Showing posts with label RKO Pictures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RKO Pictures. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 06, 2017

When Less Was More



"I like the dark. It's friendly."

Irena (Simone Simon)

The Christmas season hardly seems like the time for a horror movie to be showing on America's silver screens, but that was the case 75 years ago.

I suppose for most people living today, when someone mentions the movie "Cat People," thoughts immediately turn to the 1982 movie starring Nastassja Kinski.

But that was actually a remake of a movie of the same name that premiered on this day in 1942. There were some differences between the two, especially in their directors' and producers' visions of what a horror movie should be — and what it could be, given the times when they were made.

Producer Val Lewton was hired by RKO Pictures to make horror films on less than $150,000 — and they were to be adapted to titles Lewton was given by the studio. Even though things cost less in 1942, $150,000 was still a pretty modest outlay to make a movie, and being given a title with no story was a challenge, to say the least, but Lewton did his job well. He recycled RKO's leftover sets, and director Jacques Tourneur completed filming in less than four weeks, coming in about seven grand under budget.

The movie made $4 million in its first two years, rejuvenating RKO financially.

When the movie began, a Serbian woman (Simone Simon) made sketches of a panther at New York's Central Park Zoo. She caught the eye of a young man who approached her and struck up a conversation.

The two ended up marrying, but Irena believed that she carried a Serbian curse and would become one of the fabled cat people of her homeland if they were intimate.

Thus followed an at times over–the–top story, although there was no denying that animals did react oddly to Irena. She couldn't walk into a pet store without frightening the birds there and provoking the dogs into barking fits.

Her fear of releasing the beast she believed to be within her kept her at arm's length from her boyfriend/husband and drove him into the arms of a co–worker. Audiences in 1942 had to imagine what went on with those two since the Hays Code was still in effect.

But viewers could assume what had happened between the two — as Irena surely did, and it provoked a powerful response from her. Suffice to say the beast had been released.

Frankly, the 1982 version was inferior to the original and pretty heavy on special effects and nudity, not so much graphic violence although there was some of that. It wasn't as heavy on dialogue as the '42 version, either.

By modern standards, I suppose the '42 version would be considered more suspense than horror. That was something Alfred Hitchcock knew well and employed in his movies. Hitchcock knew that sometimes it is better to show nothing than something. If he had shown more of the details of Norman Bates' mother during the infamous shower scene in "Psycho," it wouldn't have had the lasting impact it had.

You will still encounter people who believe Hitchcock directed horror movies, but his style was suspense, as I have mentioned here before. So, too, it would appear was it the style of Tourneur and Lewton.

At least in this movie.

In fact, it is clear to anyone who has watched Hitchcock's movies and the movies of Val Lewton that Hitchcock borrowed at least two scenes from Lewton productions. One was the pet shop scene in "Cat People," which was lifted almost shot for shot in "The Birds" two decades later. And the shower scene in "Psycho" bore a striking resemblance to a scene in "The Seventh Victim," which premiered in 1943.

For that matter Stephen King's books tend to be more suspense than horror, but he made his concessions to modern audiences in some of his books — and, consequently, in the movies that were based on them.

As I said sometimes it's better to show nothing than something. Viewers never saw the cat and never saw Irena's transformation into a cat. But, like the shark in "Jaws," the audience was always aware of the threat nearby.

"Cat People" of 1942 blended classic horror with pure suspense. Sadly, it is underrated and mostly forgotten today, but it is a reminder of Hollywood at its best — when it didn't hesitate to let the viewers be afraid of what lurked in their own minds.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Bringing a Stage Play to the Screen



For a long time, "Mourning Becomes Electra," which premiered on this day in 1947, was treated like a cinematic afterthought.

It was seldom seen on TV and unavailable in video tape or any comparable format (such as laserdisc) until it was finally released on DVD about a dozen years ago.

Why was that?

Well, it could have been the movie's performance at the box office. It lost more than $2.3 million.

I've read some reviews in which critics dismissed it as "stagey" and "wordy." I could understand that being a problem today. If it seemed that way to critics 70 years ago, I can only imagine what today's critics would say.

But it was adapted from a play written by Eugene O'Neill so it was to be expected that it would seem stagey. After all most of the action took place on a single set. And it would also be expected that it would be wordy. Plays tend to be driven by dialogue, not flashy explosions or car chases.

And, for its time, the movie was rather long — nearly three hours. But when it performed poorly at the box office and failed to win an Oscar, RKO Pictures made a decision that made matters worse — to slice about an hour from the film and re–release it. The original version, while long, made sense; the chopped–up version did not.

Fortunately, the movie has been restored to its original length — and, while it is not ordinarily my policy to promote a particular TV network, I must say that you can count on seeing that original version on Turner Classic Movies, which airs it fairly frequently. That is where I saw it, and I was impressed.

As a matter of fact, TCM will be showing the restored version on Tuesday, Nov. 28 at 3 p.m. (Central). Do not — I repeat, do not — watch the pared–down version. You have been warned.

In case you aren't familiar with the background of the movie, it was an adaptation of O'Neill's 1931 play that was, in turn, a re–telling of Aeschylus' Greek play "Oresteia" set in post–Civil War America.

Rosalind Russell's performance as Lavinia was so good it was a foregone conclusion she would win an Oscar; according to Oscar lore, when the Best Actress nominees were recited but before the winner was named, Russell rose from her seat, only to sink back down in it when it was announced that Loretta Young had won for "The Farmer's Daughter."

The comedic actress was nominated for Best Actress four times but never won.

Michael Redgrave was nominated for Best Actor that year but lost to Ronald Colman in "A Double Life." That was a pity, too, because it was his only Oscar nomination in a long and distinguished career on the stage and screen.

Redgrave, incidentally, is the only Best Actor nominee to have two daughters who were both nominated for Best Actress as well.

For some Russell's performance may seem overblown, and maybe it was, but I thought the character called for some of that, and Russell was good at it — better than Katharine Hepburn or Bette Davis, both of whom reportedly were considered for the role.

Kirk Douglas and Raymond Massey were great, as always. In fact, the acting on the whole was superb.

O'Neill's play has long been regarded a jewel of the modern American stage so it was no surprise to me that the actors turned in top–notch performances, and that can be enthralling on the stage, where the play can easily run twice as long as the movie.

Producer/director Dudley Nichols adapted the play for the screen, and as a writer I can appreciate his fealty to the original work. If you have ever seen the play and the movie, you know he tried to resist the temptation to stray from O'Neill's work.

But that may have worked against him. As New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther observed in his review, "It is one thing to watch a group of actors hiss and scream their deep emotions on a stage; it is quite something else to see the same thing done at great length by a group of photographs."

Motion pictures were still evolving in 1947, and filming adaptations of plays was still something of a mystery for many. That is why so many such movies appear now to be little more than films of stage productions — because that is essentially what they were. Shakespeare's plays have always been great on the stage, but it took considerable adaptation and experimentation to successfully bring them to the silver screen.

That was still a problem for O'Neill's plays 15 years later. By all accounts, director Sidney Lumet did a great job with "Long Day's Journey Into Night" — it even brought Katharine Hepburn an Oscar nomination — but, because that play, too, was largely confined to one set, even Lumet could not break past the impression that he had filmed a stage production.

Monday, November 03, 2014

Another Nice Mess From Laurel and Hardy



Ollie: Hey Stan ... oh, Stan ... over here ...

Stanley: [sees a horse in a pasture with Oliver's hat and mustache] Ollie ... is it really you?

Ollie: [as horse] Of course it's me. Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into.

Stanley: Gee I'm glad to see you!

When I was a boy, I remember watching Laurel and Hardy on Saturday afternoons with my father.

I'm sure I must have seen most, if not all, of their movies before I was 10 years old.

Dad would giggle like a little kid. I remember thinking it was cool to share that with him. Well, it was something like that.

We haven't watched Laurel and Hardy together in years. I wonder if he would still giggle. Maybe he would. I know I do.

Over a 30–year period, from 1921 to 1951, Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy appeared in more than 100 movies together. Nearly three dozen were silent shorts, nearly four dozen were sound shorts and more than two dozen were full–length feature movies.

They were absolutely prolific when they were under contract to Hal Roach Studios. That's where they made most of their movies and enjoyed the peak of their popularity, but they left Roach, and "The Flying Deuces," which premiered 75 years ago today, was the first non–Roach movie they had made together in nearly 20 years.

It wasn't bad. It's just that the material was so familiar. It should have been. The plot was a loose remake of a movie the two made for Roach about eight years earlier called "Beau Hunks." Frankly, "Beau Hunks" was better.

I still giggle at it, though. It's beyond my control. The last time I watched "The Flying Deuces," I admit I giggled at some moments. I was alone when I watched it so I can't chalk it up to any kind of psychological peer pressure. I even mentally scolded myself for giggling.

But I giggled, anyway.

In RKO Pictures' "The Flying Deuces," Laurel and Hardy played a couple of friends who joined the French Foreign Legion so Ollie could forget a girl.

Ollie and Stan were two fish market workers from Des Moines who were on vacation in France. While staying at an inn, Ollie was smitten with the innkeeper's daughter (Jean Parker) — and was crushed to learn she was already married. In fact, Ollie was suicidal until Stanley talked him out of it.

So Ollie and Stan joined the French Foreign Legion to forget.

Ollie: Just how much do we get paid for all this?

Commandant: One hundred centimes a day.

Stanley: That's not bad ...

Ollie: How much is that in American money?

Commandant: American money? About three cents a day.

Ollie: If you think you're going to get that kind of work outta me for three cents a day, brother, you're crazy.

Commandant: Is that right?

Stanley: That's right because we don't work for less than 25 cents a day! Do we, Ollie?

But it wasn't what they were told it would be so they just quit. That was used primarily to set up one–liners or song–and–dance numbers.

Ollie got to sing "Shine On, Harvest Moon" while Stanley did a soft–shoe dance.

And Stanley pulled a Harpo Marx, using his bed springs as a harp to play "The World Is Waiting for the Sunrise" — while he and Ollie were scheduled to be executed at sunrise.

That scene was one of the most memorable moments in the movie. After being told that he was to be executed for desertion the next morning, Ollie said, "Shot at sunrise!"

"I hope it's cloudy tomorrow!"
Stanley said.

The two managed an implausible escape — followed by an even more implausible plane ride with the two of them at the controls.

The ride ended with the plane crashing. Stanley climbed out of the wreckage, disheveled but apparently unhurt. Ollie wasn't so lucky, and the audience could see his semi–transparent spirit flying away.

Not long after, Stanley encountered a horse with Ollie's mustache and derby. Ollie had earlier said he would like to be reincarnated as a horse; apparently, he was.

Why do I laugh? I guess it's because, like the audiences of that time, I know what to expect when I see a Laurel and Hardy movie — and I want to see it. I want to hear Laurel making his involuntary sounds of alarm when something goes wrong. I want to hear Hardy say, "Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten me into!" And I laugh when they do.

OK, Hardy said, "Here's another nice mess," but why quibble?