Showing posts with label Lee J. Cobb. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lee J. Cobb. Show all posts

Saturday, September 23, 2017

The Mystery of a Mind



I have long admired Joanne Woodward, and I remember the first time I saw "Sybil," the supposedly true story of a woman with more than a dozen personalities. Woodward played the psychiatrist who treated the woman in that made–for–TV movie.

At the time, I did not know Woodward had been in a similar movie some 20 years earlier in which she played the patient so "Sybil" was a role reversal for her. The movie in which Woodward was the patient was called "The Three Faces of Eve," and it premiered on this day in 1957.

There were many similarities between the stories. Given the subject matter, I suppose that was unavoidable.

By comparison Woodward had it easier in 1957 than Sally Field did 20 years later. Granted Woodward only had to portray three different personalities while Field had to do some 16, but I couldn't help feeling, when I saw "The Three Faces of Eve" that Field must have picked Woodward's brain or watched "The Three Faces of Eve" — or both — before she started work on "Sybil."

I saw "Sybil" first. When I saw "The Three Faces of Eve," much of what I saw Woodward do was what I had seen Field do.

But Woodward did it first — and won an Oscar for Best Actress in the process. So, arguably, one could say Woodward did it better — although Field did win an Emmy.

Lee J. Cobb played the role that Woodward eventually played in "Sybil." He was the doctor who treated her, who diagnosed her condition.

Although it was not her real name, the patient was known as Eve White, a timid and reserved individual who suffered from excruciating headaches and occasional blackouts. Her behavior became so erratic that her husband (David Wayne) brought her in for treatment. While speaking with Cobb, a second personality emerged, one whose personality was the opposite of Eve White's — so she was given the name of Eve Black.

Eve Black knew all there was to know about Eve White, but Eve White was oblivious to Eve Black's existence.

After Eve White had been sent to a hospital for observation and released, Eve Black attempted to kill Eve White's daughter, and her husband decided he had had enough. He left his wife and took their daughter to live with relatives.

That, too, was similar to "Sybil." Brad Davis played Field's long–suffering boyfriend who started out being supportive but apparently concluded that he, too, could not live with that.

Cobb believed Eve White and Eve Black were incomplete personalities, that they had to be united to form a complete personality, and that was the conclusion that Woodward's character reached in "Sybil."

And it would be hard to imagine anyone who was more different from Eve White than Eve Black. Eve Black was constantly going out on the town, drinking, carousing in night clubs.

But while Eve Black seemingly knew everything about Eve White, there were gaps in her knowledge. A third character could resolve things, and it turned out this comparatively stable character was named Jane.

Jane knew how the personalities had split. It went back to when Eve was a little girl. Her grandmother had died when she was 6, and it was a family custom for everyone to kiss the deceased person at the viewing. This was supposed to make it easier for them to let go.

When Eve's mother (played by Nancy Kulp years before she was Miss Hathaway on the Beverly Hillbillies) took her in to kiss her dead grandmother, it so traumatized the child that the personality split occurred.

If you have never seen the movie before but when you do you think the voice of the narrator is familiar, you're probably right. The narrator was Alistair Cooke, a journalist and broadcaster by trade who achieved his greatest popularity in America as the host of television's Masterpiece Theater for more than 20 years.

Monday, June 20, 2016

Culture Clash in the 19th Century



When I was a child, I had no idea there was a movie called "Anna and the King of Siam," which made its American premiere on this day in 1946.

I knew about "The King and I," the musical version of the story starring Yul Brynner and Deborah Kerr that was made about a decade later. My grandmother was a fan of musicals, and I remember watching that one with her on television when I was about 5 or 6 years old.

Set in the 1860s, "Anna and the King of Siam" told the story of an Englishwoman (Irene Dunne) who accepted a position teaching English to the children of the king of Siam (Rex Harrison). It was essentially the same story — minus the music.

Dunne's character got off on the wrong foot when she was greeted by the prime minister (Lee J. Cobb), who proceeded to ask her several personal questions. Dunne's character did not realize that was customary in Siam and took offense — only to be advised afterward to make amends with him on the grounds that she didn't understand. She took that advice, but things still weren't smooth. Dunne and her son had been promised a house of their own in which to live, but upon their arrival she learned that she was to live in the palace where she would be accessible for the king and any of his children at any time. The king did not remember making the promise of a house and, apparently, felt under no obligation to honor a promise he didn't recall making.

It was, I quickly determined, the same story — except that, apart from the music, "The King and I" was a much more light–hearted telling of what was a culture clash. I guess the music made it seem breezy. No problem like that in "Anna and the King of Siam" although as I understand it the king was portrayed as being much tougher and more traditional in that movie than he was in real life.

Both movies were based on the true story of Anna Leonowens, a British writer, educator and social activist who became the governess/teacher of the Siamese king's 39 wives and 82 children. I don't remember if the movie ever mentioned the number of children she taught, but I am quite sure I did not see 82 children in the movie — and very few of the king's wives were seen, either. There was one, sort of the top wife (Gale Sondergaard, in an Oscar–nominated performance), who knew English and interpreted for Anna, but, as I say, few others were seen.

While much of "Anna and the King of Siam" was fictionalized, one of my favorite scenes in the movie apparently was based in fact. In the movie, the king dictated a letter to American President Abraham Lincoln in which he offered Lincoln gifts of elephants to breed for transportation purposes — although the offer was actually addressed to Lincoln's predecessor, James Buchanan, or, since the king was mindful of the presidential election taking place when he sent the gifts, Buchanan's successor.

(Buchanan was not a candidate for re–election. Lincoln was elected to succeed him.)

In real life, Lincoln graciously declined the offer, explaining that the United States' latitude made it unfeasible to raise elephants here.

As a history buff, I always liked that part of the story. I can't tell you how pleased I was to learn it was true — mostly.

Anna was a bit of a feminist, at least as far as her times were concerned — and certainly as far as the place where she was living and working was concerned. Women simply had no rights in Siam, and no one, male or female, challenged the king on anything and in any way. But Anna spoke her mind to the king, and she frequently made sense. It just took him a little while to mull things over in his head.

Then, when he came around — like as not in the wee hours of the morning — he would wake her up to go over the details with her. She became perhaps his most valued adviser by the end of the movie.

But there were still times when Anna's European sensibilities came into conflict with Siamese tradition.

It was a story about a culture clash that still has valuable points to make.

In addition to Sondergaard, "Anna and the King of Siam" received four other Academy Award nominations and won Oscars for Best Dramatic or Comedy Score and Best Black–and–White Art Direction.

Monday, July 28, 2014

The Conscience of the Docks



"I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it."

Terry (Marlon Brando)
American Film Institute's third–greatest movie quote

"On the Waterfront," which premiered 60 years ago today, was a classic story about mob informers set on the waterfront of the Northeast. If it had the ring of truth to it, it is because the tale was loosely based on some Pulitzer Prize–winning true stories that were originally published in the New York Sun.

The American Film Institute ranked "On the Waterfront" #19 in its list of the Top 100 movies of all time. Marlon Brando's Terry Malloy, the never–was professional boxer, was rated the #23 hero of all time.

Lee J. Cobb played a union boss with mob ties who ruled the docks with an iron fist. Local law enforcement knew he was behind some murders, but no one on the waterfront was willing to inform on him, preferring to remain alive and working.

Rod Steiger played Cobb's right–hand man; Brando was his brother. Apparently, Brando was once a boxer with a lot of promise, but his brother (on instructions from Cobb) told him to lose a fight intentionally. Cobb had placed a bet on Brando's opponent.

The memory of that gnawed at Brando, who went on to work on the docks instead of contending for a boxing championship.

Brando's character was smitten with Eva Marie Saint, who played the sister of another dockworker. Brando was used as bait to lure her brother, who was about to testify against Cobb, into an ambush, in which he was killed. Brando thought they were only going to "lean" on him and resented playing any kind of role, albeit unknowingly, in the other man's death.

Saint and a priest (played by Karl Malden) persuaded Brando to testify against the union boss. His decision cost his brother his life, and it nearly cost him his own when Cobb's henchmen beat him up.

"Conscience," Brando's character said. "That stuff can drive you nuts."

Indeed it can.

"On the Waterfront" was nominated for 12 Oscars and won eight, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor and Best Supporting Actress.

Incidentally, you can see "On the Waterfront" in a couple of weeks on Turner Classic Movies' Aug. 11 salute to Marlon Brando during TCM's annual "Summer Under the Stars."

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Casting Out a Demon



Chris (Ellen Burstyn): She doesn't remember any of it.

It wasn't long after "The Exorcist" was released to theaters, 40 years ago today, that the news reports were full of stories about people losing their minds while watching it. Well, that's probably an exaggeration. I do remember hearing a lot of reports of moviegoers who fainted or vomited while watching it (some theaters made "Exorcist barf bags" available for squeamish patrons).

I was a child at the time and really didn't understand what was being said. I just knew the story was about a young girl who was possessed by a demon, and her mother sought the help of an exorcist to free her of the demon's grip.

The young girl was Linda Blair, who went on to encourage many a young boy's fantasies in the '70s. "The Exorcist" was the first real glimpse most people had of her. She had a couple of minor roles in some low–profile movies before that; her projects in the next few years could hardly be described as "low profile" — simply because she was in them.

But her movie career — which more or less ground to a halt after she ran into problems with the law in the late 1970s — is the subject for another article at another time.

On this day in 1973, Blair was about to turn 15 — and she was about to become a national sensation.

The role she played was inspired by the last recorded Catholic–sanctioned exorcism in the United States. In that 1949 case, a 13–year–old boy was the victim. Novelist William Peter Blatty altered the victim's gender and the age for the novel that spawned the 1973 movie.

I didn't see it until several years later. The movie was re–released to the theaters (why, I do not know) a few years after its initial release. I wanted to see it, but I was too young to get in without an adult so I talked my father into taking me to see it.

By that time, things like the scenes in which Blair's character vomited pea soup on the priests or spoke in a series of low–pitched voices were practically cliches. I remember being distracted from the story on the screen several times by the persistent giggles of a group of young people in the back of the theater.

No one was giggling in 1973.

The Oscars didn't reward makeup work until the 1980s; I suppose makeup was considered part of costumes until that time, but "The Exorcist," which was nominated for 10 Oscars, did not receive a nomination for its costumes — or any other category that would have taken into consideration the really impressive achievement of transforming a seemingly ordinary young girl into a victim of demonic possession.

Director William Friedkin (a recent Best Director winner for "The French Connection") broke a lot of ground in special effects (which, I suppose, included the makeup) and, simultaneously, pushed the project over budget. But it earned more than $440 million at the box office, which probably compensated for quite a bit.

In the movie, Regan's possession put mounting pressure on her actress mother (Ellen Burstyn), who first sought the help of doctors but gradually became convinced that her daughter's behavior was due to possession.

As with the case that inspired the story, a Ouija board was the conduit.

The British theater director for Regan's mother died after falling from a window in Regan's bedroom, and a detective (Lee J. Cobb) was called in to investigate.

For her part, Burstyn called in a young priest (Jason Miller), who evaluated the situation and decided that an exorcist (Max von Sydow) was needed.

And the two priests did battle with the demon.

I read Blatty's novel before I saw the movie. When I saw it, I was disappointed that most of the theological conversations between the demon and the young priest that were in the book did not make it into the movie. I understood then (as I understand now) that it simply isn't feasible for everything in a book to be included in a movie version. There will always be things that are omitted, for one reason or another.

But I found those conversations to be the most thought–provoking parts of the book. The demon, essentially, challenged the priest's faith by pointing out inconsistencies in scriptures and religious practices and beliefs; the priest deftly defended his faith in a fascinating display of linguistic dexterity.

Because of the subject matter, I guess it was really no surprise that there were numerous claims that the project was cursed. There were so many incidents while the movie was being made that priests were brought in frequently for the purpose of blessing the set.

Books and movies and music that deal with supernatural topics are often magnets for suspicion. Not surprisingly, I guess, "The Exorcist" was accused of many controversial things, the most controversial may have been the suggestion that it used subliminal effects in its sound and imagery. I recall hearing such allegations, but I don't recall the messages that supposedly were being transmitted.

Maybe it was fallout from the backward masking, both actual and alleged, in Beatles records a few years earlier.