Judy Garland's Comeback

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"He gave me a look at myself I've never had before. He saw something in me nobody else ever did. He made me see it, too. He made me believe it."

Esther Blodgett/Vicki Lester (Judy Garland)

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We're overdue for another remake of "A Star is Born."

The original version, starring Janet Gaynor and Fredric March, was made in 1937. The first remake premiered 60 years ago today, and the third version, with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson, hit the theaters 22 years later.

Of the three versions, the one that premiered on this day in 1954 was superior to the others. After all, it starred Judy Garland, and no one could sing like Judy Garland. Her co–star was James Mason as the fading star who tries to give her a boost as his career begins its descent.

Apparently, it was treated as Garland's comeback, given the fact that it had been about four or five years since her last movie. She was nominated for the Best Actress Academy Award, and everyone seemed to assume she would win. She couldn't attend the Oscars ceremony because she had just given birth to her son so NBC, which broadcast the Oscars in the 1950s, sent a camera crew to her hospital room so she could give her speech on TV.

Except she didn't win. Grace Kelly did — for "The Country Girl."

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I suppose, if one is going to launch a show–biz comeback, being in a movie that is about show biz is a pretty good way to do it.

Director George Cukor's story certainly must seem predictable to 21st–century viewers. Considering that it was a remake, it should have been familiar to viewers in 1954, too. After all, it was faithful to the story that was told in the Janet Gaynor–Fredric March movie.

Garland played an up–and–coming singer/actress who married an alcoholic actor on the downside of his career. She relied on his wisdom at first, but, as she became more self–sufficient, she needed his intervention less and less, and Mason's character, already struggling with alcohol, retreated deeper into the bottle.

It was a battle his character did not win. Although he sought treatment and seemed to recover, he suffered a relapse when Jack Carson, playing a publicist, accused him of living off his wife's income. This sent Mason's character on a drinking binge that led to his arrest.

When he realized that Garland had decided to sacrifice her career to care for him, Mason committed suicide in the famous scene in which he walks into the sea and drowns. (Well, March did it first.) His hope was to free Garland to pursue her destiny as a star — but, instead, she became a recluse.

A friend snapped her out of it by telling her she was wasting the career that Mason's character wanted to save, and she agreed to appear in public again, introducing herself as "Mrs. Norman Maine."

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When I was younger, I thought Streisand and Kristofferson gave the movie its musical spin even though I knew Garland was in the 1954 version. But I was wrong. Garland gave it its first musical spin. She sang lots of songs in "A Star Is Born." If you went to a theater 60 years ago today hoping to hear Judy Garland sing, you weren't disappointed.

But people who hoped for a blockbuster of a movie were disappointed. By 1954 standards, it was very expensive to make. It made more than $6 million — an impressive figure for 1954 but not enough to recover the investment that was made in it. Was that a factor in the Oscar vote that year?

"A Star Is Born" was nominated for six Oscars and lost them all.

A Remake By Another Name

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Most movie remakes are, to borrow from Yogi Berra, like deja vu all over again.

And "Mogambo," which was released 60 years ago today, was no exception.

Many years ago, I was watching a movie from the early 1930s on the late, late show called "Red Dust." I had never heard of it before, but I saw it in the listings, noticed that Clark Gable was in it, and decided to watch it.

When I did, I had the feeling that I had seen and heard the story before — and I had. It was, essentially, the same story with only a few deviations. The first movie was set in Indochina, the second was set in Africa, but darn near everything else was the same.

Well, except for one big thing. "Red Dust" had more energy, more sizzle. In spite of the improvements in filmmaking that had occurred in a couple of decades, "Mogambo" lacked something. "Red Dust" made "Mogambo" seem tame.

In "Red Dust," Gable was the overseer of a rubber plantation. In "Mogambo," he was a safari leader.

In both, he was the center of attention from two women, a primary love interest (Jean Harlow in the first, Ava Gardner in the second) and a married woman as a secondary love interest (Mary Astor in the first, Grace Kelly in the second).

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Frankly, it was kind of disappointing. I mean, I would have expected this kind of setting with Gable, Gardner and Kelly — and director John Ford behind the camera — to be a cinematic slam dunk, but it really wasn't. Not compared to what it could have been.

Everything turned out the way viewers probably secretly hoped they would — Gable wound up with Gardner, and Kelly remained with her husband. The movie might have been made in Africa, but it was a Hollywood production.

In real life, I've been told, Gable and Kelly had an off–screen relationship that fizzled when their age difference (Gable was more than 28 years older) became too great to ignore.

On screen, though, the sparks — such as they were — were between Gable and Gardner, not Kelly.

I've often wondered if the so–called Hays Code was the reason "Mogambo" was so uninspiring, at least when compared to "Red Dust." The Hays Code imposed restrictions that would seem prudish compared to modern movie standards. "Red Dust" was made in the early days of the Hays Code, when movies could still get away with things they wouldn't be able to get away with for decades.

Perhaps that isn't fair. "Mogambo" did have some things going for it — it was shot on location, for one thing. "Red Dust" wasn't filmed in Indochina — it was filmed on a studio backlot in Hollywood, as I understand it — but Americans wouldn't be familiar with Indochina for another 35 years so it really didn't matter. I'm sure the studio heads figured no one would know the difference, and they were probably right.

Most Americans probably weren't too familiar with Africa, either, in 1953, but they likely had more of an idea of what Africa should look like than they did of Indochina.

Whether they did or not, what they got in "Mogambo" was the real thing, and the cinematography really was remarkable for its time. At the Academy Awards, though, Gardner and Kelly were rewarded with nominations, but the technical aspects were entirely overlooked.

And that, I think, is a shame. Gardner (nominated for Best Actress) and Kelly (nominated for Best Supporting Actress) were good, but I've seen both perform better. Gable wasn't nominated at all, and I have no problem with that. His role in "Mogambo" wasn't one of his best performances.

The material in "Mogambo" wasn't terrible — but neither was it great, and, while I have heard some people describe Gardner's performance as the best of her career, I'm inclined to think that several other performances were better.

I've always felt that Kelly was a rare mix of beauty and talent. There was a vulnerability to her performances that was very appealing, and I thought that vulnerability may never have been so striking as it was when Kelly played the young and lusty Linda of "Mogambo." Her character projected a cool reserve, but there was a smoldering sensuality beneath it.

I guess you could say that about all the roles she played — especially her roles in Hitchcock movies, which always seemed to bring out that quality in her performances.

It was still early in her career, though, and Kelly played a character that was a lot like the one she played a year earlier in "High Noon." She didn't begin to show her range as an actress until a year later, when she made "The Country Girl," for which she received her only Oscar.

I guess the biggest problem I had with "Mogambo" was that it never really made up its mind whether it was going to be a love story or an adventure movie. Ford seemed to want to make "Mogambo" a story worthy of Hemingway — and there were plenty of jungle scenes — but the star power of the cast seemed to pull him back to the love triangle.

In the end, I guess you could say the love triangle won. Again, this is a Hollywood production we're talking about.

But sometimes I think it was more of an adventure story. That's the real problem with remakes.

The Reincarnation of Charlie's Angels

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Thirty–five years ago tonight, the original Charlie's Angels began its first season on American television.

And tonight at 7 (Central), the reincarnation of that series will make its television debut. The timing of the premiere of this remake is hardly coincidental.

I won't be able to watch it — I teach a class at the community college on Tuesday and Thursday nights — but I will be interested in hearing what others have to say about it.

The original series, as I recall, was often ridiculed by critics for lacking substance. It was held out as an example of "Jiggle TV" because the "angels" usually wore skimpy or provocative clothes while carrying out their undercover investigations. (I have heard it said that creator Aaron Spelling wanted a bikini in every scene.)

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That was what attracted viewers, critics complained — sex appeal, not clever stories or brilliant acting.

To be honest, I saw nothing wrong with that. I was a teenage boy when Charlie's Angels made its debut, and I watched it, as did my friends, for the same reason that teenage boys probably will today. We were curious about sex.

Savvy marketers know there is money to be made peddling fantasies. The angels of the '70s sure did inspire their share of fantasies (and, to be fair, so did girls in comedies like Three's Company), and the stars knew it.

"When the show was #3, I figured it was our acting," Farrah Fawcett said. "When it got to be #1, I decided it could only be because none of us wears a bra."

Of course, teenage boys in the 1970s had Farrah's iconic poster to inspire their fantasies when the show wasn't on. Today, I suppose, teenage boys will simply go to the internet to find pictures of their favorite 21st century angels. No doubt they will find many — legitimate and otherwise.

Well, that's what motivates teenage boys. I'm well past that stage in my life, and I'd like to hear the opinions of the veterans of the original series, but they've been disappearing in recent years.

Fawcett is gone now, of course. Her fellow angels, Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith, are still around — as are Cheryl Ladd (who replaced Fawcett), Shelley Hack (who replaced Jackson) and Tanya Roberts (who replaced Hack) — but the men of the series, John Forsythe (who provided Charlie's disembodied voice) and David Doyle (who played Bosley, Charlie's middle man), are deceased.

So, while it will be possible (in theory, at least) to get feedback from some of the original stars, I suspect, though, that the series remake will be a back to the future kind of experience for TV viewers who remember the original.

Sarah Bull of The Daily Mail wrote back in May — after previewing the program — that its objective appears to be "to live up to the legacy of the original TV series and film remakes."

Interestingly, though, Bull mentioned by name the stars of the movie that was inspired by the series — but not the stars of the original TV series, without whom the movie and the remake that airs tonight would not be possible.

The movies were pretty successful. I presume the series will be, too. But will it be successful because, like the original, it appeals to Americans' obsession with sex? Will it be successful because the writing is terrific and the acting is great?

Or will it be successful because of a combination of the above?

Being Very Afraid

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Twenty–five years ago, Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis probably weren't very well known — at least, not as well known as they are now.

I had seen both of them in movies prior to that time but rarely in major roles.

Goldblum was one of those guys who had been around for years but, until very recently, most of his parts in movies had been brief. Davis, on the other hand, had only been in a handful of movies before she made "The Fly," but she had the good fortune to appear in 1982's "Tootsie" and to be featured somewhat prominently in 1985's "Fletch" and "Transylvania 6–5000."

I guess you could say that, for the most part, Davis made up in quality what she lacked in quantity. That doesn't mean Goldblum wasn't in some good movies. He just didn't have many high–profile roles.

As I understand it, it was partly because of Goldblum, who co–starred with her in "Transylvania 6–5000," that she landed the role in the remake of "The Fly" — which made its debut on this date in 1986, and, in truth, it was a remake mostly in name, but it was not exactly a complete "re–imagining" of the story like "Planet of the Apes" 15 years later — but I have no source for that.

Whatever the facts may be, both Goldblum and Davis went on to bigger and better projects in the years ahead. They even got married the next year, but they split up a few years after that.

They remain friends, though, and speak highly of each other's work.

They worked well together 25 years ago, well enough to be cast in another movie a couple of years later, "Earth Girls Are Easy."

"The Fly" was made nearly 30 years after the original, and the story was revised to make it more contemporary, but the basic idea was the same. A scientist, played by Goldblum, was experimenting with teleportation, the concept of breaking down the molecular structure of something to transport it from one location to another, where it would be re–assembled.

His work had been wildly successful with inanimate objects but dramatically unsuccessful with living creatures. Emboldened by an affair with a journalist (Davis), he decided to experiment on himself — and was successful — but, in the course of his experiments, his molecular structure merged with that of a fly.

The scientist began to become less human and more fly as the fly's genes overwhelmed his own, thus laying the foundation for some really messy special effects.

At one point, Goldblum (Seth Brundle in the movie) told Davis, "My teeth have begun to fall out. The medicine cabinet is now the Brundle Museum of Natural History."

Goldblum (who had had some noteworthy performances in "The Big Chill" and "The Right Stuff" a few years earlier) was praised for his portrayal of the scientist. Davis was praised, too, although not as extensively — and she did get to utter the line from the movie that achieved a certain iconic status, at least for awhile:

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"Be afraid — be very afraid."

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You can even see it in the attached movie trailer — trust me, though, it is more effective in the context of the story.

It is a great cautionary line that is sure to surface when Halloween is just around the bend — or whenever one wishes to focus on a dire fact or forecast.

There are lesser known but equally important words and lines in the movie.

• "Brundlefly."
  
  That was the result of the merging of Goldblum's genes with the fly's.


• "I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it," Goldblum says. "But now the dream is over ... and the insect is awake."
  
  Nice euphemistic language, don't you think?


• When asked if he is a bodybuilder, Goldblum replies, "Yeah, I build bodies. I take them apart and put them back together again," a nice allusion to his teleportation experiments.

If you're looking for a chill for this Halloween, you could do worse than the remake of "The Fly."

Re-imagining the Planet of the Apes

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I saw the original "Planet of the Apes" at the old single–screen theater in my hometown.

As I have mentioned here before, it typically took movies a year or two to get to my small hometown so it wasn't a new release when I saw it. In fact, my memory is that the first sequel — and, possibly, the second — had been released to the theaters before I finally saw the original "Planet of the Apes" for the first time.

But that didn't matter to me. I enjoyed the movie very much, and I have watched it several times since.

Fast forward about 30 years.

On this day in 2001, a remake of the "Planet of the Apes" was released. Movies make the theatrical rounds a lot faster today than they did when I was a child. I was mildly curious about the movie — and I had every intention of seeing it at the theater (so I could adequately compare that experience to the one from my childhood) — but I let too much time pass in the summer of 2001.

And, before I knew it, the movie couldn't be found at the theaters — and then there were those terrorist attacks on September 11, and, well, if you're at least old enough to drive, you're old enough to remember how that altered lives in both permanent and temporary ways.

Anyway, I was distracted from it, and I didn't get around to seeing it until many years later.

By that time, I had read a good deal about it. I knew that it wasn't a literal remake — more of a conceptual one, what is called a "re–imagining" of a story — and I knew this one would be radically different.

And, when I did see it, I must admit there were several things about it that I liked:

• The special effects were impressive.
  
  If you want to see how far special effects have come in a relatively short period of time, watch the first "Planet of the Apes" and then watch the remake.
  
  In fact, as I watched the remake, I could only guess what the original would have been like if those effects had been available.


• I must also admit that, for the most part, the apes in the remake had more personality than the ones in the original. At least, I saw what appeared to be more genuine emotion on the faces of the apes in the remake.
  
  If an ape was angry, you could see the anger. If an ape was amused, you could see mirth. If an ape was in love, you could see passion.
  
  Now, back when I saw the original, I thought the makeup was good. But, when I saw the remake, it made the makeup in the original look like the rubber masks with holes for the wearer's eyes, nose and mouth that people have been buying at novelty shops for years.
  
  I suppose that is a credit to the enormous strides that were made in makeup in the intervening 33 years.


• For that matter, the humans in the 2001 version were much more advanced than the humans in the original.
  
  They weren't mute, the way they were in the first movie, which obviously changed the nature of their relationship with the apes. If they could speak and be understood, that elevated them above the role of animal and household pet.
  
  The introduction of humans' ability to speak clearly made it essential that the story be re–imagined. I could understand that.

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• I wasn't impressed with the story, though, or some of the actors, but I was impressed with elements of both — sometimes simultaneously.
  
  Take, for example, Paul Giamatti's performance as Limbo, an orangutan who trades in humans.
  
  Giamatti has done some noteworthy things in the decade since he appeared as Limbo, but I always think of that performance when I think of him.
  
  That's kind of ironic, too, I guess. I mean, if you didn't know that was Giamatti underneath all that makeup, you would never guess it.
  
  Anyway, I was especially fond of his character's sales pitch for children: "The little ones make wonderful pets, but be sure you get rid of it by puberty. One thing you don't want in your house is a human teenager!"
  
  Most veteran parents probably would agree.


• And, of course, I could appreciate — on multiple levels — the irony of Charlton Heston's cameo appearance.

I couldn't deny it. There were parts of that movie that, as Roger Ebert wrote in his review, were enjoyable, admirable, even likable — but not throughout.

The sum of its parts neither met nor exceeded the parts by themselves — which were good, they just lacked unity.

Perhaps the best examples were the respective endings. The ending of the 1968 version was clear. It made the original story complete — yet it set the audience up for a potential sequel (and there were four of them).

In 2001, the ending was much more ambiguous — and less satisfying. To date, there have been no sequels (although I have heard that an August release is planned for a prequel).

"Ten years from now, it will be the 1968 version that people are still renting," Ebert wrote.

Well, here we are, 10 years later — and, while I have no numbers to back it up, I presume Ebert was right.

If you want to examine specific aspects of filmmaking, I would have no trouble recommending the 2001 version.

But if it is a more complete cinematic experience that you seek, I would have to recommend the original.