Happy Birthday, Mr. Grant!

Cary Grant. Photo: John Kobal Foundation/Getty Images (ca. 1947)

Archibald Alexander Leach was born on January 18, 1904 in Horfield, Bristol, England. After enduring an unhappy childhood, he literally ran away and joined the circus, travelling to America to perform in vaudeville and later on Broadway. When Hollywood came calling in 1931, he changed his name to Cary Grant and the rest is history. He went on to grace the screen in more than 70 films and become one of the biggest movie stars of the 20th century. He was handsome, charming, and funny, and showed off his acting chops in a broad range of films from comedies to dramas to musicals. So Happy Birthday, Cary Grant. You will always be my favourite leading man.

Cary Grant's Chest

Cary Grant in London, 1946.

"I loved sinking my head into Cary Grant's chest."—Jean Arthur.

The actress who starred with Grant in two films, Only Angels Have Wings (1939) and Talk of the Town (1942), must have been the luckiest woman in town. I mean, who wouldn't want to be in her place? And with that I bid you good night and have a wonderful weekend. 

Hitchcock Roundup

Clockwise, starting top left, I Confess (1953), Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Lifeboat (1944), 

Rear Window (1954), To Catch a Thief (1955), The Wrong Man (1956), and Notorious (1946).

The “Complete Hitchcock” series at Film Forum is over, and I have to say that I feel like a bad cinephile since I only managed to attend a handful of screenings. Even though I had seen the “Hitchcock Nine” (Hitchcock’s nine restored silent films) last year at BAM and some of his other films before on the big screen (Rebecca, The Lady Vanishes, The 39 Steps, Suspicion, Spellbound, Rope, Strangers on a Train, Dial M For Murder, and The Birds), I had planned on seeing more than I did.

The ones I did manage to catch were: Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Hitchcock’s personal favourite, which is great film with a lovely Northern California setting and Joseph Cotton playing evil to perfection; Lifeboat (1944), which can come off as a piece of war propaganda at times but succeeds due to the always entertaining Tallulah Bankhead; I Confess (1953), a film that should get more attention, especially for the compelling performance by the brilliant Montgomery Clift; Rear Window (1954), which I absolutely adore from its fantastic set to Grace Kelly's unforgettable entrance; To Catch a Thief (1955), the first screening that I saw in the series (reviewed here); The Wrong Man (1956), which was shot on location in New York and is interesting at times but for the most part seems like your run-of-the-mill detective story; and Notorious (1946), my favourite Hitchcock film, which has a great location (Rio), the drop-dead gorgeous duo of Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman, one of Hitchcock’s greatest MacGuffins, and Nazis, loads of them.

Seeing a bunch of Hitchcock films in a short period of time reminded me of why I enjoy his work: the mix of humour with the macabre, the spot-on casting, the striking use of shadow and light, and the often brilliant scores. It also made me realize that I prefer his films from the 1940s, Cary Grant is at his most handsome when angry, and regardless of what has been written or said about the man himself, Hitchcock was a great director.

Now it’s on to “Tout Truffaut” at Film Forum: three weeks of the works of another of my favourites, the French New Wave director Francois Truffaut, including all of his Antoine Doinel films. It’s a perfect pairing as Truffaut was influenced by Hitchcock and interviewed him in depth in 1962, recording more than 25 hours of their discussion. At the American Film Institute Salute to Alfred Hitchcock in 1979, Truffaut said, "In America, you call this man "Hitch." In France, we call him "Monsieur Hitchcock." You respect him because he shoots scenes of love as if they were scenes of murder. We respect him because he shoots scenes of murder like scenes of love." Film Forum, here I come.

To Catch a Thief

“The Complete Hitchcock" series at Film Forum began last week and the first screening I attended was To Catch a Thief (1955). I’d seen the film many times before but never on the big screen, which is a prerequisite when watching anything filmed in Vista Vision—a wide screen format developed in the 1950s.

The film opens on the Riviera where a string of robberies lead police to believe that the cat burglar John “The Cat” Robie (Cary Grant) is back in business. Robie, who has retired from a life of crime, has no interest in being questioned and manages to elude the authorities when they arrive at his villa. He heads straight for a restaurant where his old colleagues—all former criminals who, like Robie, received pardons because of their work with the Resistance during the war—are employed including Bertani (Charles Vanel) and Foussard (Jean Martinelli). They are angry with Robie for drawing attention to them except for Foussard’s daughter, Danielle (Brigitte Auber), who helps him escape by boat.

Intent on unmasking the copycat thief, Robie comes up with a plan. He makes a deal with H.H. Hughson (John Williams), a representative from Lloyds of London who has a vested interest in seeing the stolen jewels returned, that in exchange for a list of potential future victims, he’ll catch the thief. Hughson agrees.

The first person on the list is American widow Jessie Stevens (Jessie Royce Landis) and her daughter, Frances “Francie” Stevens (Grace Kelly). Pretending to be a businessman from Portland, Oregon named Conrad Burns (so plausible), Robie quickly befriends the pair. Yet Francie doesn’t believe his cover and after a harrowing car chase on a windy mountain road, confronts him and proudly rattles off how she was able to figure out his true identity. She is obviously attracted to him but when her mother’s jewels are stolen, she doubts his innocence and notifies the police.

Once again on the run, Robie stakes out a wealthy home one evening, convinced the thief will show himself. But Robie's plans go awry when he's attacked and in the ensuing struggle the "thief" is killed, falling off a cliff to the rocks below. The dead man turns out  to be Foussard, and the police announce the case closed. Yet Robie points out that Foussard had a fake leg and couldn’t possibly have been climbing around rooftops, committing the robberies. Realizing that Robie is innocent, Francie confesses her love for him and offers her help.

At a masquerade ball later that week, Robie sets a trap and recruits Francie, her mother, and even Hughson in his plans. Up on the rooftop, Robie finally comes face to face with the real thief who turns out to be Danielle. After slipping and nearly falling to her death (Robie is holding on to her by one hand), she confesses that she's the copycat and that she's been working for her father and Bertani. Robie's name is cleared and he returns to his villa. Francie arrives shortly after and exclaims, "So this is where you live. Mother will love it up here!"

As is true with most Hitchcock films, the cast is perfect, starting with Cary Grant who is his usual debonair self. The epitome of sophistication, Grant wore leisure clothes like other men wear suits and was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. And for a man who was 51 at the time, incredibly fit. In his youth, Grant ran off and joined the circus where he trained as an acrobat. This athletic prowess adds an air of credibility to the scenes of Grant scurrying across rooftops.

Grace Kelly is absolutely stunning (no surprise there). She is first introduced sitting on the beach in a two-piece, turban (yes, a turban), and glasses, applying sunscreen. She has no dialogue in the scene yet you can’t take your eyes off her. Kelly simply oozes elegance and poise while managing to inject some fire into her ice princess persona.

Regardless of their age differences (Kelly was just 26), the two exhibit real chemistry and are electric together. They also have to be one of the best looking couples ever seen on the silver screen. Grant later called Kelly his favourite co-star saying, “With all due respect to dear Ingrid [Bergman], I much preferred Grace. She had serenity.”

In one of the most famous scenes in the film, the two are in Francie’s hotel room with the lights off. She tries to tempt Robie by wearing a “diamond” necklace that she keeps referencing. Finally he says, “You know as well as I do: the necklace is imitation.” She replies, “Well, I’m not.” They kiss as fireworks explode outside the window. The metaphor might be heavier than an anvil in a Road Runner cartoon but there’s nothing corny about the two of them.

Of the supporting players, Jessie Royce Landis is hilarious as Francie’s mother, Brigitte Auber does a good turn as the jealous Danielle, and the always-reliable John Williams as Hughson lends a dose of British sensibility to the Gallic setting.

Costumes by the incomparable Edith Head make everyone look fabulous from Kelly’s stunning white gown to the elaborate costumes at the ball to Robie’s jaunty attire of Basque striped shirt with polka-dot cravat.

And then there’s the location. I’ve always said that the South of France is where I want to go to die and frankly, who wouldn’t? Hitchcock took advantage of the area with aerial shots, and scenes set in and around the picturesque locale. One of the most memorable scenes is the car chase with Kelly driving the lead vehicle. It always brings a chill when seen today knowing that years later she would die in a crash on the same road. That withstanding, the film looks fantastic and won Robert Burks an Oscar for best cinematography.

There is also a lot of humour in the film, which is perfectly suited to Grant's wry wit. While having lunch at Robie's villa, Hughson compliments his housekeeper's cooking skills, stating "The pastry is as light as air." Robie responds, "Germaine has sensitive hands, an exceedingly light touch. She strangled a German general once, without a sound."

One of the many, many things I love about Grant as an actor is his sense of timing. In some scenes, he earns laughs without any dialogue. This occurs early on when he’s fleeing the police. He jumps on a bus and finds a seat in the back next to a woman with a cage of canaries, a nice juxtaposition for a man nicknamed “the Cat.” He looks at the woman on his right and then turns and looks at the man to his left who happens to be Alfred Hitchcock. He then turns to the camera, keeping a straight face the whole time. 

Side note, I remember seeing this film when I was young on TV. In those pre-letterbox days, films shot in Vista Vision would have their sides cut off so when this scene was shown, Hitchcock would be hidden from view so all you saw was Grant glancing to his side (thank you technology).

While there are other Hitchcock films that are better than To Catch a Thief (this one does drag a bit around the half-way mark and all of the dubbing of Charles Vanel, who didn’t speak English, is done poorly) it’s highly enjoyable and worth seeing if just to gaze at the beauty that is Grant and Kelly.

To see the full schedule of “The Complete Hitchcock,” visit here.

The Complete Hitchcock

Cary Grant in North by Northwest (1959)

A screening tonight of Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest (1959) at Film Forum marks the start of "The Complete Hitchcock," a five-week long series devoted to the films of the master of suspense including the "Hitchcock 9," his surviving nine silent films that were recently restored by the British Film Institute. I plan on seeing as many as I can although I'm trying to put some restrictions on myself (for example, if I own the film on DVD and have seen it on the big screen then maybe I should pass). I can't think of a better way to ride out the rest of this miserable winter than watching some classic films (especially the ones with Cary Grant) at my favourite cinema. Have a wonderful weekend and see you at Film Forum.

Happy Birthday, Cary Grant!

I can't believe I almost let the day go by without saying Happy Birthday to my favourite actor, Cary Grant. Born on January 18, 1904 in Horfield, Bristol, England, he was, in my opinion, the handsomest and most stylish man to ever grace the screen. Yet he wasn't just tall, dark, and good looking. He was also an excellent actor who could play serious, even menacing, in one film while doing prat falls and uttering witty one-liners in another. Just look at some of his films: Topper, The Awful Truth, Bringing Up Baby, Holiday, Gunga Din, Only Angels Have Wings, His Girl Friday, My Favourite Wife, Penny Serenade, The Philadelphia Story, Suspicion, The Talk of the Town, Mr. Lucky, Arsenic and Old Lace, None But the Lonely Heart, Notorious, Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House, To Catch a Thief, An Affair to Remember, North by Northwest, Operation Petticoat, That Touch of Mink, Charade, Father Goose. And this isn't even a complete list! So Happy Birthday, Cary Grant. To borrow some words from Cole Porter, I will always "get a kick out of you."

She Done Him Wrong

Pre-code films are often known for their bawdy language or double entendres. Yet most of them can’t hold a candle to Lowell Sherman’s She Done Him Wrong (1933).

Based on Mae West’s popular Broadway play, Diamond Lil, the script changed the name of West’s character to Lady Lou but kept her outrageous behaviour and saucy one-liners.

Set in 1890s New York, the film opens with a prologue about the Gay Nineties, informing the audience that it was a time “When they did such things and they said such things on the Bowery. A lusty, brawling, florid decade when there were handlebars on lip and wheel—and legs were confidential!”

Lady Lou (Mae West) is a singer at a saloon run by her benefactor Gus Jordan (Noah Beery) who showers her with diamonds. Lou is popular with everyone and spends her time off stage juggling various men. Among those are Dan Flynn (David Landau) who wants to oust Gus from power so he can have Lou to himself; Captain Cummings (Cary Grant), the director of the mission next door who’s always stopping by; and her former lover, Chick Clark (Owen Moore), who is doing time for stealing diamonds for her.

Mae West as Lady Lou

Meanwhile Gus' associate, Russian Rita (Rafaela Ottiano), arrives to discuss their business operations—a prostitution racket and counterfeiting money. Rita brings along her new companion, Sergei Stanieff (Gilbert Roland), who Lou finds to be “warm, dark, and handsome.” After being enchanted by her on their first visit, Sergei comes up to Lou's room with a diamond pin to add to her growing collection.

Learning that Chick has been threatening to kill Lou if she isn’t faithful to him, she goes to visit him in prison to assure him of her fidelity. In a hilarious scene, she’s greeted by each of the prisoners, all of whom have a past with Lady Lou. When one of them asks for another chance when he gets out in 15 years, Lou tells him "that's a date."

Regardless of Lou's promises, Chick breaks out of jail and shows up in Lou's room. She promises she’ll run away with him once she’s done performing on stage that evening, and has him hide out in the alley. But before she can go down to the stage, Rita shows up and, seeing Lou wearing the pin from Sergei, pulls a knife on Lou. The two struggle, and Rita ends up dead. Lou has her bodyguard, Spider (Dewey Robinson), dispose of the body and get Chick to wait up in her room.

She performs her next number, “Frankie and Johnny.” While doing so, she signals to Dan to go into her room where Chick shoots him. The ensuing noise draws the attention of the police and Cummings who turns out to be a federal agent working undercover to trap Gus and his cohorts. Everyone is arrested, including Lou who instead of being loaded into the police wagon with the others rides off in a carriage with Cummings who has a special diamond to put on Lou’s finger.

A very young Cary Grant and Mae West.

The script for She Done Him Wrong is filled with holes and at times seems to have too many plot lines going on, not to mention the ludicrous ending. But it doesn’t matter because it’s really a vehicle to showcase West’s particular brand of humour.

She's been mimicked so often that It’s difficult to watch West and not see her as a  caricature. But this is the original, the real Mae West with the hourglass figure, blonde coiffed hair, narrowed eyes, the smiling mouth that hardly moves when she almost purrs her lines, the Brooklyn accent, and that walk that would put a drag queen to shame (no wonder some people thought she was secretly a man). It may all be one big act but it’s one of the most recognizable in film history. 

As for West as an actress, she isn't particularly great and her singing is nothing to write home about (although her intonation does remind one of early jazz singers) but she can deliver a liner like no one else.

She also recognized talent when she saw it and surrounded herself in the film with a strong cast starting with a very young Cary Grant wearing way too much makeup. West always insisted that she gave him his first big break but he had already stared in some other films including Blonde Venus with Marlene Dietrich. Nonetheless, Grant gets second billing in a film filled with some big names including those from the silent film era—Owen Moore, Mary Pickford’s first husband, and Gilbert Roland, who was indeed very handsome.

The costumes by Edith Head are stunning, as should be expected, and the sets look like the Bowery albeit a whole lot cleaner (a shot of a man cleaning up after a horse on the street doesn’t even touch on the amount of filth one would have found).

 Gilbert Roland brings Mae West a diamond for her collection.

And then there is the dialogue, specifically West’s lines. In addition to the famed “Why don't you come up some time and see me?” there are priceless others, some of which had me laughing out loud.

Lady Lou: “Listen, when women go wrong, men go right after them”

Cummings: “Haven't you ever met a man that could make you happy?”

Lady Lou: “Sure, lots of times.”

Serge: “I am delighted. I have heard so much about you.”

Lady Lou: “Yeah, but you can't prove it.”

Lady Lou: “I wasn't always rich.”

Pearl: “No?”

Lady Lou: “No, there was a time I didn't know where my next husband was coming from.”

Serge: “The men in my country go wild about women with yellow hair.”

Lady Lou: “I'm glad you told me. I wanna keep straight on my geography.”

[Cummings shows Lou a pair of handcuffs.]

Lady Lou: “Those absolutely necessary? You know I wasn't born with them.”

Cummings: “No. A lot of men would've been safer if you had.”

Lady Lou: “Oh, I don't know, hands ain't everything.”

These lines show West to have been a great comedic writer. And she didn’t keep all of the good lines for herself either.

Frances: “You know, ever since I sang that song it's been haunting me.”

Rag Time Kelly: “It should haunt you: You murdered it.”

It’s easy to write West off as someone who happened to make a few films with some witty dialogue. But West was a ground breaker for her time. Just a few years after women got the right to vote, she was staring in Broadway shows that she also wrote and directed. And after going to Hollywood, she became one of the highest paid people in the country.

So if you've never seen Mae West, check out She Done Him Wrong. It's short, funny, and  is currently streaming on Netflix.

Capa!

"Portrait of Robert Capa, Naples" George Rodger (1943)

Today is the 100th anniversary of the birth of Robert Capa, the greatest war photographer of the 20th century. Ever since I read Richard Whelan’s biography on Capa in high school, I’ve been fascinated with the man and his work. Although my blog may be filled with images of Cary Grant, Capa is my ultimate history crush. I simply adore him.

Capa was talented, daring, funny, brave, and charming (he was a noted ladies man) who made friends wherever he went, which just happened to be all over the world. Ernest Hemingway noted that Capa “could speak seven languages but none of them well,” and friends dubbed his way of speaking “Capanese.” He could appear carefree and irresponsible (which he often was) but was serious about his work and hated war though he covered five of them. Even when he was scared, and he certainly was in enough situations to warrant feeling that way, he masked his fear and never asked for special treatment. He went where the fight was, right alongside the soldiers. He defined what it meant to be a war photographer and the image he created helped to romanticize the idea of a photographer in combat although he would have been the first to tell you there's nothing romantic about war. Ultimately Capa’s dedication to his craft, to get the best photo no matter what, would cost him his life.

"Gerda Taro and Robert Capa" Fred Stein (1936)

He was born Endre Ernő Friedmann in Budapest, Hungary on October 22, 1913 to a Jewish family of dressmakers. As a teen, he was involved in student political protests, which led to his arrest and the authorities telling him to leave the country. He moved to Berlin to study journalism but took up photography instead when a fellow Hungarian, Eva Besnyö, got him a job as an errand boy with the photo agency Dephot. He was soon helping out in the darkroom and in December 1932, he was sent on assignment to Copenhagen to shoot a lecture by Leon Trotsky. The resulting image would be the first time his work appeared in print.

With the rise of Hitler in 1933, he left Berlin for Paris. The following year he met a dynamic German émigré, Gerta Pohorylle and the two became a couple. He taught her the fundamentals of photography and she helped him book jobs. Soon they were shooting together.

"Portrait of Robert Capa, Segovia front, May 1937" Gerda Taro

But finding work was difficult so in 1936 they concocted a plan to help increase the sale of Friedmann’s photos. With Pohorylle acting as an “agent” she made it known that she represented a famous American photographer who was available for work but that he demanded only the highest commissions. The name they came up with for the great photographer? Robert Capa. Derived reportedly from actor Robert Taylor and director Frank Capra, the name had a decidedly American ring to it and was easier to remember than Friedmann. Their ruse was soon discovered but Friedmann adopted the name permanently and would be known as Robert Capa for the rest of his life. Pohorylle also changed her name to Gerda Taro.

In August 1936, Capa and Taro headed off to Spain to cover the Spanish Civil War, which had erupted the month before. Capa would make numerous trips to the war-torn country over the next few years where he would hone his skills as a war photographer.

"Loyalist Militiaman at the Moment of Death, Cerro Muriano, September 5, 1936" Robert Capa

On September 5, 1936, in Cerro Muriano near Córdoba, Capa cemented his reputation with a photo called "Loyalist Militiaman at the Moment of Death, Cerro Muriano, September 5, 1936" but better known as  “The Falling Soldier,” in which he captured a Republican fighter at the moment he was struck by a bullet. Capa later claimed that he just lifted the camera above his head and took the shot without looking through his viewfinder. Controversy has followed the image with some believing that it was staged. Whatever the truth, that photo has become one of the iconic images of war. Capa was finally getting attention for his work and the following year the magazine Picture Post ran a piece on him, declaring Capa “the greatest war photographer in the world.” He was just 25.

Taro was not so lucky. Now a photographer of some talent, she made a trip to Spain in the summer of 1937 without Capa. During a retreat, she was injured when a tank rammed the car whose running board she was riding on. She died the following day on July 26, 1937. Capa, who had proposed marriage to Taro (she turned him down), was devastated by her death and some believed this to be the reason why he never married.

Shortly afterwards Capa made his first trip to America to see his mother and brother, Cornell, who were living in New York. After securing a contract with Life magazine, he travelled to China where he spent seven months covering the Second Sino-Japanese War.

"Ernest Hemingway" Robert Capa (1941)

He returned to Spain in 1939 to witness the end of the war and was working in France when World War II broke out. Capa returned to America where he worked on a series of assignments for Life but events in Europe beckoned.

1941 found Capa in London photographing Londoners recovering from the Blitz. After a trip back to the States to do a story on Hemingway and Martha Gellhorn in Sun Valley, Idaho (they had become friends earlier in Spain), Capa returned to Europe and the war.

Once again Capa showed grace under pressure. After covering stories in England, he travelled with Allied troops in Tunisia and Italy. Capa did what the soldiers did only he carried a camera instead of a gun. When they went without heat or beds to sleep in so did Capa. And when the 17th Airborne Division parachuted into Germany, Capa jumped alongside them.

"American soldier landing on Omaha Beach, D-Day, Normandy, France, June 6, 1944" Robert Capa

But Capa’s big day came on D-Day, June 6, 1944, when he and the 16th Regiment of the 1st Infantry Division landed on Omaha Beach as part of the second assault wave. He took 106 images that day while under enemy fire. The four rolls of film were rushed to London where an overzealous lab technician accidentally set the dryer too high causing the negatives to melt. All but 11 images were destroyed. “The Magnificent Eleven” became the definitive images of the D-Day invasion and stand as testimony of Capa’s famous quote “if your photographs aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough.” Capa would go on to cover the liberation of Paris, the Battle of the Bulge, and the Allied capture of Leipzig and Nuremberg.

"Ingrid Bergman and Alfred Hitchcock on the set of Notorious" Robert Capa (1946)

After the war, Capa became an American citizen and went to Hollywood with the idea to make movies. There he continued an affair with Ingrid Bergman that had begun in Paris. When she made Notorious with Alfred Hitchcock, Capa took stills on set. (Can you imagine, Capa and Cary Grant in the same room?) It is believed that Capa and Bergman were the inspiration for James Stewart and Grace Kelly’s characters in Rear Window. During this time he worked on his war memoir that would become Slightly Out of Focus. It’s a great read, fast and witty like its author. But Capa hated Hollywood and left.

In 1947, tired of magazines owning photographers’ work and with the idea of making more money, Capa along with Henri Cartier-Bresson, George Rodger, David “Chim” Seymour, and William Vandivert formed Magnum Photos, a photographic cooperative. Based in Paris, the agency would attract some of the best photographers in the world.

"Robert Capa & John Steinbeck, Self portrait" (1947)

Later that same year, Capa toured the Soviet Union with John Steinbeck who wrote about their adventures in A Russian Journal with photos by Capa. Some who believed the Communists had manipulated the two criticized the trip. But Capa was already off on another assignment.

"Woman carrying luggage accompanied by a small boy, Haifa, Israel" Robert Capa (1949)

For the next two years most of his photography was of Israel. He covered the 1948 Arab-Israeli War and the plight of refugees pouring into the country. Many of his resulting photos were published in Irwin Shaw’s book Report on Israel. By now Capa was tired and seemed to have had enough of war.

"Robert Capa and George Ninaud (office manager) at the Magnum Paris office." George Rodger (1952).

Beginning in 1950, he lived in Paris where he enjoyed going to the track, gambling, and seeing various women. His focus was on Magnum, which he became president of in 1951. Capa’s charm proved useful in persuading photographers to join the agency and in putting off creditors when funds were low.

The Korean War had started and was the first major conflict that Capa sat out. He insisted that his days as a war photographer were over and instead did pieces on European locales and ski resorts.

In 1954, Capa was invited to travel to Japan for the launch of a new camera magazine. There he was feted as a hero and spent his time photographing children. During the visit, he received a call from Life who, needing a replacement photographer in Indochina, asked Capa to fill in and offered him a large salary. In need of the money, Capa accepted and flew to Hanoi.

"Vietnamese troops advancing between Namdinh and Thaibinh." One of the last images Capa took on May 25, 1954.

On May 25, he travelled with a French convoy out to the Red River delta. At one point, Capa left the jeep he was riding in and walked up a way, taking photos of a group of soldiers advancing through the grass. Moments later he stepped on a landmine and died at 2:55 pm. Robert Capa was 40 years old.

"Robert Capa" Gerda Taro (1937)

Today Capa remains a giant in the field of war photography. The Robert Capa Gold Medal, created in his honour by the Overseas Press Club of America, is awarded every year for "best published photographic reporting from abroad requiring exceptional courage and enterprise." His brother and fellow photographer, Cornell Capa, founded the International Center of Photography (ICP) in New York in 1974 to keep the legacy of his brother’s work and other 'Concerned Photography' alive. It is home to the Robert Capa Archives and routinely hosts exhibits of Capa’s work.

To celebrate his centennial and the upcoming “Capa in Color” exhibit in January at the ICP, Magnum will be posting a different Capa photo each day, for the next 100 days, along with an image that “responds” to Capa’s. Dubbed “Get Closer,” they are asking people to post their own responses with the tag #GetCloser100. For more information, visit here.

So Happy Birthday, handsome. You're the top!

Amelia Visits

Myrna Loy, Cary Grant, and Amelia Earhart on the set of Wings in the Dark.

Wings in the Dark (1935) is a melodrama starring Cary Grant as a pilot and engineer working on new technology to help flyers in bad weather conditions and Myrna Loy as an aviatrix who takes on dangerous stunt work to support Grant after he’s blinded in an accident. When Loy gets into a dangerous situation, it’s up to Grant to help her fly to safety. 

Wings in the Dark is not one of Grant or Loy’s best films. But it is memorable for a photo shoot that occurred during filming when Amelia Earhart stopped by the set for a visit with the stars.

George Putnam, Earhart's husband, with the two famous women.

Earhart, who was as popular and stylish as any actress, looks right at home in front of the camera. And we can only imagine that it must have been a treat for Loy to meet the woman who was the model for Loy's character in the film. I especially like the shot of the two of them laughing, their eyes closed—just two women having a chat.

Oh My Goodness

I planned to write something today but am exhausted. Instead, I'll share with you some photos I stumbled upon by the wonderful photographer Imogen Cunningham. Shot in 1932, these images show a 28-year old Cary Grant at the beginning of his glorious film career. To quote Shirley Temple, "oh my goodness."

To see other images by Imogen Cunningham, visit here.

Day 4: A Film That Makes You Sad

Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant fall in love in An Affair to Remember.

Day 4 of the 31 Day Film Challenge: A film that makes you sad.

If by sad you mean a film that has me bawling every time I watch it, than I would have to pick Leo McCarey’s An Affair to Remember (1957). 

The film starts off as a typical romance: Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr meet and fall in love on board a ship while returning to New York from Europe. They agree to get their personal lives in order and meet in six months at the top of the Empire State Building. The day of their reunion arrives and this is where the floodgates begin to open. Rushing to meet Grant, a distracted Kerr is struck by a car, leaving her unable to walk. Meanwhile Grant waits up on the observation deck, even after it begins to rain. He finally leaves, believing she’s rejected him.

That would be sad enough but it’s the final scene that kills me. Months later they see each other at the theatre. Afterwards, Grant arrives at her flat to confront her and to give her a shawl that his recently deceased grandmother left for her (Kerr had met the woman on a stopover in France). He tells her that he had painted her in the shawl and didn’t want to part with the painting but that when he learned that a crippled woman who didn’t have any money had come into the gallery and liked it, he told the gallery owner to give it to her for free. Grant looks at Kerr, who has been seated the whole time, and realization dawns. He goes into her bedroom and sees the painting. Tears filling his eyes he asks, “If it had to happen to one of us, why did it have to be you?” She explains that it was her fault. “I was looking up, it was the nearest thing to heaven. You were there.”

If you’re not already crying by the time she gets to this line, there’s something wrong with you. Even Grant admitted that he would tear up whenever he watched the ending. Cary Grant crying! Now I'm going to be sad.

To find out more about the 31 Day Film Challenge, visit here.

Screwball Comedies

Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby (1938)

Today I'm guest blogging over at Quite Continental on a topic that I love: screwball comedies. Written by the stylish Mariah Kunkel, Quite Continental is one of my favourite blogs, filled with posts on fashion, vintage photographs, and some pretty brilliant gift guides (among other things). Every February sees the appearance of the Quite Continental Charm School, a "modern guide to creating a charmed life," and I'm honoured to be one of this year's contributors. So please be sure and check it out. 

Suspicion

Filmmakers have always faced challenges, from budgetary problems to fights with the studios. The later was especially true under the Production Code when studios would scrutinize scripts, demanding changes from word choices to deleting whole scenes and plot lines. Even the master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock, ran into trouble making his films. With Suspicion (1941), the studio objected to the film’s original ending so Hitchcock changed it to placate the studio. Yet in doing so, he gave us a film with a delightfully ambiguous ending that viewers are still debating.

Suspicion is the story of a young spinster, Lina McLaidlaw (Joan Fontaine), who falls in love with John “Johnnie” Aysgarth (Cary Grant), a charming man who cons his way into situations and people out of their money. After a short courtship the two marry, much to the disappointment of Lina’s father. With a wife and home to support, Johnnie is forced to get a job. His attempts to go straight don’t last long though, and he is soon fired for embezzling from his cousin’s firm. When Lina’s father dies leaving her only his portrait and her annual allowance of £500, Johnnie persuades his kind but dimwitted friend Beaky (Nigel Bruce) to finance a land development scheme. When Beaky dies shortly afterwards under questionable circumstances Lina, who has caught Johnnie in repeated lies, becomes convinced that he killed Beaky and that she is his intended next victim. Does Lina, a fan of mystery novels, just have an overactive imagination or has she married a murderer?

The film is based on the 1932 novel Before the Fact by Francis Iles. In the book there is no question that Johnnie is bad. He swindles, steals, seduces, and ultimately murders. At the end of the book an increasingly disturbed Lina knowingly drinks a glass of poisoned milk given to her by Johnnie because she loves him too much to think of going on without him.

When it came to the film version, Hitchcock would later claim that he wanted the film to end with Lina drinking the poisoned milk but first asking Johnnie to post a letter to her mother in which she has revealed that Johnnie is her murderer. The last scene would show an unknowing Johnnie dropping the letter in the mailbox, sealing his fate.

Although no script with this ending exists, there are signs throughout Suspicion that would support the theory that this was Hitchcock’s intended ending. Letters play an important role throughout the film. In the opening scene where Johnnie first meets Lina on a train, he asks her for a stamp to use in lieu of cash to pay for his ticket and tells the puzzled train conductor who accepts it, “write to your mother.” When Lina leaves home to elope with Johnnie, she tells her parents she is going to the post office. Throughout the film there are shots of the village mailbox (Hitchcock’s screen appearance is him posting a letter), and Lina is shown reading and writing multiply letters. 

The problem with this ending was that the studio, RKO, didn’t want Cary Grant to play a murderer (they didn’t think audiences would buy it) and the production code didn’t allow for suicide, which is what Lina would essentially be committing by letting herself be murdered. So Hitchcock was told to come up with an alternate ending in which Johnnie is innocent.

In the final scene, Johnnie and Lina are driving along the cliffs. Johnnie speeds up, and Lina’s door opens. She begins to fall, and we see Johnnie’s hand reaching out toward her. She struggles and screams. The car stops and the two jump out. Lina, who has been dreaming up outrageous situations for some time, believes Johnnie was trying to push her out of the car. Johnnie swears he was trying to save her and tells her that he won’t bother her again. Lina comes to the conclusion that he's planning on committing suicide. Throughout her explanation for why she thinks this, Johnnie remains silent. Finally he states, “Yes, but I saw that was a cheap way out” and swears that he’s going to turn himself in to the authorities and serve his time for the stolen funds. The film closes with the two driving back home, Johnnie’s arm lying across Lina’s shoulders.

The studio got the ending they wanted. Or did they? What if Lina’s original assumptions were correct, and Johnnie is a murderer? One of the brilliant things about this film is that the ending can be interpreted in different ways. Some people see Johnnie as innocent and use the final scene to support that belief. Others though believe that Johnnie is guilty and view the final scene is a different light.

Look at the film again with the idea that Johnnie's guilty. Shortly after their second meeting, Johnnie and Lina are shown engaged in a dramatic struggle on top of a wind-swept hill. Johnnie says, “What did you think I was trying to do? Kill you?” While the mood soon dissolves into the comedic with Johnnie playing with Lina’s hair and giving her a nickname, “monkey face,” the darkness of the first part of the scene hints at dangers that lay ahead.

Johnnie, who is friends with local mystery writer Isobel Sedbusk (Auriol Lee), is constantly getting her to tell him the secrets behind some of the murders in her books and asks her brother who's a doctor about a new undetectable poison. After Beaky dies in Paris from drinking a large amount of whiskey (everyone including Beaky himself knows that whiskey can kill him), Lina is told by the police that Beaky was with an Englishman whom he called by a name that sounds an awful lot like “Old Bean,” Beaky’s nickname for Johnnie who, by the way, cannot account for his whereabouts on the night of Beaky’s death. Later, Lina learns that Johnnie borrowed a book from Isobel about Richard Palmer, a murderer who killed someone with the same brandy trick used to kill Beaky.

Lina then discovers that Johnnie has been enquiring about her life insurance policy. Returning home one evening, Johnnie locks the door and reminds Lina that the staff have the night off and that they are all alone. He offers to bring her a glass of milk to help her sleep. If you believe Johnnie to be guilty, then there’s only one thing that can be in that milk, poison.

This scene is clearly a reference to Johnnie's murder of Lina in the book. With sinister shadows cast on the walls, Johnnie slowly walks up the stairs carrying a small silver tray on which stands a glass of milk. Wanting to draw the audience’s attention to the glass, Hitchcock had a light placed inside it that literally made it glow. It's an incredible scene shot beautifully by Harry Stradling Sr. But Lina doesn’t drink the milk and the still full glass can be seen on her nightstand the next day.

In the end, when Johnnie speeds up the car and reaches toward Lina, one can read his action as he’s not attempting to grab her but rather he’s trying to push her out of the car to her death. Lina’s quick jump to conclusions that Johnnie planned to kill himself gives him an automatic out. Lina, who had been on her way to stay with her mother, is coming back to him, and he’s safe for the moment. The shot of Johnnie’s arm across Lina’s shoulders as they drive home can be seen as a menacing sign. It’s merely a matter of time before Lina becomes his next victim.

Hitchcock may not have gotten the ending that he wanted, but perhaps this one is better, leaving audiences guessing and arguing over whether or not Johnnie is a murderer and what will become of poor Lina.