Showing posts with label Women in Film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women in Film. Show all posts

Jun 28, 2024

Book Review--Dorothy Arzner: Interviews


 

I originally requested a copy of Dorothy Arzner: Interviews with the intention of interviewing its editor, film professor and author Martin F. Norden for the Watching Classic Movies podcast. To my dismay, when I received the book I realized he had passed in 2023. While I will not have the pleasure of speaking with Mr. Norden, I’m happy to say that this well-curated collection of interviews is a fine closing act to a busy and productive career.


I’ve long admired the thoughtful eye of Dorothy Arzner as a filmmaker and found her intriguing as the only major female director at the studios in her era. In fact, she was one of very few women who directed at all from the rise of the talkies through the studio age. This collection presents a cool-headed, intelligent, and empathetic professional who found her way in a brutal industry. She rose in the ranks with the help of great privilege bolstered by her profound talent in several aspects of filmmaking that studio heads recognized as being excellent for their bottom line.


The bulk of the book consists of mid-career interviews, which seem to for the most part to capture the truth about Arzner, as they contain many similarities, but enough variation to suggest that she wasn’t retelling the same fabrication through the years. She spoke freely of her efficient, but emotionally resonant approach to her work.


Arzner is less revealing when it comes to her personal life and her views on being a female director. While any person is justified in desiring some privacy, the former is especially understandable, as her decades-long relationship with screenwriter Marion Morgan would have been up for unpleasant scrutiny at the time. As for the latter, Arzner was more forthcoming about the challenges of being a female director when she was retired, as can be seen in the post-career interviews that make up a smaller portion of the book, but even in these conversations, there is a feeling she’s still withholding, whether out of the desire to focus on her work or simply not wanting to deal with the issue.


The appendix contains Arzner’s unfinished memoirs, which she wrote in 1955, but abandoned in the midst of her descriptions of the early twenties. While much like in her interviews, she often seems reluctant to discuss her most personal views and details, she paints a fascinating picture of the times in which she lived.


Overall, it is easy to see why gender could never have kept Arzner from the director’s chair. After the great assist of having industry connections, she was simply too much of a force as a talent to be ignored, and brilliant at understanding how to navigate a man’s world. It’s clear that she was well-liked on the set, partly because of a collaborative spirit in which she felt that cast and crew at all levels should feel free to offer ideas. For the most part though, it seems to have been her calm demeanor, combined with the kind of artistic and technical ability that come from a steady rise to the top through several jobs in the field from typist and scenario writer to editor.


On more than one occasion Arzner makes it clear that she felt the mellow manner on the set was necessary as a woman, and that she could not get away with the megaphone toting antics of her male peers. However, her way of working mirrors many modern female directors, such as Ava du Vernay, and that method has proven to be popular with cast and crew members alike as the industry gradually evolves.


Dorothy Arzner: Interviews is of great importance for what it documents, despite the occasional reticence of its subject. It reveals an underrated film artist and innovator worthy of praise in those ways alone and only more remarkable because of her unique position as a female director.

 

Many thanks to University Press of Mississippi for providing a copy of the book for review.

 

Rest in Peace Martin F. Norden

Nov 14, 2019

Book Review: A Biography of the Woman Who Designed the Creature from the Black Lagoon


Black Lagoon: Hollywood Monsters and the Lost Legacy of Milicent Patrick
Mallory O'Meara
Hanover Square Press, 2019

The Creature from the Black Lagoon, known as the Gill-man is one of the most beloved movie monsters, but few know that its design was created by a woman, artist Milicent Patrick. Film industry professional Mallory O’Meara found this unacceptable and set out to tell the story of this pioneering woman in creature design. Her book The Lady from the Black Lagoon: Hollywood Monsters and the Lost Legacy of Milicent Patrick is a fascinating combination of biography and memoir which gives this remarkable artist her due and questions how far Hollywood has come in its perception of women.

Patrick wore many hats in her career. In addition to designing creatures, she was one of the first woman animators at Disney, a modestly successful film actress, and a makeup artist. While she managed to do well in all these fields, her greatest talent was drawing with skill and imagination. She was so good that when she showed Universal make-up department head Bud Westmore her drawings while she was she was sitting in the make-up chair one day, he was inspired to hire her on the spot, make her the first woman to work for a major studio as a make-up designer.

While Patrick would be best known for creating the frightening, but sympathetic Gill-man creature, she had her hand in other projects, such as the creation of the bobble-headed Metaluna Mutant for This Island Earth (1955). She showed all signs that she would have a long, creative career, but it was not to be. Ironically, the man who gave her big break would be the one to end her design career.

While Westmore could spot talent, he was not a nice man. As a department head he was notorious for cruel behavior, employee harassment and jealousy. He wanted credit for all the work completed by his department and the Gill-man was no exception.

When the Universal Studios publicity department decided the novelty of a glamorous, poised woman like Patrick designing such a horrifying creature made her a perfect fit for a publicity tour for the film, Westmore was furious. Though she deserved credit for her design work, he didn’t want to give it to her. Though she was eventually allowed to go on the tour with strict orders from her boss to give him full credit for the design, audiences and media still gave her credit and he was furious. When she returned from the tour, she had lost her job and since Westmore’s brothers had a lock on the make-up design trade in Hollywood, she had also lost her career.

Patrick seems to have taken this injustice in stride, likely accepting it as a normal occurrence for the age, but O’Meara takes on the rage for her. She not only exposes the many ways in which Milicent has been denied credit for her work and the infuriating details of how she lost her career, but she has correlated those issues with the sexist behavior she has encountered in her own work in the film industry.

In addition to connecting her own stories to those of Patrick, O’Meara shares the frustrations and complications of trying to find information about the artist and her career. Without her own story, there wouldn’t be enough material about Milicent to fill a whole book, but the inclusion of O’Meara’s quest to save Patrick from obscurity and her own professional struggles give the story a depth and meaning that goes beyond the artist's personal story, while also perfectly placing it in historical context.

The result is a lively parallel narrative of a gifted woman who thrived despite the indignities she suffered and another gifted woman determined to make things better by standing up both for herself and a fellow creative nearly lost to the past.

Milicent Patrick and her Gill-man (Image Source)