Tales of a Madcap Heiress

An Announcement

2019-01-30T21:21:00.001-05:00

If you've visited this site recently, you'll have noticed that I haven't posted anything for a very long time. There are a variety of reasons, one of which is that I got so busy with work and other projects that I didn't have the time anymore to devote to writing posts. But I did want to alert you to one project that I'm very excited to announce: a new feature documentary on one of my favourite couples, silent screen stars Olive Thomas and Jack Pickford. So please visit us at our website and follow us on Instagram and Twitter for updates. And thank you for being such loyal readers.

Olive Thomas Restored

2016-08-06T11:05:00.000-04:00

For almost 100 years, Olive Thomas' final resting place—a mausoleum at Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx—has sat untouched while nature has taken its course. Until now.

Last year, under the guidance of resident craftsman Rob Cappiello, a group of interns participated in a stone conservation program established in connection with the World Monuments Fund and the International Masonry Institute, working on the restoration of a series of small mausoleums at Woodlawn. One of those was Olive's. Yesterday, I went up to Woodlawn and met with Cappiello and Woodlawn's membership manager, Anastasija Ocheretina, to talk about the work that was done and to see the results in person. As you can tell from the photos below, they made a world of difference.

The photo on the left is from a few years ago. The photo on the right was taken yesterday. Photos by Michele.

Before and after photos. Photos by Michele.

The mausoleum looks bright and clean, its details emerging like the rings above the columns, which you can now see are composed of flowers (tulips, perhaps?). They also removed the hideous wasp nest that was at the top of the door (thank you for that). Cappiello and his crew's first job was removing all of the biogrowth before dealing with the black carbon staining. "We started with the least aggressive method, just scrub brushes with water and light detergent then gradually moved up to a product called Restoration Cleaner—it’s a mild, vinegar type acid, which got rid of most of the carbon staining," he said. They also repaired all of the mortar joints to protect the mausoleum from water damage.

The mausoleum was picked for the project because of the type of dirt on it, the configuration of the mortar joints, and the stone that was used for its construction. "It's a very hard stone so you can’t do much damage," said Cappiello "It was a simple monument for them [the interns] to work on. Now they’re getting more fancy, working on curved cornices and such."

Working on the mausoleum had an effect on at least one of the workers. "We worked on so many buildings in the city, like the Waldorf Astoria, that all have a story that we never really get to know. We just go there and do the work," said Cappiello "Over here, when Susan [Susan Olsen, the director of Historical Services at Woodlawn] started telling me about Olive, I went online and couldn’t stop reading about her. She got me; I’m a fan."

Even with all of Cappiello and his crew's hard work, there's still more that needs to be done like the door, which needs to be refinished and protected and the glass cleaned. Some plans are being hatched to see the second phase of restoration completed. To keep up-to-date on the progress, follow me on Twitter at @madcapheiress25 where I will tweet any new developments and Instagram at @madcapheiress25 for photos.

Where Did She Go?

2016-04-30T23:00:00.000-04:00

Sally Blane, Louise Brooks, and Nancy Phillips (1927)

Wondering where I've gone?

I'm still here, busier than ever before (or at least that's how it feels). I haven't forgotten this blog or you dear readers but my schedule is not what it once was. Unfortunately, until I can find some time to sit down and write the posts here will be few. So until I can share more tales with you, please follow me on Instagram or Twitter to see what I'm up to.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

2016-03-17T20:38:00.000-04:00

Glencar Lake. Photo from here.

As I've done in the past, I'm celebrating the holiday on the blog by sharing a poem by my favourite Irish poet (my favourite poet really), W.B.Yeats. So Happy St. Patrick's Day and bain taitneamh as!

I Am of Ireland

'I AM of Ireland,

And the Holy Land of Ireland,

And time runs on,' cried she.

'Come out of charity,

Come dance with me in Ireland.'

One man, one man alone

In that outlandish gear,

One solitary man

Of all that rambled there

Had turned his stately head.

'That is a long way off,

And time runs on,' he said,

'And the night grows rough.'

'I am of Ireland,

And the Holy Land of Ireland,

And time runs on,' cried she.

“Come out of charity

And dance with me in Ireland.'

'The fiddlers are all thumbs,

Or the fiddle-string accursed,

The drums and the kettledrums

And the trumpets all are burst,

And the trombone,' cried he,

'The trumpet and trombone,'

And cocked a malicious eye,

'But time runs on, runs on.'

'I am of Ireland,

And the Holy Land of Ireland,

And time runs on,’ cried she.

'Come out of charity

And dance with me in Ireland.'

IT Girls, Flappers, Jazz Babies, and Vamps

2016-03-10T23:18:00.004-05:00

Clara Bow in It (1927)

Tomorrow begins Film Forum's two-week series "IT Girls, Flappers, Jazz Babies, and Vamps" or as I call it, my big birthday present. Yes, there will be 31 films shown featuring some of the loveliest and greatest of the silver screen starting with Kay Francis and Miriam Hopkins in Ernst Lubitsch's witty Trouble in Paradise (1932) and ending with Clara Bow in Dorothy Arzner's delightful Get Your Man (1927). In between there's Louise Brooks, Marlene Dietrich, Barbara Stanwyck, Joan Blondell, Greta Garbo, Jean Harlow, Joan Crawford, Anna May Wong, Colleen Moore, and more. I am trying to limit myself to only seeing films that I haven't seen on the big screen before but that rule might just get broken (I'll report back on which screenings I attend). So thank you Bruce Goldstein and Film Forum for scheduling this series during my birthday month. And if anyone is looking for me during the next few weeks, you'll know where to find me.

For more information about the series, visit Film Forum.

The Scream

2016-03-09T23:00:00.000-05:00

"The Scream" Edvard Munch (1895)

“Munch and Expressionism,” the latest exhibit at the Neue Galerie, explores how the Norwegian Evard Munch influenced his German and Austrian contemporaries and German Expressionism. Included in the show are more than 80 paintings and works on paper by Munch and other artists like Max Beckmann, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, and Egon Schiele. This mix allows viewers to see shared themes of mortality, alienation, and anxiety and for Munch’s work to stand out. It's also refreshing to see a woman artist, Gabriele Munter, included; her painting “The Blue Gable” (1911) was one of my favourites in the show.

An exhibit of Munch wouldn’t be complete without his most famous work, The Scream, an iconic symbol of modern angst. Here the painting gets its own room, dark and cozy. Munch created four versions of “The Scream” yet the one on display, the 1895 version done in pastels, may be the most interesting. It’s the only one to have remained out of a museum and in private hands. It’s also the one that includes a poem painted on the frame by the artist that describes the origin of the work:

“I was walking along the road with two Friends / the Sun was setting – The Sky turned a bloody red / And I felt a whiff of Melancholy – I stood / Still, deathly tired – over the blue-black / Fjord and City hung Blood and Tongues of Fire / My Friends walked on – I remained behind / – shivering with Anxiety – I felt the great Scream in Nature – EM.”

“The Scream” has been reproduced so many times that it’s become kitsch yet it’s striking to see in person, brighter than any postcard or poster. The strong strokes of colour have a feeling of urgency, as if the artist dashed off the work in a hurry. The oppressive orange sky, the seemingly endless bridge above the swirling blue water below, and the alien-like features of the figure in the forefront grab your attention, leaving you with a sense of unease.

“Munch and Expressionism” is at the Neue Galerie until June 13, 2016.

Harlow

2016-03-03T20:41:00.000-05:00

Today is Jean Harlow's birthday. Born in Kansas City, Missouri on March 3, 1911, she was the original blonde bombshell. Gorgeous, smart, and funny, she starred in a series of wonderful films in the 1930s before dying all too soon at the age of 26. I've written before about my love for Harlow who is one of my favourite stars from the Golden Age of Hollywood. The scene of her sitting in bed eating chocolates and reading magazines in Dinner at Eight is a situation I am always aspiring to be in, and I only wish I could deliver a putdown like she could ("Ya big ape"). So Happy Birthday, Harlow!

Cocktail

2016-03-02T23:40:00.000-05:00

"Cocktail" Gerald Murphy (1927)

Tonight I attended an after hours event at the Whitney Museum. While I did check out the new exhibits, I probably enjoyed the gallery with selections from the Whitney’s permanent collection the most. In one section among works by Edward Hopper, Man Ray, and Joseph Cornell is the painting “Cocktail” by Gerald Murphy (1927).

During the 1920s, Americans Gerald and Sara Murphy lived a charmed life on the French Riviera. Cultured and stylish, they swam, sunbathed, danced, and dined with their circle of friends who included the likes of Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and Picasso. It was also the decade that saw an artistic outpouring from Gerald who produced 14 paintings in the Cubist-style, which were well received. Tragedy struck the Murphys in 1929 when their son, Patrick, became ill with tuberculosis; Patrick and his brother, Baoth, would both die a few years later. Gerald never painted again.

Today, only eight of his paintings are known to still exist including “Cocktail.” It is a perfect painting for the Jazz Age. Titled after what one drank in a speakeasy, it features a martini glass and cocktail shaker along with a corkscrew and an all-important lemon for a twist. There’s also a large box of cigars. Devoted to his family, Gerald included five cigars to represent him and his family members. The collection of items, lined up in an orderly fashion, is modern and sophisticated, just like its painter.

Dear March

2016-03-01T19:54:00.000-05:00

Dear March - Come in -

Dear March - Come in -

How glad I am

I hoped for you before -

Put down your Hat -

You must have walked -

How out of Breath you are -

Dear March, how are you, and the Rest -

Did you leave Nature well -

Oh March, Come right upstairs with me -

I have so much to tell -

I got your Letter, and the Birds -

The Maples never knew that you were coming -

I declare - how Red their Faces grew -

But March, forgive me -

And all those Hills you left for me to Hue -

There was no Purple suitable -

You took it all with you -

Who knocks? That April -

Lock the Door –

I will not be pursued -

He stayed away a year, to call

When I am occupied -

But trifles look so trivial

As soon as you have come,

That blame is just as dear as praise

And praise as mere as blame.

—Emily Dickinson

Pavlova of America

2016-02-03T23:58:00.000-05:00

During the 1920s and 30s ballerina Harriet Hoctor, dubbed the "Pavlova of America” by showman Florenz Ziegfeld, charmed audiences with her graceful and unique dancing. Double-jointed, she was able to bend her body backwards and execute a perfect question mark, as seen in this photo, and incorporated her backbend into many of her dances.

Born on September 25, 1905 in Hoosick Falls, New York, she made her Broadway debut at just 15 in the chorus of the Ziegfeld produced musical Sally (1920) starring Marilyn Miller. After dancing on the vaudeville circuit, she was asked by the Duncan Sisters (huge vaudeville stars at the time) to join the cast of Topsy and Eva, a musical version of Uncle Tom's Cabin, which toured the country before opening on Broadway in 1924. After a 20-week run, Hoctor went on tour again before returning to Broadway for A La Carte (1927).

Harriet Hoctor in The Three Musketeers (1928), Photo by Maurice Goldberg. While Hoctor was lovely
as a blonde, I like the bob and general flapper attitude in this photo.

Having made an impression on Ziegfeld, she was cast in three of his productions: The Three Musketeers (1928), Show Girl (1929), and Simple Simon (1930). During this time Hoctor also participated in recitals, showing off her dance skills in various pieces including one based on The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe for which Hoctor tapped out of the sounds of the bird. This was accomplished by toe tapping en pointe, which is exactly what it sounds like— dancing en pointe with taps attached. Although not the only dancer to utilize this style of dance, Hoctor was one of the best.

In 1932, she travelled to London to perform at the Hippodrome in Bow Bells where she received huge ovations from the audience. Returning to New York, she appeared in a series of productions including Earl Carroll’s Vanities (1932) before she turned to film. She played herself in The Great Ziegfeld (1936) and danced with Fred Astaire in Shall We Dance (1937) for which George Gershwin wrote a number specifically for her titled “Hoctor’s Ballet.” Back in New York, she was a member of the Ziegfeld Follies of 1936 along with Josephine Baker and Fannie Brice.

She spent the rest of the decade and the war years dancing on stage, including performing and choreographing dances at Billy Rose's nightclub the Diamond Horseshoe, after which she retired and ran the Harriet Hoctor Dance School in Boston for many years. She passed away on June 9, 1977.

Her appearance in Shall We Dance comes at the end of the film. She's in the first part of this clip (before the dancers with the creepy Ginger Rogers masks appear). Notice her name on the marquee in the opening shot? Look at how beautiful and effortless her movements are and how perfectly paired she is with Astaire. It was rumoured that Ginger Rogers didn’t want to make this film at first and that Hoctor was going to replace her. Rogers decided at the last minute to take the part. At least Hoctor got her own ballet, and we get to see it. Enjoy.

The Sweetheart of Lisbon

2016-01-20T23:02:00.000-05:00

Beatriz Costa (1930)

Beatriz Costa (1907-1996) was a huge Portuguese theatre and film star who, unfortunately, is not very well known here in the States. I became intrigued from the moment I first saw her image. Portuguese, dark bob, only five feet tall, that could be a description of me! (Sadly though, I can neither sing nor dance.) Of course, I wanted to find out more about her. Most of the information I did find was in Portuguese so apologies in advance for anything that I've translated poorly.

She was born Beatriz da Conceição in Mafra, Portugal on December 14, 1907. As a young girl she helped her mother who took in sewing and taught herself how to read at the age of 13. Enamoured with the stage, she used a connection of her stepfather’s to get a letter of introduction to a theatre manager in Lisbon and at age 15 she made her professional stage debut as a chorus girl in Tea and Toast (1923). She was shortly after renamed Beatriz Costa by Luis Gallardo.

Beatriz Costa from a studio session in Rio (1929)

The following year the theatre company travelled to Brazil where Costa earned raves from the public and the press, especially for her performance of the song “Mademoiselle Boy.” She returned to Portugal two years later where she continued to star in a variety of musical shows.

In 1927, she made her screen debut in The Devil in Lisbon followed the same year by Fátima Milagrosa in which she danced a tango with the future director Manoel de Oliveira. She also began sporting bangs, which would become her trademark. Although she was successful in film, she continued to perform on stage in a series of productions before going on another tour of Brazil. When she returned, she met with Paramount’s European representative and won the lead in Her Wedding Night, a remake of a Clara Bow picture and one of the first Portuguese talkies. Filmed in Paris, it brought Costa even more accolades.

Beatriz Costa (center) on stage in Full Moon (1934)

Beatriz Costa (without bangs) and Procópio Ferreira in The Four Leaf Clover (1936)

By the 1930s, Costa’s bubbly personality and comedic talents had made her incredibly popular and she was given the nickname, “the Sweetheart of Lisbon.” In 1933, she starred in her biggest film yet, A Song of Lisbon. Billed as the “first Portuguese film made by Portuguese people,” A Song for Lisbon ushered in Portugal’s Golden Age of Cinema. In 1937, Portuguese moviegoers voted her the “Princess of Portuguese Cinema.”

She ended the decade by making her last film, The Village of White Clothes, and returning to Brazil where she stayed for ten years, performing at the Casino da Urca; she would later refer to this time as “the best years of my life.” It was there in 1947 that she wed the Brazilian writer and sculptor Edmundo Gregorian. But the marriage didn't last, and they divorced two years later.

In 1949, she made a triumphant return to Portugal where she starred in a series of successful plays including Play the Music and Carry On. After her performance in Está Bonita a Brincadeira in 1960, she retired from the stage and travelled the world, attending theatre festivals and visiting with various celebrities. When she returned to Portugal, she moved into the Hotel Tivoli in Lisbon where she would live for the rest of her life. There she began a second career as an author, writing successful books about her career and experiences. I’m happy to report, she sported a bob with her trademark bangs even in old age. Although she received many requests to return to the stage she refused, citing the decline in the quality of theatrical shows. Costa passed away on April 15, 1996.

Song of Lisbon is one of her few films to survive. Watch this clip where Costa awkwardly dances around and cannot hit a high note. She's funny and adorable in this scene and throughout the rest of the film; no wonder she was called the Sweetheart of Lisbon.

It's Your Own Fault

2016-01-19T22:08:00.000-05:00

"Something's always happening here. If you're bored in New York, it's your own fault."—Myrna Loy

Boston Common at Twilight

2016-01-18T21:48:00.000-05:00

"At Dusk (Boston Common at Twilight)" Childe Hassam (1885-86)

Yesterday was the first snow of the season. In honour of the occasion, I’m taking a look at a favourite winter painting.

When I lived in Boston, I spent many hours at the Museum of Fine Arts. “At Dusk (Boston Common at Twilight)” by the American Impressionist Childe Hassam was one of my favourite paintings. Today, looking at it instantly conquers up a nostalgic mix of memories of both Boston and winter snow.

Here we see a mother with her two children feeding the sparrows on the Tremont Street Mall in Boston Common (a handy location for Hassam as it was across the street from his studio). This wide promenade in the Common, lined with elm trees on one side and Tremont Street on the other, was created for Bostonians to have a place to take a stroll, perhaps in the afternoon or on a Sunday dressed up in church finery. So refined.

While the site looks different today—the promenade was broken up with the addition of two subway entrances—it’s still recognizable as the Boston Common I’ve walked through so many times. What’s interesting to note is that the Common Hassam painted reflected changes that had occurred during his time as well; by the mid-1880s an increase in commerce in the area had resulted in new buildings and streets crowded with trolley cars and carriages.

I particularly love the light in the painting from the pink warmth of the setting sun behind the trees to the orange glow from the windows in the buildings. As for the snow, Hassam painted a very accurate depiction of snow that’s been walked upon. Looking at that path, I know all too well that by the next day it would have turned into a sheet of ice to be traversed at your own risk. Oh, winter in Boston. How beautiful (and dangerous) you could be.

Farewell to the Thin White Duke

2016-01-12T01:21:00.001-05:00

"The Archer" John Rowlands (1976)

David Bowie

1947-2016

RIP

Between the Pages

2016-01-05T22:55:00.001-05:00

Constance Bennett in Lady With a Past (1932)

A new year, a new slew of books to review. I read quite a few books last year but not nearly as many as I would have wanted. These are some of the titles I finished in 2015. And as a new year brings fresh starts, Bookshelf will be called Between the Pages going forward. Now, please, read on.

My Life in France—Julia Child and Alex Prud’homme

Paul and Julia Child moved to France in 1948 for Paul to start his job with the US Information Service. En route to Paris, they stopped for lunch at a restaurant in Rouen. Julia would later refer to it as “the most exciting meal of my life.” Thus began her life-long love affair with la belle France. In Paris, Julia began exploring all aspects of French cuisine, taking classes at the Cordon Bleu and ultimately writing her classic cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. The book is filled with charming anecdotes of her time in France from merchants she befriended to her experiments in the kitchen to the great love affair with her husband. Be warned: reading this will make you want to buy a ticket for France.

All the Light We Cannot See—Anthony Doerr

In 1930s Paris a blind girl named Marie-Laure learns the layout of her neighbourhood via a hand-carved miniature version lovingly created by her locksmith father while in Germany a young orphaned boy, Werner, discovers he has a gift for fixing radios. As the Germans descend on Paris, the Seas of Flame—a cursed diamond from the Museum of Natural History—is secreted out of the city to the seaside town of St. Malo where Marie-Laure and Werner’s paths will ultimately cross. I wasn’t expecting to like this novel as much as I did but the non-linear narration made for compelling storytelling and some of Marie-Laure’s scenes were particularly moving.

Mrs. Roosevelt’s Confidante—Susan Elia Macneal

Maggie Hope is back, this time travelling with Churchill to America to visit Roosevelt to discuss the country’s entry in the war. The mysterious death of one of Mrs. Roosevelt’s secretaries threatens to falsely expose the first lady to a scandal of epic proportion, and it’s up to Maggie find the killer and protect the nation. I’ve enjoyed all of the Maggie Hope books and this one in particular. I especially liked the behind-the-scenes look at the Roosevelts in the White House (FDR whipping up cocktails and lots of appearances by Fala) and the descriptions of Washington during wartime.

The Other Typist—Suzanne Rindell

Rose Baker is a police typist in 1920s New York, spending her days typing up confessions and her nights alone in her rented room in Brooklyn. Her world is changed with the hiring of a new typist, Odalie Lazare, whose fashionable appearance and carefree attitude fascinate Rose. Before long she is drawn into Odalie’s life, sharing her flat and frequenting speakeasies. But there’s something sinister bubbling under the surface that’s destined to result in murder. Reminiscent of a Patricia Highsmith story, Rindell does a good job at building the tension in the story and leaving the reader guessing at the ending.

Girl Waits with Gun—Amy Stewart

In 1914, the three Kopp sisters were driving in their horse and buggy in Patterson, New Jersey when a man hit them with his motorcar. The sisters tried to invoice for the damages but Harry Kaufman, the silk factory owner who had been behind the wheel, retaliated with threatening letters and rocks thrown through the sisters’ windows. The local sheriff did what he thought best—gave the sisters rifles for protection. This is the basis for Stewart’s novel, which revolves around the oldest sister, six-foot tall Constance, who uses her height to intimidate Kaufman and indeed waits with gun. This was a favourite read of mine last year. Stewart does a great job at fleshing out the portraits of the Kopp sisters and demonstrates how one can tell a fictional account of a real event well.

The Goldfinch—Donna Tartt

Thirteen-year old The Decker and his mother are viewing an exhibit at the Met when a bomb goes off, killing her and leaving Theo unharmed with a dead man’s ring and Carel Fabritius’ “Goldfinch” in his possession. Finding temporary shelter at the Upper East Side home of a classmate, he’s soon whisked away by his father to Las Vegas where Theo embarks down a drug-laden road with his only friend, a Ukrainian boy named Boris. When Theo returns to New York, he becomes an apprentice to an antiques dealer who lost his partner in the blast, the same deceased man whose niece Theo loves. It took me a while to get around to reading this book, and I’m so glad I did. Despite its heft, I found myself finishing it in a few days, drawn to the story of Theo and the fate of that glorious bird.

Hello, 2016!

2016-01-01T20:55:00.000-05:00

Hello, 2016! My list of new year's resolutions is long and complex, created with the full realization that most of them will not be achieved but there's no harm in wishful thinking is there? At the top of that list is a resolution to make the most of the next twelve months. No more procrastination—it's time to act (or dance if the occasion calls for it). So lets enjoy 2016 and all the possibilities it brings.

Gif of Louise Brooks from Love 'Em and Leave 'Em (1926). Taken from here.

Happy New Year

2015-12-31T18:19:00.000-05:00

I am anxiously awaiting the departure of 2015, which has not been a good year for me. So come on 2016; I have big plans for you. In the meantime, whether you're going out on the town or staying in tonight, I wish you all a Happy New Year and thank you for stopping by to read the Tales of a Madcap Heiress. Now let's have some champagne!

Ball of Fire

2015-12-29T23:34:00.000-05:00

On Christmas day, I could be found at Film Forum laughing along with the rest of the audience at Howard Hawks’ Ball of Fire (1941).

A screwball comedy based on Snow White and Seven Dwarfs, the film is set not in a forest but in New York City where eight professors live and work together in an old brownstone, writing an encyclopedia of human knowledge. They are on the letter “S” when the youngest professor, Bertram Potts (Gary Cooper), realizes that his research on slang is out of date. He roams the city looking for people to make up a research panel and winds up at a nightclub where Sugarpuss O’Shea (Barbara Stanwyck) is performing with the Gene Krupa Band. Potts is entranced and invites Sugarpuss to join his panel. At first she declines but changes her mind when she needs a place to hide from the DA who's looking for her in connection to her mobster boyfriend, Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews). She moves into the house with the professors and quickly changes their lives. She and Potts fall in love, and he proposes marriage. The only problem is that Joe wants her to marry him so she can’t testify against him in court. Everyone winds up in New Jersey where Potts fights Joe for the woman he loves.

The film’s leads are perfect in their roles: Barbara Stanwyck was a street-smart New Yorker in real life and looks gorgeous while Gary Cooper is especially attractive when he's in full fumbling nerd mode (which he plays so well). They are supported by some of Hollywood’s favourite character actors including S.Z. Sakall, Henry Travers, Richard Haydn, Leonid Kinskey, and Dan Duryea. There’s also a great musical performance by Gene Krupa of "Drum Boogie" including a scene where he uses a book of matches to play the drums. The comedy is balanced with some tender moments and the costumes are glorious (one of Stanwyck’s gowns literally shines). And then there is the language.

Screwball comedies are noted for their witty dialogue and this film delivers in spades thanks to a brilliant script by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett. In the film, Cooper quotes Carl Sandburg who said, "slang is language that takes off it coat, spits on its hands, and gets to work." In this film, the language is working overtime. The erudite words of the professors are juxtaposed with the slang-filled observations of working class people creating numerous comedic moments.

Early in the film Potts realizes that his slang research is obsolete when a garbage collector comes into the house to ask the professors for some help with a “quizzola” he’s filling out for the chance to win $25. He asks them a question about how Cleopatra died. When they give him the answer, he expresses his thanks and tells them why it’s important:

Garbage Man: I could use a bundle of scratch right now on account of I met me a mouse last week.

Potts: Mouse?

Garbage Man: What a pair of gams. A little in, a little out, and a little more out...

Potts: I am still completely mystified.

Garbage Man: Well, with this dish on me hands and them giving away 25 smackaroos on that quizzola.

Potts: Smackaroos? What are smackaroos?

Garbage Man: A smackaroo is a...

Potts: No such word exists.

Garbage Man: Oh, it don't? A smackaroo is a dollar, pal.

Potts: Well, the accepted vulgarism for a dollar is a buck.

Garbage Man: The accepted vulgarism for a smackaroo is a dollar. That goes for a banger, a fish, a buck or a rug.

Potts: Well, what about the mouse?

Garbage Man: The mouse is the dish. That's what I need the moolah for.

Potts: Moolah?

Garbage Man: Yeah, the dough. We'll be stepping. Me and this smooch…I mean, the dish, I mean, the mouse. You know, hit the jiggles for a little rum boogie.

Potts: Please, please, not so fast.

Garbage Man: Brother, we're going to have some hoytoytoy.

Potts: Hoytoytoy?

Garbage Man: Yeah, and if you want that one explained, you go ask your papas.

Sugarpuss O’Shea’s language is just as colourful as the Garbage Man’s, and she’s better looking. Between her delivery and the gold dress that shows off her midriff and shapely legs, Potts doesn’t have a chance.

When he first meets Sugarpuss in her dressing room she tells him, “Okay, scrow, scram, scraw,” and he responds with delight, “The complete conjugation!”

Sugarpuss also gets some of the best lines. When she first enters the professors’ library she says, “Hey, who decorated this place, the mug who shot Lincoln?” And when trying to convince Potts that she’s getting sick and needs to stay over at the house, she asks him to check her throat.

Potts: There is possibly a slight rosiness in the laryngeal region.

Sugarpuss: Slight rosiness? It’s as red as the Daily Worker and just as sore.

When Potts attempts to kick her out of the house, he tells her, "Make no mistake, I shall regret the absence of your keen mind. Unfortunately, it is inseparable from an extremely disturbing body." She responds by playing on his sense of duty as a grammarian.

Sugarpuss: There's a lot of words we haven't caught up with. For instance, do you know what this means, "I'll get you on the Ameche"?

Potts: No.

Sugarpuss: Of course, you don't. An Ameche is the telephone. On account of he invented it.

Potts: Oh, no, he didn't.

Sugarpuss: You know, in the movies.

Potts: I see what you mean. Very interesting.

She finally convinces him to let her stay when she stands on three of Professor Gurkakoff’s reference books (Potts is very tall) and shows him what “yum yum” is. The kisses send Potts running out of the room to apply a cold compress to the back of his neck.

Like when Snow White went to live with the dwarfs, the other professors are enchanted by Sugarpuss and welcome her into their lives. They begin dressing smarter to impress her and instead of conducting research, they dance a conga. They also hang on her every word, trying to understand her world. When the professors turn the tables on the mobsters and pull guns on them, Professor Oddly (Richard Haydn) tells them, “I believe…I think it is known as an “up-stick.” Bless him.

Yet the influence isn’t one-sided. Sugarpuss comes to realize that not only does she deserve something better in her life but that she’s in love with Potts (or Pottsy as she calls him). He's the opposite of Joe, and she can't seem to believe that she's fallen for him.

“I love those hick shirts he wears with the boiled cuffs. And the way he always has his vest buttoned wrong. Looks like a giraffe, and I love him. I love him because he’s the kind of a guy that gets drunk on a glass of buttermilk. And I love the way he blushes right up over his ears. I love him because he doesn’t know how to kiss, the jerk.”

The film was a hit with audiences and garnered six Academy Award nominations including one for Stanwyck for Best Actress. I think it's one of the best roles she ever played. So if you've never seen Ball of Fire, shove in your clutch and watch it now. Dig me?

Get Your Man

2015-12-26T14:17:00.001-05:00

Clara Bow was the original “It Girl,” radiating sex appeal and epitomizing the flapper of the 1920s. What many people forget though is that she was also a fine actress. A recent screening at MoMA of a restored print of her film, Get Your Man (1927), reminded the audience of this fact.

Get Your Man opens with the betrothal between the children of two aristocratic French families (emphasis on “children”). Jump ahead 17 years and the two, now grown, are set to wed. Before they do the groom, Duke Robert Albin (Charles “Buddy” Rogers), must take a trip to Paris to pick up some family pearls to give to his bride. There he keeps bumping into the same girl—at a taxi, outside a building, in a parfumerie, and finally at a wax museum. The girl in question is Nancy Worthington (Clara Bow), a rich American on holiday. “It must be fate,” she tells him. The two tour around the museum and are accidentally locked in, resulting in their spending the night together and falling in love.

The next morning the two part after Robert confesses that he’s engaged to be married. Yet Nancy isn’t ready to give him up. She drives down to his chateau where she stages an “accident.” Taken into the house, she quickly charms everyone including Robert’s fiancée Simone de Valens (Josephine Dunn), who confides in her that she’s really in love with another man. Meanwhile Simone’s smitten father, the Marquis de Valens (Harvey Clark), proposes to Nancy who accepts on condition that he break off his daughter’s engagement to Robert, which he agrees to. Nancy’s plans almost backfire when she gets a letter from Robert stating that he’s leaving for Africa to shoot lions. Luckily some quick thinking on Nancy’s part, which involves the discovery of Robert in her room in a compromising position, soon sets everything right, and Nancy is able to get her man.

Clara Bow and Charles "Buddy" Rogers in Get Your Man (1927)

As Nancy, Clara Bow is not only attractive but smart and funny (Bow was very good at comedy). In most of her films she played working class girls but here she is wealthy and glamorous. While the film may have been just one more of Bow’s films that year for the studio (internally it was referred to as “Winter Bow”), under the direction of Dorothy Arzner, one of the first women directors in Hollywood, Bow shines. Giving her a chance to play someone different, Arzner brings out all of Bow’s best qualities in the film. Arzner was to say of Bow, “Whichever way she did it [the scene] was so right, so alive. It was like a dancing flame on the screen.”

A strong performance by Charles "Buddy" Rogers shouldn't go unacknowledged. Always charming, he may be even more beautiful than Bow in the film. There’s also some good comic timing by Harvey Clark as the besotted Marquis. And hats off to the costume designer. Bow's gowns are to die for.

The screening of the film at MoMA last month was part of their To Save and Project: The 13th MoMA International Festival of Film Preservation. Bow’s biographer David Stenn was on hand to introduce the film. It was Running Wild, his book about the actress, that helped to reintroduce Bow to film fans by debunking some persistent myths (thanks a lot Hollywood Babylon) and re-examining her as an actress.

A still from one of the missing scenes from Get Your Man.

Unfortunately, some of the footage shows signs of nitrate burns and two of the six reels are missing so the version screened contained title cards and stills to cover the missing scenes. Restored by the Library of Congress, MoMA, and the Academy of Arts & Sciences, they did a fine job but it’s unfortunate that the missing scenes include the night at the wax museum (the footage ends before they're locked in). A still of the two stars asleep together gives a hint at what was probably a lovely scene.

Bow notoriously dreaded the coming of sound, believing the microphone to be her enemy. Watching her in a silent film, you realize that she was right in so far as she didn’t need to speak—her face could express volumes. All you have to do is watch her eyes to know exactly what's happening and in this film, you know from the beginning that she will get her man.

Merry Christmas

2015-12-25T17:49:00.000-05:00

The Washington Square Arch and Tree. Photo by Michele.

Merry Christmas from New York. Whether you celebrate the holiday or not, I hope you had a wonderful day.

Ingrid in the Snow

2015-12-21T23:55:00.000-05:00

Ingrid Bergman by Bob Landry for LIFE Magazine (1941)

The February 24, 1941 issue of LIFE magazine featured an article titled “Ingrid Bergman Takes a Short Holiday From Hollywood.” The article was a fluff piece, featuring the then fairly new actress (she’d been in the US for less than two years and had yet to play her legendary role in Casablanca) on a ski holiday with her husband, Dr. Petter Lindström, at June Lake near the California-Nevada Border.

During the trip, she made a quick visit to San Francisco to meet with Ernest Hemingway who was en route to China with his wife, Martha Gelhorn. They discussed Hemingway’s wish for her to play Maria in the film adaptation of his novel, For Whom the Bells Toll, at Jack’s Restaurant where they enjoyed a “salad and a dry white wine” (somehow I can’t see Hemingway eating a salad). He is quoted as telling Bergman, “If you don’t act in the picture, Ingrid, I won’t work on it.” Hemingway didn't have to worry; Bergman ended up winning the part.

The article is accompanied by photos of the actress and the author at the restaurant. But I prefer the ones taken by Bob Landry of her having a snowball fight with her husband at June Lake, especially the one above. Landry captured this candid moment of the young actress moments after getting hit by a snow ball. She appears to be having a wonderful time. What a refreshing change from the normally staged studio shots of the stars. Now, don't you want to go out and play in the snow?

Bulldog Drummond

2015-12-07T22:51:00.001-05:00

Last week I saw Bulldog Drummond (1929) at Film Forum, part of their tribute to the great production designer William Cameron Menzies. Directed by F. Richard Jones, Bulldog Drummond was the third film and first talkie based on Sapper’s (aka H.C. McNeile) stage adaption of his 1920 novel. Bull Drummond is a perfect detective story for the screen—fast paced and action packed with witty dialogue, a likable hero with a comical sidekick, a beautiful girl, and sufficiently evil villains.

The film opens in London at the Senior Conservative Club where an elderly club member is outraged by the racket created by a waiter dropping a spoon. Seated nearby is the recently demobilized Captain Hugh “Bulldog” Drummond (Ronald Colman) and his best friend, Algy Longworth (Claude Allister). Adding to the noise by whistling, Drummond leaves with Algy for a bar where he confesses, “I've been bored too long. I can't stand it any more. I'm too rich to work, too intelligent to play, much; I tell you, if something doesn't happen within the next few days, I'll explode.” When Algy jokingly suggests advertising his availability, Drummond takes him seriously and quickly writes up an ad that’s placed in the Times.

"DEMOBILIZED OFFICER, finding peace unbearably tedious would welcome any excitement. Legitimate, if possible, but crime of humorous description, no objection."

Drummond’s soon inundated with requests but one in particular piques his interest: a Phyllis Benton has written asking that if he’s serious, then Drummond should meet her at midnight at the Green Bay Inn where she’s reserved rooms for him. Drummond, who conjures up an image of a woman who’s “dark, voluptuous, and dramatic,” asks his valet, Danny (Wilson Benge), to pack him a toothbrush and a gun and departs.

At the Inn he's waiting for Phyllis when Algy and Danny show up. Calling Algy a “meddlesome jackass,” he brushes off Algy’s concerns. “If I had wanted a body guard, I should have sent for my maiden aunt,” Drummond tells him, adding, “Why not, she’s more of a man than you are.”

Bulldog Drummond (Ronald Colman) and Phyllis Benton (Joan Bennett)

Phyllis (Joan Bennett) arrives, and Drummond is delighted to find that she meets his expectations. The beautiful young woman is in a state, telling him that her wealthy uncle, Charles Travers, is supposedly being treated for a nervous breakdown at a local hospital but that the two men “treating” him, Dr. Lakington (Lawrence Grant) and Carl Petersen (Montague Love), are really keeping him there against his will in an attempt to get at his fortune. Drummond tells her that her tale is “rather like a penny thriller” yet promises to do whatever she wants him to do. The sudden appearance of silhouettes at the door (it’s just Algy and Danny being nosey) spooks Phyllis who runs away only to be caught by Lakington, Petersen, and Petersen’s "sister," Irma (Lilyan Tashman). Drummond naturally heads off to rescue his damsel in distress.

Once there Drummond acts nonchalant, pretending to have just been passing. The sound of a man’s cries for help (“Somebody step on the cat’s tail?” Drummond asks) prompts him to ask point blank if they’re abusing Travers. When Petersen denies it, Drummond leaves only to circle back. Announcing to Phyllis that “it’s a fine time for you to visit my maiden aunt in London," Irma lets out a wolf whistle. Expecting her gang, she gets Algy instead (Algy’s cluelessness seems to make him immune not only to the obvious but to danger as well). When Irma’s gang does rush in, there’s a brief shootout during which Drummond and his pals escape. Telling Algy to take Phyllis back to the Inn, Drummond returns to the hospital where he hides outside a window and watches as Travers (Charles Sellon) is brought into Lakington’s laboratory. Travers is given a special injection and forced to sign a paper turning over “certain securities and jewels” to Petersen. Drummond then takes them by surprise and escapes with Travers and the paper.

He brings Travers to the Inn, which probably isn’t the smartest move. The bad guys show up, and Irma is given two of her best scenes—ordering a drink ("whiskey, straight,") and flirting with Algy who is enamoured with the blonde (he keeps saying that he must get her telephone number). The bad guys demand Travers be handed over so Drummond disguises Algy as himself while he dresses up like Travers. A fight ensues and Drummond is taken while Algy, who has lost his costume, is left behind.

Irma (Lilyan Tashman) helps out a tied-up Bulldog Drummond (Ronald Colman).

Discovering Drummond's charade, the bad guys tie him up and inform him that they have Phyllis. Threatening to torture her—she’s taken into a room where she starts screaming—Drummond tells them that he left Travers at the Inn (in reality he's on the way to London with Danny and Algy). Everyone leaves save for Lakington who brings an unconscious Phyllis into the room. He shows Drummond his secret “electric” door that no one can open while the “current is switched on” (it’s a flimsily looking metal door that garnered a chuckle from the audience) before proceeding to paw at Phyllis. Announcing that he’s going to put Drummond to sleep, he leaves the room to mix a potion. Phyllis wakes and frees Drummond who then struggles with Lakington, killing him in the process.

Algy rings and Drummond tells him to bring the police from Scotland Yard. The bad guys return, and Drummond locks Petersen in the room with him and Phyllis. Admitting he’s licked, Petersen asks Drummond to let Irma go and requests one last call to her. Drummond agrees, and Petersen tells Irma on the phone to “work the old circus gag,” code for the gang to dress up like the police. Drummond falls for the trick and watches as the “police” take Petersen away. When Algy arrives and gives Drummond a note from Petersen explaining what he's done, Drummond tries telephoning Scotland Yard but Phyllis convinces him to let them go and tells him that she loves him. Drummond has won the girl and saved the day.

Ronald Colman is superb as Drummond. Handsome, charming, athletic (enough), and so very, very English. The most astonishing thing about the film may be the fact that it was Colman’s first talkie. The actor had already been acting in films for a few years before he played this role. I can only imagine what it must have been like to be a moviegoer hearing Colman speak for the first time in that beautiful, cultured voice.

The cast for the most part is strong including Claude Allister whose Algy is great as the film’s comic relief, Montague Love (what a brilliant name) who brings just enough likability and toughness to the role of Petersen, and Lilyan Tashman as the cool, slinky Irma. It was also a nice surprise to see Gertrude Short playing a barmaid. Thin Man fans will recognize her as Nunheim’s girlfriend, the one who doesn’t like stool pigeons. Lawrence Grant as Lakington however is a bit too over the top in his acting while Joan Bennett is utterly underwhelming as Phyllis. Bennett wouldn’t hit her stride until the 1940s when as a brunette she turned in solid performances in films like The Woman in the Window and Scarlett Street. Here the blonde Bennett just seems inexperienced and unsure of herself.

The Tivoli theatre in The Strand, London, advertising Bulldog Drummond, July 26, 1929. Photo: J. Geiger.

For a film made during the transition period from silent to talkie, it’s incredibly smooth with none of the stilted dialogues that some other films from this time suffered. There's plenty of action and Colman’s delivery helps to keep the scenes between him and Bennett from becoming overly dramatic.

As for Menzies’ sets, their size (giant doors that dwarf the characters in some scenes are juxtaposed with small, low-ceiling rooms in others) bring to mind certain German silent films. The use of shadows also serves to enhance the story. It should be noted that this was one of the first features that the great cinematographer Gregg Toland worked on (he shared the credit with George S. Barnes).

The film was well received and earned Colman and Menzies Oscar nominations. While Colman would return to the role in 1934 in Bulldog Drummond Strikes Back, many other adaptations would be made with other actors playing the role. Yet none were perhaps as convincing as Colman whose performance, a New York Times reviewer noted at the film's opening at the Apollo Theater, "is matchless so far as talking pictures are concerned."

December!

2015-12-01T23:34:00.000-05:00

Oh, December. How is it you're already here? I'm not going to complain too much though because New York is a great place to be this month—the sparking lights and inventive store windows, the glories of Central Park, tree lightings and carolling, plays and movies, and air that is just cold enough. So have a joyful December!

Hemingway Between Two Wars

2015-11-30T17:54:00.000-05:00

Ernest Hemingway on crutches while recovering in Milan, Italy, September 1918.

The Ernest Hemingway Photograph Collection. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum.

“None are to be found more clever than Ernie,” declared an Oak Park and River Forest High School classmate of young Ernest Hemingway who apparently agreed; he used it as his senior yearbook quote. Bright and competitive, Hemingway always knew he wanted to be a writer and at 16 published his first short story, The Judgment of Manitou, in his school’s magazine, The Tabula.

“Ernest Hemingway: Between Two Wars,” an exhibit at the Morgan Library in collaboration with the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum (which houses Hemingway’s papers), looks at the two most productive decades in the writer's life during which he published five novels, two works of non-fiction, and five short-story collections, honing his craft along the way and becoming one of the most important voices in American literature. (Full disclosure, I did my grad work on Hemingway and am a big fan.)

Broken into six sections, the exhibit contains almost 100 items including drafts, notebooks, manuscripts, first editions, photographs, and letters from friends and fellow writers like John Dos Passos, Sylvia Beach, and John Steinbeck. There are also bull fight ticket stubs, dog tags from when Hemingway was a war correspondent for Colliers during World War II, and a painting of Hemingway by Waldo Pierce modelled after a well-know photo of Balzac.

Hemingway’s 1923 passport (detail), 1923. The Ernest Hemingway Photograph Collection. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum.

The most interesting section of the exhibit was the beginning where you see Hemingway emerging as a writer. There’s the first appearance of Nick Adams in a story written on Red Cross stationary; the passport from his early Paris days with that ridiculously handsome photo; his first book, Three Stories & Ten Poems, published by Robert McAlmon’s Contact Press; and a letter dated 20 March 1925 in which Hemingway explains his artistic credo to a displeased father: "You see I'm trying in all my stories to get the feeling of the actual life across—not to just depict life—or criticize it—but to actually make it alive."

My favourite of his novels, The Sun Also Rises, which he wrote in just nine weeks in 1926, is represented with numerous items like three of the seven French school notebooks in which he wrote the first draft. As with all of Hemingway’s drafts, you see him crossing out words and sometimes full paragraphs, always paring down. On the back cover of the third notebook, there’s a running list of how many words he had written each day before he had his first whiskey and soda.

Also fascinating are the items related to F. Scott Fitzgerald. Hemingway, who had met Fitzgerald at the Dingo Bar, showed his manuscript of The Sun Also Rises to the already successful author. Fitzgerald turned out to be a good critic, suggesting that Hemingway cut the first two chapters, thus beginning the novel with the story of Robert Cohn. The first two pages of those excised chapters are on display and show that Fitzgerald was right.

First page of autograph manuscript of A Farewell to Arms, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1929.

By 1929, Hemingway had become surer of himself as a writer and when he received nine pages of notes from Fitzgerald on A Farewell to Arms (three of which are on display), he was less open to advice. Even though on one of the pages of the typescript Fitzgerald had written “This is one of the most beautiful pages in all English literature,” at the bottom of Fitzgerald’s notes is a comment by Hemingway, “Kiss my ass—EH.” He also was not a happy with the book’s copy editor, writing in the margin of one of the galley proofs, “who buggered this up like this. EH.”

Hemingway was famously thin-skinned and quick to lash out at anyone. Furious at Irwin Shaw for including a character based on Hemingway's younger brother, Leicester, in Shaw's novel The Young Lions, Hemingway's personal copy of the book shows an annotation on one page that reads, “This is the part I will break his jaw for.”

Yet Hemingway could also be kind. When a young man, Arnold Samuelson, showed up at Hemingway's home in Key West, Florida to ask him for advice on becoming a writer, Hemingway offered him a job looking after his boat and wrote up a reading list of 16 works for Samuelson to read including classics such as War and Peace, Madame Bovary, and Wuthering Heights as well as some "modern" titles, Dubliners and The Enormous Room. “Here’s a list of books any writer should have read as a part of his education,” Hemingway told Samuelson, “. . . if you haven’t read these, you just aren’t educated.”

Ernest Hemingway revising the typescript of For Whom The Bell Tolls, Sun Valley, Idaho, November 1940.

Regardless of his actions, Hemingway was thought highly of by many other writers like Dorothy Parker who remained a staunch supporter of Hemingway's even after he mocked her behind her back. On 30 November 1929, the New Yorker published a profile of Hemingway written by Parker titled “The Artist’s Reward.” Nervous about its reception, she sent him a draft to read, commenting in her cover letter, “part of the Artist’s Reward is having shit like this written about you.” And in this case, a very fine exhibit.

“Ernest Hemingway: Between Two Wars” is at the Morgan until January 31, 2016. For more information, visit here.

Felix the Thanksgiving Parade Cat

2015-11-26T16:59:00.000-05:00

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is as much of a tradition today as turkey and pumpkin pie. The first parade took place in 1924 with nursery rhyme-themed floats and live animals borrowed from the Central Park Zoo. Originally called the Macy’s Christmas Parade (it was sponsored by a department store after all), it was renamed the Thanksgiving Day Parade in 1927. That same year some giant balloons were added to the mix including one of the popular Felix the Cat, the first in a long line of character balloons to grace the parade (Mickey Mouse would follow in 1934). Felix’s debut went smoothly until he became entangled with some telephone poles and caught fire.

Cats have nine lives though, and he was back the following year. This time round, the air in the balloons was replaced with helium so they could soar above the parade. At the end of the parade, the balloons were released into the air; a tag sewn into each promised a $100 prize to the finder if the balloon was returned to Macy’s. Unfortunately, the balloons burst upon release prompting the addition of safety valves so they could deflate slowly the next time round.

Felix continued to be featured in the parade. On November 27, 1931, the New York Times ran an article with the headline—“Felix the Cat Soars Gayly in Broadway.” In it they said that upon his release at the end of the parade, Felix started to float out to sea and pilot Clarence Chamberlin grabbed him with the wing of his plane and deposited Felix at the airfield. Yet a few days later it was reported that Felix had floated over to New Jersey where he ran into a high voltage wire and once again caught on fire.

Felix wasn’t the only cat to run into trouble. In 1932 another balloon cat, Tom-Kat, became entangled in the wing of a small monoplane, almost causing it to crash (it wasn’t really the cat’s fault; the plane’s student pilot had deliberately flown into the balloon in an attempt to capture it). After this incident, the organizers wisely decided to stop releasing the balloons.

In 1933, it was reported that Felix joined the parade, this time without incident. He would continue to be a part of the parade until 1938. While another famed cat, Hello Kitty, would become part of the parade beginning in 2007, Felix will always hold the honour of being the first cat (and character balloon) of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!