Across the Pacific ... or Whatever It Was

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Rick Leland (Humphrey Bogart): I never saw anybody like you; you never have any clothes on.

Alberta Marlow (Mary Astor): Well if anyone heard you complaining about it they would put you in a psychopathic ward.

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Did you ever hear of a novel that was written about 14 years before the catastrophic sinking of the Titanic that, in hindsight, seemed to foretell the disaster with eerie detail?

"Across the Pacific," which made its debut on this day in 1942, was kind of like that. Let me explain.

Originally "Across the Pacific" was intended to be about an attempt to thwart a Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. It was a work of fiction.

Then when the Japanese actually did bomb Pearl Harbor, the script was rewritten to make the location Panama instead. Now that wasn't as implausible as it might seem on the surface. Several years before the U.S. entered World War II, military exercises were focused on defending the Panama Canal, and those activities received considerable attention in the press.

But the first two–thirds of the movie emphasized the hot–and–cold romance between Humphrey Bogart and Mary Astor, fellow passengers aboard a Japanese ship.

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And the script revision actually put all the action in the Atlantic and Caribbean. Never really got close to the Pacific.

I guess "Across the Pacific" was the original title — and, in spite of all the meticulous changes being made to the script, no one thought to change the title.

The script revision wasn't that meticulous, though. Director John Huston apparently had worked out an ending for the movie, but he was called up for military service, leaving it to his replacement, Vincent Sherman, to come up with an ending on his own.

Huston, by the way, thought Sherman's finish "lacked credibility," according to his 1980 autobiography "An Open Book." Maybe he should have shared his vision for the conclusion with Sherman before he shipped out.

At the very least he should have told Sherman how to resolve the predicament in which his filmmaking had left Bogart. If you watch the movie, I think you will agree that Bogart would have had to be Harry Houdini — or Indiana Jones — to get out of that one.

Yet somehow he did.

There were other problems with "Across the Pacific." For one, I have always had an issue with the casting of Astor as the female lead. Now, she was talented. I don't mean to imply that she wasn't. But I thought the role called for more of a beauty. Ingrid Bergman comes to mind. She combined great talent with great beauty.

Would that have invited comparison to Bogart and Bergman's classic "Casablanca"?

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Perhaps in hindsight. But "Casablanca" wouldn't have been on the minds of audiences in September 1942 because it wasn't showing on U.S. movie screens until two months later.

The actual cast did invite comparisons to "The Maltese Falcon," especially with Sydney Greenstreet reunited with Bogart and Astor. Greenstreet played an even more villainous character than he played in "The Maltese Falcon."

He showed up in "Casablanca," too.

By the way, Bogart, Astor and Greenstreet reprised their roles in a radio version of the story that was aired a few months later.

'The Prisoner of Zenda' Was Rousing Swashbuckler

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"Fate doesn't always make the right men kings."

Fritz (David Niven)

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Several versions of "The Prisoner of Zenda" have been made over the years, and most have been pretty faithful to Anthony Hope's adventure novel.

But the first version I ever saw was one that was made in 1979. It starred Peter Sellers — and if you know anything at all about Peter Sellers, you know that just about everything he ever did was funny. As a result, Hope's novel got a rather irreverent treatment.

If you were familiar with the story, it was funny in the parody style of Mel Brooks. But I wasn't familiar with the original story so I assumed that all the versions of "The Prisoner of Zenda" that had been made earlier were comedies, too.

Regretfully, that led me to ignore the earlier versions for a long time.

That was a big mistake. I have often wished that I had seen the version that premiered on this day in 1937 first. If I had, I would have appreciated the humor in the Sellers version in a way that I didn't back when I saw it. I haven't seen all the movie adaptations of Hope's novel, but that is the best that I have seen.

The best word for it is swashbuckler — quite a rousing one.

And I would have known — as I didn't for a long time — that it was really an adventure story and not the parody that the Sellers version was.

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But my mother was a huge fan of Peter Sellers. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with that. In fact, I am also a great admirer of Peter Sellers — I don't know how anyone could watch "Dr. Strangelove" or "Being There" and not be a Sellers admirer.

But he simply wouldn't have been the right person to play the lead in a movie that was faithful to the story as it was originally told.

Ronald Colman, on the other hand, was a pretty good choice.

Now, as a Sellers fan, I can understand why he was an obvious choice to play the role. It involved a doppelgänger — the main character was the identical distant cousin of the crown prince of a small country that was unnamed in the movie. Colman played both roles (as he did in "Dr. Strangelove," Sellers played three parts, but you'll have to watch the movie to find out about that third character).

Anyway, Colman's character was drafted to fill in for his cousin at the coronation because his cousin drank some wine that had been drugged by his half–brother (Raymond Massey) who was poised to seize power if his half–sibling did not show up for his coronation. The prince could not be roused, and his cousin agreed to fill in to keep the throne from falling into the wrong hands.

The rest of the movie was entertaining with adventure punctuated by a romance involving Madeleine Carroll as the prince's apparent arranged fiancee, who despite her status had always disliked him but now, having become acquainted with the pretender (but not knowing it was a different person), found the new Rudolf to be very appealing.

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It made for a terrific combination of adventure and romance that was rewarded handsomely at the box office, which was hardly surprising. Its cast included the likes of David Niven, Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Mary Astor.

And it received two Oscar nominations — for Original Music Score and Art Direction.

You know, in hindsight, I'm inclined to wonder if maybe Mom, who was a child when this version of "The Prisoner of Zenda" was in theaters, was drawn to see the Peter Sellers version more because she had seen the Ronald Colman movie and had fond memories of the swashbuckling classic than because of her fondness for Sellers.

Of course, I wouldn't rule out either possibility.

The Premiere of Judy Garland's Transitional Movie

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"A lie's a lie, and dressed in white don't help it."

Katie the maid (Marjorie Main)

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Vincente Minnelli's "Meet Me in St. Louis," which premiered 70 years ago today, is highly regarded by the American Film Institute — as well as many devotees of the movie musical.

I say that from personal experience because my grandmother was a fan of movie musicals, and she always liked "Meet Me in St. Louis." Maybe that was because she really liked Judy Garland — which I knew as a child. But, when I got older and saw the movie for myself, I kind of felt the main attraction for "Meet Me in St. Louis" really was 6–year–old Margaret O'Brien, who appeared in several movies in 1944 and was rewarded with a special juvenile Oscar.

It was O'Brien's most memorable role in a movie career that was too short; she wasn't able to make the transition to adult roles as Garland (who also won a juvenile Oscar) had.

(Whatever the reason, I often heard my grandmother singing songs from "Meet Me in St. Louis." My grandmother loved to sing, and she had a pretty good voice, too. As a child, I didn't know which musical featured those songs, but the first time I saw the movie, I knew the words to the songs — and, in my head, I could hear my grandmother singing them.)

"Meet Me in St. Louis" was something of a milestone for Garland, though. It was her transitional movie, marking her shift from children's roles to adult roles. She was 22 when it premiered. She had been a teenager when she made "The Wizard of Oz," which was probably her breakout role (even though she had already made movies with Mickey Rooney by that time), but it was also a children's role.

And movie purists might argue that "Meet Me in St. Louis" wasn't really her first adult role; they might be inclined to mention "Presenting Lily Mars" or "For Me and My Gal," but I'll stick with "Meet Me in St. Louis" because it was more commercially successful than the others.

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The story was set around the turn of the century — in St. Louis in the months before the opening of the 1904 World's Fair. It followed the Smith family, who enjoyed a middle–class lifestyle (which, at the turn of the century, was pretty darned affluent — affluent enough to afford a maid to take care of the family and the large house it occupied).

Leon Ames played the head of the household, and Mary Astor, not too far removed from her role in "The Maltese Falcon" and her Oscar–winning part in "The Great Lie," played his wife. Garland was one of their daughters. So were O'Brien, Lucille Bremer (who always reminds me of Julianne Moore — maybe it's the red hair) and Joan Carroll; Henry H. Daniels Jr. played the only son.

Carroll and Daniels had relatively small roles; Garland, O'Brien and Bremer got the most attention. Marjorie Main, who was best known for playing the movies' Ma Kettle, was the maid.

When I saw it for the first time, it was already three, maybe four decades old, and it struck me as being similar to "Life With Father" (which came out a few years later but was set perhaps 20 years earlier than "Meet Me in St. Louis").

Both movies were so frothy and sweet they could give you cavities — but they were also charming and endearing with stories that were mostly told from the young people's points of view. When Mr. Smith's work required him to uproot the family and move to New York, it created crises within the family: They would have to leave St. Louis before the start of the fair they all had been eagerly anticipating, and Garland's blooming relationship with the boy next door would collapse.

Oh, the humanity.

What's more, O'Brien (who was more aware of mortality than most children her age) began a serial execution of snowmen upon learning the news.

O'Brien stole the show, but "Meet Me in St. Louis" really was built around two themes — music and crises. It started with songs, then there was a family crisis, followed by more songs, then more crises, then more songs ... well, you get the idea.

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Astonishingly, it was nominated for four Oscars. It didn't win any, but it was still nominated for its cinematography, screenplay, musical score and song ("The Trolley Song" by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane).

"Meet Me in St. Louis" was noteworthy for something else.

It was the first pairing of Garland and Minnellii, who married the following year.

The marriage ended in divorce, but it did produce a child — Liza Minnelli — who has enjoyed some professional success of her own.

They worked together on "The Clock" (1945) and "The Pirate" (1948) before they divorced, but Liza remains their most famous post–"Meet Me in St. Louis" collaboration.

The movie itself was remade twice for television — in 1959 and 1966.

The second remake was made without music and was intended as a pilot for a TV series, but it wasn't picked up. That's for the best, I suppose. O'Brien notwithstanding, it's hard to imagine "Meet Me in St. Louis" without Garland, isn't it?

(By the way, you can see "Meet Me in St. Louis" tomorrow at 11:30 a.m. Central time on Turner Classic Movies.)

Bogart's Breakthrough

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When you think of Humphrey Bogart, which of his film roles comes to mind?

In 1999, the American Film Institute picked Bogart as the top male film star of all time. Along with such a designation, I assume, comes a wide variety of answers to the question I posed in the preceding paragraph. After all, he appeared in roughly 75 movies.

My father, for example, probably would tell you that he thinks of "The African Queen," and that would probably be true of many people. It was Bogart's only Oscar–winning performance. He was nominated three times, but that was his only victory.

Other folks think of his roles in "Casablanca," the iconic Best Picture winner from 1942, or "The Caine Mutiny," both of which earned him Oscar nominations but no statuettes.

My personal favorite has always been "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre."

Bogart made quite a few movies in the 1930s, but he didn't really become the star who would be recognized by AFI until 1941, when "High Sierra" and "The Maltese Falcon" were released.

Both can be seen on Turner Classic Movies tomorrow, when TCM will devote its daylong salute (as part of its annual "Summer Under the Stars") to Bogart. You can see "High Sierra" at 1:45 p.m. (Central), and you can see "The Maltese Falcon" at 7 p.m. (Central).

"The Maltese Falcon," which was released on Oct. 3, 1941, is a film noir classic. I'm not a movie historian, but I have heard genuine film historians say it was the first film noir.

The American Film Institute ranks it 31st on its list of Top 100 movies of the last century. Movie critic Roger Ebert and Entertainment Weekly, among others, have ranked it high on their all–time lists as well.

Looking back over 70 years, it's hard to imagine how it could have missed.

It was based on Dashiell Hammett's third published novel. It starred Humphrey Bogart — and many other talented, although lesser known, people. John Huston was the director. In fact, it was Huston's directorial debut.

As I say, it was not Bogart's debut, but many moviegoers of the time certainly would have asked the question that was asked by the trailer for "The Maltese Falcon" — "Who is this man?" If they racked their brains, they might remember his face from the many B movies in which he appeared — but most probably couldn't attach a name to that face.

Nevertheless, Huston's inexperience appears to have played a decisive role in the casting of Bogart as Sam Spade. As I have heard it, producer Hal Wallis wanted George Raft, who was a more bankable star at the time, to play the lead, but Raft refused, choosing to work with a more experienced director (Raoul Walsh) — as well as more familiar co–stars (Edward G. Robinson and Marlene Dietrich) on a now mostly forgotten film called "Manpower" — it was mentioned in the movie "Bugsy."

Some of the supporting cast in "The Maltese Falcon" were unknown and making their film debuts — 61–year–old Sydney Greenstreet comes to mind. Others — i.e., Peter Lorre and Mary Astor — were veterans of the film industry but not very well known.

Anyway, Bogart was Huston's choice, and his performances in "The Maltese Falcon" and "High Sierra" are often said to have elevated his career to the superstar status he enjoyed in the last years of his life — and Raft's career decisions appear to have played decisive roles in both.

Raft reportedly turned down the part in "High Sierra," which was one of Walsh's projects, then supposedly took the part in "Manpower" to compensate for not taking the other one. Bogart wound up playing both roles — and went on to the legendary career that was recognized by AFI and others.

Almost prophetically, Bogart utters the line that AFI recognized as #14 on its list of the 100 all–time greatest lines in movie history — holding the statuette, a policeman remarks that it is heavy and asks Bogart, "What it is made of?"

"It's the stuff dreams are made of," Bogart says.

"The Maltese Falcon" was the stuff Bogart's dreams were made of, to be sure.

The two Bogart movies that were released 70 years ago changed everything, and, while "High Sierra" certainly did its part to make Bogie's name a household word, it was really "The Maltese Falcon" that transformed him from actor to star.

Tomorrow, you can see how the legend began.