"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

THE HEIRESS 1949

“I’m sure you recognize this lovely melody as ‘Stranger in Paradise.’ But did you know that the original theme is from the ‘Polovtsian Dance No. 2’ by Borodin? So many of the melodies of well-known popular songs were actually written by the great masters….”

Thus began the TV commercial for 120 Music Masterpieces, a four-LP set of classical music selections offered by Columbia House and Vista Marketing from 1971 to 1984. This ubiquitous and long-running commercial featured British character actor John Williams (famous for the Hitchcock films Dial M for Murder and To Catch a Thief, but known in our household as the “fake Mr. French” from the sitcom Family Affair) touting the joys of  discovering how many classical melodies were appropriated for contemporary pop songs.

This commercial and Williams’ cultured English accent unfailingly come to mind whenever I watch The Heiress. The reason being that The Heiress’ oft-repeated love theme—the 1784 Jean-Paul-Egide Martini classical composition Plaisir d’Amour (The Joys of Love)—had its melody borrowed for the popular ballad Can’t Help Falling in Love in the 1961 film Blue Hawaii. The unfortunate result of all this is that every time the melody is played in the movie (and that’s quite a lot) it evokes for me not Victorian-era romance, but Vegas-era Elvis Presley.

Ever the Method actor, Clift learned to play the piano for this scene
in which Morris sings The Joys of Love to Catherine

Others feel differently, I'm sure, but this pop music cross-referencing has always only had the effect of cheapening the original compositions for me. Coming as it did a full 12-years before Elvis serenaded Joan Blackman in Blue Hawaii, it’s not The Heiress’s fault Elvis’s version (never a favorite) is so hotwired into my brain that I fairly wince every time Plaisir d’Amour swells on the soundtrack, wrenching me out of the The Heiress' scrupulously rendered 19^th century New York, and thrusting me onto some kind of Gilligan’s Island vision of Hawaii. (I have a similar reaction to the now-distracting use of 1939’s Somewhere Over The Rainbow in the 1941 film noir I Wake Up Screaming.) Happily, my personal aversion to the song Plaisir d’Amour and its use in the film's score (something I might share with the film's Oscar-winning/Oscar-disowning composer Aaron Copland) is the sole complaint I have with William Wyler’s classic romantic melodrama, The Heiress.

Olivia de Havilland as Catherine Sloper

Montgomery Clift as Morris Townsend

Ralph Richardson as Dr. Austin Sloper

Miriam Hopkins as Lavinia Penniman

The Heiress is one of my favorite popcorn movies. And that’s “popcorn movie” in the old-fashioned sense: an enjoyably entertaining film, well-acted, with a good story intelligently told, no heavy message. Not the current definition signifying a check-your-brain-at-the-door exercise in sophomoric cretinism (cue my usual Adam Sandler, Fast & Furious diatribe).

Based on the 1947 Broadway play by Ruth & Augustus Goetz, which itself was adapted from Henry James’ 1880 novel Washington Square, The Heiress is a serious drama to be sure. But anything deeper to be found in its subtext regarding the emotionally stifling social class system or the lingering imprint of love lost (The Heiress overflows with widows and widowers who live in the memory of the departed, never entertaining the thought of finding someone new), remains in service of a not-unfamiliar “Poor Little Rich Girl” romantic melodrama.

As a motion picture adapted from an esteemed literary work, The Heiress was Paramount’s “prestige film” for the year, its pre-release publicity suggesting a Grand Romance between fated-to-be lovers kept apart by some shadowy adverse obstacle. In truth, the film is really a rather severe, withering rumination on love (familial love, romantic love, self-love) and the injurious cost of its absence.

Three is the Magic Number
The Heiress was Montgomery Clift's 3rd film, and his co-star was three years older 

Catherine Sloper (de Havilland) is an unprepossessing, socially awkward young woman whose very existence is a source of nagging disappointment to her widowed father, physician Austin Sloper (Richardson). Dr. Sloper’s beloved wife died giving birth to Catherine, yet lives on as an idealized, phantom presence in Dr. Sloper's heart and in the household he shares with his daughter. A presence to whom Catherine, in her failure to live up to even a modicum of her mother’s beauty or social graces, is ceaselessly compared and judged. Forced to grow up in the shade of her father’s barely contained reproach and resentment, Catherine’s natural virtues (visible to us in private moments where she reveals herself to have brains and a winning sense of humor) have understandably failed to flower.

Sharing their home in Washington Square is Dr. Sloper’s sister Lavinia (Hopkins), a somewhat frivolous but prototypical example of the kind of aimless social butterfly women were expected to be in Victorian times. Given to silly flights of romantic fantasy and hyperbole, yet well-versed in the dos and don’ts of society protocol, Lavinia is tolerated for her ability to assist Catherine in developing the social graces. Supportive of her niece and devoted to not seeing her drift heedlessly into spinsterhood with only her embroidery to keep her company; Lavinia is nevertheless one more pitying voice reminding Catherine of her lack.

Miriam Hopkins is the queen of the silly and superficial busybody.
No matter how extremely her character is written, she finds both the humor and the humanity

Although Dr. Sloper and Lavinia are both of the mind that Catherine’s failings in looks and charm are significantly mitigated by her being an heiress with a considerable fortune, Lavinia is too much of a romantic to ever admit to such base pragmatism, while Dr. Sloper regards the assessment as indisputable fact…like a medical diagnosis.

Curious, then, that when an outside party is suspected of appraising Catherine by similarly pragmatic terms—the outside party being the dashing, obscenely handsome and penniless young suitor Morris Townsend (Clift)—it is Dr. Sloper who lodges the loudest protest.

What I like about The Heiress is that it does a remarkable job of putting us in the middle of the film's dramatic/romantic conflict without specifically telling us how we should feel about it. At times it appears as though Dr. Sloper is unnecessarily brusque in his assessment of his daughter, but he isn't entirely wrong. At the same time we also see that there is more to Catherine than her retiring demeanor belies, making us hope that "someone" comes along and sees in her what those around her fail to recognize.
When that someone comes in the form of Montgomery Clift, playing a man in possession everything that Catherine lacks except money; we can't help but feel (hope) that at least in some ways, this pair is well-suited. Certainly the superficial attractions of physical beauty are no more a barrier to true love than the superficial allure of wealth?

Playboy After Dark
Does our distrust of Morris come from the reversal of the beauty ethic (women are supposed to be the pretty ones), or the reversal of the patriarchal tradition (men are expected to support women)?

The Heiress deviates from the play in that it never makes the honorableness of Morris' attentions entirely clear. At least not initially. As the film progresses we are manipulated back and forth, forced to view Morris' whirlwind courtship of Catherine through the alternating perspective of Dr. Sloper's suspicious eyes or Lavinia’s willfully rose-colored gaze.
Provocatively, we’re placed in the position of preferring to be right rather than see Catherine happy (her father, again), or hoping…perhaps beyond reason…that Townsend is not really what he seems and merely a penniless suitor genuinely seeing in Catherine that which we ourselves have been witness to: her very real charms have just not been given the opportunity to develop in the loveless home she shares with her father in Washington Square.

The film tugs at our beauty biases, our belief in Cinderella fantasies, and our weakness for ugly duckling myths. It also, in providing an emotionally and dramatically satisfying ending which deviates from the novel, taps into the kind of visceral revenge scenario beloved of any individual who has ever felt undervalued or underestimated. 

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THIS FILM

Popular Hollywood movies all tap into common fantasies. There's clearly a market out there for romantic comedies about cloddish, schlubby boy-men who win impossibly beautiful women simply because they possess an ounce of common decency. That is to say, I assume there to be a market for it based on the sheer number of Seth Rogen films out there; I'm just happy I don't know that market personally. 

Because of the unique circumstances of my adolescence: shy, a member of one of the few African-American families in a largely white neighborhood, gay in an all-boys Catholic high-school—I find myself drawn to stories about outsiders. Those who are habitually overlooked and underestimated because they don't conform to established norms.

"I'd never contradict him."

I'm afraid my response to my formative years are reflected in the brand of "outsider" films which have become my favorites over the years: Carrie (shy teen kills entire senior class), That Cold Day in the Park (shy spinster kills for and imprisons sex slave); 3 Women (shy enigma engages in personality theft - deaths to follow)...you get the picture. While never seriously interested in purging the patina of my youth in such melodramatic ways, I'm aware that revenge fantasies rate inordinately high amongst the films in my collection. Vicarious projection, I guess.
The Heiress fits easily into this informal sub-genre, it being a kind of tragic pop fairy-tale that tells the story of a woman who, having misguidedly invested her sense of self and happiness in finding someone who deems her worthy of being loved, seeks that tenuous approbation in the eyes of not one, but two woefully inadequate men. Though her path is one both heartbreaking and life-alteringly painful, Catherine nevertheless comes to arrive at a place of self-discovery, self-acceptance and, ultimately strength. 

And, conforming to the ambiguous emotional tone of all that went before, the ending of The Heiress can be viewed as either tragic or triumphant with no loss to the film's overall effectiveness and poignance.

"That's right Father. You never will know, will you?"

Olivia de Havilland's thorough and complete transformation from doting daughter to embittered adversary is as chilling as it is heartbreaking.

PERFORMANCES

When writing this essay, it came as something of a surprise to me to discover that I've only seen Olivia de Havilland in six films; four of them from her less-than-stellar, post- Lady in a Cage period. But this is more a reflection of the type of movies she appeared in (westerns, period adventure films...neither particular favorites) than a reaction to the actress herself, who, as of this writing, is still with us at age 99.

The Heiress represents Olivia de Havilland's 5th (and final) Oscar nomination
and 2nd win in the Best Actress category

Within my admittedly narrow sphere of exposure, I have nothing but admiration for de Havilland's work in The Heiress. It cannot be an easy feat to imbue an outwardly plain, reactive character like Catherine with as much depth and feeling as de Havilland achieves. Perhaps a flaw in the play's structure is that it is impossible to adapt it in a way in which Catherine can ever be seen in a light reflective of how her father sees her. (Wyler encourages us to identify with and like Catherine. Her comic resilience in the face of humiliation after humiliation wins us over.)
In our being able to so readily appraise and recognize Catherine's worth, her father becomes a villain before he gets a chance to show the sympathetic side of his case.(Marginally sympathetic, anyway. One can empathize with a man missing his wife, but to withhold affection from a motherless child due to repressed resentment or blame is cruel and tragic.). But as I've stated, the narrative tipping point falls to the casting of Morris, and whether or not the actor playing the role is able to conceivably play sincerity and knavishness with equal credibility.

Recreating the role he played on the London stage, Ralph Richardson (knighted Sir in 1947)
is remarkable as the over-assured and unyielding Austin Sloper. The sureness of his performance
serves as the virtual touchstone for everyone else in the film 

I like Montgomery Clift a great deal, but if reports are true that he was deeply dissatisfied with his performance in The Heiress, I can't say his feelings are entirely unfounded. Simply put, he seems to be outclassed and a tad out of his depth when it comes to to the performances of de Havilland, Richardson, and Hopkins. To be sure, this could merely be an instance of clashing acting styles, his co-stars representing a more formal, old-guard style of acting to his more relaxed contemporary technique. The latter resulting in the actor occasionally coming across as stiff and uncomfortable.

However, in his defense, Clift's very "otherness" in manner and speech (whether intentional or not) works marvelously within the context of the story. His Morris Townsend is a character we are meant to be unsure of; unaware of where the real person ends and the artifice begins. He introduces passion and impulse into the Sloper's world of strict formality. Clift's awkwardness, which wreaks havoc with the viewer's ability to ascertain his character's sincerity, winds up adding a great deal to Morris' ambiguity.

Sizing Up The Interloper

Montgomery Clift's Method-era naturalness comes from somewhere so genuine, you don't entertain for a minute that he is not as he seems. His beauty is suspicious, but his behavior is not. He seems ill-suited to a certain level of showy artifice, so his scenes with de Havilland have a warmth that has you rooting for their union even as you sense it is ultimately impossible.
I like him a great deal in the film, even while recognizing his Morris Townsend is perhaps not one of his strongest performances.

As Audrey Hepburn did in Two for the Road, Olivia de Havilland is able to convey very distinct stages in the emotional maturation of her character simply through her facial expressions, body language, and voice modulation. Here, Catherine Sloper has grown into a woman at peace with herself 

THE STUFF OF FANTASY
The Heiress garnered a whopping eight Academy Award nominations in 1949: Best Picture, Director, Supporting Actor (Richardson), Cinematography - winning in the categories of Best Actress (de Havilland), Music (Aaron Copland..a matter of contention), Art Direction (J. Meehan, H. Horner, E. Kuri), and Costume Design (Edith head, Gile Steele).
I'm particularly fond of the costume design and art direction in The Heiress, which is truly gorgeous. Even more so with today's digital restorations and HD TV screens.

THE STUFF OF DREAMS
Adapted from a Broadway production, The Heiress shows its stage roots in being a somewhat stagy and talky motion picture more reliant on dialog, performance, and characterization than action. In this instance I wouldn't have it any other way, for The Heiress has such marvelous, quotable dialog.

"No child could compete with this image you have of her mother. You've idealized that poor dead woman beyond all human recognition." 

"Headaches! They strike like a thief in the night! Permit me to retire, of course. It's not like me to give in, dear, but sometimes fortitude is folly!"

"He must come. He must take me away. He must love me. He must!...Morris will love me, for all those who didn't."

"How is it possible to protect such a willing victim?"

"Yes, I can be very cruel. I have been taught by masters."

"I can tell you now what you have done. You have cheated me. You thought that any handsome, clever man would be as bored with me as you were. It was not love that made you protect me. It was contempt."

BONUS MATERIAL

Composer Aaron Copland's original music theme for The Heiress, before it was controversially reworked by Nathan Van Cleve under director William Wyler's orders.

Washington Square (1997): Agnieszka Holland - the director of the 2014 TV-movie remake of Rosemary's Baby - helmed this impressive-looking adaptation of Henry James' short novel starring Jennifer Jason Leigh, Albert Finney, and Maggie Smith. It's truer to the book than either the play or the 1949 film, so purists should be happy. But in spite of the good performances and lovely cinematography, the film failed to stay with me very long after seeing it. Some are sure to prefer it to the William Wyler film, but it reminded me of the kind of faithful movie adaptation you're required to watch in a high school English class after having read the book.

The legendary 120 Music Masterpieces  TV commercial

Copyright © Ken Anderson