James Garner Has Made His Great Escape

Sorry to hear that James Garner aka Jim Rockford/ Bret Maverick, has passed on today at the age of 86. Garner made a name for himself in the late 50's on the television western Maverick, beginning in 1957. Garner would leave the top-rated show after the third season to pursue a life in film. A major star of TV, jumping to the big screen was a new and fairly radical venture. Garner's film career began with A-List projects, starting off with William Wellman's second-to-the-last-directed feature Darby's Rangers, followed by Cash McCall with ingenue Natalie Wood. 1961 found Garner caught between Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine in The Children's Hour, director William Wyler's remake of his own 1936 adaptation of These Three, based on the play by Lillian Hellman. His biggest hit of the 1960's, possibly of his entire career, came in 1963's POW - WW II classic The Great Escape. Starring alongside Steve McQueen and a couple of not quite but future stars, Charles Bronson and James Coburn, Garner played "the scrounger ", Flt. Lt. Robert Hendley.

The success of Escape helped pave the way for Garner the rest of the decade. One of his best roles was in The Americaniztion Of Emily, with Julie Andrews, as Lt.Cmdr. Charlie Madison, a self confessed coward who is picked to be a hero at the invasion on Normandy on D-Day. Though not a big success at the time, this Paddy Chayevsky-penned film has gathered a cult following thru the years and is the personal favorite of both Andrews and Garner. Per Wikipedia, William Holden was originally tabbed for Garner's role, but when Holden backed out, Garner stepped in. If so, I can imagine Holden in the part too. Probably would have fit him like a glove as both actors project an ease and naturalism on camera, with Garner being particularly adept in comedic parts. Garner would round out the 60's in just such a role, Support Your Local Sheriff, a surprise hit from 1969. For most of the 1970's Garner would focus on television. His big success portraying P.I. Jim Rockford in The Rockford Files, and it may be the work he is best remembered for today. Premiering on NBC on September 13, 1974 at 9pm, Rockford was an instant hit with tube watchers. However, due to the pressures of a weekly television show, Garner was to suffer from ulcers, which would precipitate his leaving the show. Just goes to show the stress involved in making it all look easy.

 1982 brought the gender-bending comedy Victor/Victoria, again with Julie Andrews, and in 1985's Murphy's Romance, Garner - opposite a sexy, thirty-something Sally Field as a divorced mother with a teenage son - played the widowed, 50-ish Murphy Jones, druggist of a small Arizona town, who gets a second chance at love. Charming and easy going - though at times irascible - Garner had one of the best parts of his career and was honored with an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor. Irascibility combined with an easy going charm may seem opposite ends of the spectrum, yet Garner, like Cary Grant, seemed to make crabby almost likeable. Certainly, he made it funny. In the 1969 film Marlowe { not an especially good adaptation of Chandler's book Little Sister, yet as to date the only one we have }, there is a scene in which Marlowe is getting roughed up by some thugs. Check out the very beginning of this video. It is an example of what James Garner did so well.

I have always loved that smart-ass, throw-away humor that Garner was so great at. A lost art, I'm afraid. That's what Garner seemed to do best, and may qualify as to why he never really got his due as an actor. Like Mitchum, Grant, Holden and a handful of others, these guys made the difficult craft of acting look effortless. Garner never showed the wheels spinning. I cannot even think of a film or television show in which Garner was not, at least, good. The man never gave a bad performance.  R.I.P. Jim Rockford/Bret Maverick/Murphy Jones/Charlie Madison, etc. You were one of the best.

Happy Birthday, Ringo

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite films, A Hard Day's Night, 1964

Very sincere and heartfelt birthday wishes to Ringo, the beloved drummer from that band called The Beatles. Seventy Four years young today, Ringo may be the most beloved of all the Fab Four. His affable good humor { which led to at least a couple of immortal songs like, a hard days' night and tomorrow never knows, both Ringo-isms } , even temperament, off-key singing,  and steady drumbeat helped keep the group jelled throughout their time together. While John may have had issues with Paul or George, or George may have had issues with Paul or John, nobody, I mean nobody ever had issues with Ringo: it may be that his greatest strength was, paradoxically, his greatest weakness. At times, because of his ability to be everybody's friend, { good ol'  Ringo }, they took him for granted.

Good ol ' Ringo, everyone's best mate, circa 1967.

At least once, it seems, Ringo got fed up with it all. Whether it had to do with being overlooked, tried of the fighting that had recently started within the group, or he just went on holiday, is not known. What is a known is that in August 1968, while the band was working on what came to be known as The White Album, Ringo - the last to join The Beatles - was the first to walk out. Just left. For two weeks or so, leaving the band without a drummer. Therefore, Ringo has the distinction of being the first member to quit the world's most famous band. Consequently, the band's all-round utility player, Paul McCartney, played drums on Back in the USSR and Dear Prudence. Ringo eventually came back a couple of weeks later, after the band sent him flowers and love letters saying things like " you're the best rock drummer ever ", and " we love you, Ringo, come back ".  Goes to show how bad things had gotten for the Fabs when the most affable member is fed up and needed a holiday.

Ringo, about to knock the button off Paul's lapel, circa 1965.

Besides excelling as a drummer, Ringo also dabbled in acting. Besides the good reviews he received for A Hard Day's Night and Help!, Ringo also appeared in the all-star sex-romp Candy, and The Magic Christian opposite comic genius Peter Sellers, while still making music with the band. After the group split Ringo still made music and had a surprising run of hit records thru the 70's.  According to that beacon of facts, Wikipedia, at one time RIngo had seven straight top ten hits including : Photograph { co-written by George Harrison }, Oh My My, a cover of the 50's hit You're Sixteen { which made #1 }, and the No No Song. The 1970's were a busy time for Ringo, besides records he continued with his movie making : That'll Be The Day,  Ken Russell's Lisztomania and Mae West's last film, Sextette. Starr's biggest try for the big time as an actor was in 1981 with the comedy Caveman, which also starred Dennis Quaid, Shelley Long,  and Bond Girl Barbara Bach. Ringo and the lovely Ms. Bach would be married about a year after the film was made, and have been in happy cohabitation ever since. The failure of Caveman essentially ended Ringo's big screen ambition's, although he would appear in Paul McCartney's movie Give My Regards To Broad Street and the first two seasons on the TV kiddie show, Thomas The Tank Engine & Friends, as the best Mr. Conductor ever { just ask my son Tim }. Except for a rare cameo, Ringo's film appearances have been confined to documentaries in which he is usually the warmest,  most honest person in the film. His reminisces in The Beatles Anthology and, especially Living In The Material World, Martin Scorsese's film on the life of Harrison, are especially poignant.

 The above clip is what I like about Ringo. He's not afraid of just being himself, not shy of sharing his emotions when most would keep that side private, and then come up with the Barbara Walters line as a topper. Perfect. Just so folks don't think Ringo is resting on his laurels, he is currently on tour with the latest edition of Ringo Starr and His All-Star Band. In fact, Ringo and his chums will be at the Santa Barbara Bowl this Saturday July 12. So, Happy Birthday to the boy from The Dingle - Liverpool's rough slum where he grew up a sickly youth - the lad who happened to be in the right place at the right time. Happy Birthday Mr. Starkey, the luckiest man in show biz.

P.S. Just for the record, my favorite song Ringo sang is one he did back in 1967 with his best mates, a little ditty called With A Little Help From My Friends.

 

A Hard Day's Night, "The 'Citizen Kane' of jukebox musicals"

Opening night in London, July 6, 1964

It's been 50 years this month since A Hard Day's Night opened in British cinemas. The movie, which wouldn't open stateside until August, was a revelation upon release. The Beatles proved they could not only handle dialogue with the best of them, but they also had expert comic timing and screen presence to burn. Screenwriter Alun Owen followed the group around for a couple of weeks to get their Liverpudlian rhythm down, incorporating their unique speech patterns and slang into the screenplay while the film's director, Richard Lester, imbued the film with a silent-movie slapstick, cinema verite style.

"Hey mister, can we have our ball back?"

Filmed in black and white for just $500,600 over seven weeks shortly following their Ed Sullivan Show appearances on American television, the movie was made so United Artists could get the rights to a Beatles soundtrack album. UA got that and a whole lot more; they got a commercial hit (no big surprise); a critical, Academy Award-nominated hit (big surprise); and ultimately, a bona fide classic (biggest surprise of all), making the movie, as Andrew Sarris called it, "The Citizen Kane of jukebox musicals."

Today, "jukebox" is an antiquated term, but 50 years on, the movie - unlike jukeboxes - not only holds up, it may actually have improved with age. It's still a rollicking, good, fictional day-in-the-life of The Beatles. Besieged by fans, living life in "a train and a room a car and a room and a room and a room," it makes life on the road of the world's most wildly successful band manic with its perpetual movement. Indeed even by today's on-the-go standards, A Hard Day's Night is never boring; it hardly stops for a breath. The witty repartee between the Fabs, the press conference, the tormenting of the TV director and the band's manager (in fact, any authority figure), the sheer exuberance and joy of being young and alive with talent and promise (best represented by the "Can't Buy Me Love" sequence, below) with all the world as their oyster make the film irresistible.

And then there's the music. The songs in the movie were from the Beatles third album, but it was the first to have only Lennon and McCartney songs with no covers. McCartney's contribution is significant but relatively small with "And I Love Her," "Things We Said Today," and "Can't Buy Me Love" figuring prominently. But there is no doubt who the mover and shaker is on the soundtrack: John Lennon.

The bulk of the writing was done by Lennon, still in the manic/leadership role he had been in since the group began to jell in the late 1950s. Giddy from the insane heights the band had scaled in just two years, Lennon hadn't yet found the time to let the fame - and, for him, emptiness - sink in. That would arrive on his psychological doorstep soon enough. By the time The Beatles next film, Help!, was being filmed in early 1965, Lennon and the rest of the group had discovered the magic of marijuana and were consuming it with a vengeance (when they were "smoking marijuana for breakfast.") But none of the others were affected by a drug-induced introspection like Lennon was. While he continued to write brilliant songs, he would never again dominate a Beatles album like he did A Hard Day's Night.

The original soundtrack that was issued in the US had only the eight songs performed in the film. The  five additional songs on the UK version would find their way to American shores via other albums released by the Capitol record label that distributed the Fabs records here. With only eight cuts on the US version, United Artists added four instrumental tracks to round out the soundtrack.

The original soundtrack album issued in America, courtesy of United Artists

The movie opened to surprisingly glowing reviews, with special regard for the eclectic array of songs (the album is probably their best from the Beatlemania days, with both uptempo and more melancholy compositions). The zest of director Lester's vision, the wit of Owen's screenplay, and the film's slashing cut-and-run editing and photography were all singled out. Among the four Beatles as actors, Ringo was praised for the vignette in which he temporarily walks out on the band just before a television appearance and makes friends with a ten-year-old boy who has cut class for the day ("I'm a deserter, too."). The concert performed at film's end is, to me, the best example of the frenzy and fury of Beatlemania, the word that gave the movie its original title. By the time the dust had settled, A Hard Day's Night would receive two Oscar nominations for Best Screenplay and Best Scoring of Music. Amazingly, given the subsequent success of pop music artists at the Oscars, none of the Lennon-McCartney songs got a nod from Oscar. There may not have been any kind of uproar at the time regarding that snub, but if the film were made today there certainly would be. At the time, however, the two noms it did get were pretty big news for a movie that wasn't expected to achieve much. At the box office the film raked in over $12 million, according to IMDB, which is a ridiculously successful return on investment (adjusted for inflation, the cost would be $3.6 million, and a return of nearly $90 million).

One of the most interesting aspects of A Hard Day's Night is that the band is never named. In other words no one, not once, refers to them as "Beatle Paul" or "Beatle John" or "The Beatles." The only real acknowledgement that they are, in fact, The Beatles, is the logo on the front of Ringo's drum kit. Other movies with musicians like Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra or Elvis Presley were successful, but they didn't play anyone like themselves. Elvis, maybe in Jailhouse Rock, was an extension of his real self, but they always played characters. With A Hard Day's Night, we are thrown into this movie knowing exactly who John, Paul, George, and Ringo are. No needless exposition on how they got where they got, no backstory. Since they are all named after themselves, and the film is shot in a semi-documentary style, audiences of the day assumed this was who they were since they were not actors in real life. Seeing their press conferences on TV news - the way they would volley answers back to the reporters - made the film seem a genuine portrayal of their life, which undoubtedly contributed to its success. (This, of course, would only confuse fans just two years later in 1966 when rumors began to swirl about a possible break up of the band, following the group's decision to stop touring. Those rumors would intensify a year after that when their manager Brian Epstein died of a drug overdose. But that was all in the future.)

Americans were already traveling a hard road by 1964. The shock and dismay that accompanied the assassination of President John Kennedy signaled the turmoil to come over the next six years of the decade. But thanks to the lads from Liverpool, Americans got a little joy back into their lives. In the summer of 1964, A Hard Day's Night was the right antidote for a battered world.

It still is.

Sources: IMDB
              Wikipedia
              My Beatles.net

Bogart (and Baby) in Love: The Sequel

Bogart and Bacall, together again for the first time

On October 10,1944, shooting had started on a new Humphrey Bogart film, again co-starring Lauren Bacall and with director Howard Hawks at the helm. The movie was a detective story, The Big Sleep, based on the book by Raymond Chandler, a pulp fiction writer whose Farewell, My Lovely was adapted by RKO Studios as Murder, My Sweet, starring Dick Powell.

Bogart and Bacall had cooled the affair they’d begun on the set of To Have and Have Not and not seen each other since late summer while Bogie moved back in with Mayo to give his marriage one last chance. Though miserable, Bogie felt he owed it to Mayo and confided as much to Bacall, who didn't like the decision one bit. The effort was short-lived; a week later, Bogart had left Mayo again, thus continuing a cycle of makeups and breakups between the Bogarts for the rest of their marriage. When filming started on The Big Sleep, they were back together.

"He said that, that's what the man said, he said that." Marlowe, up against it, in The Big Sleep

Mayo, alone all day with alcohol as her only friend and fighting her anxieties, lost the battle. Bogie would get home from the studio and find her drunk, in a nasty mood, and spoiling for a fight. Sometimes he would join in, drinking and fighting. Other times he would leave, hightailing out into the night. On October 19th, Warners made the announcement that the Bogarts were separating. Bogart sequestered himself at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Bacall would stop by from time to time but always with a companion, which would make Bogart morose. He wanted Bacall alone. Then there was Mayo, who was not about to go down without a fight. She would call him at the Beverly Hills Hotel and call friends to intervene, leaving Bogart with little peace. It worked. In early November, Bogie moved back in with Mayo. Bogart broke the news to a heartbroken Bacall on set in late October. For Bogart, a gallant man, the situation seemed hopeless. 

Early in the shooting, Bogart stepped easily in the role of world weary, cynical private eye, Philip Marlowe. Always on time, hitting his marks, knowing his lines, he was the ultimate professional, no matter what he faced in his personal life or how much he may have had to drink the night before. Hawks was tremendously impressed with such discipline, and impressing Hawks wasn't an easy accomplishment.

The bookshop scene (above) in which Marlowe is on the trail of a pornography ring (camouflaged due to censors) and assumes a bogus identity as a gay customer (“Do you happen to have a Ben-Hur 1860?") is funny, though somewhat stereotypical of what gay looked like in 1940s America. Bogie improvised the scene on set, which Hawks loved. One of the most fascinating things about the film is how all sorts of women throw themselves at Marlowe throughout the movie, and how Bogart as Marlowe is supremely confident and assured. In fact, these were the exact qualities Bogart lacked due to his domestic situation.

While Bogie-as-Marlowe seems to have the time of his life trading double entendre with the older, wiser, and just as slinky sister (played by Lauren Bacall) of his client, Carmen Sternwood (played by Martha Vickers), Bogart was having a truly miserable time off screen. Drinking more than usual (impressive, considering that Bogie always drank a lot), out of love with his wife, and on pretty thin ice with Bacall, the soon-to-be 45-year-old Bogart was probably also experiencing a mid-life crisis. In her book, Bacall tells of one night when Bogart, having drunk too much, telephoned her.

“Hello, Baby."
"Where are you where are you calling from?"
"I'm home. I miss you."

Just then "Sluggy," as Bogart called Mayo, earned her nickname and snatched the phone from him. "Listen, you Jewish bitch, who's gonna wash his socks? Are you?!"

Bacall hung up, shaken. On set the next morning, there was no sign of Bogie. Bacall went to Hawks and asked what was going on "Bogie called,” he replied.  “He's going to be late."

Hawks shot around Bogart as much as he could, but Bogie didn't show up that day. For an actor who prided himself on his professionalism, missing a day was anathema. When Bogart reported for work, he told Bacall what had happened. He had walked out after his phone call to her and proceeded to drink further. At about 7AM, having not slept, looking like hell, and having walked the streets for hours, he stopped, looked through a window, and saw a woman fixing breakfast for her family (imagine Humphrey Bogart looking through your window). The husband opened the door and invited him in. Bogie sat with this happy family, sipping coffee as they ate their breakfast.

Bogart would have more physically arduous shoots - Treasure of the Sierra Madre and The African Queen, both John Huston films, come to mind – but filming The Big Sleep, while vacillating between Mayo and his Baby, was the most personally difficult time he faced during his professional acting career. 

Lobby Card

By December 4, nearly a month into his reconciliation with Mayo, Bogart announced their   separation. For good this time, he said. "It's hard to break up a marriage of six years.... She can anything she wants if she will let me go" was the quote from Bogie in newspapers around country.  Supposedly, it wasn't that easy (although what divorce is?). Mayo didn't want a settlement; she wanted her man. All through this ordeal, Mayo actually appeared to be the stronger of the two. Clifton Webb, Bogie's good friend from their days in the New York theatre, claimed that Bogie was "a softie," and that "any woman could walk all over him." This time, however, Bogart held firm – he  wasn't going back. Mayo, at the end of a very thin rope, turned all her anger inward. Going on crying jags, she seemed to lose any fight that was left in her. Bogie, despite all his talk of not moving back   with Mayo, of wanting "a new life," was scared. Alone in his hotel room, he finally had the time to    look back on his past and contemplate his future. But an excess of time exacerbated his doubts and    fears. While it's true that he wanted to start fresh and have a new beginning, Bogart felt responsible for Mayo. She had threatened suicide in the past, and he worried about her emotional state.       

       

    

The Bacall situation came with an entirely different set of issues. Though in love, the age difference between them was a huge factor. It held Bogart back and kept him off kilter. While his three previous wives had all been contemporaries, Bacall was a kid; it wasn't for nothing he called her “Baby." And she'd probably want kids (Bogart was childless). To Bogart, the past with all its troubles held more solace that an unknown future with a girl a quarter century his junior.

Incredible as it may seem, Bogart gave Mayo one last chance. By mid-December, trying to stay strong yet beside himself with angst, Bogie started to come to the set late. The log book of unit manager Eric Stacey, whose job it was to keep the film on schedule, shows some significant entries:

Dec 12th: "Mr. Bogart overslept this morning."
Dec 14th: “Company waited for Bogart one and a half hours."
Dec 15th: “Bogart delayed company one full hour this morning."
Dec 20th: “30 minute delay. It was necessary for Hawks to speak to Bogart and straighten him out relative to the 'Bacall situation,' which is affecting their performances."

Off set, Bogart was working on Mayo, trying to persuade her to move to Reno for a quick divorce, but she was having none of it. With his depression deepening, Bogart had emotional breakdown over the Christmas holiday. The company had been dismissed at noon on December 23rd, a Saturday. For Christmas, he gave Bacall a gold watch, but spent the day – his birthday – alone. He was 45.

Drinking the day away, he decided to see Mayo on December 26th. Very drunk, he confronted Mayo. Fifteen minutes later, assistant director Bob Vreeland received a call from Mayo, sounding terrified. By the time Vreeland, Eric Stacey, and studio cop Blayney Matthews arrived at the Bogarts’ house, Bogart had passed out. In a report to Jack Warner, Stacey reported, "[D]o not feel Bogart's condition can be fixed overnight.... Bogart had been drinking for three weeks....mental turmoil...entering into the situation." 

Hawks shot around his star, again, as much as possible before sending the company home early. The next day, Hawks faced an empty set. No Bogart. The log sheet stated, "Company did not work today, due to Mr. Bogart's illness." The film was scheduled to wrap on November 28, but at that time Hawks had only finished about half the shooting script.  Though never one to be rushed, Hawks, already contending with script rewrites and the film’s problematic second half, tired of the delays Bogart's personal problems had cost the film. Filming had been sporadic since early December.

After Bogart’s December 28th return to set, Hawks and company could at last finish The Big Sleep, which they did on January 13, 1945. However, due to Bacall's huge impact in To Have and Have Not, Jack Warner wanted more scenes of his two stars together. Additional retakes were shot late in January, including the very racy dialogue between Marlowe and Bacall’s character, Vivian Rutledge, about horse racing and who is "in the saddle." 

With the film in the can, next up was a publicity bit in New York City as To Have and Have Not prepped for its nationwide release. Also in New York was Bogie's good friend and drinking buddy, Peter Lorre. Bogie told Lorre to meet him at the Astor Hotel, which Bogart had frequented as a young actor. Over drinks, a nostalgic Bogart reminisced about the times he would spend sitting at the bar with other actors, hoping for that big break. He was talking about the 1920s, when his Baby was just that – a baby. Hell, he said, he probably would be lucky to get five, maybe ten years out of a marriage to Bacall. Wouldn't be easy. Couldn't last. Lorre told him to shut up, that he could be happy, that everything could work out, that he liked Bacall and thought her a great dame. Bogart couldn’t help but agree.

In May Mayo, who'd at last taken up residence in Reno in March when a divorce settlement had been agreed upon, was in court for the final dissolution of her marriage to Bogart. Bogart generously gave her nearly everything a soon-to-be-ex-wife could want, including their house on North Horn, two-thirds of his cash, his life insurance, and his investments in two Safeway grocery stores. Though Bogart felt he was buying himself out of the marriage, he was, at last, a free man.

May 21, 1945, Bogie and Baby's wedding day. Don't they look happy?

On May 21, 1945, at the home of writer Louis Broomfield in Ohio, Miss Betty Joan Perske (aka, Lauren Bacall) was wed to Humphrey DeForest Bogart, Jr. They would have two children, Stephen and Leslie; always refer to each other as Slim and Steve, their characters’ names in To Have and Have Not; and live as husband and wife in apparent wedded bliss until Bogie's death from lung cancer in 1957. Mayo died on June 9, 1951, back home in Portland, Oregon (Bogie's take on her death: "Too bad. Such a waste.") As for the film, The Big Sleep would be a tremendous money-spinner for the Brothers Warner, go on to be a film noir classic (possibly the best of it's kind), and add immeasurably to the cult of Bogart that took off in the 1960s and hasn't stopped to this day.           

Sources: Bogart by A.M. Sperber & Eric Lax

                By Myself by Lauren Bacall

                Howard Hawks: The Grey Fox of Hollywood by Todd McCarthy

                Wikipedia page on The Big Sleep

                Turner Classic Movies broadcast of The Big Sleep

Bogart In Love, Part One

The first film that helped Bogart become something other than Hollywood's best bad guy.

     In 1943 Humphrey Bogart had finally achieved the kind of success he'd only dreamed of. Nearly ten years and fifty films of playing heavies, villains and heels opposite the likes of James Cagney, George Raft and Edward G.Robinson, after spending the 1920's on Broadway in juvenile { " Tennis, anyone?" } roles, Bogie had struck the mother lode of movie stardom in the Oscar winning hit Casablanca. In year's previous, if not cast as the bad ass that the hero rubs out in the end, Bogie was, at best, cast as the second lead. Some of these non-gangster parts included Raoul Walsh's They Drive By Night, and the Bette Davis 1939 classic Dark Victory, in which Bogie unsuccessfully dusted off his Irish brogue. However these type of films were few and far between. Warner Brothers, the studio who had him under contract since 1936's The Petrified Forest, found audiences and critics alike responded to Bogie most favorably as the biggest bad guy on the Silver Screen, who would get his comeuppance in the final reel. High Sierra in 1940 helped turn the tide for Bogart. Directed by Raoul Walsh in his usual rough-house manner, High Sierra offered Bogart a chance to play the lead in an "A" picture with a decent budget. In it Bogart was still a gangster, "Mad Dog " Roy Earle, just recently paroled, but for once he portrayed a sympathetic heavy, getting involved with two very different women, being used by one { Joan Leslie } while the other { Ida Lupino } falls in love with him. It's a movie Bogie could thank Paul Muni and George Raft for, as they both turned it down. Though not a huge moneyspinner, the movie garnered good reviews, did good enough biz and helped establish the Bogart Legend. From this point on, though he didn't know it at the time, Bogart would play second fiddle to no one. Next up was the lead in the forgettable The Wagons Roll At Night, but after that came a game changer that really set his career in motion, playing detective Sam Spade in John Huston's adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon. An early entry in the film noir sweepstakes, the story had been filmed twice before, both unsuccessfully. The Huston version of Falcon was a major achievement for all involved, no more so than for it's leading man who displayed the tough exterior moviegoers had come to expect from Bogie, with the added element of pathos and empathy. Like when he tells Mary Astor he "won't play the sap for no one." :  

     This represented a new kind of tough guy. One who was vulnerable to love but would still send that love up to the Big House if she were guilty. Released on October 3, 1941, Falcon went on to recorded three Oscar nominations : Huston for Best Adapted Screenplay, Sydney Greenstreet as chief baddie Kaspar Gutman in the Best Supporting Actor category and the film for Best Picture. They all lost, but being in such elite company as Citizen Kane, How Green Was My Valley and The Little Foxes was ample reward for a film no one at Warners initially had much faith in. Huston and Bogart, who would go on to become great pals and drinking buddies, went on to make five more films together some of them the best either man would ever make. But all that was in the future. By 1942  Bogart was trying to endure married life to Mayo Methot, a character actress who hadn't been working much of late due mostly to her weight gain, which in turn was due to her excessive alcoholic intake. Known in Hollywood circles and the gossip rags as "The Battling Bogart's", they made good copy and were generally well liked amongst writers, especially Bogie. It was no secret that Bogie also enjoyed a drink or several { Bogart was once famously quoted as saying the world was three drinks behind and needed to catch up, or words to that effect.} and Mayo, whom Bogie nicknamed "Sluggy", had a tendency to get jealous or downright violent when under the influence, once pulling a gun on him and another time successfully stabbing him in the shoulder. Mayo was wife number three for Bogie, the first two, also actresses, were Helen Menken and Mary Philips. Besides their chosen profession they all had a quality that must have held an attraction for Bogie : they were all strong-willed, formidable women. Bogart it seems, liked a woman who could give as good as she got, one who was not about to kowtow to him or anyone else.

Great pic of Bogie with his Sluggy tee on, which was not only the nickname for his wife, but also the name of his schooner.

     After the success of Falcon Bogart went on to make the lighthearted All Through The Night { again inheriting another of George Raft's rejects } and  Huston's Across The Pacific, before beginning Casablanca in late spring of 1942. Like many great films from that Golden Era of the movies, Casablanca was just another movie for the brothers Warner and executive producer Hal B.Wallis, of no more importance than The Hard Way, Edge of Darkness or any other "A" budget picture with a top star attached. The fact that Casablanca was timely worked in it's favor at the box office, yet something more intangible made it click and become one of the screen's most memorable films. An absolutely stellar cast also helped { Lorre, Greenstreet, Henreid, Rains, etc }, probably the most quoted and economical screenplay ever written { by the Epstein brothers } didn't hurt, along with the brilliant assurance of Michael Curtiz, and his graceful, swooping camera at the helm, and the improbable chemistry between Ingrid Bergman { in her prime } and Bogart made the film irresistible,  both then and now. For Bogart, on a personally/professional level, it made him sexy for the first time on film. If Ingrid Bergman is saying on screen how much she loves you, audiences - then and forever after - believed her. In other words, it is the cinema's happiest accident of all-time. If one cannot relate to Casablanca, one cannot relate to film in general. I mean, what's not to like ??

Original poster for the film that really turned the tide for Bogart. From this point on, Bogie became not only a great box office draw but a romantic one too. 

      Because of Casablanca Bogart became not only a star but a superstar before that phrase had been invented. It's success landed him in the Top Ten Box Office Stars Poll, where he would remain ensconced for the remainder of the decade, checking in at #7 for 1943. Casablanca also made Bogie a quite unlikely sex symbol. Call it sexy-ugly, but  women responded to his tough veneer, smoking, boozing and cynical wisecracks. The success of his career made Mayo all the more jealous and paranoid, afraid that some starlit or hatcheck girl would wisk her beloved away, not that Bogie gave Mayo any reason to believe he would stray; by all accounts he was a loyal husband, not only Mayo but to his wives and didn't indulge in hanky-panky on or off the set. Bogart had standards, it seems, and morals. By the time he entered into the making of director Howard Hawks latest opus, To Have and Have Not,  it is not unreasonable to assume Bogart had endured enough of Mayo's shenanigan's, that he was not the happy man he ought to be and he might be looking for a way out, though probably on an unconscious level. In other words, Bogart was vulnerable. It is at this moment Lauren Bacall walked into his life.

Bogie and Baby. The film that started it all. 

      To Have and Have Not is loosely based on a novel by the esteemed Ernest Hemingway. Howard Hawks { Bringing Up Baby, Only Angels Have Wings, His Girl Friday, the original Scarface, The Big Sleep, Red River, Rio Bravo and even more } specialized in movies that featured men who could hold there own, men that were, in Hawks-speak, " professionals ", whatever that profession may be. This "professionalism" was probably best brought home in his 1939 aviation epic Only Angels Have Wings, which includes the famous "Who's Joe?" sequence. Hawks was also a master of giving his hero's women who were just as strong, if not stronger, than their male counterparts. Jean Arthur in Angels, Roz Russell in His Girl Friday, Ann Sheridan in I Was A Male War Bride, Angie Dickinson in Rio Bravo - and after To Have and Have Not, Bacall again in The Big Sleep - are prime examples. These women, if not professional equals, were at least equal in giving back a brand of toughness and world weariness; sexy femmes who can pull a gun out of their purse as well as a lipstick and make both gestures memorable, while never losing their femininity, which is not easy to do { just ask Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider or Mila Jovovich in the dreadful Ultraviolet or Resident Evil movies, tough broads who could kick-butt with the best of them, but whose sex appeal is sorely lacking }. In 1944, Lauren Bacall became the epitome of the Hawksian woman.

Bacall teaching Bogie how to whistle, she fairly drips with an insolent sensuality . 

      From the start of filming Bogie and Bacall seemed to enjoy each others company on set. When introduced to her Bogart, who had viewed Bacall's screen test and approved her casting, said " we should have a lot of fun together ". Understatement of the decade, bub! The relationship began with a fun, kidding kind of camaraderie. After a few weeks into filming Bogart came by her dressing room at the end of the day's shooting. After some small talk, according to Bacall, he put his hand under her chin and kissed her. That's all it took and soon the pair were plunged into an affair. Bogart, the married superstar who had never strayed, was stymied. Refusing to hurt Mayo, Bogart said and did nothing to motivate a change of residence or cohabitation. Bogart was also disturbed by Bacall's age, he being 44 to her 19. 25 years is a sizable age gap for any couple to overcome. Therefore, Bogie having been married three times previous, may have thought a happy marriage just wasn't in the cards for him.

Bogie, Bacall and Marcel Dalio on set. Just look at that woman. Sexy, slinky and not afraid of anyone.

      Director Howard Hawks with his ice cold persona, was livid that Bacall would prefer Bogie over him. Bacall was signed to a personal contract by Hawks, not Warners, and one night threatened Bacall with a life sentence to Monogram or one of the other various low budget "Poverty Row " studios if she did not see the light of day and make her appreciation to Hawks a physical reality. The next day Bacall, in tears, related the situation to Bogie. He told her not to worry, that there was way too much time and money spent on her for Hawks to let her get away to some cheap, fly-by-night operation, Howard was simply jealous, that's all. However, Bogart was upset over Hawks treatment of his new love and was ready to walk off the picture if Hawks didn't back down his threats. It took a peace conference with studio boss Jack Warner to mediate a " personal talk to smooth over everything," with Bogart and Hawks coming to an understanding regarding Lauren Bacall; in other words, " hands off, Bacall is my girl."  Filming resumed, and things went fine from that point forward. Life with Mayo, however, with her tendency for jealous rages, didn't get any easier. Having just turned forty, her youth and figure essentially gone, Mayo was more unpredictable than ever. As his affair with Bacall increased so did his absences from home, leading Mayo to believe, correctly for once, that Bogie had fallen for his new co-star. She took to call him on set, needling him with things like " How are you doing with your daughter? She's half your age, you know. "

The Look. There will never be another like her.

      From the start Warners figured Bacall was a star with a future and the publicity department worked hard on her behalf, coming up with the nicknane " The Look ", much like Lana Turner's Sweater Girl and Ann Sheridan's Oomph Girl, and Bacall was happy to oblige becoming well liked for her cooperation and professionalism. Finally, on May 10, 1944 filming wrapped on To Have and Have Not, with Bogie and Bacall going off together. In real life it was different, Bacall went to dinner with Hawks and his wife Slim with Bogart driving off alone, apparently to Mayo. Despite the fact that filming was concluded Bogie and Bacall continued to meet in secret. During this period Bogart would write tender, vulnerable love letters to Bacall, wishing he had more time to spend with her. Bacall would later recall her willingness to meet him at a moments notice anywhere he wanted. Age did not seem to matter to her, Bogie having so much energy, Bacall being so much more mature than her nineteen years. For his part, Bogart was caught between his love for his new co-star and his obligation and responsibility to Mayo, and it tore him apart. The goodbye to Mayo would be a long, hard one. It was at this time, October 10, 1944, when filming of The Big Sleep reuniting Bogie, Bacall and director Hawks would commence, that Bogie's life would get really complicated.


Sources :                   Bogart by A. M. Sperber & Eric Lax
                                 Wikipedia page on To Have and Have Not
                                 IMDB on To Have and Have Not
                                 By Myself by Lauren Bacall 
                                 Turner Classic Movies
                                   

The Missouri Breaks : When Titans Meet

My favorite actors and two of the best ever.

       This is a movie that was too much for me. I have been movie obsessed since I was about 15 years old. Next month I will be 55 { shit ! } which means this kind of thing has gone on for 40 years and I am powerless to stop it now. When I first heard that Marlon Brando, in his first film since 1973's Last Tango in Paris { being not quite 17, a film I had yet to see Tango being X-rated }, and Jack Nicholson fresh from his Last Detail, Chinatown and One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest trifecta had made a movie together, I expected noting short of earthshaking, brilliant film-making and film-acting. All the others could try, but to me Brando and Nicholson rise above the fray. Brando - father of "The Method"- was a living legend who had comeback from a decade worth of box office failure { he had just made The Godfather in 1972, for which he won and refused a Best Actor Oscar } and the truly myth-making, visually and emotionally stunning Last Tango in Paris - which would earn him another Best Actor Nomination, his seventh { don't let it be said the Academy plays favorites }. Both films brought Marlon back to the forefront of the film world with a vengeance. With The Missouri Breaks, Brando took the smaller, showier part as " the regulator", Robert E.Lee Clayton, who is hired by a ranch baron to suss out and kill the gang of rustlers who are stealing his horses. Nicholson plays the lead outlaw, Tom Logan, head of a motley group of rustlers. His gang comprised of film veteran Harry Dean Stanton and newcomers Randy Quaid, John Ryan and Fredric Forest. Jack's love interest was played by another newbie, Kathleen Lloyd. Add to this mix of talent director of Arthur { Bonnie & Clyde } Penn and how could this movie go wrong ? It couldn't; it just had to be incredible. From the first I'd heard of the film, I marked my calender and started the countdown, like a little kid does for Christmas. When it arrived on May 19, 1976 I, a callow high school student nearing the end of his junior year, was the first person in line at the now long-gone State Theater in Santa Barbara, California. No one else seemed to be there. Where was everyone? Didn't they know an acting lesson was about to commence? Foolish people, I thought, it's their loss. Regarding the fate of the film, The Movie Gods had different plans.

This poster was on my bedroom wall for many years. I still have it.

      Coming half way between Jaws and Star Wars, The Missouri Breaks was meant to be the sort of 70's film experience audiences had come to expect : in this instance a serious film study of the old west, not how it should've been, but how we thought it was; tough, grimy, gritty, bloody. The film was a bit of a disappointment to me, one I didn't expect. Nicholson seemed not only subdued but kind of wandering through the film, not exactly knowing what to do opposite his acting idol { " He gave us our freedom ", said Jack of Marlon's influence on, not only himself, but other actors }. The film, a tad over two hours, seemed to be off-center or somewhat off-kilter, and tended to drag on a bit, even the showdowns with the two best film actors in the world appeared, at the time, anti-climatic. Was I expecting too much?  -  wasn't everyone? -  probably, and I wasn't alone. I have to say the one thing I did appreciate was Brando's outrageously entertaining turn as Robert E. Lee Clayton, regulator. He intially appears about 25 minutes in, only we don't see him because his horse is camouflaging his body as it lumbers down a hill, when he suddenly sticks his head out from underneath the horse's head { a Godfather reference ? } which surprises Kathleen Lloyd in the film, and us in the theater. It's a clever, startling entrance and one that reveals Clayton's character as one who is shifty, deceptive and not to be trusted, all done without a word of dialogue.

     Long lines at the box office didn't materialize; maybe they wanted a "buddy" western like the classic Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. Critics were not kind to it calling the film self indulgent or worse. Director Penn, fresh from his critically - acclaimed, commercial - failure Night Moves, and with a resume that includes Bonnie & Clyde and the revisionist western Little Big Man, never really got his footing back after this. He wouldn't make another film until 1981's Four Friends, followed by1985's thriller Target, and the ghost story Dead of Winter two years after that, all three received coolly by both audiences and film scribes. In the 90's his career would continue to lose momentum with a couple of made-for-cable movies { when that wasn't yet fashionable }.  As for the two main cogs in this lark of a western, most reviewers felt Jack actually came off best - if this were a heavyweight bout judged on points - with his straight forward portrayal of an outlaw unwittingly going legit due to love for the rancher's daughter, yet Marlon clearly landed so many heavy punches Nicholson at times seems like he is on the ropes. Most critics who liked Brando loathed the film, and if they liked the film they felt Brando tended to keep it from jelling, with New York Times critic Vincent Canby referring to his work in the film as " out of control ". It's true Brando's work in the film is one of his most eccentric, ranking up there with his Fletcher Christian from Mutiny on the Bounty in it's uneven - even campy - creativity, yet his portrayal works. Clayton's Irish brogue is not authentic, nor is it meant to be for Lee Clayton is not an authentic Irish potato fresh off the boat from Cork County, but a hired gun who amuses himself with accents and disguises { at one point wearing a gingham dress and bonnet } to keep his adversaries on their toes. In other words, it's not a performance to take at face value, something reviewers at the time didn't understand. " Oh, it's just Marlon being a silly ass. Up to his old tricks by upstaging and ruining a costly $8 million production ", they said at the time. Following The Godfather, Last Tango and biting the hand that fed him by refusing his Oscar, the film world was ready to knock him down a peg or two. The film is also notable for being the first in which Brando appears obviously overweight { a condition that would accelerate over time }, his appearance being a distraction to many in 1976. Many film historians call the last 25 years of Brando's screen career a waste. It would all begin here. Likewise it would also mark the beginning of Brando's " take the money and run " phase, when he would demand the most money for the briefest screen time and shooting schedule. His five weeks on Breaks for $1 million would lead to his two weeks on Superman for $3.7 million, followed by his $3 million for three weeks on Francis Coppola's Apocalypse Now.

Brando in his granny outfit that outraged many a film critic.

         The Missouri Breaks ended up losing money becoming one of the most reviled movies of the decade, proof of what can happen when a company offers the moon to it's top of the line talent, only to get burned with the demands of those stars and the deficiency of a script still being written { or re-written } when filming commenced. One of the consistent complaints at the time was that the stars' contracts were longer than the script; how Hollywood had become enamored with deal-making, not movie-making. I went back to see the film a couple of months later at the local drive-in where it was double billed with the Richard Harris western Return of a Man Called Horse, a sequel to that 1970 opus. I admit to not liking more it second time around, but my fondness for Brando's madcap killer remained unabated. I caught the film time and again through the years on television and when it was made available at a bargain price on VHS in the 90's I made sure to buy it, not only for me, but for the video store I owned back then. Seeing it now, after so many years, Brando is still amazing, yet I am struck by Nicholson's job of work. He really keeps the thing going while Marlon is zipping around the fringes of the story " like a firefly ", to use his description of his character. Seen in that light, Jack's work is not only Herculean but selfless. Nicholson knows Brando is walking away with the film, but Jack is still in there trying like hell to throw strikes and keep himself in the ballgame, even though he knows it is a futile gesture. I like to think that, for Jack, working with his idol was reward enough. I guess that's the breaks.

Jack, Kathleen Lloyd, Harry Dean and Marlon serenade on location in Montana.

References : Wikipedia page on Arthur Penn, The Missouri Breaks, Marlon Brando
                      IMDB on Missouri Breaks
                      Jacks Life by Patrick McGilligan
                      Time Magazine