Posts Tagged ‘William Holden’

I’ve watched Network (1976) many times. I’ve paid attention to every single word start to finish; I’ve fallen asleep before the opening credits; I can picture the label of our VHS tape written in perfect penmanship by my mother with a purple sharpie. Just moments ago I put it on in the background while I started to plan for Monday’s workday (which means finding the perfect jacket to wear to a morning meeting in a freezing conference room, while I pretend to care about what the VP’s children did over the weekend). My jackets now sit in a pile under this computer, because I had to stop and rewind this scene five times before I was able to move on with, well, the rest of my life. Through Network, I understand everything and nothing about 2017, and I’m only 13 minutes in . . .

Just how blissful is ignorance? From day one we’re pumped full of should-be useful slogans and general guidance — knowledge is power, stay in school, graduate, get a job, make money, go back to school, make more money, change the world . . . the more knowledge we absorb, the happier we’ll become. While that may be the case, the flipside of that shiny penny reveals that, at times, with great knowledge comes great stress. If it’s true that the more you know, the more you worry, is there a happy medium for happiness? Feh, okay enough of that analytical fiddle-faddle . . . too much talking spoils the movie.

Based on the 1946 play by Garson Kanin, Born Yesterday stars Judy Holliday as Billie Dawn, the role she originated earlier on the Broadway stage. With hilarious one-liners and a killer wardrobe, Billie is straight out of the How to Make a Ditzy Blonde cookbook. In a predictable, Pygmalionesque storyline, Paul (a witty Washington, D.C. reporter played by William Holden) is brought in by Billie’s boorish boyfriend to smarten her up. “I’m stupid, and I like it,” she tells Paul with a smile. Although she gets whatever she wants (two mink coats, everything!), she has a yen for the fortuneless Paul immediately and makes no secret of it. Paul gets Billie reading books and newspapers (the front part: the not-so-funnies), takes her around D.C., and slowly introduces her to our country’s history. As her education continues, Billie and her teacher start to fall for each other. No, really they do!

It’s unfair, I know — my indirect anger towards Judy Holliday is nowhere near justified. An incredibly talented actress who perfected the art of comedic timing, she also comes with the Katharine Hepburn stamp of approval, in part due to their work together in Adam’s Rib (1949). Miss Hepburn was certainly not one to give those stamps away and became a vocal supporter of casting Holliday in Born Yesterday. That certainly paid off! The race of 1951 placed not one but two women from All About Eve in the Oscar ring, facing off against Gloria Swanson’s tour de fabulous in Sunset Boulevard, and of course, Judy Holliday. This had to be one of the most exciting and unfair competitions in history; if ever a tie were needed, it was the year Margo Channing, Eve Harrington, Norma Desmond, and Billie Dawn faced off in a battle for the gold. The lawyer part of my brain has prepared cases in which each actress deserved a win (à la Oscar ballot counting that must have occurred in Florida, that sort of thing). Despite overwhelming evidence from all parties concerned, the only decision I can arrive at is a tie that does not include the wonderful Judy Holliday.

Although I would have handed an Oscar to both Bette Davis and Gloria Swanson, I do have to gush a bit over Miss Holliday. She makes me chuckle all the way through, bringing an innocent, and often wordless, humor to something as simple as a card game. My favorite scene puts her at a table with her boyfriend (played by the husky Broderick Crawford) and involves very little dialogue as the two play a little gin rummy. The way Holliday shuffles the deck, deals, and wins every game is delightful to watch, and I’m hardly aware of how much she’s making me smile. As Billie continues to win, she also starts to hum preciously the right tune to drive her man up the wall, and eventually her sore loser of opponent explodes with a “Do you mind?!?!” Much more enjoyable than the love affair between Holliday and Holden was the chemistry between Holliday and Crawford . . . not to be missed.

To this day it’s true that many remain content as long as they have their two mink coats, but blissful ignorance didn’t work for Billie. I look around at the Billies of today who seem happy and stress-free as long as they don’t have to think or worry too much, and I begin to think too much about them, sometimes with a twinge of jealousy. But I realized that these people tend to be the very same folks who, well, talk endlessly during a movie and spoil the experience. When that dawned on me, instantly I became grateful for the mind and the life that I have. So if you need the Cliffs Notes version, Born Yesterday is one of those easy ones I start while dinner is cooking and finish off with a bowl of Oreo ice cream later that night. But remember, nothing brings out the flavor of a simple bowl of ice cream better than a good, informative hour with Rachel Maddow.

Now that’s a happy medium . . .

Academy Award for Born Yesterday (1951): Best Actress in a Leading Role

Add Born Yesterday to your queue.

During the second season of the television show Soap (1978), Chester Tate, played by Robert Mandan, surprises everyone by waking up after undergoing an experimental brain operation. To test his memory, Chester’s doctor asks him if can remember who he is, aided with a mirror that his wife puts in front of him. “Oh my god — I’m Gunga Din,” he blurts out, examining his turban-like bandaging. When the doctor tells his patient that he is, in fact, not Gunga Din, Chester turns his chin up to the mirror and confirms, “Then I’m Gloria Swanson.” Around the age of five or six years old, this was my first exposure to the madness that is the character of Norma Desmond and the masterpiece that is Sunset Boulevard.

While some films may take a few minutes to get off the runway, the opening of Sunset Boulevard — a title that I, for some reason, refuse to abbreviate with a “Blvd.” — had no trouble hooking me in the first two minutes. It’s in these couple of minutes that we see a dead body floating facedown in the pool of an old Hollywood mansion. But it wasn’t the body that strapped me to my chair; it was the angle of the magnificent shot. I’m guessing it was tricky and clever (a lovely combo) for the 1950s — the camera appears to be filming from the bottom of the pool, causing the audience to look up at the body and the blurred people standing around the pool’s edge. With William Holden’s voiceover to guide us, he takes us back about six months to let us in on how and why that body finally got the pool it always wanted.

If you’re sure that your knowledge of this remarkable film is limited to knowing only that it exists, there’s a good chance you know more than you think. Frequently called upon throughout my life to perform parts of movies for others, I grew increasingly frustrated when people misquoted movie lines. As I’ve aged (maybe not “matured,” but aged), I’ve come to realize that the frustration had more to do with my being asked to perform — let me quote the movie lines when I’m good and ready, would ya please? That said, if this blog does nothing else for the world, I hope it lends a hand with correcting an absolutely delicious line that’s been misquoted for 60 years. If you hear the words “close-up” and “Mr. DeMille,” hopefully some form of Norma Desmond’s famous words spring to mind. Without giving away the plot to those who have not experienced Sunset Boulevard, Miss Gloria Swanson, who plays Norma, ends the film with “Alright Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.” And good gravy, she wasn’t kidding!

“I am big — it’s the pictures that got small.” So tells Norma Desmond to Joe Gillis (played by Mr. William Holden) when they first meet at the beginning of the film. Miss Gloria Swanson’s portrayal of Norma, a silent film star whose career has all but faded away, is absolutely one of my all-time favorite performances. Determined to work again, Norma employs Joe to help her develop a script she has written, a script her delusional mind believes Cecil B. DeMille will jump at to direct. The first time I was old enough to understand the film (not just quote it), I remember spiraling into that universe of make-believe right along with Norma; one she creates for herself during a 30-year span of not knowing what to do with the remaining years. Escaping into a world in which Norma defines for herself what “classic film” should mean is an escape I can certainly understand! During a viewing of her own silent films, Norma rants about how the industry has changed with the addition of sound. “We didn’t need dialogue; we had faces,” she tells Joe before jumping up and swearing that she’ll be on that screen once again; that screen she was more than happy to criticize moments earlier.

Although Sunset Boulevard is told from Joe’s point of view, I never really find myself tagging along with him through the movie. I like Mr. William Holden, and I enjoy a number of his other films, but he was never really one of my favorite actors. My first exposure to him was on the episode of I Love Lucy (1955) when he gets a face full of pie moments after Lucy, Fred, and Ethel arrive at the Brown Derby (by the way, the Brown Derby restaurant chain was started by one of Gloria Swanson’s husbands — I love when my world comes full circle like that!). Rather than identify with Joe, I’m much more fascinated by the voice, mind, eyebrows, and wardrobe of Norma Desmond, who, in the capable hands of Miss Swanson, steals the entire movie. I always enjoy a little game of “what if” when it comes to film, so I find it amusing to hear that Mae West and Mary Pickford were considered for the role of Norma . . . wise choice, Paramount! The casting of Erich von Stroheim as Norma’s devoted butler is also an interesting part of the film’s history — 20 years before Sunset Boulevard, Mr. von Stroheim directed the film Queen Kelly (1929) which stared a then 30-year-old Miss Gloria Swanson. There’s that full circle again!

The wonderful problem I run into when writing about Sunset Boulevard is that there’s just too much to say. With all the cameos (Cecil B. DeMille, Hedda Hopper, and Buster Keaton, to name a few), a bitter view of Hollywood (Louis B. Mayer supposedly asked Billy Wilder “How could you do this?”), and Edith Head’s costume design, I could go on for pages, just as many have! Schwab’s drug store makes a few appearances, with its wonderful old sign advertising “Breakfast, Luncheon, and Dinner” that never fails to tickle me. The always hardworking cigarette finds itself a new costume in the form of a holder that looks like a bent paperclip. Wound tightly around Miss Swanson’s finger, it’s one of the many accessories that positively made for Norma Desmond. As I venture deeper into the world of classic films, the names on the opening credits become more and more familiar. Aside from the credits themselves (my favorite is “Gowns by” so-and-so), the one name I really started to notice was Edith Head, who seemed to contribute to the costumes of every movie I watch. A woman I know little about (but will soon learn more), I always consider seeing Miss Head’s name to be a good sign, if my eye happens to catch it.

And then we come to the Academy Awards. If I were casting an Oscar ballot in 1951, I think I would have had a panic attack . . . and aside from the horrifying times I’m inside an IKEA, I don’t get panic attacks. A year that put the sensational Sunset Boulevard against the phenomenal All About Eve is a part of film history that makes my head explode. Norma Desmond and Miss Bette Davis’s aging theatre star Margo Channing are tied for second place on my list of all-time greatest performances by an actress. Just to keep you on your toes and hopefully faithful to my beloved blog, I’ll soon reveal who reigns supreme in the number-one spot. In addition to Best Actress in a Leading Role (which was awarded to Miss Judy Holliday for Born Yesterday, a wonderful performance), the films competed in a number of categories, including Best Picture. As much as I love Sunset Boulevard, I’m happy that the Academy handed the Best Picture Oscar to All About Eve. Apples, oranges . . . it’s all wonderfully delicious dried fruit!

 

Academy Awards for Sunset Boulevard (1951): Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Black-and-White; Best Music, Scoring of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture; and Best Writing, Story and Screenplay.

 

My Oscar Time Machine: I would have called Best Actress in a Leading Role a tie between Gloria Swanson and Bette Davis for All About Eve. Miss Judy Holliday is hilarious in Born Yesterday, and any other year, I would have been thrilled to see her take home the gold. But in 1951, my apologies to the talented Miss Holliday, I’m going to need that Oscar back.

Add it to your queue.