THE INCREDIBLE SARAH 1976

To a major extent, mid-‘70s Hollywood was a bit of a boys’ club sandbox overrun with buddy films and disaster movies in which women were required to do little more than support the dreams of the hero, or sit around waiting to be rescued. Jane Fonda, Karen Black, and Faye Dunaway divvied up the few plum, non-“clinging girlfriend” roles to be found (Liza Minnelli & Barbara Streisand being not-quite-human entities unto themselves); while Glenda Jackson remained in demand for parts requiring the kind of accessible, high-toned hauteur American actresses tend to look ridiculous trying to carry off outside of TV soap operas.

But even a two-time Oscar-winner like Jackson must have found it tough going, for in order to play something other than co-starring roles opposite then-bankable stars like George Segal and Walter Matthau —roles for which she was grossly overqualified—financing for her films had to come from unusual places: an independent patron of the arts (Ely Landau: The Maids), a cosmetics company (Brut: Hedda), and a magazine publisher (Reader’s Digest: The Incredible Sarah).

Readers Digest. I can’t even look at those words without picturing the stacks of unappealing-looking mini-magazines which seemed to grow like weeds in the corners of my grandmother’s living room. And don’t get me started on those volumes of Reader’s Digest condensed books. Condensed books…what was up with that?

But I digress. For a time in the 1970s, Reader’s Digest was in the movie business, producing a string of “Family Classics” (often musicals) based on works of literature. There was Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer (1973) and Huckleberry Finn (1974), and an adaptation of Dickens’ The Old Curiosity Shop titled Mr. Quilp (1975). The British arm of Reader’s Digest deviated from G-rated kiddie fare and produced this PG-rated biographical drama about the life of French actress Sarah Bernhardt. Certainly, the notion of having Glenda Jackson, the greatest actress of the 20^th century, portraying Sarah Bernhardt, the greatest actress of the 19^th century, must have struck everyone as ideal. Indeed, in 1971 Ken Russell entertained the idea of making a Bernhardt bio-pic with Jackson after first-choice Barbra Streisand(!) failed to follow through. 

But alas, Glenda Jackson, in spite of having garnered an Oscar nomination the previous year for Hedda, was in a bit of a career slump, having not appeared in a hit film since 1973's A Touch of Class; a slump not reversed until House Calls in 1978. The modestly-budgeted The Incredible Sarah was released in November of 1976, just when the studios were going full bore (pun intended) with its saturation promotion of the high-profile Christmas releases of Streisand's A Star is Born remake, and Dino De Laurentiis' King Kong reboot.
With Bernhardt neither a household name nor a familiar face (a star of the stage, Bernhardt nevertheless made a few silents and talkies) and only lukewarm reviews to assist it, The Incredible Sarah came and went without much notice or fanfare.

Glenda Jackson as Sarah Bernhardt

Daniel Massey as  Victorien Sardou

John Castle as Aristides Damala

Douglas Wilmer as Adolphe Montigny

Bridget Armstrong as Marie

The Incredible Sarah has occupied a spot on my list of holy grail films (out-of-print or hard-to-find movies I’ve always wanted to see) for a whopping 40-years now. The initial San Francisco Bay Area run of The Incredible Sarah in 1976 was so brief; it seemed to disappear from theaters before I even knew it had opened. In the ensuing years, I’ve no recollection of it appearing on either broadcast television or cable TV, and its release on VHS in 1992 was one of the best-kept secrets in the video rental business.

So it was with no small degree of excitement when—that after all these years—I discovered it on YouTube just a month ago and was finally afforded the opportunity to watch personal fave Glenda Jackson in what was to be one of the last of her major “star” vehicles. Always a critical and Academy Award favorite, Jackson was never really a populist favorite in the States. Though TV audiences took to Jackson in the BBC via PBS broadcast of  the miniseries Elizabeth R, her biggest successes tended to come from being paired with likable, light comedy male co-stars capable of “softening” her somewhat remote, intellectual image.

Well, there’s no denying that merely seeing The Incredible Sarah after such a long period of anticipation is gratifying in and of itself, and certainly the remarkable Glenda Jackson doesn’t disappoint. However, no amount of fandom, expectancy, or nostalgia can make this wholly undistinguished, startlingly old-fashioned bio-pic into anything more than a fabulous Glenda Jackson showcase (she's had better) and well-intentioned, honorable misfire.

I don’t know much about the life of Sarah Bernhardt—which, under the circumstances proved a distinct and decided advantage. But I do know a thing or two about show biz biographical movie clichés; an awareness which turned large segments of The Incredible Sarah into a bordering-on-camp laundry list of hoary bio-pic tropes.

King Lear - 1866

The Incredible Sarah chronicles the life of acclaimed French actress Sarah Bernhardt (born Rosine Bernardt) between the years 1863 to 1890 (taking her from age 19 to roughly 45; something it helps to know since the only person to visibly age in this film is her illegitimate child). From her inauspicious beginnings at the Comédie Française through her gradual emergence as one of the principal players at the Odéon Theatre, Bernhardt is depicted as a headstrong individualist and rebel, drawn to the calling of acting simply because…well, that’s never quite explained beyond her stating it's “Something I have to do!”—which could well be applied to getting one’s eyebrows tweezed.

On her path to becoming hailed as an international star and earning the name “The Divine Sarah,” Bernhardt is briefly shown appearing in several of her classic roles: King Lear, Le Passant, Phaedra,  The Lady of the Camellias, & Joan of Arc. Meanwhile, her offstage life rivals her stage performances in theatricality and excess. There’s the aforementioned illegitimate child born of a Belgian prince; her household menagerie of animals; her habit of sleeping in a coffin; her many lovers; her interest in sculpting; her legendary temperament; her stage fright; and her unpropitious marriage to a handsome Greek attaché. Lest we get the impression Bernhardt’s life was one rosy romp of self-interest and accolades, we’re also shown how she selflessly turned the Odéon Theatre into an infirmary during the Franco-German War, and battled an unsympathetic public judgmental of her wicked, wicked ways. 

The Incredible Sarah ends on a high note—some 33-years before Bernhard’s death at age 78—with her triumphant portrayal of Joan of Arc. As the film faded to black, I was left with the dual sensations of feeling how much I really missed Glenda Jackson and wondering about the film (like Bacharach’s Alfie), what’s it all about?

Le Passant  - 1869

I was entertained throughout (how can one NOT be entertained watching Glenda Jackson?), but save for a scene in the theater converted into an infirmary, strangely unmoved by anything that transpired between the characters. I loved the elaborate costumes, hairstyles, ornate art direction, and, here and there, even a performance that wasn’t Jackson’s, but I never got a sense of the film having anything particular to say about its subject. I thought I'd certainly come away with at least more knowledge about Sarah Bernhardt's life than when I arrived, but given that the film begins with the disclaimer: “This motion picture is a free portrayal of events in her tempestuous early career,” can I even say that?

I’m too much of a fan of the freewheeling liberties of Ken Russell’s biographical films to hew to the notion that historical accuracy and chronological fealty equal a good bio-pic. That The Incredible Sarah plays fast and loose with the facts doesn’t trouble me so much as the fact it has (for me, anyway) no point of view, perspective, or motivation beyond Bernhardt being a notable person whose life deserves recording.

The closest thing I could glean, and perhaps this was more obvious in ’76, is that The Incredible Sarah, in being a film produced and written by women (Helen M. Strauss & Ruth Wolff, respectively) sought to present a notable historical female figure in a feminist light. And indeed, it is refreshing to see a woman deciding for herself what is important in her life and not having her womanhood or value as a person called into question because she chooses the career path. But this theory is undermined a bit by the script making Bernhardt's chief adversary a woman jealous of Sarah stealing her man.

On the whole, The Incredible Sarah ranks as the perfect kind of historical film to show in school history classes or something. As a stand-alone entertainment with no lessons to impart to impressionable minds, I’m afraid The Incredible Sarah  measured up as being a must-see vehicle for Glenda Jackson enthusiasts like myself, but an easy pass for the general film fan. 

Phaedra - 1879

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM

Liking Glenda Jackson as much as I do, it’s very rewarding to see her in a film where not only is she front and center (and given very little in the way of competition), but she’s photographed flatteringly and made to look movie-star glamorous in a multitude of sumptuous, Oscar-nominated costumes by Anthony Mendelson (Macbeth, Young Winston).

The film is handsomely mounted (its only other Oscar nomination came for Art Direction: Elliot Scott & Norman Reynolds) and it's something of a feast to see Jackson in every single scene, playing the classics, hamming it up, being funny...basically being given free rein in a film designed to showcase her talents. But alas, I’m aware of clinging to these particular joys—all centered around the film's star—because the very weak screenplay gives Jackson quite a lot to do, but not very much she can to sink her teeth into. When she's not reciting the words of the Masters, Jackson is saddled with some of the most mundane dialogue imaginable.

Simon Williams portrays Henri de Ligne, a Belgian prince with whom Bernhardt has a child out of wedlock

Directed by Richard Fleischer, whose skills run the gamut from the outstanding 10 Rillington Place-1971 to the laugh-a-minute vulgarity that is Mandingo-1975, The Incredible Sarah is so old-fashioned in its construction and execution, it feels as though it were made at least a decade earlier. 

Joan of Arc - 1890

PERFORMANCES

A film about the world’s greatest actress would be terribly embarrassing without an actress about whom those words could be uttered onscreen without inciting laughter, so the casting of Glenda Jackson is perfection on that score. Where things get a little dicey is that, for all her skill as an actress, Glenda Jackson's innate intelligence seems incapable of being tamped down. Coming across as the human personification of common sense, level-headedness, and reason, Jackson doesn't exactly convince when trying to depict Bernhardt’s rootless flamboyance and fiery nature. Jackson doesn’t have a frivolous bone in her body. And so while it’s fun when she gets to run amok in not one, but two rip-and-tear temper tantrum scenes, the effort in trying to appear irrational shows.

Perhaps counting on the plausible likelihood that not many people caught his Golden Globe-winning, Oscar-nominated performance as Noel Coward in the 1968 Julie Andrews flop Star! (anther biopic about an actress few Americans were familiar with), Daniel Massey essentially repeats himself and gives the same performance. Massey and Jackson had previously co-starred in 1971's Mary, Queen of Scots

Much like the joyless Anthony Hopkins was a bust in his vulgar showman scenes in 1978's Magic, but ideal for the off-his-rocker stuff; sound-as-a-dollar Glenda Jackson is an ideal fit for Sarah Bernhardt the brilliant actress; but as an eccentric narcissist, she has both feet a little too firmly planted on the ground to make it work.  

Sarah Bernhardt relaxes in the coffin she traveled with

THE STUFF OF FANTASY 

The Incredible Sarah and the show business biofilm cliché checklist: 

Scene in which the artist conveniently declares her life’s ambition aloud (Funny Girl, Sparkle, The Loves of Isadora, Star!).

Scene depicting the artist’s unbridled, unsubstantiated self-confidence (Funny Girl, Sparkle, The Loves of Isadora, Star!)

Scene where artist makes amusingly disastrous performing stage debut (Funny Girl, The Loves of Isadora, Lady Sings the Blues, Love Me or Leave Me, Star!)

The confidant to whom the artist can give voice to her inner yearnings and provide plot exposition (Funny Lady, The Loves of Isadora, Lady Sings the Blues, Star!)
The bad marriage trope (Funny Girl, Star!, Sparkle, The Loves of Isadora) 

The so-called comic scene depicting Sarah Bernhardt's calamitous stage debut could have been
 lifted directly from an episode of That Girl

THE STUFF OF DREAMS

I've watched The Incredible Sarah twice. The first time I was just too taken with the pleasure of at last seeing it to be able to access it with any objectivity. On the second go-round, its script flaws stood out a great deal more (events happen in biographical films because "they really happened"...screenwriters don't always concern themselves with making sure the events and character motivations fit a narrative logic. Real life is haphazard; I tend to like a little more structure in my drama. Even biographical drama), but I was happily surprised by how much the film is buoyed and made pleasurable by Glenda Jackson alone.

It isn't one of her best performances (as stated earlier, I was largely left unmoved) but it's a good one. Much better in my opinion than her Oscar-winning turn in A Touch of Class (1973). The Incredible Sarah didn't live up to my expectations, but I have to say, Glenda Jackson, even with weak material, is still the personification of incredible.

BONUS MATERIAL

The Incredible Sarah concerns itself with the actress' early career. Sarah Bernhardt was one of the first stage actors to appear in film. Here is a clip of the real Sarah Bernhardt playing Hamlet in her 1900 film debut. 
She made several other films and continued to tour and perform onstage even after the amputation of a leg in 1915. In addition to acting, she managed and directed her own theater company, sculpted, and published a novel and a memoir of questionable veracity. She passed away in 1922 at the age of 78.

Copyright © Ken Anderson  2009 - 2016

"WHERE'S YOUR FILM SECTION?" A Movie Lover's Bookshelf

My family moved around a lot when I was young, so new cities and new schools were a commonplace part of my upbringing. But commonplace doesn't mean easy. Having to always adapt to new people and new surroundings contributed to my being a very quiet and shy young man who kept to himself and didn't make friends easily. 

At home, I retreated into watching movies on TV. But during lunch hours, after school, and on weekends (when I wasn't sitting for hours in a darkened movie house) I haunted the bookstalls at the local library. For as long as I can remember I've loved reading books about Hollywood, filmmaking, and the movie industry. So much so that in every public library in each new city and at every used and new bookstore in each town, my first question of inquiry was always: "Where's your film section?" - and there I'd literally spend hours engrossed in a world which seemed as distant and fantastic as any sci-fi adventure or futuristic fantasy.

My love of reading about film continues to this day, my home bookcases bulging with so many volumes it looks like the film reference section of a research library (I can't really get into e-books - I still like the heft and feel of hardcover books). 

At the request of a reader of this blog, I thought I'd list a few of my favorite Hollywood/film-related books. Not a comprehensive list by a longshot, and not a list to be taken as "recommended reading." Merely a few of the titles that come fondly to mind when asked about books I've enjoyed over the years. (The one restriction I've applied is that I've limited my list exclusively to books I own.)

Since my partner shares my love of exploring the few used bookstores still in existence in the LA area, I'm hoping some of you might perhaps share the names of some of your favorite film-related books. One never can tell what gems will be unearthed!

The Nashville Chronicles: The Making of Robert Altman’s Masterpiece by Jan Stuart / 2000 — Since it looks like the once-proposed 10-hour miniseries version of Nashville ABC-TV was at one time interested in will never see the light of day (made up of all the unused footage from Robert Altman's 1975 opus), this impressively comprehensive behind-the-scenes account of the making of one of my favorite films is an invaluable substitute. A vision of personal filmmaking I can only imagine is long gone in this day of the corporate franchise.

Hitchcock -Truffaut  by François Truffaut Francois Truffaut / 1966  —  I have yet to see the 2015 documentary based on the legendary eight-day interview French director François Truffaut had with Alfred Hitchcock in 1962, but when I read this book in 1970, it was my very first in-depth glimpse into what had heretofore been something we regular folks could only guess at: the job of the director. I know I said none of the books on my list could be called "recommended reading," but if you love film at all, I'd call this book mandatory reading.

Ever, Dirk: The Bogarde Letters Edited by John Coldstream / 2008 —  Academic film study is all well and good for understanding the nuts-and-bolts side of filmmaking; but nothing beats a book where a celebrity lets their hair down and exposes the mundanity behind the art. This massive collection of letters written by actor Dirk Bogarde between 1969 and 1999 (a period when he eased into becoming an author of six novels and eight guarded autobiographies) is enjoyable in direct proportion to your fondness for the actor (I adore him) and love of casual bitchery ( I plead the Fifth). Bogarde refers to Glenda Jackson as "Tits Jackson," thinks Michael Caine has "the ugliest voice in the business," and had this to say about the stars of 1976s Logan's Run: "...even (Tyrone) Power was better than the homogenized sexlessness of (Michael) York or Fawcett Major...she sounds like a Public School or some village in green Wilshire. Is she?"

For Keeps by Pauline Kael / 1994  — Perhaps because there were so many films I wanted to see that I wasn't allowed to, when I was young I developed a passion for reading film criticism. I pored over collections of the writings of Stanley Kauffmann and John Simon, but I credit Pauline Kael exclusively with really teaching me how to look at movies and for introducing me to the still-revolutionary notion that we don't love a film because it's "good"; we love a film because it speaks to us. Happily, I've been able to find her earlier books on eBay, but this career collection of more than 275 of her reviews and essays is pure bliss. Even when she goes off in directions I don't agree with, I always related to her passion and way with words.

Edge of Midnight: The Life of John Schlesinger by William J. Mann  / 2005 — The life and career of the magnificent director of Darling, Midnight Cowboy, and The Day of the Locust are examined in this thorough and thoroughly engaging biography written with the participation and co-operation of Schlesinger himself. Outrageously informative and insightful in its conveyance of artistic genius in a modest man who rarely saw himself as a trailblazer and creator of some of the most enduring works in cinema.

The Busby Berkeley Book by Tony Thomas / 1973 — The occasion of my getting this book is a particularly happy memory, as it was an early 16th birthday present from one of the rare occasions in my mid-teens when the entire family went to the movies together. The film was Neil Simon's The Heartbreak Kid and it was playing on Polk Street in San Francisco at the Royal Theater. The line for the movie was long so we were stalled for some time in front of the bookstore on the corner. The Busby Berkely Book was part of the store's window display and I had been chattering away to one of my sisters about how, after seeing Ken Russell's The Boy Friend (1971), I had become such a fan of Berkeley's movies. So caught up in the topic, I didn't pay much heed when my mom sent my eldest sister off to check on our parking meter. As it turns, out, my mom actually gave my sister money to go into the bookstore to purchase this book. A book I vocally lusted after, but which seemed too grand and costly a purchase (a whopping $15) to seriously entertain.
As any adolescent is likely to attest; when a parent gives even the slightest sign of knowing what is of importance to their child, it feels like the most extravagantly heartwarming acknowledgment and validation. I've never forgotten the way this terribly sweet gesture made me feel that day, and I forever associate my mom (an avid reader) with instilling in me a love of books.
The Busby Berkeley Book itself?...an exhaustive, photo-crammed, film-by-film look at how Berkeley achieved all those dazzling musical panoramas and kaleidoscopes. They don't make 'em like this anymore.
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The Richard Burton Diaries Edited by Chris Williams / 2012 —  I'm not a huge fan of Richard Burton, but I grew up during the whole Liz/Burton thing, so a book like this is irresistible. It seems Richard Burton, in addition to being an avid reader who devoured books like Neely O'Hara devoured pills, was a lifelong diarist. Encompassing the years 1939 to 1983, this collection of Burton's jotted-down thoughts is every bit as juicy as you'd think it would be. Sure it's fun to read him laying into stars like Lucille Ball, Joey Heatherton, and Eddie Fisher; but for guys like me - whose childhood memories are filled with Taylor and Burton as movie magazine staples - it's entertaining and enlightening to get a private glimpse into a very public relationship. 

Ken Russell's Films by Ken Hanke / 1984 — More an academic monograph than a book geared to the casual fan, Ken Hanke's book analyzes and critiques Ken Russell's entire body of work up to 1980 (ending on a Ken Russell high-note with Altered States, so we're spared the years of decline). For the true Ken Russell aficionado, the level of research and study here is sublime. 

The Day of the Locust by Nathanael West / 1939 — Got this paperback in 1975 after seeing the film, and to this day it stands as one of the most scathing indictments of Hollywood I've ever read. Like a grimly surreal allegory, the timeless The Day of the Locust "gets" the strange, hungry symbiosis that exists between the dreamers and the dream machine. Even when one thinks about the Hollywood of today, it's difficult to know who's tune is being danced to. Is it the ones without hope, demanding that movies lie to them and feed them fantasies that can never be fulfilled; or is it the dreammakers who intentionally create want and desire out of the valueless, guaranteeing an endless supply of lack and resentment?
As one who has found in movies a level of comfort and release, I can't help but wonder to what extent I may also use film as a means of escape. I don't have any answers as to it's potential harmfulness (although my instinct leans toward whether films help us to engage in life or encourage us to avoid it) I'm impressed by how artfully Nathanael West turned Hollywood into a state of mind.

The Fifty Worst Films of All Time (And How They Got That Way) by Harry Medved and Randy Dreyfuss / 1978 — One of the great things about coming from a big family is that watching movies on TV together becomes a kind of impromptu MST3K episode. Growing up, my sisters and I all harbored a taste for bad movies and loved riffing on them as we watched, so we actually sought out B-movies and loved cheapo horror programs like Bay Area's KTVU Creature Features (then the only program I knew of to poke fun at movies).
When this book came out, it felt like it could have been a family collaboration. Poking fun at films as diverse as Airport 1975 to Alain Resnais' Last Year at Marienbad, it's more than just easy potshots taken at questionable filmmaking. The book offers a lot of background info on the films in question, and the critiques are more grounded in legitimate structural and contextual gripes than later copycat books could lay claim. A laugh-out-loud funny book with sharp observations.

Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex-Drugs-and-Rock 'N’ Roll Generation Saved Hollywood  by Peter Biskind / 1998 — Fan of the 60s and 70s as I am, this book was heaven for me. Especially since - in profiling directors like Altman, Bogdanovich, Spielberg and everyone in between - the author isn't really of a mind to build a shrine to anyone. Gossip monger that I am, I prefer my film history behind-the-scenes anecdotes with a certain amount of irreverent candor. This book doesn't disappoint. 

They Shoot Horses, Don't They? by Horace McCoy / 1935 — As with The Day of the Locust, I can't imagine compiling a list of Hollywood/film industry books without including this dark companion piece to West's brilliant nightmare. McCoy's novel, set in a marathon dance during the Depression, is more an existential parable, but it's Hollywood backdrop, populated by wannabes and hangers on, is the flip side of the sunny "those were the good old days" nostalgia that was so popular when this paperback edition was published in 1969. If you can get your hands on one of these it's worth it, for in addition to the novel they've included the screenplay to the Sydney Pollack film.

(Honorable Mention: Pictures at a Revolution- Mark Harris, The Fred Astaire Ginger Rogers Book- Arlene Croce, Pauline Kael: A Life in the Dark -Brian Kellow, Jane Fonda: The Private Life of a Public Woman- Patricia Bosworth, Robert Altman: An Oral Biography - Mitchell Zuckoff, Roman Polanski -F.X. Feeny, Phallic Frenzy: Ken Russell & His Films -Joseph Lanza, The Dark Side of Genius: The Life of Alfred Hitchcock-Donald Spoto, Twiggy In Black & White: An Autobiography-Penelope Dening & Twiggy Lawson, Mommie Dearest- Christina Crawford)

THE BARGAIN BIN
Not every film-related book can be a winner. Here are a few I'd put at the bottom of the pile.

Crowning Glory: Reflections of Hollywood's Favorite Confidant by Sydney Guilaroff  & Cathy Griffin / 1996 — The prospect of the chief hairdresser at MGM for more than 50 years writing his memoirs certainly sounds like a can't miss book. He met all the great stars in his time, and lasted through the Golden Age into the '60s. Listen, I like a good show-biz fish story as much as anybody, but most of Mr. Sydney Guilaroff's "I was there!" memories are called into question when he asks the reader to accept the rather outlandish notion that he is a heterosexual male (he was for all practical purposes outed by Esther Williams in her autobiography) romantically involved with some of his famous female clients. Meaning no disrespect, but if he was seriously trying to carry off this Liberace-esque charade, he should have left out the precious early photo of himself looking like Norma Shearer with his two adopted sons, and most CERTAINLY a later photo with his hunky adopted "grandson" at his side (said grandson being a full-grown man when adopted). When an author lies about the single most glaring fact about his life, the book may be 100% fact, but with the author so determined to nail the door shut on this very obvious closet, I can't trust anything in the book to be reliable.

Raquel: Beyond the Cleavage  by Raquel Welch  / 2010 — As one of the last of the old-fashioned studio-created sex symbols, one would think Raquel Welch would have a lot to talk about. She's a survivor with a legendary temperament who's worked with some of the biggest names in the business. Unfortunately, Miss Welch (whom I adore) decided that what her fans most needed from her are beauty, diet, and wig-buying tips. She glosses over her questionable film resume (all the more reason I wanted to know more about them) and turns her book into a tedious episode of The View.

The Elephant To Hollywood by Michael Caine  2010 — This is Caine's second autobiography (his first, What's It All About? was published in 1992) and I guess by this time he was a little talked out. The lack of anything substantive to relate about a late career sustained by accepting any and everything that's laid on your doorstep becomes apparent as we are treated to chapter after chapter in which he recounts how much he loves his birthday. Hoping for at least a mirror into what it's like to go from heartthrob to Batman's butler, the best that can be said is reading this book is like being seated at a dinner next to an amiable chap well versed in inoffensive, unenlightening small talk.

Undiscovered  by  Debra Winger / 2008 — Back in the early 90s Debra Winger used to take my dance class (because she couldn't relate to "perky"- a word she used to describe the other instructors). I've been called many things, but since perky isn't one of them, we developed a friendly rapport, even sharing a tuna sandwich at a diner on her birthday while she talked about her aversion to Hollywood.

Anyhow, when this memoir came out I was very excited because I knew Winger to be a straightforward, pull-no-punches type and I thought she'd use this opportunity to dispel some of the many myths surrounding her tumultuous career.

No such luck. At this point in her life the talented actress must have been going through some kind of self-exploration journey, for Undiscovered is almost hostile in its refusal to be what anyone picking up a celebrity memoir might expect. Want to know about Terms of Endearment? Tough. She's got several pages of poetry for you. Want to know how the hell she was chosen to replace the fired Raquel Welch in the ill-fated Cannery Row (1982)? Sorry, but prepare to read about her garden.

At the end of it all, you wonder if she just wanted to screw with the publishers (which sounds more like the real Debra Winger than most parts of this book).

Tony Curtis: American Prince by Tony Curtis and Peter Golenbock  / 2008 — Perhaps because I was never really a Tony Curtis fan to begin with (the book was a gift) but I found there to be a huge ick factor attendant to reading this. Curtis was 80 or so when this memoir was published, but it reads like something that would sound puerile coming from a 16-year-old. 

To grow older without wisdom or insight is a sad thing, and as Curtis recounts love affairs, sexual flings, and his oddball double-standards when it comes to infidelity (he, a man could sleep with as many co-stars as he wished...the height of insults was to find his wife may have done the same...once!) is to to stare into a pretty but vacuous void. For me, all that came off of the page was ego, self-justification, and the pathetic laundry-listing of sexual conquests as though it actually meant something. I had the same reaction when I read Eddie Fisher's 1999 autobiography Been There, Done That. Ick!

So what are your favorite books about Hollywood, celebrity, or the film industry? Any you want to recommend or warn others about? Let me know! In the meantime...see you around the bookstalls!

Copyright © Ken Anderson   2009 - 2016

I SAW WHAT YOU DID 1965

My not exactly unfounded opinion of gimmick-driven showman/producer/director William Castle is that he was the man with a Copper Touch: the genial, bargain-basement horror schlockmeister had the uncanny talent for making everything he came into contact with feel somehow cheap and derivative.

Take I Saw What You Did, Castle’s teen-targeted follow-up to the poorly-received Barbara Stanwyck feature The Night Walker (a film which, in nabbing the big-name star, he’d hoped would duplicate the success of Joan Crawford’s Strait-Jacket); its clever, harmless-prank-gone-wrong premise—which seemed to also anticipate the '80s trend in teen horror films—is actually a pretty nifty and original idea for a suspense thriller. But in William Castle's unremarkable hands I Saw What You Did comes off as a form of lukewarm hybrid: The World of Henry Orient meets “The Telephone Hour” number from Bye Bye Birdie, as envisioned as an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents.

Joan Crawford as Amy Nelson 

Andi Garrett as Libby Mannering

Sara Lane as Kit Austin

John Ireland as Steve Marak

Seventeen-year-old Libby Mannering (Garrett) lives way out in the fog-bound boonies with her parents (Leif Erickson and Patricia Breslin), kid sister Tess (Sheryl Locke), and a menagerie of dogs, ducks, ponies, and goats. While her parents are away on an overnight trip, Libby invites best friend Kit (Lane) over and the girls amuse themselves—as teenagers with names like Kit and Libby are wont to do—by making prank phone calls to strangers.

Picking random numbers from the phone book, they pretend to be mysterious “other women,” children abandoned at movie theaters, or merely poke fun at people with “asking for it” names like John Hamburger and Donald I. Leak. What sets the suspense plot in motion is when they start calling people and whispering cryptically into the mouthpiece: “I saw what you did, and I know who you are.” A harmless enough, all-purpose head-game that spearheads a passel of trouble when it just so happens one of their phone-victims (John Ireland) has just killed his wife and takes the call seriously. Dead seriously.

I Saw What You Did marks the film debuts of high-schoolers Andi Garrett (17) & Sara Lane (15).
Making Sharyl Locke (as Tess Mannering), 9-years-old and already two films under her belt, the show business veteran in this shot

So where does top-billed Joan Crawford fit into all this? Joan plays John Ireland’s wealthy, single, 60-something neighbor with the pre-teen babysitter name of Amy Nelson. Amy, whom Ireland has been carrying on with behind his wife’s now knife-perforated back, is part Gladys Kravitz, part Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction; so small wonder he’s beginning to show signs of having second thoughts about her before the film even clues us in on the nature of their relationship.

Crawford’s role is really just a high-profile cameo, but, Crawford being Crawford, she makes every onscreen second count by giving each of her scenes at least ten times the emotion required.

I Saw What You Did reunited real-life (clandestine) lovers and co-stars Joan Crawford and John Ireland, who had appeared together in 1955's Queen Bee.

I Saw What You Did was adapted from the 1964 novel Out of the Dark by Ursula Curtiss. I’ve never read the book, but I have a hard time imagining it having as much trouble establishing a sustained and consistent tone as Castle does with his film. Sabotaged at every turn by a distracting (and annoying) musical score better suited to a family sitcom or Hanna-Barbera cartoon, I Saw What You Did is a pleasant enough diversion, working in fits and starts as a light comedy and taut suspenser. That being said, the film rarely ever seems to be of a single mind about itself, and comes off like three TV programs spliced together to make a feature film.

Show #1 is a pleasant teen comedy of the Gidget/The Patty Duke stripe, comically exploring the social habits of ‘60s teens. Show #2 is one of those twisty noir thrillers in which lovers with secrets to hide keep playing one-upmanship games on one another. Show #3—the core premise of the film and most effective element (when it’s allowed to be)—the harmless prank that’s taken too far and goes dangerously awry.

Although 60-something Joan Crawford had no problem portraying a woman 30 years her junior when she subbed for her daughter in the soap opera Secret Storm in 1968, Crawford is said to have balked at the idea of her adoptive daughter, 25-year-old Christina, campaigning for one of the teenage roles in I Saw What You Did. Three years later, Christina (who clearly couldn't take a hint) hit the same maternal roadblock when she rallied for the role of Crawford's daughter in Berserk. A role that went to Judy Geeson. 

For all his faults as a director, William Castle, thanks largely to his eye for bizarre material and his naïve genius for mining unintentional camp in every performance and line reading; makes entertaining movies that remain watchable almost in parallel proportion to one’s awareness that they’re not really very good.

I Saw What You Did benefits from an engaging cast of youngsters and a genuinely suspenseful premise those of us of a certain age can relate to (with today’s caller ID technology, I don’t suppose kids make crank calls anymore…not with the sophisticated joys of cyberbullying and fake identities to distract them). Though conspicuously padded out and sorely lacking in as much Joan Crawford “realness” as I’d like, I Saw What You Did is situated somewhere between being one of Castle’s best (Homicidal, Strait-Jacket) and his worst (Zotz, The Old Dark House, The Busy Body).

Leif Erickson and Patricia Breslin as Dave and Ellie Mannering
Both are William Castle alumni: Erickson appeared in Strait-Jacket, and Breslin starred in Homicidal 

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM 

As much as I’m entertained by I Saw What You Did, there’s no denying that frustration is as defining a characteristic of the William Castle movie viewing experience as cheesy promotional gimmicks. Frustration born of seeing one promising story idea after another given the blandest, flattest treatment possible.

I'm not sure whether it was ego or ambition that led Castle to invest his meager talents toward trying to emulate the careers of his idols Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, but whatever it was had the double-edged effect of motivating him to indulge his strengths (producing and promotion) while blinding him to his weaknesses (directing).

As I’ve stated before, William Castle isn’t a bad director in the Ed Wood vein, he’s mostly just artless and mediocre. In fact, had Castle not been so consumed with wanting to be one of the big players in motion pictures, I’m sure he would have found much more success (and considerably more respect) in television; a realm where mediocrity is not only encouraged but in most cases required.

William Castle - Master of Composition,  Blocking, and Framing
This kind of pedestrian, line 'em up, nail the camera to the floor shot would look right at home on 1965 television. Indeed, shorn of about 20 minutes of its running time, I Saw What You Did would probably have played better as a 1-hour episode of one of those suspense anthology TV programs so popular at the time

That being said, I’d be lying if I inferred that I don’t find some of Castle’s movies to be a great deal of fun. And by fun I mean disposably watchable fun in the way that B-movies and Drive-In exploitation films are fun. One enjoys them because, by virtue of their wholesale inconsequence, they give us permission to indulge the junk-food side of the cineaste appetite.

PERFORMANCES 

The stars of I Saw What You Did are the two teenage “discoveries” making their film debuts: Andi Garrett and Sara Lane. Speaking volumes about Castle’s directorial skills, the observable amateurism of these neophytes blends seamlessly with the caliber of performance typical of any William Castle production. In fact, both girls are engagingly natural in their roles, and awkward in ways both appropriate and believable to their characters. Little 9-year old Sharyl Locke, however, poses no immediate threat to the memory of Margaret O’Brien.

An interesting story angle centering around adolescent sexual precocity is introduced when the girls, intrigued by Steve Marak's voice on the phone, stake out his house in hopes of 
getting a glimpse of the "sexy" older man.

After hitting pay dirt with Joan Crawford in Strait-Jacket, William Castle hoped to corral her for The Night Walker, but she declined, having already signed to reteam with What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? co-star Bette Davis in Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte. When Crawford got "sick" during the making of that film (sick of Bette Davis) and had to drop out, Castle offered Crawford, an uninsurable health risk, top-billing, and a $50,000 paycheck for a 4-day cameo in this little opus. 

Ever the style-icon, Joan Crawford's elaborate bouffant looks to have inspired
 the coiffure adopted by Gary Oldman in Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

In her forays into low-budget cinema, Crawford took to wearing clothes from her own closet.  
This extreme example of suburban glamour (outsized  hair, scoop-necked frock, and ginormous necklace) calls to mind the Afrocentric glamour getup of another diva favorite: Diana Ross in Mahogany

Crawford’s character and story arc is not the major focus of I Saw What You Did; but judging by the intensity of her performance, you probably would have had trouble convincing Crawford of that fact. Because I’m such a Crawford fan, I think she’s wonderful in that camp, overarching way that typified so many of her late-career performances. I can never tell if she outacts the others or merely overacts, but every one of her scenes is charged with a tension and electricity noticeably absent elsewhere in the film.

"I'm going to give you a nice, stiff drink."
(followed by the most superfluous sentence in movie history)
"I'm going to have one myself!"

THE STUFF OF FANTASY

Did I mention how much I disliked this film’s musical score? Oh, I did?…well, when the music isn’t doing its best to subvert and undercut the onscreen action, I Saw What You Did mines a pretty fair amount of suspense out of the mounting trouble the girls unwittingly get themselves into with their silly phone prank. There’s a brutal Psycho-inspired murder early on that could have been very disturbing had it not been shot so incompetently (thanks, Mr. Castle, I guess), and since Castle has such a reputation for derivative homages, a “surprise” murder in the third act comes as no surprise at all. Rather, it feels like a narrative inevitability that simply took a very long time in coming.

Luckily, Joan Crawford is on hand to provide the one truly chilling moment of the film.

Catching Libby peering into Steve's window and jumping to the conclusion that the gray-curious teen has DILF designs on her man, Joan (ahem, Amy) launches into a memorably violent assault and slurred-speech tirade that brings those "night raids" passages in Christina Crawford's Mommie Dearest to vivid, blood-curdling life.


THE STUFF OF DREAMS
I grew up as the only boy among four sisters, so the rare occurrence of a movie with a teenage girl as the protagonist was well-nigh a must-see TV occasion in our house. I Saw What You Did, The World of Henry Orient (1964), and The Trouble With Angels (1966) are all a kind of happy blur in my mind being that each was such a favorite of my sisters when we were young. I cannot even count how often I've seen these films, yet every time I see them it brings back memories of occasions when my sisters and I would sit around the family B&W television set and laugh.

Another reason I Saw What You Did holds such a special place in my heart is because when our parents were away, my sisters and I played similar silly phone pranks. Nothing as provocative as what's said in the film—and mind you, I'm not the least bit proud of this—but we'd call up pizza and take-out joints and place party-sized orders for addresses we got out of the phone book. The only variance I recall was to call strangers and pretend to be a radio DJ offering a chance to win a prize if they could answer a simple question (Q: Who's the sexiest male recording artist today? A: Tom Jones). I have no idea what prize we offered or how the hell we even got away with it, what with our kiddie-sounding voices, but in those pre-video game/internet days, we kids had to find our fun where we could. Ah, youth!

If in the final analysis, I Saw What You Did fails to live up to the level of thrills promised on this high-strung poster, it nevertheless remains, thanks largely to the deeply-in-earnest contributions of Joan Crawford, a movie I enjoy a great deal. Like one of those not-very-scary house of horrors at small-town amusement parks.

BONUS MATERIAL

Sara Lane & Sharyl Lock pose with one of the oversized phones William Castle arranged to have placed outside select theaters to promote the film. According to his memoirs, when the movie resulted in a rash of crank calls in the cities showing the film, the phone company had the prop phones removed

                                                                                           ZombosCloset.com

I don't know if I mentioned this before, but I really hate the musical score for I Saw What You Did. Oh, I did? Well, wouldn't you know it; in addition to the usual William Castle gimmicks: intended but never used - seat belts for the prevention of you being shocked out of your seat; there was an actual 45 single of the vocal version of the I Saw What You Did theme song sung by a girl-group calling themselves The Telltales. Music by longtime William Castle composer Van Alexander, lyrics by Jerry Keller, a singer/songwriter who had a pop hit in 1959 "Here Comes Summer"  (which is actually pretty good). The song is about as awful as you'd imagine it to be, but since you'll have the instrumental version stuck in your head for hours after seeing this film, you might as well check it out with vocals HERE.

I Saw What You Did was updated and remade as a TV movie in 1988 (cue the fried perms and shoulder pads) with Shawnee Smith and Tammy Lauren as the phone-cradling teens. Brothers Robert and David Carradine co-star. 

I Saw What You Did, And I Know Who You Are

Copyright © Ken Anderson  2009 - 2016