There^s

in Them Thar Hollywood Hills Just let me see some of those old black-and-white movies... By Gerald Nachman

LD FILMS ARE America's home movies. Nothing As William Faulkner famously put it, "The past is is more richly compelling than the cultural not dead. In fact, it's not even past." The past beguiles ore found in films from the past, and it isn't and haunts us, especially the past that was here just becaase I now qualify as a relic myself; before we arrived and now can be experienced so viv- they've always grabbed me. Many a mediocre idly in old films.W e romanticize the past; it's the way old movie is more captivating than a highly we wish it were, even if it wasn't. I once asked my touted new film (unless, of course, it's set in mother what it was like to grow up during the Roar- the '20s, '30s, or '40s, like a little 2009 gem. Me and ing '20s, and she said it wasn't all that exciting. It's , rich in theatrical lore and '30s period those who come along later that create, and mytholo- detail). gize, the past. My mother, a non-fiapper, was too busy Somehow I trust vintage movies more than new living her life to notice history happening, to hear the releases that haven't stood the test of time before decade's roar. To quote the big band era singer Helen earning their way into my picky, wary heart (let's O'Connell, "If I'd known it was going to be an 'era,' I take a look at today's hot films again in 2070). Partly would have paid closer attention." it's because old movies are usually in black and Now that thousands of old movies are available white, which makes them look grainy, more honest, on cable, especially on Turner Classic Movies, and like documentaries. Contemporary movies are too from Netfiix, we can all pay much closer attention, close to get a historical handle on, to really judge wallowing in oldies. I rent new movies but rarely get with any perspective; I need to wait for the dust to as jazzed when, say. The Social Network arrives in the settle, when the bloom is off the rosy hype. red envelope as I do when something like Morning

32 THE AMERICAN SPECTATOR JULY/AUGUST 2011 Glory (a 1933 Katharine Hepburn film) lands in my Despite a nutty plot and two songs shoehorned mailbox. Not surprisingly, the overrated Social Net- into the film for Rita to sing, Gilda has a lot of stuff work turned out to be a lackluster second to the going on around the edges—the costumes (Hay- nearly forgotten MO/VÎ/HÉ' Glory, a sparkling rediscov- worth's fiashy parade of outfits, calculated to display ery with Hepburn as a struggling, starry-eyed actress her as a hot number, turns every scene into a fashion in New York, wangling her way onto Broadway. show), the swanky Art Deco furnishings, and the Part of my innate affection for classic, little- known, or underrated old films is a reaction to the Oid movies are much more than noise surrounding every week's allegedly big new movie, usually forgotten in six months. Does anyone just movies; they're giimpses into in the room recall the Oscar-winning Best Picture of what peopie drank, how they 2009? I thought not. It's already the stuff of Holly- wood trivia (The Hurt Locker). taiked, what they wore, whom they admired, what shocked them NE REALITY OF famous old movies is that often and what made them iaugh. they don't live up to their reputations either. O Many are melodramatic, sugary, inane, or social manners, like the matter-of-fact way actors cute, with unconvincing plot twists, hyperbolic puff cigarettes and down drinks, which tells a lot acting, and obvious endings—like most films today. about the time. Half the scenes in movies of that But even if a highly touted "classic" from 1946, like era open with someone offering somebody a drink- Gilda, turns out to be semi-lousy, it still has plenty never wine, always whiskey, straight up. It all seems of intriguing elements that have nothing to do with pretty glamorous now. In 2075, when people look at the lame story or characters that make the film his- today's films, I doubt if it will seem quite so glamor- torically and culturally worth watching, chock full of ous watching characters puffing away on treadmills artifacts we took for granted, like cigarette lighter- and swigging soy milk. wielding gents and fur-draped ladies, now wicked Old movies are much more than just movies; un-PC victims. they're lessons in pop culture, glimpses into what people drank, how they talked, what they wore (yes, in racetrack and baseball crowd scenes, all the men are in coats, ties, and hats), where they vacationed, whom they admired, what shocked them and what made them laugh, even just how they moved—all keyholes to cultural history. In Leo McCarey's little- known 1936 jewel Make Way for Tomorrow, Fay Bainter gives bridge lessons in her living room to earn extra money during the Depression; all the men are in tuxes, the women in evening gowns. These unwitting celluloid artifacts are fictional newsreels, almost impossible to recreate now. The recent five-part HBO remake of Mildred Pierce, with Kate Winslet in for Joan Crawford as Mildred, was a decent effort but it never felt quite right, true to its time or place (1931 ). Winslet has a 2011 voice, and her daughter sounded more Valley Girl whiny than vapid but venal, like Ann Blyth in the original. Maybe if it had been shot in black and white I'd have warmed to it more easily.

AST MARCH, Turner Classic Movies programmed a week of films about secretaries (the very Lword itself sounds quaint, promoted now to

JULY/AUGUST 2011 THE AMERICAN SPECTATOR 33 THERE'S GOLD iN THEM THAR HOLLYWOOD HiLLS

"executive assistant"). None of them were arty but Mary Astor, Jeanne Crain. It's hard to think of a film they were highly watchable: More Than a Secretary, actress today in quite that rarefied league. (Yes, Miss a 1936 romantic comedy with Jean Arthur playing Desmond, they did have faces then, but also charm a recognizable woman rather than her standard and elegance.) blonde fioozy; This Could Be the Night, a 1957 movie Then there are all the quirky character actors. with Jean Simmons and the ever- Even the silliest or most mechanical reliable Paul Douglas as a lovable old movies come alive with character tough guy club owner; She's Cot turns by bit players who made a liv- Everything, a 1938 movie with Ann ing revisiting the same role in film Sothern. In all three films you see after film, as maids, bankers, waiters, the seeds of the women's movement nurses, valets, cab drivers—people being planted—secretaries on the like Billy Gilbert, Hugh Herbert, rise, secretaries asserting them- Mary Wickes, Billy De Wolfe, Guy selves, secretaries making their way Kibbee, Franklin Pangborn, Victor in a hard-boiled male world. Moore, Willie Best, Sterling Hollo- Old movies are crawling with way, Richard Haydn, Charles Butter- cultural marginalia—the snazzy old worth, Frank Jenks, John Fiedler, cars, all the men in hats, cravats, and Leon Errol, Donald Meek, and Louise cuffiinks (why do guys like Dana Beavers, a vast gallery of character Andrews and Richard Widmark look types (and, to be sure, racial, gay, and twice as mature as actors their age female stereotypes). in today's movies?), and the braless A character actor with maybe women slinking about in diaphanous three lines made the most of every dresses that look more like night- syllable and gesture. They popped up gowns. Those tissue paper blouses in 20 movies a year, always amus- revealed enough to give the boys in ing or memorable, saving otherwise the old Hays office plenty of reason to banal scenes. Even third-rate musi- gawk and fret; many scenes in pre- cals reward you with unexpected Code films are a bedroom door away moments—great tap numbers by from soft-core porn. The women in hoofers like Buddy Ebsen, Ray Bolger, pre-Code films were often the sexual and the Nicholas Brothers; a tacked- predators and the guys the innocents, on comedy interlude with the Ritz like Jean Harlow pawing a virtuous Brothers; a great throwaway song by Chester Morris in 1932's Red-Headed Johnny Mercer or Hoagy Carmichael Woman. sung in a nightclub scene by some Actresses in their 20s appear near-forgotten chanteuse like Teddi much more womanly on screen than King or Lee Wiley. today's versions, and many were Old movies also let you discover breathtaking goddesses: Gene Tierney, Hedy Lamarr, icons-to-be in their first films, when they were not yet who they became—Gary Cooper as a thug, Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart crooning, Randolph Scott as a rich playboy—portraying characters unlike those they got locked into once they got famous. It's also fun to find young not-yet stars playing against type. Suddenly you sit up and think, "Wait—that kid sister looks a little like "—and, sure enough, it is Bette in a forgotten early '30s fiick, mak- ing do with two lines. In a soapy 1951 movie. Night into Morning, a woman who befriends Ray Milland after his wife and son are killed in a fire seemed faintly familiar—her voice. Finally I thought I nailed

34 THE AMERICAN SPECTATOR JULY/AUGUST 2011 THERE'S GOLD IN THEM THAR HOLLYWOOD HILLS

it—and as the end credits rolled, it was, as suspected, VEN CREAKY OLD COMEDIES (which Creak more a pre-Reagan Nancy Davis. than most genres) reveal what people consid- Old filmso n TV are full of such nice little "aha!" E ered funny in 1932 or 1947, and sometimes moments, like catching Oliver Hardy on a day off how the language has changed. Characters in old from Stan Laurel in a dramatic role as a loving father; romantic comedies are always talking about "mak- or discovering a witty Jeanette MacDonald in an old ing love," by which they mean wooing, which gradu- Ernst Lubitsch film with Maurice Chevalier before ally became "making time," and then "making out." she turned into Nelson Eddy's ñowery, starchy co- In 1936, "making love" in movies bad nothing to do star; or coming upon Ered Astaire's tentative screen with a roll in the hay. Maybe best of all, old movies debut in Dancing Lady, giving a perky Joan Crawford are totally devoid of gratuitous sex, not to mention dance lessons. Joan Crawford per/ij'? Yep, once upon random violence and casual gross-out scenes (urinal a time. conversations, obligatory vomit shots, wall-to-wall When I first encountered Crawford in the '50s, "f-bombs"), desperate efforts now to seem with-it. she was in her hard-edged, scowling, heavily painted Almost any old movie is a virtual thesaurus of middle-aged phase, with those scary caterpillar eye- colorful slang, especially gangster films like A Slight brows and waxy red lips, but if you see her in a '30s Case of Murder with Edward G. Robinson, rife with pungent lingo of the era we ought to revive: "Keep yer nose clean," "When do we put on the feed bag?," "In a pig's eye," "Ya got a bug in yer nut?" "He took a pow- der," "Not on yer tintype," "Hiya, toots!" "Hey, ya big lug!" "He's crackers!" "It's a swell burg." ("Swell" gets a real workout in old movies; it's the '30s "cool."). The ancient language in old movies is part of a recaptured lost world, just a computer click away. Old nicks give you a chance to catch up on actors you knew nothing about except their names, so be prepared for major surprises. In a TCM week of her films, I finallyrealize d what a clever comedian Mari- on Davies was—as funny as anybody then, or today, not just the spoiled mistress of William Randolph Hearst. I was amazed how good she was, how inven- tive, witty, and adorable. No wonder Hearst was smitten; me, too. film you realize she was once soft, I finally saw a movie with Fay appealing, even girlish. The young Wray that did not involve a giant Barbara Stanwyck and Bette Davis, ape and was surprised at her likewise, were once willowy. Dick sophistication. One famous movie Powell negotiated the most unlikely role can mark an actor unfairly for male star turnabout, from prissy life, burying an entire career lead- male ingénue in '30s Busby Berkeley ing up to it. Frances Faye, Miriam musicals to wise guy '40s private eye Hopkins, and Mae Busch (who Philip Marlowe. once only existed for me as a Jack- In one peculiar 1942 oldie. The DAMON RUNYON'S . ie Gleason punch line—"...and the Big Street, plays a mean, FIRST REAt LOVE STOBY' ever-popular Mae Busch!")—all spoiled rich girl who orders around were actresses I'd never noticed. a simpering fan who becomes her They weren't household names sycophantic assistant, played by for nothing. I now appreciate Car- (huh?) . In that same HENRY FONDA ole Lombard, whom I hadn't seen odd film, Agnes Moorehead, always LUCILLE BALL much of until a recent comedy on tmON MilllNt EUCtNt PULEIK 1CNÍS MOONEHEU a meanie in movies we know her SIM imNt RAt COllINS MM>ON HIRTIN ttklUM ORR Turner Classics displayed her sub- best from, is a winsome young fiirt. tle humor and smart self-effacing

36 THE AMERICAN SPECTATOR JULY/AUGUST 2011 GERALD NACHMAN

charm. Others, caricatures like Mae West and Betty (is this thing a fantasy? A fiashback? A dream?). One Hutton, don't hold up so well. great time-saving device is old movie credits, which If you watch enough old movies, you'll be take a minute, not 10 minutes, like today's intermi- impressed by the versatility of supposedly one-trick nable crawls, where everybody on the payroll gets stars like Edward G. Robinson, who embodied the mentioned, from the star's driver to the location definitive screen mobster so often that most people caterer. only recall his growl, when, in fact, he turns up in all HERE IS, HOWEVER, a frequent drawback to Maybe the best thing about oid shorter films. Plots tend to be simplistic and T melodramatic, studded with clichés and easy movies Is how efficient and stereotypes to make a point quickly, with few compact they are—many run nuanced characters. Very often you can guess the outcome early—even if the movie was original in its 90 minutes and some ciock in day, because so many films since have similar plots, at 80 minutes. They were piot themes, or characters. A kid coughs and you know driven, iike the best iow-budget he's a goner. A woman faints and you know she's noir fiims, which didn't need to pregnant. A sweet young be arty to be great. boy goes off to war and you know he won't be sorts of filmstha t stretched his endlessly elastic tal- back. A neighbor is so nice ent. In Double Indemnity, as a wily insurance investi- that you know he's a gator, Robinson brings a comic touch to the role, scoundrel—or as Edward indeed to the rest of the otherwise dark movie. G. Robinson snarls in A Despite his much-mimicked style, squat shape, and Slight Case of Murder, a squashed-in mug, Robinson could play almost any- real crumb-bum. thing, from a kindly Norwegian father (Our Vines The kick in old mov- Have Tender Crapes) to a timid henpecked husband ies starts with the open- (Scarlet Street). ing logos, many long gone, Famous old films I thought I'd seen I find I never like RKO's jagged radio ROBINSON actually watched all the way through, like The Bad signals fiashing from a ^ JANE BRYAN AUEN JENKINS and the Beautiful. What I'd seen over the years were transmitter accompanied clips but never the entire movie. Or I'll watch an old by staccato beeps; Republic Pictures' eagle perched movie and, halfway through, realize I've seen it—or on a mountain peak; Columbia's lady in a toga hold- have I? (old moviegoer's Alzheimer's). I've stopped ing a torch aloft with an American fiag draped about worrying about it and just let myself enjoy the film her; MGM's reassuring lion's roar, less regal and again, if it is indeed again (Memento or Inception, shaggy now, framed with its proud art for art's sake anyone?). motto, "ArsCratiaArtis." Maybe the best thing about old movies is how As the "players'" names appear, suddenly you're efficient and compact they are—many run 90 min- no longer in your living room watching an old film utes and some clock in at 80 minutes. Few two-and- on a HD wall screen. You're 15 again, sitting in a a-half hour slogs. They were plot driven, like the best busted lopsided seat in your old neighborhood movie low-budget noir films, which didn't need to be arty house. Jujubes in hand, waiting to be transported to be great. No fiashy directorial shenanigans, no back to a lush world where Lana Turner, John Gar- digitalized special effects, no needless sub-sub-sub- field, and Ann Sheridan reside in a gilded black-and- plots, no extraneous characters, meandering themes, white past. ''*^ rambling dialogue, or intrusive musical scores. Everything carries the story forward. In even Gerald Nachman is a writer in San Francisco and ordinary old films, every scene, every line, counts. most recently the author o/Right Here on Our Stage They were tightly crafted stories—succinct, effi- Tonight!: Ed Sullivan's America (University of Cali- cient, well-constructed tales, with no tricky tropes fornia Press).

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