringing a Hemingway Novel to the Screen

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"A man fights for what he believes in."

Robert Jordan (Gary Cooper)

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I've always felt a bit torn by some of the works of Ernest Hemingway.

On the one hand, there are times when his writing is inspiring to someone like me. I have been writing all my life, but I am little more than a scribbler compared to Hemingway.

But, on the other hand, I find myself concluding that Hemingway had too much fondness for war. He saw it as a great adventure, not the waste of humanity that it really is — or, at least, as I see it.

There are times when it is necessary to fight, and there are foes who must be fought, but that is not a cause for rejoicing.

That doesn't change the fact that I admire Hemingway's writing ability, and I will recommend just about everything he ever wrote to anyone — with that caveat.

When it comes to film versions of his books, that's a different matter. Bringing books to the silver screen almost always seems to require a certain amount of adaptation by the director. Reading the book and seeing the movie are really two different experiences, and sometimes they vary wildly.

In the case of "For Whom the Bell Tolls," which made its big–screen debut 70 years ago today, the book and the movie differed primarily because the film did not have much of the political content of the book — a point that reportedly bothered Hemingway a great deal. That isn't really surprising. The novel was Hemingway's opportunity to make his case on the issues that influenced the Spanish Civil War, and he was clearly disappointed when the movie was far more interested in the love story.

(Other than the absence of the political content, I felt the movie was mostly faithful to the original story, which was a romantic drama set against the backdrop of the Spanish Civil War.)

Nevertheless, Hemingway had enormous influence on the production. He chose the movie's stars, Gary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman, and both were nominated for Academy Awards for their acting, but only supporting actress Katina Paxinou's acting was rewarded with an Oscar.

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Cooper played an American mercenary, an explosives expert on a mission to blow up a bridge. He became involved with Bergman, playing a peasant girl who had been abused by the enemy. Sometimes it was a little hard to imagine that Bergman could be as inexperienced as her character was. "I do not know how to kiss, or I would kiss you," she told Cooper at one point. "Where do the noses go?"

In Hemingway's spirit, I suppose, the action sequences were quite good. They may not seem so polished when compared to more modern action movies, but when the action scenes are compared to movies from their own period, "For Whom the Bell Tolls" is better than any of its contemporaries.

The acting was great — which one would just about expect from a movie that co–starred Cooper and Bergman — even though only Paxinou was rewarded on Oscar night. Cooper and Bergman had some steamy love scenes for a 1943 production, and I have often wondered if they were a little too much for the Oscar voters of that time.

I suppose Hemingway should have been tipped off about the emphasis of the movie when almost no one in the cast was close to being Spanish. A more Spanish cast might have suggested more dedication to the war and less to the love story.

It was the supporting cast that probably did most of the heavy lifting, but Cooper and Bergman certainly had their moments — like when Cooper asked Bergman if she was afraid.

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Maria (Ingrid Bergman): Not now. I love you, Roberto. Always remember. I love you as I loved my father and mother, as I love our unborn children, as I love what I love most in the world, and I love you more. Always remember.

Robert Jordan (Gary Cooper): I'll remember.

Maria: Nothing can ever part us now, can it?

Robert Jordan: Nothing, Maria.

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In real life, there was a 14–year difference in their ages, but Cooper and Bergman were plausible screen lovers. At times, Bergman's character seemed to idolize Cooper in a way that usually is seen in the reverence of little girls toward their fathers.

American movie audiences had been watching the 27–year–old Bergman for a few years, going back to her 1939 appearance in the American remake of "Intermezzo" with Leslie Howard.

But this was the first time moviegoers anywhere could see her in color.

She was appealing in black and white. I mean, who could forget her in "Casablanca?" Or "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"

She made some black–and–white movies after "For Whom the Bell Tolls," too. And she was beautiful in all of them.

But she was stunning in color. In my mind, only a handful of actresses could compare to her, even in her later years.

Maybe it was that Swedish accent. Nah, that was only part of the package. It had a seductive sound to it, but that only went so far if the rest of her didn't live up to expectations.

Ingrid Bergman not only lived up to expectations, she exceeded them — which is why I've always felt she was denied an Oscar she deserved.

The Academy gave her the Oscar the next year for "Gaslight," but, for several reasons, I've long thought that was virtually an apology for not rewarding her the year before. Bergman gave many Oscar–worthy performances in her life, but the one she gave in "For Whom the Bell Tolls" may have been her most deserving.