On Blu-ray: Glamorous Mayhem in The Opposite Sex (1956)

The first time I saw The Opposite Sex (1956), a musical remake of The Women (1939) I didn’t appreciate it. How could I when I compared it at every beat with one of the best films ever made? I had a much different experience when I watched the new Warner Archive Blu-ray release, because I saw it for its own bold, vibrant, nasty charms.

In this version of a story based on Clare Boothe Luce’s play, June Allyson plays a wronged housewife (married to the robotic Leslie Nielsen) and former singing star who loses her producer husband to a scheming showgirl (Joan Collins, sexy, but far from the magnificence of her Dynasty days). She learns about the insult via the machinations of her frenemy (Dolores Gray) and pulls herself out of misery with the help of her best friend (Ann Sheridan) and a wild social crowd including Ann Miller, Agnes Moorehead, and Joan Blondell.

The best moments are, unsurprisingly when the women are alone together, plotting, gossiping, drinking, and supporting each other through the mid-century challenges of being female. This is a stunning cast, full of big personalities that meld together miraculously. Though I hate the term “cat fight” and the way people snigger at women in physical fights, I have to admit that fisticuffs were central in my two favorite scenes: one where Allyson gets so steamed she slaps an earring off Collins and another where a kitchen at a Reno divorce ranch is obliterated in a massive, chaotic, glamorous and very entertaining battle among several cast members.

While the songs aren’t terribly memorable, and my own personal dislike of Allyson affected my perspective, the production numbers look great and hop along with bouncy energy. In a musical highlight, Dick Shawn makes a typically goofy and unhinged appearance singing the title tune in a sketch with Jim Backus as the perfect straight man. Gray lends her silky charm to a rendition of the same tune during the opening credits.

In essence, The Opposite Sex is an explosion of female charisma, glamorous gowns, gorgeous color, and dripping acid. It’s a good time.

Special features on the disc include a trailer for the film and a menu with direct links to the musical numbers.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Flicker Alley: The Unapologetic Women of Too Late for Tears (1949) and Woman on the Run (1950)

This post is my entry in the Flicker Alley Noir Blog-a-thon, Detectives and Dames. Click here to read other entries and learn more about these amazing new releases.

I know it wasn't very noir of me, but I cheered when I learned that restored versions of Woman on the Run (1950) and Too Late For Tears (1949) were going to be released on DVD/Blu-ray. That the Film Noir Foundation and UCLA Film and Television Archive were teaming up with Flicker Alley to do the deed just sweetened the deal. These are people who can give forgotten or underseen films the respect and treatment they deserve. Here's hoping this is the start of a long relationship.

Often a restoration is applauded because it grants access to a film that was long unavailable. This is not the case with Woman on the Run and Too Late for Tears. These noirs have been in the public domain for several years. When films are in as shabby condition as these pair were though, it is almost as if you're not truly seeing them at all. In this case, they had enough magic to them that you couldn't look away, even if it wasn't always easy to stick with them.

By simply enabling audiences to appreciate these films fully, the restorations are of great importance, but there are other elements which make them fascinating as a pair and tie them together thematically. Despite the familiar types of the femme fatale, and the good girl looking to save her sister/clear her boss' name/etc., film noir is often a man's game. Here you have two noirs that are focused on women: one a heroine, the other a villain. And the kind of women that they are is also novel; while they are dramatically different morally, these are ladies with one significant trait in common: they don't apologize for not living up to society's expectations, not even in the last minutes of the film.

Before watching these new releases, I was most familiar with Too Late For Tears, which I had watched on several crummy public domain discs, somehow thinking that one might be better than the rest. The first time I saw it, I didn't understand the complexities of film preservation and restoration. For some reason I thought that all good films would of course have to be properly cared for. It didn't occur to me that even the best of films could be crammed with ten others in a cheap DVD set for sale at the grocery store. That's why I was shocked to find that Too Late For Tears was so good. How could this amazing noir not be treated like a classic?

As top notch as the rest of the production is, it's hard to imagine Too Late For Tears having as much of an impact if it weren't for Lizabeth Scott. I hear that in later years she claimed not to love her performance here, but I think it is her best. As a housewife who mistakenly has a suitcase full of cash thrown into her car, and then protects the illicit gain like a mama bear with a cub, she is all steely focus and false smiles. The money is her ticket to the respectability she craves, and she will be completely unrespectable to keep it.

One of the most remarkable things about Scott's performance is that she makes you feel for her. She's a vicious sociopath who will kill supposed loved ones for cash, but her desire is so much more intense than anyone around her that you can't help wanting her to succeed. In her mind there's nothing like a comfortable life to make one desperately crave a world of luxury. When she sees her opportunity to escape buying furniture on the payment plan and worrying about bills, nothing else matters.

Though she is playing a villain, there must have been ladies in the audience who felt vindicated by this woman who pursued her dreams with unapologetic passion. She doesn't wait for a man to tell her what to do, she gives the orders, and she knows exactly what she wants.

Scott is supported by a strong cast, including Don DeFore as a sketchy stranger with an interest in Scott and Kristine Miller as her sister-in-law. Dan Duryea stands out as a criminal, and intended recipient of the money, who realizes quickly he is in over his head with Scott. He's playing the same scumbag he always does in crime flicks; it's just that this time he has met his match, and it's pretty amusing to watch him deal with it all.

Of the two films, Woman on the Run was the one I felt was most in need of attention. I only ever managed to get through it once before because the picture and sound quality were so bad I had difficulty getting lost in the story. At the time, I thought it was an interesting noir, but I didn't feel the need to struggle through it again. 

In its restored version, you can finally appreciate the mid-century San Francisco location shooting and the nuances of Sheridan's performance that were lost to shoddy public domain presentations. This is one of her best roles, because she gets to discard some of that big studio glamour and fully display the grit and sharp wit that made her an intriguing star in the first place.

As a wife in search of her missing husband, who she is on the brink of leaving, Ann Sheridan is equally unapologetic about her unconventional ways, if exponentially more heroic. Hubs has taken off after dodging a bullet from a murder suspect, so the cops want to talk to him. Sheridan just wants him to take his heart medicine once she learns he has been hiding an illness from her. A wisecracking supposed newspaperman played by Dennis O'Keefe insists on helping her so he can get an exclusive and is a good target for her quips.

Done with love and romance and quietly sad about her failing marriage, Sheridan is numb and weary. When the police ask why there are only dog food cans on her kitchen shelves she says, "I'm lazy, we eat out." The comment is meant to be depressing as it is funny, but you can't help but wonder how many woman of the time admired the liberty she had taken.

Sheridan's disappointed housewife doesn't grin and bear it, but she doesn't come off sour for acting as she feels. In fact, it makes her more sympathetic. How often do you see that sort of freedom in any character, let alone a female?

Woman on the Run, while mostly of a noir flavor, successfully dips into many genres. Sometimes it works as a comedy; at times it is as chilling as a horror flick. At its core though, it is a drama about a frail marriage; just the sort of movie you always planned to avoid, but if you did in this case, it would be criminal.

There are more noir collaborations to come if this first partnership between Flicker Alley and the Film Noir Foundation is a success!

Both disc sets come with DVD and Blu-ray discs. They include booklets full of photos, stills and advertisements connected to the films and essays that shed a little more light on the films and the restoration process. The sets also contain several short features about the making of and restoration of the films. Noir czar and Film Noir Foundation president and "Czar of Noir" Eddie Muller provides the commentary track for Woman on the Run, while Alan K. Rode, film historian & programmer, and a director of the Film Noir Foundation comments for Too Late for Tears.

Too Late for Tears and Woman on the Run can be purchased at the Flicker Alley website for 25% off through May 16, 2016! Click on the title links for more details.

Many thanks to Flicker Alley for providing copies of the films for review.

On DVD: Wartime Laughs In The Doughgirls (1944) and Pillow to Post (1945)

In a time where laughs didn't come easy, Hollywood found ample material for humor in the World War II era housing shortage. The mini-genre met with varying success, from the entertaining but laugh deficient Government Girl (1943) starring Olivia de Havilland to the bona-fide Frank Capra classic The More the Merrier (1943). Now available from Warner Archive, The Doughgirls (1944) and Pillow to Post (1945) fall somewhere between these two. They approach the scramble for housing with relentless good cheer and undoubtedly succeeded in raising wartime audience moral.

Pillow to Post is the least substantial of the two, but it is a consistently entertaining effort. With the exception of some icky sexual politics that could not be laughed off so easily today, it is never less than pleasant. Pre-noir Ida Lupino is endearing as the daughter of a wealthy oil-drilling equipment tycoon who wants to help the war effort by becoming a salesperson for her father.

Lupino hits the road, and finds she has a hard time being taken seriously. When she finally does make a sale at a company near a military base, it is on the condition that she go on a date with the executive making the buying decision. In typical 1940s fashion, this is approached lightly, but at least Lupino manages to keep her dignity and avoid being pawed.

While she is closing the deal the sleepless saleswoman needs a place to stay. After exhausting all her options, Lupino chances into an auto-court near the military base that is strictly for married couples. Desperate to get some sleep, she takes a room before producing a husband. A chance meeting with a helpful Lieutenant (William Prince) solves that problem when he agrees to pose as her spouse to secure the room, but leads to several more.

Of course Lupino and Prince butt heads a bit and then become fond of each other. They are a charming pair; not hilarious together, but amusing enough to make you smile. Though it turns out I've seen a few of Prince's films, I couldn't recall seeing him before and I enjoyed him here. He's one of those handsome, light-hearted actors who pinch-hit for the studio stars who went off to fight in the war. The actor would later thrive in a lengthy television career.

With an appealing pair of romantic leads and lots of activity at the auto-court, Pillow to Post could rate as a light entertainment, but there are a couple of unusual elements that elevate it to must-see for noir and music fans. The first is the fascinating novelty of seeing eternal villain Sydney Greenstreet in a comedy role. Though he is still plenty menacing as Prince's base commander, the actor gets a chance to be silly and it suits him. The other high point is a criminally brief appearance by 22-year-old Dorothy Dandridge in a nightclub scene with Louis Armstrong. Their bubbly rendition of Wat'cha Say? could have been slotted into most any other comedy of the age, and here it is a sublime moment in an otherwise mildly amusing film.

While it can be hit or miss in its chaotic pursuit of laughs, The Doughgirls benefits from bigger comic talents. It's got an enormous starring cast, with Ann Sheridan, Alexis Smith, and Jane Wyman as former showgirls, Jack Carson as a sexually, and otherwise, frustrated newlywed husband of the latter, Charlie Ruggles as his boss and Eve Arden as a Russian guerilla fighter. All of these people and more crowd into the Washington D.C. bridal suite of Wyman and Carson, most of them desperate for a place to stay.

There's never a moment to breathe as the characters scramble to fulfill their needs, which are inevitably at odds with just about everyone else. Wyman is equal parts amusing and irritating as the more boneheaded than blushing bride, but Ann Sheridan and Alexis Smith are sharp and hilariously entitled as her couch-surfing friends. The three of them were exhilarating to watch: slim, elegant, with perfectly groomed hair, nails like talons and impeccable suits, looking like they are outfitted for a war of their own which they are certain to win.

While the cast is uniformly good, Sheridan and Smith are the highlights here. They plunge into their roles with fearless comic glee, taking control of every situation and making certain they have a good time along the way. Sheridan is at her best when she's bold and confident like this, demonstrating that it is only a man's world in name. And why wasn't Smith given more comic roles? Maybe she had the features of the girl who would try to steal your boyfriend, but she had the chops to make people laugh and adore her much like Lombard. Though Eve Arden's Russian soldier speaks in that simple-minded idiotic way that every character with a foreign accent seemed to in classic Hollywood, I found myself laughing anyway. She practically insists that you humor her; I don't think this role would have worked with any other actress.

You get caught up in the energy of all that activity, and it is all helped along by a cast with great comic timing and chemistry.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copies of the films for review. These are Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVDs. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Quote of the Week

Dietrich -- I don't know her. I wasn't on any of her films, but I shouldn't think that Miss Dietrich ever said, "Don't put so-and-so in a scene with me," or "I don't want her in my film." Dietrich didn't have to worry about that. She didn't have to. You didn't look at anybody else in a scene she was in anyway.

- Ann Sheridan

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Quote of the Week

People had a certain look then. I know that in many instances the people were wrong for the parts they were playing, they weren't cast for acting. But it was accepted by the public. There was a certain fantasy, a certain imagination that is not accepted now. The world is too small.

-Ann Sheridan

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