On Blu-ray MOD: Clara Bow and Gary Cooper in Children of Divorce (1927)

 

Clara Bow had a knack for communicating her emotions so clearly that you can't help feeling them along with her. If she grieves, you grieve.

While Bow is rightfully beloved for the way she embodied the youthful energy of the jazz age, she was even better when a moment required deeper emotion. Children of Divorce (1927) is a showcase for Bow’s considerable and considerably underappreciated dramatic skills. I recently marveled again at her performance via a new Blu-ray-MOD release from Flicker Alley.

It’s a shame that Paramount production head B.P. Schulberg refused to give Bow better roles, because if he had she probably would have been better remembered for the full breadth of her talents. As it is, she got unimaginative scripts like Children of Divorce, which is essentially a tale of wealthy people making each other miserable because they won’t fight for love.

The film works though and that is primarily due to its stars. As childhood friends who grow up into messy romantic entanglements, Bow, Gary Cooper, and Esther Ralston are deeply appealing. In the case of the latter two, that has more to do with the simple pleasure of watching them in action, but when it comes to this appealing duo, that is more than enough.

On the other hand, Bow has everything: beauty, charisma, and the deepest feeling for tragedy. It is well known among silent film fans that the actress only needed a little mournful music on the set to bring up real tears for her scenes, which came easily when she remembered her painful childhood. Those glistening eyes project pain in a visceral way, as does the subtle flicker of emotions across her face.

Clara Bow’s instinctive, raw performance style gives Children of Divorce a weight it could not otherwise have. Josef von Sternberg was hired to film additional scenes when original director Frank Lloyd’s footage was deemed unsatisfactory and he marveled at Bow, later sharing his disbelief that Schulberg didn’t make the most of her remarkable talent.

Ultimately, her skill could not be obscured. Even in this uninspiring story, she is heart-rending and elicits full empathy from the viewer. Who else could get away with moistening the flap of an envelope with her own tears? It sounds silly. She makes it devastating.

Special features on the disc include the documentary Clara Bow: Discovering the ‘It’ Girl (1999), which is a carry-over from the label’s 2016 DVD/Blu-ray release of the film. There’s also an image gallery with an interesting variety of photographs and promotional images related to the production.

 

Many thanks to Flicker Alley for providing a copy of the film for review.

On Blu-ray: Gary Cooper, Maria Schell and Karl Malden in The Hanging Tree (1959)

As Gary Cooper neared the end of his career he appeared tired, ill, and not quite himself due to a facelift that might not have turned out the way he’d hoped. While he no longer had the bashful, baby-giraffe-lashed sex appeal of his youth though, he was still magnetic. He aroused different emotions, but they were no less intense. It is this Cooper that you see in his final western, The Hanging Tree (1959), which has now made its debut on Blu-ray from Warner Archive.

While Cooper spent much of career in a cowboy hat, it was as a rider of the plains, not as a doctor lancing a carbuncle on Karl Malden’s behind. That’s just what he does here as Dr. Joseph Frail, a medical man with a dark past who sets up shop in a Montana gold camp.

The mysterious Frail has lives by a varied moral code, frequently giving in to his anger, but protective in his own way of those who are vulnerable. When he takes a sluice thief on the run Rune (Ben Piazza) into indentured servitude, it seems a foul move, until you realize the boy would probably die without the protection and productive life Frail offers him. His protection of stagecoach hold-up victim Elizabeth Mahler (Maria Schell) is less complicated; she arouses his sense of chivalry, and while a romance must inevitably develop between the star and leading lady, his paternal impulses as well.

With her wet, icy blue eyes and soulful demeanor, Schell is out of place in the Wild West. She also seems a better match for Rune, who matches her energy and naivety. While the pair bond over their determined and businesslike pursuit of gold, they are both beholden to Frail, to whom they are aware they owe their survival.

In a complicated role that inspires a mix of amusement and revulsion, Karl Malden injects much-needed energy as a miner who is capable of decency, but imprisoned by his desires. George C. Scott is also a stand-out, in his debut role, as a fiery preacher who is Frail’s nemesis.

The film is ultimately an intriguing oddity. It doesn’t quite gel, but its disparate elements entertain in their own way. It is a decent farewell to cowboy Cooper.

The disc includes a trailer for the film.

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

On Blu-ray: Hepburn and Cooper Share Love in the Afternoon (1957)

Director Billy Wilder's Love in the Afternoon (1957) is an odd little romance. It’s a shade too long, and even though the thought of Audrey Hepburn and Gary Cooper together has its appeal, the gap in their ages is always a bit unsettling. Still, the film, which is now available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, offers an interesting perspective on infatuation and how it can pull an admirer out of reality.

Hepburn is Ariane, a college-aged cello player who lives in Paris with her father Claude (Maurice Chevalier), a private detective who specializes in marital infidelity. The young student is fascinated by the sensational aspects of Chevalier's cases, committing the contents of his files to memory on the sly. This is how she learns of wealthy American Frank Flannagan (Cooper), eternal bachelor and serial adulterer.

Ariane learns that an angry husband is on his way to a posh hotel to blast away his unfaithful wife and Frank. The pair are conducting an affair to the strains of Fascination, played by a Gypsy music ensemble hired for the afternoon tryst. She rushes to save him, standing in for the adulterous spouse. Though he is at first baffled by this mysterious girl who would risk her life for a stranger, her youthful charm and clear fascination with him draw him to her.

Hepburn, always prone to a little preening, does so more than usual as Ariane, but only in her scenes alone. When she has someone to play off of, she becomes more engaging. 

She is sweet with Chevalier, who worries that he has corrupted his daughter with the shady aspects of his business, but who understands that she must have the freedom to make her own choices. He nudges her towards moral decisions, and Hepburn subtly balances the childishness in her that requires his intervention and the emerging awareness of adult life she is slowly beginning to engage in herself, rather than simply reading about it in her father's cases.

It is possible that Wilder was aware of the jarring difference in Cooper and Hepburn's ages. In the early scenes the actor is kept in the shadows, remaining a romantic, mysterious figure. Only Ariane is fully lit in her close-ups. It is when a connection has been made between the two that you finally see Frank's weathered face, and by then you are charmed by the idea of them as a pair. The young cellist's attraction to this older man is summed up in a perfect line: "He's got such an American face. Like a cowboy or Abraham Lincoln."

There are many little frustrations in Love in the Afternoon. Scenes that go on longer than they need to, explanations can drag on, but the film also has perfect moments of romantic suspense, like a scene at the opera where Ariane observes Frank from afar, on pins and needles, wondering if she will be able to attract his attention.

Cooper is odd as a ladies' man. His sexuality is so much more potent when he is shy and passive, a bit of hunky catnip for the Dietrichs and Oberons of the world. Hepburn is perfect for her role though. Ariane doesn't seem engaged with reality, she'll do foolish, dangerous things to pursue her romantic fantasies, and the actress seems to have an innate understanding of the tension and desire of infatuation that drives her.

The Blu-ray picture is nicely executed, clean, but with an appealing shimmer to it. The disc includes a trailer for the film.

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

Book Review--High Noon: The Hollywood Blacklist and the Making of an American Classic

High Noon: The Hollywood Blacklist and the Making of an American Classic
Glenn Frankel
Bloomsbury USA, 2017

It's hard to believe, but during its production the classic Academy Award-winning western High Noon (1952) was not expected to attract much more attention and acclaim than a standard 'B' picture. It had a low budget, brief production schedule, and had become almost an afterthought to producer Stanley Kramer, who was occupied with a new production deal he had made with Columbia Studios. In a new book, Glenn Frankel describes the major players in the film's creation, its production, and the way the blacklist affected the tone of the final product and the lives of its creators.

Cooper and Kelly in High Noon

All the major players of the film are profiled, with enough backstory to explain how they came to be on an isolated western film location in the early fifties. It's an interesting juxtaposition of personalities and careers, from the seasoned Montana cowboy and established movie star Gary Cooper to the less assured Philadelphia socialite Grace Kelly in her first major role. You also get a sense of the inner workings of the production company that Stanley Kramer ran with the film's screenwriter Carl Foreman, and the challenges of pulling together a strong cast and crew for a low-budget film.

These personal histories are alternated with stories of the film's production and the simultaneous black list drama. Those story lines intertwined when former Communist Foreman's script started to reflect the increasing pressure he felt from HUAC as he continued to refuse to name names or confirm his political beliefs. A standard story of a honorable lawman became a portrait of his own frustrations. The writer's isolation ultimately closely mirrors that of Marshal Will Kane (Gary Cooper), who becomes similarly disillusioned when even the people he felt he could rely upon the most abandon him. Ironically, the initially firmly loyal Cooper would be one of the men to step back in his support of Foreman, though he was essentially forced to do so.

Screenwriter Carl Foreman in 1961

I've read a lot about the Hollywood blacklist, and while I've found the more sweeping histories of this time fascinating, I've learned that the more personal the stories are, the better I understand the effect of that time on Hollywood. Through Foreman's fear, desperate strategizing, and depression, the damage of the blacklist can be understood with excruciating clarity. It is possible to understand how many in the movie industry acted in ways that seem cowardly to modern eyes, and even to contemporaries at the time, but who were too focused on survival to consider the consequences of naming names and caving to HUAC.

Foreman is one of the men who didn't cave and he never stopped feeling angry about being punished for it. Frankel shows how the screenwriter's defiance of committee pressures put stress on his career and personal life, even destroying his marriage. While his is a bleak story, it is made clear that he comes out ahead of many of his colleagues simply because his conscience allowed him to sleep at night. The brash, but brilliant writer becomes the heart of the story, sometimes unsympathetic, but always worth rooting for.

This is an effective account of the production of High Noon and the tense atmosphere surrounding it, expertly mixing politics and entertainment until it is evident that there is often very little difference between the two.

Many thanks to Bloomsbury USA for providing a copy of the book for review.

Flicker Alley: Clara Bow and Gary Cooper in Children of Divorce (1927)

To contemplate Clara Bow and Gary Cooper together onscreen is to fear these irresistibly watchable stars will cancel each other out. After all, what else could happen when two performers who consistently steal scenes in other films appear with each other? In the 1927 silent Children of Divorce, nothing quite that dramatic happens, it's pure pleasure to see them together. Now the film is available in its DVD/Blu-ray world premiere, in what is also the 50th release for the always meticulous Flicker Alley.

Bow, Cooper and the elegantly appealing Esther Ralston are Kitty, Ted and Jean, childhood friends who have all suffered because their parents divorced and then essentially abandoned them, both physically and emotionally. They grow up fragile, but determined to avoid the mistakes of their progenitors. Instead, they make entirely different, more complicated missteps.

Kitty is in love with Ludovic (Einar Hanson), but he hasn't got enough money to keep her the way she pleases. Ted has money, but he and Jean are in love. Disregarding her friend's happiness, Kitty tricks a drunken Ted into marriage, and while he is disgusted by her actions, she eventually has the child that the more maternally yearning Jean desires. Of course there are consequences for her actions.

It's a lousy plot, but you don't realize it until the film is over. This is mostly due to the mesmerizing presence of its stars. With Cooper, you can't look away because you always wonder what thoughts are fluttering beneath those bashful giraffe eyelashes. When it comes to Bow, the opposite is true; every flicker across her face tells you exactly how she is feeling. Sometimes it is enchanting; occasionally it makes you feel like you've been socked in the gut.

This is not to short-change Ralston either. While she clearly doesn't have the charisma of her costars, she is charismatic. Her reassuringly thoughtful presence perfectly suits her role as a woman who yearns for a peaceful, maternal life.

The film is visually in tune with the emotions of its core trio, primarily due to a switch in vision. Credited director Frank Lloyd (Cavalcade [1930]) started with the production, but didn't draw compelling performances from his leads. The uncredited Josef von Sternberg was enlisted to film a sort of remake after hours, and was particularly effective in getting a heart wrenching performance from Bow, leading the director to speculate on how well she could do if Paramount Studios gave her better material. But that was not to be.

Children of Divorce has been restored by the Library of Congress from an original nitrate negative and a 1969 fine grain master in its holdings. While there was too much deterioration for a pristine restoration, it's impressive how sharp and clear the image generally is. For a brief moment in one scene the damage to the film was too severe to be repaired, and you are reminded of how fragile film is and how fortunate film fans are to have access to it at all, let alone an often quite beautiful print.

Special features include a booklet with an excerpt from David Stenn's biography of Bow, and notes about the music, making and restoration of the film. Also included: the 1999 television documentary Clara Bow: Discovering the "It" Girl, which is heartbreaking, but inspires a greater appreciation of what the actress had to offer.

Many thanks to Flicker Alley for providing a copy of the film for review.

On DVD: Merle Oberon in These Three (1936) and The Cowboy and the Lady (1938)

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Merle Oberon was one of the most unpredictable actresses in classic Hollywood. She was worthy of her stardom, and always interesting to observe, but her performances could be wildly uneven. When she had the right director, or a great story, she was a unique delight: elegant, romantic and seeming to conceal more complex emotions beneath the glamorous mask. Without the right elements though she would struggle to rise about it, becoming rigid and closed off to her audience. 

When she succeeded though, she was appealing in a way that was completely her own--a queen with the common touch. In a pair of new releases from Warner Archive, Oberon demonstrates the best of her dramatic and comedic skills in two of her more successful performances.

It is difficult, but so fulfilling to watch William Wyler's These Three (1936). Based on the Lillian Hellman play The Children's Hour, the director would be freed to acknowledge the lesbian aspects of the plot in his 1961 remake of the film. However, this censored, but thematically true original, which retains several lines from the stage production, is a more elegantly staged and emotionally satisfying version of the story.

Oberon and Miriam Hopkins star as Karen and Martha, two young college graduates who start a country boarding school for girls. They are successful, and beloved by their community, until a student with a bone to pick (Bonita Granville) tells a lie that destroys their careers and personal lives. Joel McCrea is a local doctor loved by both women, who always shows a preference for Karen.

Perhaps best known for his powerful collaborations with Bette Davis, Wyler knew how to inspire subtle work from volatile actresses. Hopkins is unusually restrained here and all the more effective for her reserve as the lovelorn Martha. She is most effective in her close-ups, where in her stillness she allows her face to flood with frustration and heartbreak. Oberon has never been more humble, keeping the elegant speech pattern, but allowing herself to be vulnerable. It is easy to understand why McCrea is smitten with her, because her emotions are easy to read and she is so hopeful that you want her to be happy.

While the titular trio draws you in with their charm and the subtle tension of the love triangle, it is the child actors who make this such an intense and unnerving classic. As the resentful, gossiping student Mary, Granville is frighteningly animalistic in her ferocity. She was understandably Oscar-nominated for this role in which she gives herself over completely to a hideous and deeply wounded character. She spits out angry accusations with her head completely still, the words shooting through her lips like well-aimed missiles. Marcia Mae Jones is also gut-wrenching as a student Mary blackmails into supporting her lies. She makes you feel the shame of a child who doesn't realize that mistakes can be forgiven and that they don't destroy all hope of happiness.

I always think I won't be able to bear the experience of going through this film another time, but while it can be excruciating, it is also romantic, occasionally sweet and always a compelling web of motives and disparate personalities.

With a well-worn mistaken identity plot and little verbal wit to counteract the clichés, The Cowboy and the Lady (1938) has the immediate appearance of being a routine, forgettable film, but it somehow ends up being something more exciting. It's got an intriguing sweetness to it, with a quirkily charming cast, and it showcases one of Oberon's most appealing comic performances.

Oberon is the daughter of a wealthy presidential hopeful. When the sheltered socialite kicks up her heels with her more liberal-minded uncle (Harry Davenport), and gets caught in a club raid, her father sends her to his Palm Beach mansion to wait out the scandal. There she attempts to escape her boredom by asking her maids to set her up with a date.

She meets a tall, handsome and adorably shy cowboy (Gary Cooper) and falls hard for him. Thinking she's just in it for a kiss, she pretends to be a lady's' maid and makes up a few dependent siblings and an alcoholic father to gain his sympathy. When she actually does fall in love, she struggles with her secret, which of course will eventually be discovered.

While Cooper and Oberon are perfectly cast as the respective cowboy and lady, they are an odd match. There's a sort of emotional chemistry, but no real sensuality. It isn't a bad coupling though, they make a loveable pair.

Oberon has never been so delightfully flirtatious. She really relaxes in this role, something she rarely, if ever seems to do in comedies. That lack of tension seems to free her to indulge in interesting bits of business, like the way she gently holds the sleeve of Cooper's shirt between her fingertips while they have their first conversation or how she draws him into her orbit by holding his gaze slightly longer than he can handle.

Though this is one of Oberon's less substantial films, it's one of her most charmingly nuanced performances. With her uncharacteristic looseness, she is more fun-loving and less haughty. Though she keeps her characteristic regal demeanor, she gives her character a playful naughtiness, as if she is an ingénue getting a little tipsy for the first time. She even manages a bit of slapstick with some flypaper, which works because she is so willing to have some fun with her own elegant image.

Cooper is awkward and sexy, basically in full "aw shucks" mode. If he is less successful than Oberon, it is partly because his role has some of the weakest, and most drawn out bits in the movie. However, as he does in his best films, he starts off mild, but once his heart is broken, he gives that indignant speech that makes you crumble.

One of the best parts of the film is the supporting cast, with Patsy Kelly and Mabel Todd as Oberon's savvy, but salt of the earth maids; Walter Brennan and Fuzzy Knight as their cowpoke beaus;
and Davenport as the affectionate and wise party-loving uncle who is always a few steps ahead of his ambitious brother. They all make the screenplay seem a lot better than it is and keep the action moving along at a good pace.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On DVD: Gary Cooper in The Adventures of Marco Polo (1938)

Welcome to 13th century China, Samuel Goldwyn-style. There's a Chinese princess played by Norwegian-American Sigrid Gurie, Kublai Khan is Philadelphia-born George Barbier and the devious emperor's advisor is Brit-to-the-bone Basil Rathbone. To be fair, there are a wide array of Asian faces among the extras and supporting cast.

With syrupy-strings alternating with jauntily "Asian" music and by-the-numbers romance and intrigue, this is glossy Hollywood product all the way, with a few surprise punches, and it's now available in a clean, sharp print from Warner Archive.

Though the Goldwyn take on the adventures of the first European to explore China is not the strongest work of its talented cast, it's a well-crafted flick, dutifully presenting the best traits of all involved.

Uncomfortably cast as Polo, Gary Cooper gamely alternates between his gentle romantic and sturdy action personas, while Rathbone is magnetic and reliably evil. In her screen debut, Gurie's take on an Asian princess is to generally play her as if she is a bit slow, but she is lovely in an otherworldly way. Alan Hale is especially amusing as a barbarian more charismatic than threatening. In an early bit role as a maid, Lana Turner already exudes budding star power in her towering dark wig.

Polo unrolls in a pleasantly efficient way. The high-spirited explorer discovers spaghetti and gunpowder, gets moony over the princess and bunks with barbarians. In an especially thrilling final sequence he even storms the castle.

The music sparkles, the costumes are impeccable and each scene is set with a perfect balance of light and shadow. There's also a tinge of darkness that gives the gloss a much needed-edge, such as the vultures threatening to feast on a chained princess, or the pit of lions that hungrily waits for human flesh.

Though a box office bust on original release, it's still a fun diversion, best suited to fans of its stars or devotees of carefully-calibrated classic Hollywood tales, though the exciting action scenes do widen its appeal.

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

Quote of the Week

Audiences watched him as they would watch a baby or a white kitten on the screen; the camera loved him.

-Fred Zinnemann, about Gary Cooper

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Quote of the Week

I said to my good friend, Gary Cooper, "Coop, do you know anything about talking?" and he said, "Yup." 

-Buddy Rogers, remembering the birth of the talkies


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Quote of the Week

Gary kisses the way Charles Boyer looks like he kisses. . .Well! It was like holding a hand grenade and not being able to let go of it. I was breathless.

-Laraine Day (about Gary Cooper)

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