Book Review: Herbert Marshall, A Biography, by Scott O'Brien

Hooray! One of my favorites finally has a full-length biography: British actor Herbert Marshall (1890-1966).  Author Scott O'Brien has once again done a fabulous job with a lesser-known old Hollywood star, and those (like me!) who want to know about all there is to know about the talented, enigmatic Mr. 'Bart' Marshall should pick up a copy.  The biography was published in February of this year, and is available on Amazon, and also through the publisher's website Bear Manor Media.

[Check out my post on my favorite Marshall film performances here]

Mr. O'Brien certainly did his research. He unearthed many interviews published during Marshall's lifetime, but further, was able to talk to many of his friends and colleagues, other authors, and friends of friends, to get further insights into the real Mr. Marshall.  It should be noted that Marshall had a prolific stage career as well. O'Brien's book offers a complete list of his stage as well as screen credits. 

The book uses a chronological approach, and blends detail about his stage and film engagements with events from his personal life.  O'Brien adopts a matter-of-fact tone, and steers clear of drawing psychological inferences or embellishment.  The biography may have benefited from a bit more probing into the drive and ambition that Marshall would have mustered to overcome his disability, as well as the psychological toll over the years. The sources being ultimately limited most likely do not allow for that. 

  

When I first became a Marshall devotee a few years ago, I watched nearly all his films that could be found, and read as much as I could about him. Sadly, there wasn't much.  But I felt that I was pretty thorough in my own personal research, if frustrated with the lack of detail and contradictory reports.  So, I will admit with a modicum of pride that I was familiar with much of the detail of Marshall's life in the book.  Yet, there was much that I didn't know.  Here are just a few facts that were of particular interest to me:

War Injury:  Most classic film fans know Marshall lost a leg in World War I, and worked in Hollywood using an often painful prosthesis.  Many accounts state that he lost his *right* leg.  Thankfully, O'Brien confirms it was actually the LEFT, which is what I suspected all along after, as I mentioned, having watched nearly all of his available films. I can't explain why this is important to me, as Marshall, while not exactly hiding his injury, preferred not to talk much about it.  It's perhaps the laziness of other writers or researchers to be careless with facts that annoyed me whenever I came across this little error.  O'Brien even specifically cites author Mark Vieira as the source of this information.

1930s Hollywood glamor: Marshall with Trouble in Paradise co-star and friend Kay Francis 1930s Hollywood glamor: Marshall with Trouble in Paradise co-star and friend Kay Francis

Longevity:  Marshall worked his entire life, making his last film just a few months before he died at age 75.  According to O'Brien, Marshall never considered retirement.  This I find particularly interesting. It is not entirely clear if there were financial reasons, or Marshall just loved to work.  

Complicated personal life:  Having married five times and a carried on a significant relationship with Gloria Swanson during his adult life, it's natural that his personal life must have been complicated. But what I didn't know was that, according to comments by those that knew him, he was more of a ladies' man than even his documented relationships may have had you believe. His immense personal charm was a valuable asset in this regard.  That said, by all accounts, he was a generous, kind, and self-effacing person.

His connections with other stars:  Marshall was close to many in his profession. He was a lifelong friend of fellow British character actor Eric Blore. Marshall and Blore starred together in the comedy Breakfast For Two (1937), in which Blore played Marshall's valet. Barbara Stanwyck was the leading lady. It's a lesser known but still fun screwball comedy. Ronald Colman was also a close friend.  Both stars died before Marshall, and he grieved when he lost his old friends.

Eric Blore (left) and Marshall relax while making Breakfast for Two (Picture featured in O'Brien's biography of Herbert Marshall

Love of Trouble in Paradise:  What is one of my favorite films was apparently a favorite of Marshall's as well.  This gem from 1932 is a classic Ernst Lubitsch pre-code sophisticated European comedy. 

His middle-class upbringing: To those of us on this side of the Atlantic, a British accent often connotes education and/or breeding.  Marshall had a fabulous voice and terrific use of the 'Queen's English'. He was admired his entire life for that, and for his brand of 'Britishness' and gentlemanly manner. He sometimes bristled at being labeled a 'gentleman' because in the UK he was decidedly middle-class, having been born in a family of working actors.

Marshall's life and career arc have the advantage of extending through the full first half of cinema history, on two continents. For that reason alone, the biography is a fascinating read - how one person navigated serious setbacks, cultural barriers, etc., to find consistent work in the industry until the mid-1960s. 

Agnès Varda's turn at an Oscar

As a classic film enthusiast, I consider "classic films" and "films of today" two different animals.  Despite the connective thread through film history, this is at least partly because the great filmmakers of the past aren't typically Still. Making. Films.  Enter director Agnès Varda, one of the rare exceptions.  This pioneer of the French New Wave began her film career in 1954, and at 89 years old her 2017 film Faces Places (Visages Villages in French) is her first to be nominated for an Oscar--we'll know in just one week if she will be the oldest living filmmaker to win any competitive Oscar.  This weekend, I had the opportunity to attend two very special screenings at the Harvard Film Archive, with Ms. Varda in person to answer questions after both screenings.  This post will summarize my thoughts about the films, with emphasis on Faces Places, and some insights Ms. Varda provided her enthusiastic fans at the screening.

As soon as the opening credits of Faces Places started rolling on Friday evening it was immediately apparent that we were going to be witnessing filmmaking at its very best. The clever use of animations brought us right into the whimsical world we were about to enter.

From opening credits of Faces Places (screengrab from film's trailer)

The film documentarians, Varda and her visual artist/collaborator JR, would not only tell the stories, they would BE part of the stories.  After the film, Varda commented that in her documentaries, she never believed that the filmmaker could or should be remote from her subject, and thus she is comfortable being in front as well as behind the camera: "When you do a documentary, you are part of it."

Varda (from Le Monde, 2017)

I'll admit right now that until a couple of months ago, I was a Varda newbie. I attempted to address that quickly by watching two of her most critically acclaimed earlier films, Cleo from 5 to 7 (1961) and Le Bonheur (1965). Cleo is the film that put her clearly in the French New Wave camp, and yet her place in that camp was special -- as a woman filmmaker telling a uniquely woman's story. Her contemporaries were the likes of Jean-Luc Godard (with whom she remains friendly), Claude Chabrol, François Truffaut, and Jacques Demy, who became her husband.  She also had the distinction of coming to film from photography; born in Belgium in 1928, she moved to France early in her life and devoted over 10 years to her photojournalism career.  This perspective allowed her to craft intimate and compelling stories from everyday life and put them movingly on film.  

With a bit of background behind me, I can postulate safely that Faces Places is an amalgam of what makes Varda so great.  First, it's not just her film; she collaborated with a young French artist known only as 'JR', with whom she developed a strong artistic partnership. JR is a muralist, who takes black-and-white photos of people and places, enlarges them, and plasters them on the sides of buildings or other large inanimate objects as way to comment on the world.  Under the tutelage of master Varda, he embarks on a journey around France, capturing photos of everyday life, mostly of working classes or the marginalized, and makes them literally larger-than-life to bring attention to their causes, or just their humanity in an overly mechanized world. 

The journey, and the work, is beautifully filmed and edited by Varda, although she shares directorial credit with JR. A particularly poignant vignette contrasts two goat-milking farms. One farm has mechanized milking machines and all the goats have their horns burned off at a young age to prevent them from fighting. The proprietors of another, smaller, farm allow their goats to keep their horns, and milks the goats manually. Varda and JR, without being preachy, challenge the prevailing societal opinion that productivity is king; goats should be allowed to keep their horns.  This is illustrated no better than in their mural as shown below.

A number of such compelling stories of everyday life are illuminated in the film, a Varda specialty. At the Q&A Varda was asked about the extent of her planning ahead what she captures on film.  She answered, and I paraphrase, "I am mainly curious about people. In my documentaries, I get to know people by just being curious and wanting to learn. I plan where I want to go, but then I am ready for chance to provide direction."  In another moving scene, Varda and JR plastered the oversized images of three striking dockworkers' wives at a construction site at Le Havre, to give them a presence in their man's world. She elaborated in the Q&A by saying, "As a feminist, I want to move the needle, but we need to work with the men to change the circumstances." And also, "I never ask (her subjects) about politics, but I go quietly to these people."  

Although the focus of the film was mostly on others, it turned internal at times. On film, JR and Varda had a conversation in a cemetery about death, and Varda said she's not afraid of death, but wonders what is on the other side, and feels it getting closer. She elaborated a bit about mortality in the post-film discussion, saying her memory had holes in it, like swiss cheese, but that she has come to terms with that. "We are made as a mixture of memory and discovery."

Sandrine Bonnaire in Vagabond (1985)

Vagabond (1985) was screened on Saturday night, and unlike Faces Places, has a dark, existential tone. Sandrine Bonnaire shines as the titular character, a 17-year old vagrant in France, who tries to fit in society but ultimately it rejects her--and she it. The film feels in many ways like a documentary, as all scenes were filmed in real locations, and most of the supporting cast were not actors.  To better connect with her character of Mona, Varda spent time driving around rural France and picking up hitchhikers, learning about their lifestyle and their habits, "even what was in their backpacks," she said.  

The theme of  'journey' also connects the two films.  In fact, characters on some sort of physical, as well as symbolic journey, are common to Varda's writing. When asked about this at the end of the screening, Varda commented that the theme of 'walking' in particular was prevalent in the French New Wave.  (Cleo from 5 to 7 follows a young woman walking around Paris.)  "People walk as a reaction to society," she said.  

I'm so so glad I've discovered the films of Agnès Varda, and even more thrilled to have seen her in person, two extraordinary evenings in a row.  While I've not seen any of the other Oscar-nominated documentaries, I want Faces Places to win on March 4. I want to see Varda, along with JR, on the stage at the Dolby Theatre in Hollywood--the difference in their ages and heights poignantly on display--accepting an award that celebrates unheralded film history as much as one film.  This would be a significant step in bringing Varda's 70-year distinguished career into a brighter light, and further chipping away at the limitations and discrimination faced by women in film history for longer than that.

This post is part of the '31 Days of Oscar' Blogathon, hosted by Kellee of Outspoken & Freckled, Aurora of Once Upon a Screen, and Paula of Paula's Cinema Club.  Click here to check out all the other great posts honoring past and present Oscar films and stories.

Volcanos and fiery conversation: An afternoon with Werner Herzog

When you have the chance to see a film never before shown on the big screen AND to see its celebrity filmmaker live, you don't turn it down.

Last Thursday was the day that Werner Herzog visited The Coolidge Corner Theatre to accept his Coolidge Award, and although that specific event was in the evening, in the afternoon he attended a screening of his 2016 Netflix documentary Into the Inferno, and had an extended Q&A after.  A memorable afternoon it most certainly was! 

As a Coolidge member, I had reserved a ticket weeks ago, got there early, and saved a seat for my friend.  I shot this photo while waiting for her, but when she arrived we moved closer several rows.  Then the fun began.

First up was the film, and I loved it.  It follows the Herzog blueprint of exploring distant and dangerous lands, this time sharing the lens with British volcanographer Clive Oppenheimer, with whom Herzog has had a longtime friendship.  The film isn't about the science of volcanoes, although there is some of that; it isn't about the search to uncover volcanic secrets, although there is that; it isn't about capturing the violence and cinematic beauty of volcanic eruptions, although there is that as well.  In reality, it's a little of all those things, with perhaps humankind's odd and wondrous relationships with volcanoes being the primary theme.  Herzog himself traveled to locales like Indonesia, North Korea, and the Danekil desert in Ethiopia, developing relationships with and seeking insights from those that live on the edge of volcanic worlds. I found the segment with an inside view of the North Korean society, along with their country's volcanic origin story, to be particularly fascinating, especially today.  

North Korean children instructed in music (from Netflix Into the Inferno trailer)

The film successfully weaves scientific, personal and sociological explorations seamlessly with the characteristic Herzog editing finesse.  I didn't mind that a single theme wasn't deeply explored - which was a criticism by at least one reviewer I read.  The film was varied enough that whatever your interest, you were left wanting more, in a good way.  Another feature of a Herzog film in abundant evidence here, to this fan's delight, was the choice of music.  Choral music by Rachmaninoff, Vivaldi, and Schutz, along with the prelude to Wagner's Lohengrin, and traditional vocal music by Russian monks from the Kiev Pechersk Monastery, enhanced the magic and awe that we were taking in visually.

At the end of the film, Herzog was formally introduced by Katherine Tallman, Executive Director at the Coolidge, and was greeted enthusiastically by the sold-out crowd.

With a slightly raspy voice, he answered questions from moderator Professor Herbert Golder (Boston University).   For those interested, the entire Q&A was captured via Facebook Live and archived here.

Naturally, many of the questions related to the film we had just seen. I was surprised when he expressed that one of his main motivations to make the film was to get young audiences excited about science.  "If young people are inspired to become scientists, then the film will have been worth it." 

Herbert Golder from Boston U. and Werner Herzog.

There was also discussion about the larger themes, especially religious and spiritual, that are included in this and much of Herzog's work.  He acknowledged that while not adhering to a specific religion, he is fascinated by 'belief systems' and inspired to reach the sublime that is beyond everyday realities.  Considering much of his chosen music was religious, he told of a difficult negotiation with the Russian Orthodox church, which objected to sacred music with reference to 'voices of angel's being superimposed over images of volcanic eruptions.  In deference, Herzog left out some of the music he wanted to include. 

Herzog touched on his career of getting close to 'the edge' in many of his films.  He laughed and said he's still around because he balances his awe of nature with appropriate prudence.  The conversation naturally turned to the future of our planet, and his remarks were balanced--no doomsday view from this filmmaker.  "We are on shaky ground, but that doesn't mean we should roll back progress or go back to being hunters/gatherers."  And, "The Amish would be the only survivors on the planet if the internet went down for two weeks." (!)

Finally, he was asked his views, somewhat indirectly, about the current political climate in the U.S.  This is when the conversation turned fiery, and Herzog didn't hold back: "Trump was elected in a democratic process. We have to live with this.  The problem is not Trump, but the culture and the alienation felt by many in the heartland of the U.S.  The problem is not Steven's Point, Wisconsin, the problem is Boston."  A respectful hush came over the cinema then.  Herzog apparently feels that those in the audience at the Coolidge should work harder to develop a discourse with those in 'flyover' country.  I won't comment further, as my role is film blogger, not political commenter.  

I was glad that before this event, I took time to watch more of Herzog's work, including Nosferatu, the Vampyre (1979), as shared in last month's blog; Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972), and the fascinating documentary My Best Fiend (1999) about his relationship with volatile, unstable, but brilliant actor Klaus Kinski.  It helped me better appreciate the skill and uniqueness of this still active auteur, with whom I shared an afternoon.  Unfortunately, I was unable to attend the evening conversation and award presentation, but for those interested, that is also available on Facebook here:

Werner Herzog's Nosferatu, The Vampyre (1979)

Every year my neighborhood rep house the Coolidge Corner Cinema honors a distinguished person in film with the  'Coolidge Award'.  This year, it's German director Werner Herzog, who is 75 years old in 2018.  He'll be visiting on February 8 for an afternoon screening of a TBA film followed by a Q&A, and then a full evening discussion with Boston University Classics professor Herbert Golder.  See details here.

Werner Herzog (photo from www.coolidge.org)

I've only seen a couple of his films, but I decided that I need to see more, in preparation for the afternoon session that I'll be attending that day.  Luckily for me, Filmstruck has several of his films currently available, and I only somewhat reluctantly decided to take a look at his telling of the Dracula legend, Nosferatu, The Vampyre (1979).  Those familiar with classic horror films will likely already know the film it's based on, F.W. Murnau's legendary silent film Nosferatu from 1922.  German compatriot Herzog, decades later, apparently loved the film and decided to remake it, but with the original names from the Bram Stoker novel restored.  Usually, remaking a classic is a bad idea.  In this case, it was actually a pleasant (?) surprise.  I started watching fearing I'd quickly be repulsed, or bored, or both. I was quickly drawn in and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I would give a green light to any classic film fan thinking about watching this one.  (Unless they would be unsettled by rats; lots and lots and lots of rats.)  A few observations follow.

Herzog was obviously going for the "look" that Max Schreck brought to his role as the skeletally thin, toothy menace that is Nosferatu (Count Dracula) when he made up Klaus Kinski.  Check it out:

Klaus Kinski as Dracula (1979)

Max Schreck as Nosferatu (1922)

The two directors have different approaches to the character, however. Murnau creates a sense of mystery in his Nosferatu by generally requiring us to maintain a distance from the vampire-- his most memorable appearances filmed mostly in silhouette, shadow, or in medium or long shots.  He's certainly creepy enough and we get the point that he's to be feared. Herzog, on the other hand, brings us close in to his Dracula, as we can't help but sense the realness, albeit horrifying nature, of this creature. Herzog is interested in the complex psychology of the character, and Kinski delivers -- while he's so horribly ugly and repulsive, we simultaneously feel some empathy for the great pain that the man is obviously dealing with, the affliction that causes him to have to feed on the blood of living humans without ever resting or being able to grow old and die.  Kinski was notorious for his unstable personality, and had to be institutionalized when he was a young man; perhaps some of that madness is channeled here.  

Herzog provides us well-rounded characters of Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz), who somehow can't get his business transacted with Dracula quick enough to escape without being neck-bitten, and his devoted wife Lucy (Isabelle Adjani) who ultimately vanquishes the menace, at cost to her own life.  The sexual angle of the Dracula story isn't overemphasized, but you will certainly see it if you look.  Renfield, the business owner who sends Harker on his adventure is already losing his mind -- his constant high pitched cackle as supplied by actor Roland Topor was incredibly annoying in short order.

A sense of unease settles over Count Dracula's houseguest, Jonathan Harker

Herzog seems interested in the everyday living of this central European town that is simultaneously beset with vampire horror and the Black Death, not necessarily coincidentally.  Many shots look like still life paintings of the great Dutch masters. Herzog and cinematographer Jörg Schmidt-Reitwein relied heavily on natural light, or candlelight, which gave the film a sense of time and place, as well as a natural hearth-bound beauty, or ominous beauty of the wilderness:

In Renfield's office: Kittens with books and apples

I also loved the soundtrack. Florian Fricke and Popol Vuh are credited, and their contributions are the modern, dissonant themes, but also new-agey guitar compositions which give a comforting and romantic feel to the early scenes in the film, like this one between Jonathan and his wife Lucy.

However, the climax of the first third of the film, when Harker has left the comfort of the inn and climbs into the starkness of the Carpathian mountains towards Dracula's dwelling, is scored with the Prelude to Wagner's Ring Cycle--the opening of Das Rheingold.  It's lush, majestic music that builds slowly quietly to almost a triumphant forte.  Perhaps it was chosen because of the opera's overarching theme of the destructive nature of the quest for gold -- not unlike the destruction Harker unwittingly brings upon his own town at the end of the film as he pursues his chance for wealth.  

The entire sequence is currently on YouTube, linked below.  Wagner's Prelude to Das Rheingold starts about 2 minutes in.

Roger Ebert, a great admirer of Herzog, considered his version of the Dracula story worthy of inclusion in his list of "Great Movies."  Read here his summary of the powerful experience that is watching this film.  Finally, fellow blogger Silent-ology wrote a great essay about this film in 2015, read it here.

Next up:  Aguirre, the Wrath of God!

Looking forward to 2018 in Film

So here we are, the end of another year!  It was a busy one for me as I made a major career change by going into consulting.  This means my time is more flexible, but I have a lot of irons in the fire...which is good, because I get to do more cool things, but also tends to mean I don't have as much time to devote to any one thing.  I also have to be a bit more finance-conscious.  For a variety of reasons, distractions, etc., I didn't watch as many new-to-me films as in previous years.  Here's the tally since I started reporting out:

2015: 178

2016:  162

2017:  85

(I use www.icheckmovies.com to record my viewings.  Anyone else who uses this service, add me as a 'friend' - jcdohio)

What am I looking forward to in 2018?

Renowned Belgian film director Agnès Varda is coming to the Harvard Film Archive!  Varda, who is known for her influential creative style, especially during the French new wave, will be entering her 90th year (!), and she is still producing films. On Friday, Feb 22, she will attend the screening of her 2017 documentary Faces Places (Visages Villages), and on Saturday Feb 23 she'll be present for Vagabond (Sans toit ni loi) from 1985.  I expect she'll make some comments and take audience questions.  I haven't yet had the opportunity to see any of this 'trailblazing woman's' films, but this is my opportunity, and to get to hear her insights live is certainly a great privelege.  The HFA is also screening a number of her other films during the month of February.

The 2018 TCM Film Festival (of COURSE!) in Hollywood, April 26-29.  This year, the theme is Powerful Words: The Page Onscreen, promising film adaptations of novels, short stories, memoirs, poetry, or any other written medium.  A few films have already been announced, and the entire program won't be available until shortly before the festival starts.  This may be my chance to finally see the Laurence Olivier version of Hamlet!  Catching up with film friends will be a highlight, as well, and making some new friends.  I may also take time away from Tinseltown to catch a Dodgers game before the festival starts.  My sources tell me the reigning National League champs are in town!  Check out the 1-min promo clip below:

From www.berklee.edu

The Coolidge Corner Theatre hasn't yet announced their 2018 collaboration with the Berklee Silent Film Orchestra, but in past years a world premiere of a new score, played live by this great local ensemble, would happen in May, so I keep checking their website.  Last year, their score for Harold Lloyd's The Freshman was incomparable.  I hope to see this score released on DVD soon!  Their recent scores for Variete and The Last Laugh are now available on DVD and Blu-Ray on the Kino Lorber label.

McFarland Books will releases Derek Sculthorpe's latest biography, this time of film noir queen Claire Trevor. I look forward to reading about this underrated actress whose film career lasted over 50 years. You may know her best as John Wayne's love interest in Stagecoach (1939) or as the sultry singer from Key Largo (1948).

Claire Trevor (IMDb.com)

This is just a sampling of what I know will be another great year of film-watching and blogging.  I hope to continue to join blogathons and get involved in more such events to learn about films and film history, and to 'give back' to do my little part to keep classic film alive!

Happy New Year everyone!  Gotta get ready to party!

William Powell and Myrna Loy celebrate New Years'
as Nick and Nora Charles in After the Thin Man (1936)

Brian Donlevy, the "Good Bad Guy" - Book Review & Author Interview

Who doesn't love a charismatic villain? The best villains are those who not only steal all the scenes they are in, but make you root for them by exposing their humanity, vulnerability, or sheer likeability.  In one of my favorite examples, Douglas Fairbanks Jr. had a tremendous turn as devilish, dashing  'Rupert of Hentzau' in The Prisoner of Zenda (1937).  (By the way, this movie is terrific beyond just Fairbanks, Jr., so check it out if you haven't already seen it.)

Brian Donlevy, publicity photo from
Destry Rides Again.  (IMDb.com)

I'd seen character actor Brian Donlevy (1901-1972) in a few films from the 1940s before he really registered on my radar, but that all changed when I watched Destry Rides Again (1939).  I wrote about this western, starring James Stewart, here, and had commented on how Donlevy really killed it.  It turns out that playing deeply flawed characters, protagonists or antagonists, was Donlevy's specialty.  Some were straight out villains that were unlikeable but still charismatic (Beau Geste, 1939), villains that were just unlikeable and not particularly charismatic (The Virginian, 1946), misguided tough guys with hearts of gold (McGinty in The Great McGinty, 1940), or corrupt politicians with a sense of humor (The Glass Key, 1942).  But his career also saw him assaying strong upstanding guys--two that I enjoyed were: in Two Years Before the Mast (1946), he supported leading man Alan Ladd as the real-life writer who ultimately exposes the poor working conditions aboard sailing vessels in early 19th century; in Kiss of Death (1947) he plays the straight and sympathetic D.A. to Victor Mature's reforming ex-con.  If nothing else, his range was wide and he was reliable, and sometimes breathtaking. 

Late last year, his first full-length biography, titled Brian Donlevy, the Good Bad Guy, was published by McFarland Books, and does justice to this often overlooked actor's life and career.  The author, Derek Sculthorpe, who also wrote the recent bio of Van Heflin that I reviewed here, answered some of my questions about his work, and I intersperse them throughout this post.

Sculthorpe's objective in writing about Donlevy was to "provide a comprehensive and human assessment of his life and career."  As with the Heflin book, it's thoroughly researched.  The primary focus is on the detailed output of Donlevy's career, and because Sculthorpe watched every available film and television show, he is able to draw detailed insights about his work.  It really is a great reference for those interested in film history, as Sculthorpe provides the background of each film's production, a short description, an analysis, and citations from press of the time.

Despite this heavy film focus, Sculthorpe intersperses chronologically those specifics of Donlevy's personal life that he uncovered during his research so that we get a sense of who this man was.  For example, with his study of military records, Sculthorpe was able to debunk some of the more colorful stories of Donlevy's service before and during WWI which were fed to the press during Donlevy's early acting career, and which are still part of the lead bio on IMDb.com.

Donlevy with starlet Rita Cansino, soon to become
mega-star Rita Hayworth, in Human Cargo (1936)
(Photo from: Brian Donlevy, the Good Bad Guy,
McFarland Books 2016)

Q.  How long did it take you to research and write your book on Donlevy?

Sculthorpe:  "It took several months to research. It’s an incredibly time-consuming process. The thing is that once you start writing you begin to find more things. Obviously by the end you have so much.  It took about eight months to write. This is so much less than it took for Heflin of course which was about two years or so in total. I learnt so much writing the first one which meant that I knew what to expect this time."

We learn that, in many ways, Donlevy had a career typical of many Hollywood actors of his generation, working until just a couple of years before he succumbed to cancer in 1972 at the age of 71.  While he had no real formal acting training, he scored successes in film, the Broadway stage, radio and television. He had a private life that wasn't without its bumps and bruises, and battled alcoholism.  He struggled with being typecast as a 'heavy', but often made the best of those roles, and relished those in which he played against type. 

Q.  What film of Donlevy's that is less well-known would you recommend people watch because of Donlevy's presence?

Brian Donlevy and Susan Hayward on
the set of Canyon Passage (IMDb.com)

Sculthorpe:  "It’s hard to name just one. I would say Canyon Passage, which was an interesting role. Among the less well-known ones I especially liked 36 Hours to Kill (1936) in which he showed a lightness of touch; he was romantic and jaunty. The Remarkable Andrew (1942) (where Donlevy played the ghost of President Andrew Jackson) because he worked well with (William) Holden and it was something different.  Incidentally, in one of his early shorts, Ireno (1932) he had a tiny uncredited role as a drunk which was well-observed I thought. It is very short but is now available on YouTube:"

Donlevy first gained star status with his Oscar-nominated turn as the villain in Beau Geste.  But his career reached its apex in the 1940s, where he was under contract with Paramount, and where he made most of the hit films I cited as those catching my attention.  Later, as his career ebbed, he worked for various other studios, such as Republic, and ventured into television.  His hit show Dangerous Assignment in the 1950s was based on the radio show of the same name, that Donlevy himself conceived and wrote.  In it, he's a debonair but tough U.S. special agent dealing with all kinds of cases of intrigue and adventure.  Interestingly to me, he married the widow of Bela Lugosi late in life, after having divorced two wives, and Sculthorpe was in touch with stepson Bela Lugosi Jr., for insights about Donlevy.  One gets the sense that Donlevy had a restless energy all his life that propelled him to success, but also perhaps never allowed him contentment with his choices.  He dabbled in writing poetry and fiction, and investments in mining concerns.

Q.  In reading the book, it struck me that Donlevy’s life and career had parallels to those of Van Heflin, the subject of your earlier book (e.g. talents underused, character actor vs. lead, challenges in personal life such as difficult relationships with children, drinking, etc).  Any thoughts about what made them similar, and perhaps more importantly, what was different about the two? 

Donlevy with Gloria Stuart in 36 Hours to Kill (IMDb.com)

Sculthorpe: "I think Heflin was a far more intense actor; for him acting was a real craft and he put a great deal into his roles, especially on stage. Those parts were physically and emotionally draining. For Donlevy, it was more of a job I would say, a means to an end. Both were a similar generation, both loners and, as you say, had a drinking problem. As to drinking, it is a common theme, and others such as William Holden and Robert Ryan were comparable. I think that generation were encouraged to keep emotion inside. Conversely, I think this made them better actors. Both sought adventure in their early lives, but the crucial difference was that Donlevy wanted to be part of something (the army), whereas Heflin just wanted to escape and do his own thing. Overall, I would say Heflin turned down a great many more roles than Donlevy. Their attitude to television was revealing; Heflin saw it as diminishing the art of acting in some way. Donlevy was practical and enjoyed one of his greatest successes with a TV series."

Q.  If you could play casting director…is there any film role that Donlevy would have been absolutely the best choice for (past or present) that may have showcased his talents better?  

Sculthorpe:  "I would like to have seen him as Frank Elgin in The Country Girl, (1954) which he only ever did on stage in his “straw hat” days. I know Bing Crosby did it well but Donlevy was said to be unexpectedly good in that role so that would have been interesting."

Q. What is your next project?

Sculthorpe:  "My next book is about Claire Trevor, it should be out at the beginning of next year." 
The subjects I have chosen have not been the most obvious ones, or the easiest to write about. I just feel that the big stars - Marilyn, Cary Grant, Bette Davis et al. have been written about a lot. What more can be said about them? A vast number never made it to their level, but nonetheless have a story to tell. It is heartening to see that there have recently been books about Lloyd Nolan, Richard Jaeckel, Dan Duryea and other less feted people for instance."

Sculthorpe added that he would be interested to know which subjects my blog readers would like to see books written about -- feel free to add your thoughts in the comments section.

This post is my entry in the 2017 "What a Character" Blogathon, hosted by Aurora of Once Upon a Screen, Kellee of Outspoken & Freckled, and Paula of Paula's Cinema Club.  Check out all the posts to satisfy your curiosity about actors you've probably seen but may not know their names.  All these actors deserve to have their stories told for what they gave us on the silver screen. 

The film collaborations of Luis Buñuel and Hugo Butler in Mexico

The 'Hollywood blacklist', composed of prominent film personnel that were presumed in the 1940s and 1950s to have ties to the Communist Party, had repercussions well beyond Tinseltown, or the U.S. for that matter.  Despite this being a decidedly dark period of U.S. and Hollywood history, those who made their livelihood from the craft of film-making often still worked to produce films of considerable interest in whatever way they could. One way was to leave the U.S.

In Mexico, two exiles, Spanish-born surrealist Luis Buñuel and blacklisted Hollywood screenwriter Hugo Butler, formed an unlikely partnership and produced two unique and divergent films: Robinson Crusoe and The Young One, the only ones Buñuel made in English.  Both challenged the structures of society that made the blacklist possible.

This post is my contribution to the "Banned and Blacklisted" CMBA Fall Blogathon.  For links to all posts, click on the image below.

Director and writer Buñuel was not a Hollywood filmmaker, and was not included on the official Hollywood blacklist, but had he had a substantive U.S. career, he may very well have been.  He was born in 1900 in Spain, and while, or because, he had a strict Jesuit education, in his younger years was already developing an irreverent, experimental style of film-making in the late 1920s and early 1930s, that was often counter-establishment.  His penetration into surrealism happened alongside his growing friendship with painter Salvador Dalí and playwright/poet Federico García Lorca.  He did find himself on the wrong side of Fascist Spain for his unabashed anti-Fascist and anti-clerical views.  And to Hollywood he did come, after establishing himself in France as a filmmaker, but the studio system did not warm to him. His friend, producer Denise Tual, was more or less kicked out of Louis B. Mayer's office in 1944 trying to recommend he hire Buñuel. Then persona non grata, Tual decided to restart her career in Mexico, and because of the increasing pressure on left-leaning filmmakers in Hollywood, Buñuel was convinced to go with her.  In Mexico he had more options, and began to make complete films again when connected to powerful producers Óscar Dancigers and George Pepper.  Pepper, also 'exiled' in Mexico as a result of the blacklist, had established his own production company under the pseudonym George P. Werker (!).

Buñuel (left) with Hugo Butler working on a script
(credit: Spartacus-Educational.com)

The pressure on screenwriter Hugo Butler to leave Hollywood was considerably more intense.  While originating from Canada, the writer of Lassie Come Home and The Southerner and his American screenwriter wife Jean Rouverol had been members of the Communist party for a time, and were expecting a call to testify by the unfriendly House Un-American Activities Committee. Rather than submitting to that, they left Hollywood for Mexico in 1951.  There, they joined fellow blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo, Albert Maltz, and other 'exiles'.  The film-making industry in Mexico in the 1950s was protectionist, though, and artists such as Butler and Buñuel did not find it easy at first to gain a foothold.  The state-funded 'Asociación de Productores y Directores de Películas Mexicanas' put heavy restrictions on non-Mexicans in getting work permits.  As a result, working with Dancigers and Pepper, Butler and Buñuel became part of a 'cinematic crosscurrent'.  Exiles from their own countries, and feeling somewhat exiled within Mexico, they perhaps unsurprisingly explored the experience of 'the exile' in their work during this phase. 

Robinson Crusoe was their first joint project together.  The screenplay based on the famed novel by Daniel Defoe had been drafted first by Butler, and was sold to producer Pepper, who reached out to Buñuel to direct.  Buñuel was initially reluctant, but when he had the opportunity to contribute to the developing script the deal was sealed.  Irish actor Daniel O'Herlihy was cast as the title character, and filming commenced in color, in Mexico.  The dialogue was in English, although in the first part of the film it was minimal, with O'Herlihy dominating the screen as the castaway with no other humans.  His thoughts are related, when necessary, with voice-over narration. This version focused on the psychological struggle of Crusoe's fight to survive without any human interaction, rather than the more traditional 'man conquers nature' arc.  While he does come to dominate his surroundings, and the 'imperial' right order is restored, he questions the power dynamic of his relationship with his 'native' companion Friday.  As Ed Gonzalez says in Slant Magazine, "Buñuel dares his audience to question everything they've come to know about morality, savagery, and everything in between.” 

Butler's horizons were expanded working with Buñuel, collaborating to incorporate more non-traditional, including surrealist elements, into the script.  A famous fever-dream sequence inserts a vision of Crusoe's father, chastising Crusoe.  At one point his father is submerged eerily underwater:

Robinson Crusoe was released in 1954 through United Artists, and screenwriting credits were given to Buñuel, and Butler under the pseudonym Phillip Ansel Roll.  It got enough attention that O'Herlihy was nominated for an Oscar for Best Actor.  Watching it on Filmstruck, I found it a highly captivating film, and one I'll return to.

Bernie Hamilton and Key Meersman in The Young One
(credit: Spartacus-Educational.com)

The Young One (1960) was the second of the Butler-Buñuel collaborations, with a distinctly different tone, at least on the surface.  Butler, this time taking the name H. B. Addis, wrote the script from a short story by Peter Matthiessen called Travellin' Man.  It's a contemporary story of a falsely-accused African-American fugitive from justice, Traver, played by Bernie Hamilton, who retreats to a small South Carolina island inhabited only by tyrannical, racist rancher Miller (Zachary Scott) and his ailing father.  He also has living with him a young ward, Evalyn (Key Meersman).  Ultimately, Scott decides to assert himself with Evalyn a bit too much, and Traver befriends both of them while the family politics disintegrate.  Ultimately Miller is forced to confront his own racism as he loses what is dear to him.  It shares with Crusoe, though, the themes of isolation, living in exile, and redemption only by real human connection as equals.

It's filmed in black-and-white with almost no soundtrack except a spiritual "Oh Sinner-Man" at the beginning and end, giving it a harsh, lower-budget feel. Scott disappears into Miller's skin, and is so repulsive at every turn, that his semi-redemption at the end leaves us with not a small amount of doubt.  It's not an easy watch, and there are times when it veers into unreal, if not surreal.  This may because the portrayals were not exactly what Buñuel wanted.  According to his biographer, the director was thrilled to have Zachary Scott, a veteran talent, but was unhappy about what he got from Hamilton and Meersman, the former getting 'carried away' and the latter having no acting experience.  To compensate, he asked Scott to abandon his underplaying, and he then was at least relatively satisfied with the result.  The finished product is a gritty, and pessimistic take on contemporary American society, which was seething with the scourge of racism as well as the culture of fear emanating from the communist witch hunts.

Key Meersman and Zachary Scott in The Young One
Stream the film here: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2jfdz6

Ironically, the positive reception of this film at Cannes in 1960 was Buñuel's ticket out of Mexico and back to making 'European' films. Three of his most remembered films, The Exterminating Angel, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, and Belle du Jour came later in the 1960s.  Sadly, Butler did not live to see his writing credits returned to the films he penned while blacklisted--he died at age 53 in 1968 from heart disease.

Resources:
1) Baxter, John. Buñuel 
2) Wood, Michael. The Fierce Imagination of Luis Buñuel, in Great Film Directors, Leo Brandy, editor.
3) Schrieber, Rebecca M., Cold War Exiles in Mexico
4) Pepper, Margot. For George Pepper, the Blacklist Isn't Over. https://zcomm.org/znetarticle/for-producer-george-pepper-the-blacklist-isnt-over/