When The Whole World Reached Out For One Sweet Breathe Of Hollywood Glamour When It Counted-In Honor Of The Commemoration of 100th Birthday Of Rita Hayworth-When Broadway Was Broadway- “Angels Over Broadway”- A Film Review

When The Whole World Reached Out For One Sweet Breathe Of Hollywood Glamour When It Counted-In Honor Of The Commemoration of 100^th Birthday Of Rita Hayworth-When Broadway Was Broadway- “Angels Over Broadway”- A Film Review

By Si Lannon  

You know the Internet is a wonderful tool at times especially for sites like this one very interested in history, of everything from governments to holy goofs. Most of the time you can find out information or information comes your way when you are perusing for something else. That was the case last year when I was looking something up at the archives of American Film Gazette and noticed they were doing a serious commemoration of the 100^th birthday of ruggedly handsome and versatile male hunk from the 1940s Robert Mitchum. That information led to a full-scale retrospective of his work, or the best of it anyway. The best being his noir stuff where he is hunk style and manly ready to take a few punches, throw a few, take an errant slug or two, bang-bang a few too for some dame, for some femme who had him all twisted up inside trying to find the mystery of her. Fat chance of discovering that as a million guys since Adam, maybe before have found out the hard way, although usually not  at the end of some femme fatale gun.

Not so with the way I got the information about 1940s sex siren and maker of guys, who knows maybe gals too and not just lesbians or bi’s either although they can have their stares just like anybody else but in their own right beautiful women who will concede that she has bested them, steamy midnight dreams Rita Hayworth. I was in Harvard Square on some unrelated business when I passed the famous and historic Brattle Theater a place I knew well in my 1970s cheap date period and have probably seen more films there than any other place. But video stores, studio comps, and lately Netflix and Amazon have taken the place of going to the big screen theater for me for many years now just because it is easier and more efficient to see the films at my discretion. For old-time’s sake I decided to take an “upcoming schedule” broadside which was provided in a little box in front of the theater entrance. When I opened it up later there was one of the icons of icons of Hollywood glamour when that burg was the only game in town and when glamour meant something to eye candy hungry soldiers and sailors, airmen too, during World War II and their waiting for the other shoe to drop anxious honeys sitting in dark movie houses too. Yes, Rita in a 1940s provocative, although what would now draw nothing but a snicker from even naïve eight grade girls, sun suit with that patented come hither if you dare look that every guy, every cinematic guy, begged to get next to. Was ready to take the big step off for like her then husband Orson Welles almost did in the fatal Lady From Shanghai.   

What the theater was doing and was famous for in the old days when the classic no money classic college date world was when I lived was a big retrospective of her work from early B-film stuff as she made her way up the Hollywood stardom food chain to some astonishing dance routines with Fred Astaire making you watch her moves not his something hard to do believe me to the later femme fatale classics like Gilda and the previously mentioned Lady From Shanghai  and then the drop back to B-films and cameos at the end of her career. Since the theater had treated her to this royal treatment I decided the least I could was to do a retro-review of those efforts for a now glamour-hungry world. That type of “innocent” glamour will never come back, the world is just a bit too weary and wary for that to happen but the younger sets should at least know why their grandfathers and grand-grandfathers stirred to her every move, pinned her photo up on a million lockers and in a million duffle bags.

My own Rita experience is like many things in the film business when Hollywood was top dog, rightly or wrongly, second hand from those cheap date retrospectives and earlier, high school earlier with Allan Jackson who used to rule the roost at this publication. In those old Acre neighborhood days, usually Saturdays, we would hike a couple of miles up the carless road to the old Strand Theater in Adamsville Center and watch plenty of 1940s films since to save money Sal Cadger the gregarious owner of the theater on first run features from the studios filled up the screen with this older material. We loved it, have loved it ever since. Bang-the first time I saw Rita sa-sashing into her hubby’s casino down in Buenos Aires, I think that is right, and stumbles onto ex-flame down and out gambler on a losing streak Glenn Ford, to find him working for her old man. Electricity beyond whatever words I could use to describe that tension in the air which spelled some hard times for somebody. I hope the reader will get an idea of that is this series as we commemorate Rita’s 100^th birthday year.       

  

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Angels Over Broadway.

DVD Review

Angels Over Broadway, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Rita Hayworth, Thomas Mitchell, screenplay by Ben Hecht, 1940

The first paragraph below is taken from other reviews about Rita Hayworth although the male stars playing against her are different here. Except they all have a similar feature; they all are smitten very smitten by Ms. Hayworth’s charms. Join the line, boys:

“Okay, let me bring you up to speed on the obscure meaning of the headline. See, a while back I was smitten by a film star, an old time black and white film star from the 1940s, Rita Hayworth. The film that sent me into a tailspin: the black and white noir classic Gilda where she played a “good” femme fatale who gets in a jam with a no good monomaniacal crook. But that part is not important femme fatales, good or bad, get mixed up with wrong gees all the time. It’s an occupational hazard. What is important though is that I got all swoony over lovely, alluring Rita. And as happens when I get my periodic “bugs” I had to go out and see what else she performed in. Of course Lady From Shang-hai came next. There she plays a “bad” blondish femme fatale (against a smitten Orson Welles). And then a couple of song and dance films partnered with Fred Astaire." And now this film under review, Angels Over Broadway. We are caught up.

After watching Ms. Hayworth going through her paces as a femme fatale and as a song and dance partner in other reviewed films it was somewhat surprising to see her play a “hayseed” (Brooklyn-born “hayseed”, okay) trying to get her big break on Broadway, one way or another. Old Rita had been around but had not lost faith in humanity, or what passed for humanity in her circles. Now this Ben Hecht vehicle is very much in the old Damon Runyon Broadway gamblers, con men, criminals, drifters, grifters and midnight sifters tradition with a full compliment of failed characters, a drunken playwright (naturally, its Broadway) played here by Thomas Mitchell, a fast-talking wanna-be con man who knows all the angles, and all the angels (played by Douglas Fairbanks, Junior), the wanna-be gold digger with the heart of gold (Rita) and a suicidal embezzler.

Said embezzler and his problem are the focus of the film as the playwright makes one last bid at humanity and attempts to come out of the alcoholic haze by helping the embezzler make restitution, the con man makes his big bid to play with the real hard guys (and to play, fitfully, with Rita) setting up the embezzler for a fall, and the failed gold-digger (Rita) gets “religion” and tries to bring that wisdom to Mr. Con Man. Needless to say this plot is thin, thin if you have been immersed in the serious Broadway shenanigans of one Damon Runyon, and the dialogue leaves a lot to be desired.

I would put it this way for those of you who, like me, sometimes go off the deep end and need to see or read everything about something or some one that has stuck your fancy lately. Take this as case study in artistic development; as a first, halting, unsuccessful step by Rita in femme fatale-ism. That makes Gilda just that much better. Still even here Rita has her charms.

Out In The 1940s Crime Noir Night- Ernest Hemingway’s “The Killers”- A Film Adaptation-A Second Take (1962)

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for the 1964 The Killers.

DVD Review

The Killers, starring Lee Marvin, Angie Dickerson, Ronald Reagan, Clu Gulanger, based on a short story by Ernest Hemingway, Universal Studios, 1964

As I have mentioned before at the start of other reviews in this crime noir genre I am an aficionado, especially those 1940s detective epics like the film adaptations of Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon and Raymond Chandler’s Phillip Marlowe in The Big Sleep. Nothing like that gritty black and white film, ominous musical background and shadowy moments to stir the imagination. Others in the genre like Gilda, The Lady From Shang-hai, and Out Of The Past rate a nod because in addition to those attributes mentioned above they have classic femme fatales to add a little off-hand spice to the plot line, and, oh ya, they look nice too. Beyond those classics this period (say, roughly from the mid-1940s to mid-1950s produced many black and white film noir set pieces, some good some not so good. I mentioned in a review of the 1946 version of the film under review, The Killers, starring Burt Lancaster (as the smitten fall guy) and Ava Gardner (as the femme fatale, what else) that for plot line, and plot interest, femme fatale interest and sheer duplicity that film was in the former category. This techno-color version pales (no pun intended) by comparison although in spots the twists in the plot line here are interesting.

Neither screen adaptation owes much, except the opening passages, to Ernest Hemingway’s short story of the same name. The beauty of the shortness of the Heminway story is that it left plenty of room for other possibilities to expand on his plot line. But in the end the central question of all three vehicles is the question- why did two professional killers, serious, badass killers want to kill the seemingly harmless fall guy (here, Johnny North, always a Johnny somewhere in these noir things, played by a young John Cassavetes)?. And why didn’t they run when they had the chance. But come on now, wake up, you know as well as I do that it’s about a dame, a frill, a frail, a women, and not just any woman, but a high roller femme fatale. In this case that frill I is Sheila Farr (here played by Angie Dickerson who whatever her charms for a 1960s audience pales, again no pun intended, to the earlier version’s Kitty Collins played by sultry, yes sultry, Ava Gardner, as a colleen).

As I have noted recently in a review of the 1945 crime noir, Fallen Angel, femme fatales come in all shapes, sizes and dispositions. But high or low all want some dough, and a man who has it or knows how to get it. This is no modernist, post-1970s concept but hard 1940s realities extended into the early 1960s. And duplicity is just one of the “feminine wiles” that will help get the dough. Now thoroughly modern Sheila, like Kitty is not all that choosy about the dough's source, any mug will do, but she has some kind of sixth sense that it is not Johnny, at least not in the long haul and that notion will drive the action for a bit.

And if you think about it, of course Sheila is going with the smart guy, the guy with things really figured out (Jack, played here by a demure Ronald Reagan wearing a smashing greased down pompadour hair-do and looking very non-presidential). And old chump Johnny is nothing but a busted-up old palooka of a race car driving (Swede was a prize fighter) past his prime and looking for some easy money. No, no way Kitty is going to wind up with him in that shoddy rooming house out in the sticks hustling for short dough on the jalopy circuit , waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Let’s run through the plot a little and it will start to make more sense. You already know that other shoe dropped for Johnny. And why he just waited for the fates to rush in on him. What you didn’t know is that to get some easy dough for another run at Sheila’s come hither affections he, Johnny North, is involved along with Sheila's current paramour, Jack, and a couple of other midnight grifters in a major hold-up of a old-timey rural U.S. Mail truck (go big, or don’t go at all, right) The heist goes off like clockwork. Where it gets dicey is pay-off time. Just like with the earlier version’s Kitty and Big Jim Sheila and Jack are dealing the others out, and dealing them out big time. And they get away with it for a while until the guys who did the “hit” on Johnny (played by Lee Marvin and Clu Glanger) get all balled up trying to figure out why Johnny just cast his fate to the wind start to figure things out.

And they lead, or are led, naturally to figure out the big double-cross. But double-crossing people, even simple midnight grifters, is not good criminal practice and so all hell breaks loose. Watch this film. And take the same advise I gave in the 1946 review stay away from dark-haired Irish beauties AND also tall, leggy, brunettes with no heart, especially if you are just an average Joe. Okay.

Note: This is not the first Hemingway writing, or an idea for a writing, that has appeared in film totally different from the original idea. More famous, and rightly so is his sea tale, To Have Or Have Not, that William Faulkner wrote the screenplay for and that Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall turned into a steamy (1940s steamy, okay) black and white film classic.

Added note:

Ernest Hemingway was a prolific short story writer and I have argued in the past elsewhere in this space that perhaps some of these were his best literary efforts. Needless to say, a writer whose command of a sparse and functional style is going do very nicely when Hollywood comes a-calling. In this case the short story was indeed short. A couple of hired killers come into a lunch counter looking for someone on the run. He doesn't show and that is the end of the story. Although we presume his fate is foresworn. But not for Hollywood. In this remake of the 1946 film that starred Burt Lancaster the hired killers (played by Lee Marvin and Clu Gulager) remain but they are thoughtful (and greedy). They want to know why Johnny North (the guy on the run) does not run and stands for the hit. As befits a 1960's film they want to get the motive and will get it come hell or high water. Naturally, there is a woman (a young Angie Dickerson) involved that leads old Johnny astray. From there the film goes through a series of flashbacks to figure out how Johnny became the fall guy. The original is a little closer to Hemingway's sense of the dynamics that lead to the patsy's fatalism but this is an interesting take, as well.

On The Theory Of “The Most Oppressed Are The Most Revolutionary”- A Short Note

Markin comment:

As Bob Mandel pointed out in the article posted today, February 23, 2011, Lessons Of The Anti-War Movement: A Trade-Union Militant Speaks On The New Left, youth vanguardism was rampant in the New Left as the student movement began to swing dramatically leftward. I was fully in tune with that sentiment, at least for a while. What I was not tuned into, and as he also mentioned, was the other strong current coming out of the New Left, especially from those elements reacting to those of us who were starting, gropingly, to reach out to the working class was the notion that the “most oppressed were the most revolutionary.”

And the reason for my skepticism was not some esoteric theory but pure fact. I came from a segment of that milieu as it came to be in post World War II America- the working poor, the chronically unemployed, the unskilled day workers, and those drifters, grifters and midnight sifters, as my school days friend Frankie used to say, who fed off their misery. In short, the lumpen proletariat. These segments need a revolution; desperately need a revolution but their life circumstances almost preclude political action unless some bigger turmoils are occurring in society. A lot of the New Left glorification stemmed, frankly, from ignorance of the ways of life down at the very edges of society. And "Third-World-ist" book romance with Franz Fanon’s Wretched Of The Earth and a movie like Battle Of Algiers. I have written previously on the latter and will do a review in the future on Fanon’s work.

No question down at the edges of society that the substance of Hobbes’ observation of life being “short, nasty and brutish,” holds true, as a matter of pure survival if nothing else. The “war” of all against all takes concrete form there either by fear of the takers, or fear of the consequences of not being a taker. Either way the bonds of social solidarity are indeed very tenuous. I will give a very concrete example from my own life so that we can dispense with any prettification of this theory. I, in my very early teens, hung around with a bunch of guys, guys a few years older, from “the projects” where I lived who were into “jack-rolling.” For those not in the know about this activity it is very simple. Take one dark alley, or other isolated place, stand in the shadows or some other out of the way place with a Billy club–like stick (or other blunt instrument) and wait on some likely (usually an old or otherwise helpless person) and when your “target” comes by either threaten or actually use that club to subdue the victim, taking their money or whatever valuables with you. Nice, right? I was, given my youth, the look-out, or set-up guy. I didn’t do it for long, the lure of the library made more sense at some point. As for those other guys, some went to jail for other more serious offenses, some were killed down in Mexico in a drug deal that went wrong, and at least one died in a police shoot out. Needless to say no Bolsheviks came out of that crew. And this, my friends, from other stories that I have heard later, was not all that different when you changed the faces to black or brown.