What If ...?

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"If he loved you with all the power of his soul for a whole lifetime, he couldn't love you as much as I do in a single day."

Heathcliff (Laurence Olivier)

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(1939 is widely regarded as the greatest year ever for the motion picture. Ten movies were nominated for Best Picture that year, and today I take a look at the third of those 10 movies to hit the theaters.)

Emily Brontë would have been a terrific writer for Twilight Zone if such a thing had existed in the 19th century. Her book "Wuthering Heights" and the first of four movie adaptations based on it are perfect examples.

Of course, the William Wyler–directed movie, which premiered 75 years ago today, differs from the book. It told the story of the romance of Heathcliff and Cathy, to be sure, but it said nothing about their children, who play significant roles in the end of the book. In fact, in the movie, Heathcliff and Cathy have no children.

Having read the novel many years ago, I am inclined to think the book really was the Gothic romance it is said to be, but the movie was something different, largely because it left out that second generation stuff.

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It was useful as a cautionary tale, I suppose, about jealousy and hostility.

There was also a certainly element of dishonesty — I suppose filmmakers would call it creative license. Although the story was set in the Yorkshire moors of northern England, the filming was done in California. That is the sort of thing that is done all the time, I guess, and is easily excusable, but, given the location of Yorkshire, I would have expected to hear more of a Scottish accent than I heard from the cast. All British accents are not the same.

Another thing: When I saw "Wuthering Heights" for the first time on some movie channel, I felt that there wasn't the kind of chemistry — perhaps passion is a better word for it — between Heathcliff (Laurence Olivier) and Cathy (Merle Oberon) that would be expected.

If I didn't simply imagine that, perhaps it was because Olivier had wanted Vivien Leigh, his lover and future wife, to be his co–star. But Leigh was not yet a major star — she became one when "Gone With the Wind" came out later that year — and producer Samuel Goldwyn opted for Oberon.

Or was that the reason?

If legend is to be believed, Olivier and Oberon did not like each other, to put it mildly, and I'm kind of inclined to wonder whether Oberon was more of a star than Leigh at that point, but I'm also inclined to think that star power wasn't the driving force. Hungarian producer Alexander Korda had sold half of Oberon's contract to Goldwyn so casting her in the role of Cathy may have been purely a financial decision.

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Frankly, Oberon never matched the mental image I had of Cathy when I read the book. If I could have chosen, I probably would have chosen Leigh to play the role. She came much closer to being the Cathy I imagined.

It's intriguing, isn't it, to think of how different movie history might have been.

If Oberon had not been cast in the role of Cathy, if the part had gone instead to Leigh, who would have played Scarlett in "Gone With the Wind?"

"Wuthering Heights" almost certainly would have had more passion — and might well have won Best Picture and/or other Oscars it lost, too. It was nominated for eight Oscars as it was — and actually won one, for black–and–white cinematography.

But it lost Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor and Best Supporting Actress (Geraldine Fitzgerald) as well as nominations for screenplay, score and art direction. Five of those awards went to "Gone With the Wind."

Some still recognize "Wuthering Heights" as one of the great movies of its type. The American Film Institute ranked it 15th on its all–time list of romance movies.

1939 was a banner year for movies, half a dozen of which made AFI's Top 100 romance list, but only one — "Gone With the Wind" — rated higher than "Wuthering Heights."

If Leigh, not Oberon, had co–starred with Olivier, would their screen passion have changed movie history? Or, at least, the order of some of AFI's lists?

Vivien Leigh's 100th Birthday

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Anyone who has ever seen Vivien Leigh in a movie — and that must mean just about everyone — would agree.

She was stunningly beautiful.

And, to these Southern ears, she sounded legitimately Southern in "Gone With the Wind" and "A Streetcar Named Desire," but, in fact, she was the daughter of an English military officer stationed in India at the time of her birth.

Leigh was born 100 years ago today, and she looked upon her beauty as more of a curse than a blessing. She felt it kept her from being taken seriously.

That may have been true with some filmmakers, but the American Film Institute certainly takes her seriously. AFI rated her 16th on its list of the 25 greatest actresses of all time.

And the Academy Awards took her seriously. She was named Best Actress twice — for her performances in "Gone With the Wind" and "A Streetcar Named Desire."

Of all the movies she made, those are almost certainly the two for which she is most remembered.

My guess is that was the kind of attention she craved — recognition for her ability to act, not for her beautiful features. She was a lot like Elizabeth Taylor, I guess. Taylor gained weight and did everything she could think of to make her portrayal of Martha in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" as realistic as possible — and was rewarded with an Oscar.

Leigh, who was nearly 20 years older than Taylor, didn't go to such physical extremes, but, as I say, it was her acting ability that she wanted people to remember.

(Taylor, in fact, was an admirer of Leigh's. I have heard that Taylor, who regarded Leigh as a "tragic heroine," saw her role in "Virginia Woolf" as an opportunity "to really act.")

Largely known for her stage roles before being cast as Scarlett O'Hara, Leigh gained virtually instant fame when she emerged from a well–publicized quest that included many better–known performers. But she insisted that she was an actress, not a film star.

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"I'm not a film star — I'm an actress. Being a film star — just a film star — is such a false life, lived for fake values and for publicity. Actresses go on for a long time, and there are always marvelous parts to play."

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Even if you don't consider the two roles for which she was rewarded with Oscars, it would be hard to dismiss Leigh as merely a "film star."

Sure, she was beautiful, and that is about the only requirement these days for a woman to be a movie star, but Leigh had talent that she brought to every project, be it on stage or the big screen.

I suppose you can't separate Leigh's career from that of her second husband, Laurence Olivier. They often worked together during their 20–year marriage.

Leigh and Olivier met before Leigh was cast in "Gone With the Wind." They were co–stars in "Fire Over England," young lovers on screen — and off, as it turned out. Both were married to other people, but they would be married to each other three years later.

And Leigh's relationship with Olivier played its own role in the two most noteworthy parts she ever had.

It was during their affair that Leigh read "Gone With the Wind" and decided she would play Scarlett.

And it was during their marriage that Leigh played the role of Blanche DuBois, first in a London stage production of "A Streetcar Named Desire" in 1949, then as Marlon Brando's co–star in the big–screen version two years later.

"Streetcar" director Elia Kazan was unimpressed with Leigh initially, but she proved her "determination to excel" to him during the production of the film.

"She'd have crawled over broken glass if she thought it would help her performance," he said.

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Following her marriage to Olivier, Leigh had a tendency to drop out of public sight for months, even years, and the stage was always her preference to the silver screen. What fans saw in public was a woman who seemed to be in control of herself and her career, but privately, Leigh battled emotional and health issues that eventually took their toll on both her marriage and her career.

She died in July 1967 of the tuberculosis with which she had struggled for years.

(By the way, Turner Classic Movies will be showing 11 of Leigh's movies today, including the two for which she won Oscars.)

Discovering Shakespeare

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I guess just about everyone knows the story of "Romeo and Juliet," Shakespeare's tale of star–crossed lovers from feuding families.

I don't know how many movies have been made of that play over the years — four or five, perhaps? And there was a period of time there, spanning about five or six years, when public TV aired about half a dozen of Shakespeare's plays per year. I don't remember specifically, but I'm certain that "Romeo and Juliet" must have been one of them.

My point is that there have been lots of versions of that play available — in fact, I think a new one is slated to premiere later this week — so if you're a fan of the Bard and you want to see "Romeo and Juliet," there is no shortage of productions from which to choose.

I've seen a few of the productions that have been preserved on film and/or video tape, and I think I would recommend director Franco Zeffirelli's movie, which made its debut on this date in 1968.

That probably was the first version I ever saw, and I saw it in school. My sixth–grade English teacher showed it to us, but she only had us for about an hour each day and the movie was nearly two hours and 20 minutes long so my memory is that she showed it to us over a period of three days, and on the third day, we discussed the movie after its conclusion.

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One of the things I appreciated — although I probably didn't realize it at the time — was the fact that Zeffirelli cast actors to play Romeo and Juliet who really were teenagers — just as Shakespeare intended. They were believable.

I didn't understand everything in the play (I think it was the first time I ever saw a Shakespeare play, and it was a challenge just to understand 16th–century dialogue), but I could comprehend enough to know that these were supposed to be two very young people, folks who were close to my age, not my parents' ages.

Later on in life, I recall seeing other movie versions of the play and being struck by how old the stars were. It really prevented me from fully appreciating the story.

But Olivia Hussey, who played Juliet, was a little bit older than the Juliet of the play — but only by a year or two, not a decade or two like some of her predecessors. Likewise, Leonard Whiting, who played Romeo, was perhaps a year or two older than the Romeo in the play, but, again, most of the Romeos who came before him were much older. Sir Laurence Olivier provided the narration.

By and large, sixth–graders are an immature bunch. I say that knowing that, although I was probably more serious than most of my peers at that age, I had my immature side, too.

And my memory is that we all giggled at the mushy stuff ... you know, the kissing scenes and scenes where more of Hussey's breasts could be observed — oh–so fleetingly — than usual.

Such a thing is normal for boys of that age, I guess. For girls, too, I suppose, but I was never an adolescent girl. I remember that Hussey inspired a lot of conversations among the boys on the playground during the days we watched that movie — then our attention shifted to something else.

I don't remember any conversations about the realistic nature of the casting, but I do remember thinking about it — even if I wasn't old enough to think — or communicate — in terms like realism.

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Nor do I remember how the post—movie discussion went. A roomful of 12–year–olds probably didn't offer too many deep insights.

And my teacher probably felt frustrated. I am a teacher now, and I know how it feels to plan a lesson and really believe that you've found a way to make it fun and interesting and meaningful for your students — only to discover that it falls far short of your expectations.

I don't know where that teacher is now. If I could, though, I would thank her for opening up the world of Shakespeare to my young eyes and ears.

Her efforts were not in vain.

DNA and the Boys From Brazil

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On this day in 1978, DNA and cloning were still futuristic concepts, little more than theories, really. I remember hearing my teachers speak of such things when I was in school and dismissing them as some sort of Jetsons things — totally unlikely to happen in my lifetime.

I was wrong, of course.

But director Franklin J. Schaffner had the vision and the courage to accept the challenge of explaining the theories in ways that were entertaining — and, consequently, unsettling when their relevance to the story was revealed.

The theme of Schaffner's "The Boys From Brazil," which premiered on this day in 1978, was that Josef Mengele (played by Gregory Peck) had taken some of Adolf Hitler's DNA with him when he fled Germany after World War II and had produced dozens of Hitler clones who had been distributed around the world. These baby Hitlers were adopted by couples who closely resembled Hitler's own parents in an attempt to duplicate as closely as possible the conditions that shaped the original Hitler.

At some point, it was necessary for Mengele to arrange for an adoptive father to be killed because Hitler's own father, who was more than 20 years older than Hitler's mother, died suddenly when Hitler was 13. Mengele left no stone unturned in his quest to re–create the circumstances of Hitler's life. No detail was too small.

I don't mean to suggest, of course, that the loss of a parent is a small detail. Far from it. That is a huge event in the lives of most people whatever their ages — but especially so for one so young. And I think Schaffner (and, for that matter, Ira Levin, who wrote the novel upon which the movie was based) was correct to believe that his father's death had a powerful influence on Hitler.

The movie took viewers around the globe as Laurence Olivier, a Nazi hunter, followed up on a tip from Steven Guttenberg, who stumbled on to the plot to resurrect the Third Reich and paid for it with his life.

In the movie, Mengele clearly wasn't wedded to the idea of a German fuehrer and placed Hitler clones all around the world. Olivier met four of the clones, each played unsettlingly by Jeremy Black, a teenager who, as nearly as I can tell, never appeared in a movie again.

His performance was spooky, though, to say the least. I was convinced that any of the clones he played could have grown up to be a modern–day Hitler, fulfilling an almost Nostradamus–like prophecy.

But it was ambiguous. Each had personality traits that, if seen only on the surface by those unfamiliar with the futuristic plot, would appear to be typical teenage narcissism — not necessarily a clue of what to expect.

On closer inspection, they revealed truths that went to the core of the Hitler personality, but that brings us back to the old debate over nature vs. nurture. Because these clones possessed Hitler's DNA — and, remember, much of what was known about DNA in 1978 was theoretical — did that mean they would duplicate his life experiences?

In the movie, Mengele tried to manipulate events to guarantee that the Hitler clones would have the same experiences the original Hitler had, including losing his father at a young age. But other things were not so easily manipulated, like Hitler's rejection in art school or his experiences as a soldier in World War I.

At the end of the movie, Olivier's character destroyed the list of children around the world who had been part of Mengele's experiment rather than surrender it to American Nazi hunters who were determined to eliminate the clones.

They were only children, Olivier said. They weren't responsible for the experiment that had conceived them. It wouldn't be fair for them to pay with their lives for things others had done.

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It was an uplifting, Hollywoodesque feel–good wrapup. Frankly, though, I thought the movie would have been more powerful if it had concluded the way the book did — by revealing that one of the surviving Hitler clones was developing delusions of grandeur.

Movie veterans Peck and Olivier gave brilliant performances as the story's nemeses — as did James Mason as Peck's benefactor.

To misquote Shakespeare, though, the story's the thing in "The Boys From Brazil." The acting was superb, but the story, like Black's performance, was spooky. I felt that way even at the time, when, as I say, DNA was known to exist but the applications of that knowledge were mostly theoretical.

I think it holds up just as well today although I am sure that, as commonplace as DNA application has become in modern society, the story may not have quite the impact with some viewers as it does with others.

Perhaps it was that considerable element of the unknown that made it so frightening.

Thoughts of a Snowy Day Long Ago

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The weather can be volatile at this time of the year.

I guess it's that way everywhere, even in the places where it starts snowing in October and doesn't stop until about April.

But it can be pretty extreme even in places like Dallas, Texas — where, I will concede, it tends to be a lot milder than most places.

That — along with the fact that a new, state–of–the–art stadium has been open for business here for nearly a year and a half — is what enticed the NFL to bring its Super Bowl here this year.

But the weather can be hit or miss around here in the winter. If the Super Bowl had been played here last weekend, the players and fans could have enjoyed sunny skies and balmy (for February) temperatures.

As I write this, the temperature is about 20° (wind chill is about 2°) with a light snow and a stout wind. We've been getting rain, freezing rain, sleet and snow for several hours. Businesses and school districts throughout the area are closed down.

The Dallas Area Rapid Transit system, on which the city was counting to handle the transportation needs of the influx of guests for the Super Bowl, is reporting that rail service is currently suspended and "[b]uses are operating but slowly."

Forecasters think the temperature will inch above freezing by the end of the week, possibly rising to the 50s by kickoff on Sunday, but there doesn't seem to be any question that last Sunday would have been the best time to play the game.

Timing is everything.

The two classes I'm teaching at one of the campuses of the Dallas County Community College District (DCCCD) won't meet today because all DCCCD locations are closed due to the weather.

And I've been sitting here this morning, occasionally gazing out my window at the ice–coated street below and thinking of my college days.

I got my B.A. at the University of Arkansas. While I was there, I lived with my parents. My father had gone back to school to pursue a degree in architecture, and my mother was teaching first grade in the nearby Springdale district.

Unlike the central Arkansas town in which I grew up, we had four distinct seasons in northwest Arkansas. In the winter, we got snow, and sometimes the accumulations were sufficient to cancel Mom's school for the day.

My classes, on the other hand, were seldom canceled — unless my professor simply could not get to the campus. Then he/she would notify someone, who would normally post a notice on the door, but the students had to trudge their way in to see it for themselves.

That wasn't a huge problem for me. Our house was near the campus. I had to walk up hill a little to get to the campus, which did pose problems if it was icy, like it is today — but, generally speaking, what little ice we got usually got covered over rather rapidly with snow, and that is usually more conducive to doing, well, just about anything.

Anyway, I've been thinking about one day when I was in college, and a lot of snow fell overnight.

The next morning, my mother heard on the radio that her school district was closed for the day. I, on the other hand, had to get ready for class and make my way to the campus, where I discovered that my classes were not canceled.

I remember coming home around 1 in the afternoon and discovering my mother in the living room, ironing board out with a basket of clothes sitting next to it. She was pressing shirts and watching a movie on whatever was our equivalent of HBO in those days.

The movie was "The Boys From Brazil," a thriller about a plot to clone Hitler and revive Nazism. It had been fairly popular at the theaters a few years earlier, but I don't know if Mom ever saw it on the big screen.

What I do know is that it was on TV on this particular day, and it had only been on for a few minutes when I got home. I opened a can of ravioli and warmed it up, then came in to the living room and watched the movie.

I only intended to watch it for a few minutes, but I got caught up in the plot. It really is an intriguing one.

Gregory Peck played Josef Mengele, the famous butcher from Auschwitz and the perpetrator of a plot to clone Hitler. James Mason was a co–conspirator and Laurence Olivier was a Nazi hunter (inspired by Simon Wiesenthal) who was alerted to some suspicious activity in South America.

The genetic material that was used in this experiment had been acquired from Hitler himself, according to Mengele. Dozens of baby Hitlers had been created using that material, and they had been dispersed around the globe to carefully selected couples who duplicated, as closely as possible, the parents who raised the original Hitler.

Hitler's father had been a civil servant, more than 20 years older than Hitler's mother and had died while Hitler was in his early teens. For all these young Hitlers to be shaped by the same experiences as the first one, they had to lose their adoptive fathers at about the same point in their lives.

And all those young Hitlers were approaching the time when they had to lose their fathers.

That was the plot. It was engrossing. But, to be honest, it really didn't have much to do with snow, other than the fact that I had been walking through a lot of snow before I came in the house and found my mother watching that movie on that afternoon so many years ago.

Well, actually, there were some wintry scenes in that movie, some segments where the actors were forced to wear winter clothes, even one memorable "execution" scene that involved some snow.

And there was one scene that I find particularly chilling in hindsight.

Remember, this movie was made in the late 1970s. Cable TV was still new, and specialty channels, like The History Channel and The Military Channel were still many years away.

Yet some of what it presented seems almost prophetic to me now, the way much of "Network" seems to be.

Peck, in his role as Mengele, tells Olivier near the end of the movie what he had seen on the TV in his motel room — "Films of Hitler! The movement! People are fascinated! The time is ripe!"

He spoke of a "Hitler tailor–made for the 1980s, '90s, 2000!"

And I think that, if such genetic material had been taken from Hitler while he was alive and had been preserved, it might still exist somewhere today.

For that matter, there may be real boys from Brazil living among us today. Mengele, we are told, died while swimming in Brazil in 1979. He may have drowned accidentally or perhaps he suffered a stroke.

Whatever the reason for his death, he avoided capture for more than three decades, and he appears to have continued his human experimentation in his postwar life. He may well have conducted experiments like the one that was suggested in "The Boys From Brazil."

If he did, those experiments may have been disappointments to him. He may have judged them failures.

Or they may have been in their nascent stage at the time of his death.

If so — and if, as might be implied by the movie, he had a timeline to follow — he could have been "born" several years before Mengele died and still not be the age that Hitler had reached by the time he seized power in Germany.

He could have been an infant when Mengele died — and, consequently, would not yet be as old as Hitler was when he was imprisoned for treason and wrote "Mein Kampf."

In short, if Mengele did conduct such experiments in the last years of his life, we may be on the brink of seeing their outcomes.

Just something to think about on a wintry day.