Did You Know?

Inimitable screen siren Barbara Stanwyck was initiated as an honorary member of the Blackfoot Indian tribe's Brave Dog Society. She was adopted by the braves, who were impressed with her handiwork and willingness to perform her own dangerous stunts while shooting the 1954 film Cattle Queen of Montana, and she was given the honorary title of Princess Many Victories III.

Photographic Faves

Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda perfect their ball-and-chain routine on the set of The Lady Eve, 1939.

BALL OF AWESOME!

Okay, dear readers, you must allow me the liberty of expressing my absolute fervor of excitement over the days-away release of 1941's sassy, saucy romantic comedy Ball of Fire. When nothing else could convince me of lead Barbara Stanwyck's classic actress status - her critically-acclaimed turn in Double Indemnity, my first foray into her films, left me totally unappreciative (the blonde wig! ugh!) - it was her part as Fire's wise-cracking gun moll Sugarpuss O'Shea that turned me into a true Stany fan. Pair her effortless effervescence with the expert direction of Howard Hawks and a script penned by Billy Wilder himself, and you've got a delightful flick filled with equal parts sentiment, sequins, and sex appeal. And don't forget Gary Cooper as the sweet and loyal Professor Potts - ohhh, the hotness!

Do yourself a favor and dig into this dish of forties farce a la mode, available on Tuesday, May 22, 2007 (just click on the link to order from DeepDiscountDVD). As Sugie herself would say, it's a killer diller.

The Ginge & Stany Birthday Bash

Banks are closed. Post offices won't be open, either. Most people will relax and enjoy July 16th as the holiday that legions of classic cinema fans recognize it to be, making the most of their time off of work.

Well, it could be that it's a Sunday, too - but I'd like to think it's America's way of paying homage to two of its finest examples of the classic Hollywood actress. July 16 marks the birthday of not only gorgeous blonde hoofer Ginger Rogers, but also of tough-as-nails screen siren (and later, small-screen matriarch) Barbara Stanwyck: it's practically a made-to-order holiday for me.

Bright, sassy, and beautiful, Stanwyck and Rogers both exemplified the archetypical, multi-faceted star of the 1930's and early '40's. Barbara may have played the stripper to Gary Cooper's prim professor (1941's Ball of Fire is a surefire classic) and sure, Ginger was somewhat the female Fred Astaire in oh, say, 9 films, but each delivered darker, richer performances in more demanding dramas, like Rogers' Kitty Foyle and Stanwyck's famous Wilder-directed Double Indemnity. I don't mean to downplay their lighter, more comedic roles, either: Depression-era audiences were as enthralled with Ginger's golden locks and gorgeous gams as the critics were impressed with her serious turns - and her legacy, preserved on film for posterity and newly released on dvd, is inarguably a vividly great one.

Barbara Stanwyck, meanwhile, is a fascinating study - though unconventionally beautiful and possessing a seemingly unfathomable resevoir of talent, she is somewhat forgotten to all but the most ardent fans of classic movies, a paradox as an esoteric celebrity. She turned out some deliciously scandalous pre-code pictures like Night Nurse (1931) and Baby Face (1933) before creating onscreen classics such as the weep-inducing Stella Dallas, 1944's Double Indemnity, and, in 1941, three delightfully daring (and different) movies: Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, and Meet John Doe. Sociable, kind, and refreshingly down-to-earth, Stanwyck was highly esteemed among her co-stars and valued by the studio bosses and directors she worked with, who particularly noted her on-set patience and strong work ethic.

So I urge you to salute these two vivacious and unforgettable stars next weekend, by any means as unique as the women themselves - I, for one, plan to spend a rare day indoors reveling in air conditioning, Irving Berlin soundtracks, and the incomparable Ms. Stanwyck in a parade of fur coats and seductive double entendres. It doesn't matter how you remember these women...just remember them.
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Discussion Junction: What's your favorite non-Astaire Ginger Rogers movie? Your favorite Barbara Stanwyck flick? Do you own any of these women's films?

What A Tease

Why am I always testing myself? What is it about challenging my own resolve and temperance, and subsequently failing, that appeals to me so much? I barely made it through giving up chocolate for the Lenten season, so how could I do this to myself?

Knowing that my family would be in the midst of a cross-country relocation this summer, thus throwing askew any plans of celebrating my birthday together, I decided to flash a little cash on some gifts for myself. The only stipulation? That I postpone indulging in my new purchases until I'm actually another year older. So, I bought it: The Lady Eve, Criterion Collection edition, barely $20 online. It's a beautiful single-disc edition in pristine shape, with a striking black-and-white contrast that fills the giant flat-screen in a way my pathetic 20-inch television could never capture. Barbara Stanwyck has never looked lovelier or more confidently appealing; Henry Fonda, never more naive or boyishly handsome. I already love this movie.

The Lady Eve arrived with the bills and bank statements just this morning in a nondescript manila envelope, but I was estatic as I sliced through the wrappings and eased out the gorgeous plastic keepcase with the bright cartoon depiction of Stany seducing the wide-eyed Fonda, who is so sublimely attracted to her womanly wiles that he can barely speak. Having never seen the movie, I slipped the disc in my dvd player, vowing to watch only five minutes - as if that would sate me for the next month, knowing I own such a fantastic transfer of this classic movie. Twenty minutes and a few truly endearing scenes later, I decided to give my challenge the old college try and truly abstain from any more Stanwyck/Fonda indulgences until the calendar deems me worthy.

As if I can last almost a month. As if.

I have a new idol

...and her name is Sugarpuss O'Shea.

I should've known this would happen. A week after I bust Babs Stanwyck's acting chops, she completely bowls me over as sexy, wisecracking nightclub chanteuse Sugarpuss O'Shea, a dame with a lust for life and a thousand comebacks who just happens to be on the lam. 1941's Ball of Fire is absolute, one-hundred-percent-bonafide delightful entertainment - a bit bittersweet, a touch tender, but mostly laugh-out-loud funny. And Barbara Stanwyck is...she just...wow. The way she endears goofy, gallant Professor Potts (a devastatingly handsome Gary Cooper) with a soulful look or the suggestive extension of her stocking-clad gam has to be seen to be believed, and even then, she's simply remarkable. She dances seductively to Gene Krupa and his orchestra, tosses out double-entendres without batting an eye, and manages a delicate and inimitable balance of sultry and sweet, crass and cautious, brazen and bashful - all the while melting the hearts of eight shut-in scholars, only one of whom has ever had a sweetheart.

So I bow down to you, Miss Stanwyck. I once thought the only role you were capable of playing with coolness was the matriarch on The Big Valley, but now I am humbly before your legendary status, knowing full well that you deserve it.
And Sugarpuss O'Shea - I salute you.

Thumbs Up for Three (well, actually just two)

A little insight on some of the fab flicks I've seen recently:

Cactus Flower (1969) What, really, can be said about a love...rectangle between Walter Matthau (shudder), Ingrid Bergman, a young Goldie Hawn fresh from Laugh-In and her skinny, nondescript beatnik neighbor? Only that it was far more entertaining than I could've hoped. Matthau is a dentist who hopes to date Hawn, but somehow, she's come under the impression that he's married - and no one wants to be a homewrecker, right? Sensing his impending loss, Matthau pleads his shy, introverted secretary (a still-flawless and amazingly comedic Bergman) to parade as his soon-to-be-ex-wife and inform Hawn that the marriage is over, leaving the delicious (shudder) dentist is up for grabs. But who ends up with whom is still being sorted out til the film's very finish. A truly classic scene: Ingrid Bergman in a dazzling blue dinner gown and mink stole, dancing freestyle among teenagers at a fashionable, free-love hippie coffee spot. Seriously, see this movie.


Double Indemnity (1944) Barbara Stanwyck * the dad from My Three Sons + Billy Wilder's directorial skill = film noir classic, non? Well...sort of. Double Indemnity is perhaps the kind of complex, mulitlayered film, much like Casablanca, that earns its due praise and respect upon multiple viewings, but doesn't have much clout the first time around. The plot seems simple enough: a frustrated wife (Stanwyck, in a hideous blonde wig) meets down-on-his-luck insurance salesman Walter Neff (yup, Rob, Chip & Ernie's dad) when he visits her home to inquire on the extension of the coverage of one of her husband's soon-to-expire policies. Intrigued, she realizes that if her husband were to have life insurance, she could gain a swift and sizable sum upon his death - if it's proven to be an accident. Scandal and intrigue arise as she and Neff work together to plot and execute the perfect murder. I stayed around to catch the end, but certainly not because of Stanwyck's acting; I could hardly call it a worthwhile film, but I will admit the suspense was nearly nauseating at some points throughout. Perhaps I'll give it a try in a few months and see if I can glean any new aspects to appreciate from it. Until then, though, I'll give it a double condemnation.

Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) Before this past Tuesday evening, if you were to ask me anything about James Cagney, my response would invariably be "You dirty rat, you killed my brudda" in one horrible attempt at colorful dialect or another, because that's just one of those things I feel you're societally responsible to know - a timeless quote that you're simply born knowing to whom it's attributed. Imagine my surprise, then, upon realizing that the Yankee Doodle Dandy I'd tuned into was a good movie. Not just a decent movie, but a very good one (albeit a tad propaganda-laden, justifiable in the flagwaving months following Pearl Harbor). Who knew Cag could dance? And sing? And do comedy? And dance?! Did I mention the hoofing? Though not too similar to the vibrant, color-saturated MGM spectacles I'm used to, Dandy is just that - dandy. It's a delightful bio-pic of songwriter, actor, and stage producer George M. Cohan, and Cag pulls it off to a tee, infusing as much patriotism and enthusiasm into his character's creative forces as we'd like to imagine the real-life Cohan did. Cagney took home his only Oscar for his performance here, and I can say that as the real-live nephew of his uncle Sam, he definitely deserves it.