One
of the more popular Hollywood movies of 1954 was The Country Girl,
written and directed by George Seaton, adapted from a stage play by Clifford
Odets. The Academy liked it well enough to nominate it for Best Picture,
Director, Actor (Bing Crosby), Black and White Art Direction, and Black and
White Cinematography (John F. Warren). The movie won Oscars for Actress
(Grace Kelly) and for the Adapted Screenplay by Seaton.
The
Academy sure loves it when a beautiful actress dispenses with any hint of
glamour and presents herself in a dowdy, plain, or even “ugly†appearance. And
while Grace Kelly could never not be beautiful, her role as Georgie
Elgin is not known to emphasize her timeless attractiveness and sensuality.
Furthermore, she delivers an outstanding performance that was good enough to surpass
the likes of Judy Garland (A Star is Born), Dorothy Dandridge (Carmen
Jones), Audrey Hepburn (Sabrina), and Jane Wyman (Magnificent
Obsession). Whether or not Kelly deserved the awardr over these four equally
superb performances is one of those forever debatable Oscar quandaries.
Besides
Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly, The Country Girl features a fine
performance by William Holden, who is really the protagonist of the film (oddly
placed at third billing). The movie is basically a triangle between the trio,
with Kelly’s Georgie as the object of both conflict and adoration between the
two men.
Bernie
Dodd (Holden) is a successful Broadway theater director, whose new musical, The
Land Around Us, has lost its leading man after one week of rehearsals.
Scrambling to replace him, Dodd wants Frank Elgin (Crosby), but producer Philip
Cook (Anthony Ross) objects. Elgin is allegedly a washed up alcoholic who could
no longer carry an entire production. Nevertheless, Dodd gets his way and Elgin
is hired. It soon becomes apparent that Elgin is completely dependent on his
younger wife, Georgie (Kelly), to give him moral support, prop him up, keep him
in line, and dictate what he should do or not do. Dodd interprets the couple’s
relationship as detrimental to Elgin, seeing Georgie as the reason for the
actor’s decline. Elgin presents a different position—that Georgie depends on him
and that he could never leave her. Thus, Georgie accompanies her husband to
rehearsals, interferes in production decisions, and annoys both the director
and producer in the process. Things come to a head when Elgin succumbs to the
pressure and starts to drink again. What happens next would spoil the story,
but suffice it to say there is much melodrama, a switcheroo of affections, and backstage
intrigue.
Oh—and
it wouldn’t be a Bing Crosby vehicle without some songs, so musical numbers
were added to the script by Ira Gershwin (lyrics) and Harold Arlen (music) to
accompany Victor Young’s somewhat overwrought score.
The
Country Girl is
pure melodrama, for sure, and all three actors give it their all. Crosby is
quite effective as the pathetic and insecure Elgin, Holden is dynamic and
forceful as Dodd, and, yes, Kelly is full of surprises as the dowdy woman who
in reality is stronger than either man. If anything, the picture is worth
seeing for the three actors that carry it.
While
any motion picture should be evaluated within the context of when it was made
and released, The Country Girl does suffer from being dated in its
sensibilities about marriage and the relationships between men and women. Audiences
today might cringe at the blatant misogyny, especially exuding from Holden’s
character. (In referring to wives, he says they “all start out as Juliets and
wind up as Lady Macbeths.â€) In short, the movie emphasizes the old adage that
“behind every man stands a (fill in the blank) woman.â€
Additionally,
there is a kiss—and subsequent confession of affection—that occurs at a crucial
point in the story that is so unexpected, out of the blue, and unbelievable,
that one wonders if some sort of foreshadowing or clue to this development was
missed. And therein lies the biggest flaw of the film.
Imprint’s
new 1080p high definition presentation in Blu-ray looks quite good, and
Warren’s cinematography wonderfully captures the light and dark of a Broadway
theater (Georgie: “There’s nothing quite so mysterious and silent as a dark
theater, a night without a star.â€) The feature comes with a new audio
commentary by professor and film scholar Jason A. Ney. A 1987 hour-long
documentary, Grace Kelly: An American Princess, is a welcome supplement,
along with a photo gallery and the theatrical trailer.
The
Country Girl is
for fans of Grace Kelly, for sure, as well as Bing Crosby and William Holden,
for fans of Broadway theater storylines, and of 1950s Hollywood melodramas.
The
decade of the 1950s is generally considered to be director Alfred Hitchcock’s
most glorious period, stocked with some of his acknowledged masterpieces of
cinema (Strangers on a Train, Rear Window, Vertigo, North
by Northwest, etc.). Those ten years didn’t begin so promisingly, though.
In
the late 1940s, Hitchcock had finally broken away from the smothering contract
he had under producer David O. Selznick, and he had set out with a partner to
form his own production company, Transatlantic. The company made two box office
losers—Rope (1948, a failure despite being quite a good movie), and Under
Capricorn (1949, no question one of the filmmaker’s weakest pictures).
Transatlantic bombed, but Hitchcock continued to work with Warner Brothers, the
studio that had distributed these two titles.
Stage
Fright was
made at Elstree Studios in England and employed an all British crew and cast except for
the two female leads, Jane Wyman (under contract at Warners) and veteran star
Marlene Dietrich. The male leads were filled by reliable Michael Wilding (who
had been in Under Capricorn) and Richard Todd. Stealing the movie in a
supporting role, however, is Alastair Sim, the great comic actor who was very
popular at the time. Oddly, Sim’s first name is misspelled as “Alistair†in the
opening and closing credits of the film!
Eve
(Wyman) is a budding young actress, a student at the Royal Academy of Dramatic
Art, whose friend, Jonathan (Todd) has found himself in a pickle. Eve is sweet
on Jonathan, although the relationship is mostly platonic, for Jonathan is in a
relationship with the flamboyant star of the stage, Charlotte Inwood
(Dietrich). The problem there is that Charlotte is married… until her husband
is lying dead on the floor of their house, allegedly killed by Charlotte
herself. Jonathan has helped her cover up the crime, but he believes he was
seen by Charlotte’s housekeeper, Nellie (Kay Walsh). Jonathan, now the prime
suspect, gets Eve to hide him from the police, so Eve enlists her father, the
“Commander†(Sim) to help. Despite the Commander’s doubts as to what really
happened, he dutifully works with his daughter and Jonathan to avoid suspicion
from Detective Smith (Wilding). As the plot unfolds, Eve decides to do some
investigating herself and manages to bribe Nellie to go away for a while, and
Eve takes her place as Charlotte’s new Cockney housekeeper, “Doris.†Things get
complicated when Eve begins to fall for Detective Smith (and he for her). Eventually,
of course, the truth is discovered and the real killer is pursued through a
theatre building in grand Hitchcock style.
When
Stage Fright was first released, it received some criticism because the
film begins with a flashback narrated by Jonathan, explaining what happened at
Charlotte’s house with footage that “re-enacts†the crime. It’s not a spoiler
to say that this flashback turns out to be untrue. Hitchcock deliberately lets
us believe events occurred, when they really didn’t. Audiences and critics at
the time felt this was something of a cheat. However, this is a perfect example
of a trend that has cropped up in film and mystery novels quite often in the
last twenty years—the “unreliable narrator.†Is Stage Fright the first
instance in which the unreliable narrator device was used in cinema? Perhaps
not, but in 1950, it was perceived as new and unsettling. Now, this device is
fairly commonplace. It just goes to show how Hitchcock really was ahead of his
time!
That
said, Stage Fright is only middle-tier Hitchcock. It never reaches the
highs of the later masterpieces of the 50s mentioned earlier. The plot is
rather unbelievable, especially when Eve pretends to be the Cockney maid and
becomes a sleuth on her own. Wyman is fine in the role, but one questions her common
sense in sticking with Jonathan and his legal problems. The great Marlene Dietrich
performs exactly how one would expect… as the great Marlene Dietrich. She
exudes a deliciously sinister subtext to her actions, but we can see right
through it from the beginning. Richard Todd is never believable as an innocent
man, and this is a stickler. However, Alastair Sim is such a delight as Eve’s
crafty father that the movie is worth a watch just for him. Even weak Hitchcock
can be good fun.
Warner
Archive’s new Blu-ray release is a port-over from their previous DVD edition
from several years ago. The feature film looks marvelous in glorious black and
white high definition, and the London and English countryside locations are a
treat. The supplement “making of†documentary is also ported over from the DVD
release, along with the theatrical trailer.
Stage
Fright is
for fans of Alfred Hitchcock, Jane Wyman or Marlene Dietrich, and especially Alastair
Sim.
Click here to order the Region-Free Blu-ray from the Cinema Retro Movie Store.
The
early 1970s was a time of experimentation and risk-taking in Hollywood. Studios
were more willing to allow filmmakers to take a project and run with it, just
to see if something thrown at the wall would stick. After all, this was the
period of “New Hollywood,†maverick young directors just out of film school,
and pushing the envelope when it came to what was permissible on screen since
the Production Code was gone and the relatively new movie ratings were in
place.
Playboy
Enterprises got into the movie making business in the early 70s (see Cinema
Retro Vol. 2, issue #5 from 2006 for the magazine’s exclusive interview with
Hugh M. Hefner about Playboy’s film productions). After the critical success of
Roman Polanski’s Macbeth (1971), Playboy produced The Naked Ape (1973),
loosely adapted from Desmond Morris’ 1967 best-selling non-fiction book.
Morris’
book was an entertaining anthropological study of man’s evolution from primates
and how social norms and mating rituals, especially between males and females
for procreation, have more or less never changed since prehistoric times.
Morris had relatively nothing to do with the film adaptation, for the
filmmakers decided to make a “hip†comedy out of the concepts in the book,
illustrating how “unchanging evolution†still dictated man’s behavior.
The
idea probably looked good on paper. Perhaps the box office success of Woody Allen’s
loose, comedic adaptation of Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (1972),
which was also parodied a best-selling non-fiction book, was an inspiration. However,
The Naked Ape, directed by avant-garde filmmaker Donald Driver, does not
possess the wit and brilliance of a Woody Allen or a Mel Brooks, who also might
have done wonderful things with the material. Instead, The Naked Ape is
a head-scratching curiosity that might have played somewhat well as a “midnight
movie†for college-age audiences in altered states of consciousness.
Johnny
Crawford (who had played Mark McCain in the TV series The Rifleman, now
grown up and looking hunky and handsome) is Lee, a college student infatuated
with Cathy (Victoria Principal, in an early film appearance), a tour guide in a
natural history museum. Through a series of fantasy vignettes, both live action
and animated, the film takes us through the couple’s courtship, marriage, and
subsequent relationship, as well as Lee’s stint in the army and the pair’s
experience in school (they are in an “erotic literature†class together). The
animations, usually narrated by Cathy, interrupt the flow of the loose storyline
to comment, in a humorous fashion, on the proceedings from an anthropological
viewpoint.
Both
Crawford and Principal are attractive on screen (yes, there is nudity; after
all, this is a Playboy Production), but the script is, frankly, subpar. While the
actors do their best, the movie is just not as clever as it thinks it is. The
animations, made by Murakami-Wolf Studios, are somewhat interesting (Frank
Zappa’s album cover artist, Calvin Schenkel, is one of the animators). Vocal
rock songs by Jimmy Webb help liven up the action.
This
reviewer became friends with Johnny Crawford (who passed away in 2021) over the
years. Crawford was always a kind, soft-spoken gentleman who had numerous
stories about his Hollywood years, such as having a studio mailbox right next
to Joan Crawford’s and the two of them often accidentally receiving each
other’s mail. Whenever The Naked Ape was brought up in conversation,
Crawford would simply shake his head, roll his eyes, and smile.
(Photo courtesy of Raymond Benson.)
Kino
Lorber has distributed Code Red’s presentation of The Naked Ape in 1080p
high definition, and that distinctive 1970s film stock looks good enough. There
are English subtitles for the hearing impaired and a theatrical trailer, but
otherwise no other supplements.
The
Naked Ape is
for fans of Johnny Crawford and/or Victoria Principal, early 70s experimental
films aimed at the college crowd, and, ahem, amateur anthropologists.