The Hottest Streak

I was chatting with an actor friend recently and as we discussed a couple of his choicest roles in successful pictures, he remarked, “I was a pretty hot actor at that time!” His statement resonated with me. Actors, are like baseball players, gamblers and any number of other professions. They are all prone to hot streaks.  Some performers begin like supernovas and remain overheated for their entire careers; Burt Lancaster’s jump start in The Killers (1946) comes to mind.  These fortunate few are usually called “stars”. The vast majority of working actors, then and now, try to better their craft while making a living. I wondered though who had the hottest streak of any screen actor in terms of appearing in the best films over the shortest period of time. What was the cinematic equivalent of Joe DiMaggio’s 56 game consecutive hitting streak?  

Back in the days when Hollywood manufactured movies like General Motors used to roll out new cars, “hot” meant a lot more than just working steady. It meant you were a relatively fresh commodity in a town constantly looking for original faces. You were also a damn good actor and, if you were lucky enough not to be shackled by the ubiquitous seven year contract to a studio overseer, work was available all over town.  You were in demand, you landed the choice parts and the movies themselves turned out to be good… if not sometimes great.

1939 is universally accepted as Hollywood’s finest year for movies. This singular epoch has been getting a lot of visibility lately. The Motion Picture Academy is screening all of their Best Picture nominees for 1939 this summer and Turner Classic Movies will be showing “39 from 39” next month, a retrospective that coincides with (surprise!) the release of a Warner Home Video DVD about this historic year of film.  Bouquets to 1939 notwithstanding, this piece is about the incredible twelve month run of film roles by the great character actor, Thomas Mitchell.

Born in 1893 in Elizabeth, New Jersey, Mitchell started out as a reporter and turned to acting while concurrently working as a playwright and stage producer. In addition to treading the boards in The Playboy of the Western World, Blood Money and Nightstick on Broadway, Mitchell penned Glory Hallelujah, Little Accident (1928) the basis for the Gary Cooper vehicle Casanova Brown) and Cloudy with Showers (1931).

By the time he arrived in Hollywood for good in 1936, Tommy Mitchell was the proud possessor of a face more Irish than Mr. Potato Head and a protean acting talent honed in the theatre for over two decades. He scored almost immediately as the bemused embezzler in Lost Horizon (1937) and was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his sensitive turn as a compassionate doctor in John Ford’s The Hurricane released the same year. Few, if any, screen actors had a more successful pair of roles at the start of their career; Thomas Mitchell was just getting warmed up.  

Originally shopped by John Ford and Merian C. Cooper as a blockbuster Technicolor opus, all of the major studios quickly passed on the project called Stage to Lordsburg. David O. Selznick expressed mild interest if the lead roles of John Wayne and Claire Trevor were switched to Gary Cooper and Marlene Dietrich (!) Ford eventually convinced independent producer Walter Wanger finance his picture via United Artists as a black & white film with a lower budget. When production on Stagecoach started in late 1938, Westerns had been relegated to mostly B productions. With a single film, John Ford would forever alter both the perception and position of the Western in American Cinema.

Accurately acclaimed as the archetype oater, Stagecoach remains a penetrating study of societal malcontents under heart-cracking duress. Along with an ex-convict (Wayne) and a prostitute (Trevor), Mitchell’s alcoholic Doc Boone fits neatly with John Carradine’s outwardly pious Southern cardsharp, Donald Meek’s teetotaler liquor salesman, an expectant Louise Platt and Berton Churchill’s knavish bank president who opines economic hot air as if a guest panelist on a 19^th century business channel. Stagecoach was John Wayne’s breakthrough role and Ford rode him mercilessly to wring it out of him. Claire Trevor remembered that Wayne accepted the abuse because he realized Ford was trying to make him a better actor.  Mitchell appreciated the greatness of John Ford as a film director, but would not be bullied and refused to be cast as a subservient member of the director’s stock company. During production on Stagecoach, Mitchell backed Ford away with a wry reminder about one of his flops: “Remember Mr. Ford, I saw Mary of Scotland…” 

The character of Doc Boone plumbs deeper philosophical depths than the stereotypical Shamrock blusterer that became a staple during the studio system era. Stagecoach opens with Trevor and Mitchell being run out of town by “the Ladies Law and Order League”. As the Doc shags his shingle and climbs aboard the coach, he comments to Trevor, “We are the victims of a foul disease called social prejudice”. Mitchell also gets the last word in while observing that the wholesome whore and not-so-bad man have found happiness together. “Well, they’re saved from the blessings of civilization”, the good Doctor declares before departing for a final shot of redeye. It was a remarkable performance in one of the all-time classic films and earned Thomas Mitchell the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in 1940.

Only Angels Have Wings is a film that is often overlooked when assessing the cinematic year of 1939.  Producer/director Howard Hawks recently embarked on the most creative segment of his career with the template screwball comedy, Bringing Up Baby. The pairing of Cary Grant and Jean Arthur in Angels firmly established the Hawksian style of a world-weary, hazard loving male protagonist paired with an equally ballsy female lead with lots of smart aleck, overlapping dialogue amid a perilous situation.

The setting of Angels is a South American air station staffed by with a hard luck group of fliers who fly hazardous missions in patchwork planes over the Andes is nominally credited to Hawks’ location scouting in Mexico for Viva Villa (1934).  A robust adventure that serves up ample measures of comedy, drama, tears and derring-do, Angels additionally co-stars an old timer (Richard Barthelmess) and a frisky newcomer (twenty year old Rita Hayworth) but required an effective sidekick for the hero and no one did this kind of turn better than Thomas Mitchell.  His portrayal of Kid Dabb includes a climatic death scene that punctuates the story; the type of situation notoriously difficult for any actor to play. Mitchell proved again to be the perfect complement, this time in one of Howard Hawks’ most invigorating and enjoyable movies.

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington (1939) was a casting nightmare. Frank Capra had 186 speaking roles to fill and dozens more non-speaking bits and extra sequences. When it came down to Mitchell’s part, Mr. Capra explains it best:

“It took weeks to find the right actor for the part of ‘Diz’, the poet quoting reporter who wouldn’t cross the street to see Lady Godiva unless the horse had bucked her off into a cactus patch. Diz was the constant pal and faithful admirer of ‘Saunders’ (Jean Arthur). He proposed marriage twice a day when sober and twice an hour when he recovered from sobriety… I insisted that Diz be played by a left handed actor…southpaws are immediate characters-full of surprises. Joe Sistrom came up with the answer: “Best southpaw actor is the guy you always rave about-Tommy Mitchell. Bells rang. Everybody shouted his version of ‘Eureka!’ Tommy Mitchell was heaven’s answer to our prayer.”*

*Quoted from The Name Above the Title, by Frank Capra, Di Capo Press, 1971

In one of the most well crafted movies ever, Mitchell’s turn was spot-on; what the hell, the guy was a reporter! I particularly savor the scene where Mitchell is leaning against a wall, drunk, proposes marriage once again to Jean Arthur, suddenly realizes she is in love with James Stewart and good naturedly offers her a lift home. Also impressive is Mitchell giving Jimmy Stewart the what-for about the realities of the young Senator’s appointment as “…an honorary stooge”. Aspiring actors should study this last sequence. Based on current events, I believe aspiring reporters should do likewise.

I can’t add much more to the biblical quantity of words about Gone with the Wind except to aver that it wouldn’t be the most popular movie of all time without Thomas Mitchell. He simply was the Scots-Irish southern baron Gerald O’Hara whose familial roots in Tara are passed onto daughter Scarlett after he loses first his mind and then his life due to the Civil War. Thematically, Mitchell stitches together the epic when he declares, “Why the land is the only thing in the world worth workin’ for, worth fightin’ for and worth dying for because it’s the only thing that lasts!” (One wonders if this particular line got cribbed for John Qualen in The Grapes of Wrath who states essentially the same thing when his foreclosed farm gets bulldozed). Not portraying a sidekick, but a patriarch, GWTW proved that Mitchell could play almost any type of part.

Two weeks after GWTW had its historic debut in Atlanta, The Hunchback of Notre Dame opened on the last day of 1939 in New York City. A personal favorite, I’ve always felt that this clearly superior version of Victor Hugo’s classic tale never received its just due. The New York Times’ Bosley Crowther wrote that Laughton’s Quasimodo was too fulsome and sequences of flogging and torture too graphic (Crowther appeared to enjoy few films; a curious attribute for a professional film critic). In Hollywood’s most competitive year, Hunchback was nominated for a mere pair of Oscars: music score and sound. Alfred Newman’s pantheon score for Hunchback- a beautifully lyrical composition- lost to The Wizard of Oz and Laughton wasn’t even nominated for Best Actor. Fast forward to the present and The Hunchback of Notre Dame apparently hasn't qualified for a full print restoration with the visual quality of the current DVD singularly disappointing.  

White gloved William Dieterle directed Hunchback with darkest élan and was aided by the finest of casts; the immortal Laughton at the peak of his powers, a teenage Maureen O’Hara as Esmeralda in her screen debut, Cedric Hardwicke playing Frollo as a 15^th century Darth Vader, a delightfully ancient Harry Davenport as the King, youthful Edmond O’Brien sans jowls in his screen debut, the flashbulb eyes of George Zucco, George Tobias in three different bit parts and most prominently, Thomas Mitchell as Clopin, King of the Beggars. This is Mitchell’s most multi-faceted portrayal; cruel - “I’m above that sort of thing (stealing) I cut throats, not purses”- while singularly compassionate, funny, brave and,ultimately doomed. When Mitchell lies dying in front of Notre Dame with O’Brien tearfully scolding him, one has to suppress the inclination to also weep for Clopin.

No one would be shedding any authentic tears for Tommy Mitchell though. Over time, the films of Hollywood’s seminal year of 1939 have become part of us all.  Thomas Mitchell lays rightful claim to the hottest streak in movie history during this greatest of years. Jolting Joe Di Maggio would surely tap his Louisville Slugger on the dugout floor of the hereafter in agreement.

Postscript on Mr. Mitchell: after 1939:

Thomas Mitchell’s career didn’t miss a beat in 1940 with The Long Voyage Home and continued unabated with superb work in a slew of films including Out of the Fog (1941), Moontide (1942) Bataan (1943) and Alias Nick Beal (1949). He was pantheon as Uncle Billy in It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) and combined deceit with cowardice wonderfully in High Noon (1952). Among other social achievements, he became known as one of the roistering Bundy Street Boys.*  Mitchell achieved considerable mileage out of live television and continued his stage work into the 1950’s. He was the first actor to win the Trifecta: the Oscar (Stagecoach), a Tony Award (Hazel Flagg) and an Emmy Award for most Outstanding Television Performer for 1953. Thomas Mitchell passed away in 1962.  

* For more about Thomas Mitchell and the Bundy Street Boys, I heartily recommend Gregory Mank’s terrific book, Hollywood’s Hellfire Club.

Still More Noir from Palm Springs

MSNBC's Kim Morgan on stage with the irrepressible Ann Rutherford following the screening of INSIDE JOB (1946). This rare programmer hadn't been shown to a theater audience since its release; it held up extremely well.  Ann was terrific alongside Alan Curtis and Preston Foster. Even more delightful were Ann's endless stream of Old Hollywood anecdotes that left the patrons in stitches. From learning Yiddish from Preston Foster, to obtaining swimming lessons from Buster Crabbe at the Hollywood Athletic Club while "fibbing" her way into Westerns with Gene Autry, Ann had plenty of chutzpah to spare... and she still does! Her insider accounts of GONE WITH THE WIND were priceless and as she readily admitted, GWTW has "...turned my golden years to platinum".

Veteran character actor Edward Faulkner joins his cousin Ann Rutherford along with Anne Jeffreys and Marsha Hunt. Don't try to calculate the years of show biz expertise in this pic! Kim Morgan 's striking blue dress cinches the entire color spectrum of fashion in this formidable lineup.

With Edward Faulkner. They don't come any nicer than Ed.

With Anne Jeffreys- "the hostess with the mostest" before the Saturday night screening of RIFFRAFF (1947). The movie was absolutely superb- great work by Anne, Pat O'Brien and Walter Slezak complements the beautiful camera work by director Ted Tetzlaff- and the Q&A with Anne delighted a capacity audience in the Camelot Theater.  When I asked her about Robert Mitchum, Anne audibly sighed and recalled filming an oater with Mitch up in Lone Pine: "He wrote poetry, he was ... irresistible!" Conversely, she said working with the notorious tough guy Lawrence Tierney in DILLINGER (1945) and STEP BY STEP (1946) were distinctly unpleasant experiences. Larry's timeless rep for less than charming behavior was well earned. We also spoke of TOPPER and her work with Nelson Eddy among others. Anne was a delight!

(L to R) Sherry Jackson, director/producer William Asher, Bill's wife Meredith and yours truly.

Sherry Jackson was the post screening guest for THE BREAKING POINT (1950) in which she played John Garfield's eight year old daughter. Along with THE KILLERS (1946), I believe this picture may be the finest example of Hemingway's work ever brought to the screen. After the film concluded and before I brought Sherry to the stage, I played a clip from her appearance in the original Star Trek series. She portrayed an android who was adorned in a alluring, double strap costume that raised this baby-boomer's temperature back in 1966! I really wanted the audience to have a fuller perspective on Sherry's career that transitioned from child star to a gorgeous leading lady in films and on television. We spoke of the tragedy of John Garfield and how Jack L. Warner buried THE BREAKING POINT, spending next to nothing on publicity for the picture due to Garfield's listing in the notorious Red Channels screed; Sherry's own stepdad, Montgomery Pittman actually spotted the list on Warner's desk! Sherry also reminisced about Michael Curtiz, John Wayne, Gilbert Roland, "Make Room for Daddy" and talked frankly about the ups and downs of being a child actress back in the day. A smashing discussion! Spending time with Sherry and her husband Mike was one of my personal highlights of a fantastic weekend.

The Dark City Players doing the intermission riff!  Eddie Muller, Kim Morgan, Foster Hirsch and yours truly comprised the "A Team" of film introducers and guest interviewers at the 2009 Arthur Lyons Film Noir Festival. It was a distinct pleasure to have Eddie screen his short film, THE GRAND INQUISITOR (2008) with star Marsha Hunt on stage afterwards. Foster and Kim were similarly terrific sharing the load with 14 films and 8 guest stars over one evening and three full days. This year's festival broke previous records for attendance and revenue. We're keeping the team together for 2010!

Jemma and me, Sherry Jackson and Eddie Muller

An absolute treat was the screening of Joseph Pevney's FEMALE ON THE BEACH at 4:00 PM on Sunday to a nearly sold out house with the Pevney family in attendance. Joe's daughter Jan and son Jay flank my bride Jemma on the right and Joe's wonderful wife Margo on the left. Jay sent me a copy of a thank you note that Joan Crawford wrote to his Father and Mother after FEMALE wrapped over half a century ago that I mentioned during my intro. A great afternoon!

More from Palm Springs Film Noir

Here I am  with the beautiful and charming Barbara Rush. Can you believe that she started in films back in 1950 and is 82 years old- I can't! At the opening night reception, Barbara  related a hair-raising story during the filming of HOMBRE (1967) how she and others in the cast nearly plunged over a precipice in a stagecoach!

Here is MSNBC's Kim Morgan with Patty McCormack of THE BAD SEED.  Patty received a prolonged standing ovation when the BAD SEED concluded yesterday afternoon and she took to the stage for a Q&A. Probably the greatest performance by a child actor in cinema history. The Camelot Theatre had a full house.

With the incomparable Robert Loggia after a screening of THE GARMENT JUNGLE. During our post screening discussion, Bob talked about how Harry Cohn removed Bob Aldrich from the picture and replaced him with Vincent Sherman due to penny-pinching and bad blood. He also recalled John Huston on PRIZZI'S HONOR responding to Jack Nicholson's request for another take for coverage before moving to the next set-up. Huston: "I'm not running an insurance company, I'm making a movie- let's go."    

Opening Night at the Arthur Lyons Film Noir Festival

Here are a couple of pics from last night's opener at the Camelot Theatre in Palm Springs.

Barbara Rush, star of BIGGER THAN LIFE was the opening night special guest along with the ageless Marsha Hunt, Sherry Jackson and others.

Here is a shot of Barbara and Marsha

Will be adding more soon!

Producer/Director William Asher, Sherry Jackson and Barbara Rush

One for Arthur

It has been awhile since I blogged (a new age verb?). The list of unapproved excuses is headed by having been so busy with a multitude of events  including getting through the typically hectic day-to-day.

There was the Brothers Warner festival this month, a guest appearance at the Robert Osborne Classic Film Festival in Athens, Georgia last week- a tremendous event, btw- and the Noir City L.A. Festival premiering at the Egyptian Theatre this Thursday evening.  I have also been deeply involved in planning the Arthur Lyons Film Noir Festival in Palm Springs, California that is scheduled for May 28-31.  I’ll end up writing or yakking about all of those events in one form or fashion, but this post is for Art.

After Arthur Lyons died-a shockingly sudden exit a year ago last week- I didn’t post anything about him on my blog.  The public reason was because I was busier than hell helping out with the Palm Springs Film Festival. The private reason was that it was painful to think of Arthur being gone. It still is.

After a year has passed, I’ve grown to accept the fact that Arthur isn’t around to talk and laugh with anymore… but I still don’t like it.  Here is a recollection of Arthur that I wrote for the Noir City Sentinel last May.

Arthur Lyons: A Personal Remembrance

“I wrote it out of a passion for film noir and indeed, B movies in general, and because tracking down these largely ignored films was akin to that excitement a paleontologist must feel dusting off a rock and discovering a dinosaur bone.”

From Death on the Cheap, the Lost B Movies of Film Noir by Arthur Lyons

Passion was the ruling precept of Arthur Lyons’ wonderfully eclectic existence.  How many other cats managed a top tier restaurant, became a City Councilman, worked the corner of a heavyweight boxing champion, co-founded and produced one of the most enduringly unique film noir festivals in the country and wrote over twenty books on the widest expanse of subjects imaginable?

When Art suddenly died (this word reminded me of Arthur remarking on several occasions that use of the term “passed on” instead of “died” was asinine) less than two months ago, he left his beloved wife Barbara, an extended family along with a legion of friends and colleagues who remain stunningly bereft of his love and mischievous infatuations.   

With the encouragement of mentors including Ray Bradbury and Mickey Spillane, Art developed into an accomplished writer by shear dint of determination and a deft prose style. Sample any of his Jacob Asch novels and the originality of his vision about the detective genre becomes immediately apparent.

Along with his family, his writing and his adored hometown of Palm Springs, California where he lived and worked for over five decades, no other interest stoked Arthur Lyons’ enthusiasm more than B movies.  Although this shared obsession became one of the foundations of our relationship, what I will always treasure about Art was his unbridled generosity of spirit.

Only Arthur and Barbara would invite us to spend New Years Eve together in Palm Springs so we could all go out to watch the newly released remake of KING KONG the following day. A confirmed homebody, Art made the trek to L.A. several years ago to sample the Annual Film Noir Festival at the Egyptian Theatre and unexpectedly presented me with a beautiful silk Hawaiian shirt as a birthday present. And then there was the effusive hospitality and fun at the Palm Springs Film Noir Festival every year. You simply don’t make too many friends in this life that were as nice as Arthur Lyons.

Art immediately welcomed me into his midst as a colleague and invited me to introduce films and bring guest stars to his Palm Springs Film Noir Festival. He truly was a film noir paleontologist. After publishing his wonderful DEATH ON THE CHEAP, it seemed that his singular ambition was to locate films that no one else knew about… especially me! When Arthur introduced PORT OF FORTY THIEVES last year at the Camelot Theatres, he proudly stated that here was “…a film that Alan Rode has neither seen nor heard of!” I was simultaneously convulsed and flattered by such a humorous compliment from the true archivist of B noir obscurities.

Art was a child of Old Hollywood.  His Dad, also Arthur Lyons, ran a successful restaurant on the Sunset Strip before relocating his business and family to Palm Springs in the mid 1950’s. A sporadic highlight at the Palm Springs Film Noir Festival would occur when Art’s life intersected with one of his festival guests. When Ann Savage appeared for a screening of DETOUR, she suddenly remembered that she dated Arthur’s father back in Hollywood during the 1940’s!  Ann remarked: “I could have been your Mother...” as everyone rocked with laughter. There was no doubt that film noir; movie stars and Hollywood were inherent characteristics of the Arthur Lyons’ DNA string.

Our mutual interests not only encompassed the film noir genre (Art resolutely considered noir a genre, not a style), but also included a nostalgic affection for the low budget horror and sci-fi films from our baby boomer youth. These movies ended up becoming the topic of numerous conversations and schemes. At one point, we seriously discussed producing a 1950’s drive-in film festival highlighted by such fare as EEGAH, ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN and INDESTRUCTIBLE MAN.

None of these latent brainstorms (probably not an accurate descriptor) amounted to much, but it was great fun to chew the fat over.  Usually, we would both end up gasping in fits of hysterics discussing the relative cinematic merits of movies like VARAN THE UNBELIEVABLE.  Something I could count on when fare such as THE BLACK SLEEP or THE RETURN OF DRACULA popped up on television would be a phone call from Art. He would recall where he saw these films on their initial release-typically along Hollywood Boulevard- and would segue into stories about his boyhood including next-door neighbor Frank Lovejoy, Wallace Ford dressing up as Santa Claus for the kids in the neighborhood and Alan Mowbray working as a greeter in the Lyons’ restaurant on the Sunset Strip. Words can’t express how much I miss these phone calls and the joyous laughter we shared.

Art was an ardent supporter of my Charles McGraw book.  After reading the tome, he called and raved about how great it was. This authentic endorsement meant a lot. No matter how considerate Arthur was, he could never play the phony. He enthusiastically suggested that we collaborate on a writing project and we started trading outlines. Sadly, this proved to be an endeavor that we never had a chance to fully pursue.

Like many creative people, Art encountered demons along the way that gnawed at his soul, but neither bad tidings nor evil spirits ever made an permanent inroad into his great heart.

Arthur Lyons was antithetical to the academic and serious approach to film noir specifically and life generally. He loved his family, his friends, his home town, his movies and memories and happily wanted to share it all. The incandescent delight of our mutual passions dimmed perceptibly when Art departed. I miss him.

(Please celebrate the memory of Arthur Lyons by attending the Arthur Lyons Film Noir Festival at the Camelot Theatres in Palm Springs, California. For information, please go to www.palmspringsfilmnoir.com or www.alankrode.com )