Lisa Reviews An Oscar Nominee: Kitty Foyle (dir by Sam Wood)

Posted on February 10, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

(With the Oscars scheduled to be awarded on March 4th, I have decided to review at least one Oscar-nominated film a day. These films could be nominees or they could be winners. They could be from this year’s Oscars or they could be a previous year’s nominee! We’ll see how things play out. Today, I take a look at the 1940 best picture nominee, Kitty Foyle!)

Kitty Foyle opens with a title card informing us that, before the film can tell us the story of Kitty Foyle, it is necessary to remind audiences of how Kitty Foyle — and so many other “white-collar” girls — arrived in their present (which is to say, 1940) situation.

We then get a strange little montage of life at the turn of the century. A woman meets a man. The man marries the woman. They’re a happily married couple. The man goes to work. The woman takes care of the house. The man comes home. Everything’s perfect. Then suddenly — oh my God, it’s the suffragettes! They’re holding rallies! They’re parading around with signs! They’re demanding the right to vote! They’re demanding prohibition! Suddenly, women are expected to be independent and to have careers…

Which leads us to New York in the 1940s, where a bunch of women in an elevator discuss how difficult it is to find a good husband, especially now that they’re all busy working as salespeople and administrative assistants. Apparently, this is the price that we all had to pay for the right to vote. On the one hand, the women who cast their first votes in 1920 elected Warren G. Harding and spared the nation from another four years of Wilsonianism. On the other hand, it’s now difficult to find a husband.

Fortunately, Kitty Foyle (Ginger Rogers) doesn’t have that problem. She has a wonderful suitor, a man who has just asked her to marry him. His name is Dr. Mark Eisen (James Craig). He may not have a lot of money but he’s handsome, he’s considerate, and he spends all of his time providing medical care to the poor and indigent. When Mark asks her to marry him, he asks her if she’s sure that she’s over that man from Philadelphia. Kitty says that she is.

Of course, as soon as Kitty returns home, that man from Philadelphia is waiting for her. Wyn Stafford VI (Dennis Morgan) is handsome, rich, and totally in love with Kitty. Of course, he’s also married to his second wife. (The identity of his first wife isn’t revealed until late in the film but you’ll be able to guess who she is.) Wyn is in love with Kitty and he wants her to run away to South America with him. Kitty says yes.

However, as Kitty is packing to leave, her reflection in the mirror starts talking to her. It turns out to be a pretty judgmental mirror. The rest of the film is an extended flashback, showing us how Kitty was raised by her single father (Ernest Cossart), how she first moved to New York, and how she met and fell in love with both Wyn and Mark. Will she run off and live in wealthy sin with Wyn? Or will she stay in New York and marry honest, hard-working Mark?

The main problem with Kitty Foyle is that there really isn’t much suspense as far as the film’s central dilemma is concerned. Mark is a living saint who heals children. Wyn is a heel who wants to abandon his wife and son so that he and Kitty can live in South America. About the only thing that Wyn has going for him is that he’s got a better sense of humor than Mark but, in 1940, that wasn’t necessarily considered to be a good thing. There’s really no question about who Kitty is going to pick and, in fact, the answer is so obvious that you kind of lose respect for Kitty when it takes her so long to make up her mind. It’s like being told you could either marry a Nobel Peace Prize winner or someone who embezzles from a charity and replying, “Let me think about it…”

Of course, the main focus of Kitty Foyle is less on the love triangle and more on Ginger Rogers’s performance as Kitty. This was one of Ginger’s first films after she stopped making films with Fred Astaire and it’s obvious that the film’s main theme was that Ginger Rogers could do more than just dance with Fred. In Kitty Foyle, she gets to make jokes. She gets to cry. She gets to fall in love. She gets a huge dramatic scene in which she mourns the loss of a child. She does it all and yes, she does it very well. Still, Kitty Foyle is never as much fun as the movies that she made with Fred.

Ginger Rogers won the Oscar for Best Actress for her performance in Kitty Foyle, beating out Katharine Hepburn, Joan Fontaine, Bette Davis, and Martha Scott. Kitty Foyle was nominated for Best Picture but lost to Hitchcock’s Rebecca.

All for One, Fun for All: AT SWORD’S POINT (RKO 1952)

Posted on December 4, 2017 by gary loggins

cracked rear viewer

France in 1648 is in upheaval: Cardinal Richelieu has passed away, the Queen is ill, and evil Duc de Lavelle is plotting to usurp the crown by forcing a marriage to Princess Henriette and murder young Prince Louis. The Queen summons the only persons that can help: her trusted Musketeers! But the quartet have either grown old or died, and in their stead come their equal-to-the-task children, Cornel Wilde (D’Artagnon Jr.), Dan O’Herlihy (Aramis Jr.), Alan Hale Jr (Porthos Jr.), and – Maureen O’Hara , daughter of Athos!!

AT SWORD’S PONT isn’t a great movie, but it is a fairly entertaining one, with lots of flashing swordplay, leaping about, cliffhanging perils, and narrow escapes. It kind of plays like a Saturday matinee serial, and there’s a lot of fun to be had, with Cornel Wilde a dashing D’Artagnon Jr, O’Herlihy a competent second fiddle, and Hale doing his usual good-natured…

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Lisa Watches An Oscar Nominee: Separate Tables (dir by Delbert Mann)

Posted on June 1, 2017 by Lisa Marie Bowman

As some of you may know, I have been on a mission for a while now. My goal is to see and review every single film that has been nominated for best picture by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. (Of course, with the 1928 nominee, The Patriot, being a lost film, that may seem like an impossible mission. No matter! For me, nothing is impossible. What Lisa wants, Lisa gets.) For that reason, I spent part of last night watching the 1958 best picture nominee, Separate Tables, on TCM.

Separate Tables is one of the more forgotten of the best picture nominees but then again, the 50s were not the greatest decade as far as the Academy was concerned. Consider some of the other films released in 1958: Big Deal on Madonna Street, High School Confidential, Indiscreet, The Last Hurrah, Machine-Gun Kelly, The Fly, The Blob, The Horror of Dracula, The Revenge of Frankenstein, Some Came Running, Thunder Road, A Touch Of Evil, and Vertigo! The thing they all have in common is that none of them were nominated for best picture but Separate Tables was.

That’s not to say that Separate Tables was, in any way, a bad film. Actually, it’s a pretty good film and I’m glad that I watched it. It’s not bad at all. However, it is … what’s the right term to use here? Stately perhaps? Maybe stagey. Separate Tables is based on two one-act plays and, though it’s obvious that some effort was made to open up the material, it still feels undeniably stage-bound. Separate Tables was directed by Delbert Mann, who had previously won an Oscar for his lively direction of Marty. With Separate Tables, his direction is far less lively. Watching it, you get the feeling that he was not only straight-jacketed by the theatrical origins of the material but also by the fact that the film was clearly made to win Academy Awards.

So, ignore the direction and pay attention to the performances. Separate Tables works best as a tribute to good acting. The film follows the lives of several guests at an English seaside hotel. Some people are just staying for a few days. Some people live at the hotel. John Malcolm (Burt Lancaster) is a moody writer, a recovering alcoholic who is planning on asking the hotel’s manager, the level-headed Pat Cooper (Wendy Hiller), to marry him. Of course, then his ex-wife, Anne (Rita Hayworth), shows up. As quickly becomes obvious, John and Anne may hate each other but they also love each other. Neither one is particularly sympathetic but, in their scenes together, Lancaster and Hayworth do create a fascinating portrait of mutual self-destruction. Ultimately, you’re left with the impression that both of them are so self-destructive that they belong together, if just to keep from drawing anyone else into their messed up orbit.

And then there’s Major Pollock (David Niven). David Niven won the Oscar for Best Actor for his role as Major Pollock and he does give an excellent performance. Major Pollock is one of those roles that often seems to attract comedic actors looking for a chance to prove their dramatic abilities. When he first appears, he seems to be a bit of a joke but then, as the film progresses, we learn that he’s actually struggling with his own demons. In the case of Major Pollock, those demons are more hinted at than defined. As we learn at the start of the film, Pollock was convicted of “harassing” several “young women” at a movie theater. Separate Tables does not make clear how young or, for that matter, the exact details of the harassment. Some residents of the hotel want Major Pollock to be kicked out of the hotel. Some residents say that it is none of their business and that everyone deserves a second chance. John Malcolm is in the latter group, though he’s more concerned with his ex-wife than with the scandalous Major (who, to no one’s great surprise, isn’t actually a major and whose war stories have all largely been lies). Also seeking to defend Major Pollock is the shy Sibyl (Deborah Kerr, playing against type). Sibyl’s mother (Gladys Cooper) is among those most determined to exile Pollock.

And really, the only reason this plotline works is because of the performances of Niven and Kerr. As written, it’s way too vague about the exact details of what it was that Pollock did. We’re just told that he was caught “behaving immorally.” (According to Wikipedia, Pollock was originally written as being gay but, apparently, that was considered to be too controversial for 1958, hence the mention that Pollock’s crime involved “young women.”) But Niven gives such a soulful and wounded performance that, much like Sibyl, you want to believe the best about him. You want to give him a second chance, even though you know he’s going to let you down. As Major Pollock, David Niven uses his trademark charm to paint a portrait of a man who is painfully aware that he has little to offer beyond charm.

At the same time, I was surprised by how little screen time Niven actually had in Separate Tables. The majority of the film is taken up with Lancaster and Hayworth. Niven definitely deserved some consideration for best supporting actor but best actor? Not in the year that saw Orson Welles in Touch of Evil and James Stewart in Vertigo.

Separate Tables is not a great film, at least not in the way that we might wish that a film nominated for best picture would be. It’s way too stagey and vague. But, with all that in mind, it’s still wonderfully acted and always watchable. It may not be great but it is very, very good.

Separate Tables was nominated for best picture but lost to Gigi.

Horror on TV: Twilight Zone 3.16 “Nothing in the Dark”

Posted on October 4, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

In this episode of The Twilight Zone, Gladys Cooper plays an elderly woman who lives in such fear of death that she refuses to even open the door of her apartment. Then, one day, a young policeman (Robert Redford) is shot outside of her apartment and Cooper is forced to finally confront the world.

This episode was directed by Lamont Johnson and written by George Clayton Johnson. It originally aired on January 5th, 1962.

Embracing the Melodrama Part II #13: Rebecca (dir by Alfred Hitchcock)

Posted on April 9, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Well, here we are, less than a week into Embracing the Melodrama, Part II, and I’m already running behind! The plan, as I mentioned back on Monday, is to review 128 melodramatic films over the next three weeks. And, even though I know that sounds a like a lot, I had it all planned out so that I’d be able to get all that done in just 21 days. All I had to do was make sure that I reviewed 6 films a day.

And …

Well, life happened.

But no matter! It may now take me 3 and a half weeks to review 128 films but that’s no great tragedy. And besides, regardless of how long it takes, I’ve got some pretty good films scheduled.

Take, for instance, the 1940 best picture winner Rebecca.

Rebecca is a film that all women can relate to. The heroine is played by Joan Fontaine. I say “heroine” because we never actually learn the character’s name, nor do we learn much about her background. When we first see her, she’s defined by her job, which is to basically be a paid companion to a wealthy woman. Later, she’s defined by her whirlwind romance with the brooding and aristocratic widower Maxim de Winter (Laurence Olivier). When, after two weeks, they get married, she becomes known as the second Mrs. de Winter. She becomes defined by both who she married and who she is not.

She’s not Rebecca, the first Mrs. de Winter.

As soon as Maxim takes his new wife to his estate, the second Mrs. de Winter discovers that she’ll always live in the shadow of the deceased Rebecca. Everyone she meets describes Rebecca as being a vibrant, lively figure — in other words, the complete opposite of the meek second Mrs. de Winter. The coldly imperious housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers (Judith Anderson), has perfectly preserved Rebecca’s room and makes little attempt to hide the scorn that she feels for the second Mrs. de Winter. Even worse, once they return to the estate, Maxim reveals himself to be moody and tempermental. With the help of the manipulative Mrs. Danvers, the second Mrs. de Winter becomes convinced that Maxim will never love her as much as he loved Rebecca.

Making things even more complicated, a man claiming to be Rebecca’s cousin comes by the house when Maxim is away. Jack Flavell (played by George Sanders, at his most serpent-like) suggests that there may have been more to Rebecca’s death than the second Mrs. de Winter was originally told…

Rebecca is a classic film, for many reasons. It’s well-acted, with Fontaine, Olivier, Anderson, and Sanders all bringing their characters to vibrant life. It’s a gothic romance. It’s a thriller. It’s a mystery. It is the epitome of old Hollywood style. But, for me, the main reason that Rebecca is a classic is because it tells a story to which almost everyone can relate. Every relationship that I’ve ever had, I’ve always been curious and occasionally even jealous of who came before me. There’s nothing more intimidating than living in the shadow of someone who you will never get a chance to meet personally. The second Mrs. de Winter’s insecurities are everyone’s insecurities and, in some fashion or another, we’ve all had a Mrs. Danvers in our life. The second Mrs. de Winter’s struggles are our struggles and, as she grows stronger, the viewer grows stronger with her.

Alfred Hitchcock is one of the most influential and acclaimed filmmakers of all time but he never won a directing Oscar. Rebecca was the only one of his films to win Best Picture. Producer David O. Selznick brought Hitchcock over from England to direct Rebecca and it’s been reported that Hitchcock resented Selznick’s interference. (And, while Rebecca is undoubtedly a good film that was directed by Alfred Hitchcock, it’s not exactly a Hitchcock film in the way that Shadow of a Doubt, Rear Window, or Vertigo are Hitchcock films.) As a result, Hitchcock subsequently made it a point to edit future pictures in camera so that the studios would not be able to re-edit his films.

But, whether you consider it to be a Hitchcock picture or a Selznick production, Rebecca remains a wonderfully watchable melodrama.

Horror On TV: Twilight Zone 5.19 “Night Call”

Posted on October 8, 2013 by Lisa Marie Bowman

In this poignantly haunting episode of the Twilight Zone, Gladys Cooper plays a lonely widow who starts to receive mysterious phone calls from a stranger.

This episode was written by Richard Matheson (and based on his short story Long Distance Call) and it was directed by Jacques Tourneur. Tourneur is probably best known for directing moody horror films like Cat People and Curse of the Demon and he brings a similar atmosphere to Night Call.

Night Call originally aired on February 7, 1964.