My Little Chickadee.

Review #2530: My Little Chickadee.

Cast: 

Mae West (Flower Belle Lee), W. C. Fields (Cuthbert J. Twillie), Joseph Calleia (Jeff Badger/Masked Bandit), Dick Foran (Wayne Carter), Margaret Hamilton (Mrs. Gideon), Donald Meek (Amos Budge), Ruth Donnelly (Aunt Lou), Willard Robertson (Uncle John), Fuzzy Knight (Cousin Zeb), George Moran (Milton), Anne Nagel (Miss Foster), and William B. Davidson (Sheriff) Directed by Edward F. Cline (#877 - Three Ages, #1354 - The Bank Dick, #2483 - You Can't Cheat an Honest Man)

Review: 

What better way to go through another W. C. Fields movie than one with a bit of a twist? Apparently, one impetus for the film was the relative popularity of 1939's Destry Rides Again, otherwise known as the Western comedy with Marlene Dietrich and James Stewart that happened to deal with a new sheriff in town. Obviously why not go to the wheelbarrow and pair Fields, who had been in the moderately interesting You Can't Cheat an Honest Man the previous year...with West, who was looking for a comeback after her association with Paramount Pictures ended (you might remember that her sexually suggestive humor was made harder with growing censorship) with Every Day's a Holiday (1937). West claimed in later times that she wrote the majority of the film, while Fields was behind the bar scene and select parts of the dialogue, as one does when favoring ad-libbing. Used to being the big stars, they did not warm up to each other and West apparently never wanted to talk to or talk about Fields again. Naturally, there were still lines cut from the final release due, to, well, censors (hey, if you think people sound weird about sex or people, consider the dorks of yesteryear). This was the third of five movies that Fields made with Cline, with the others being Million Dollar Legs (1932), the aforementioned Honest Man, The Bank Dick (made and released the same year), and Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (1941). The movie was a fairly decent hit with audiences. As for West, her next film came with The Heat's On (1943) for Columbia Pictures, which went so well that she promptly didn't make a film again until Myra Breckinridge (1970), instead focusing her time with nightclubs, stage shows, and Broadway revivals* for years on end. 

It is the type of movie that looks great.... on paper. It merrily moves along for 84 minutes with a few good jokes and some interesting ideas of playing around with the Western with a goofy sheriff stumbling onto the scene. And then you realize, good god, this really did need just one big star and not two. Either focus on the zippy charm of West (remember that she was in her late forties doing this film and be astonished) or go along with the flim-flam world of Fields and his type of lines, because it basically feels like an episodic movie in search of more. You get your moments in the bar and with Fields yammering the huckster line, don't get that twisted. The sequence where West holds her own during a Native American attack* (done right before the "marriage" scene) certainly gives off more of an impression than most of what Fields does here, where he isn't even present during a schooling sequence involving shaping the lads up (that goes to West, as one does). Even the love triangle between West, Calleia, and Foran doesn't have the tinge of fire that you might hope for in generating anything other than a casual laugh in the circumstances that West glides along to (i.e. not caring about what one might think and moving to the beat of her own drum). At least folks like Hamilton feel right at home in busybody silliness. By the time the movie lumbers to its conclusion, you almost wish the movie had actually started right where it ended in seeing what life might be for West in the "maybe I'll choose today or tomorrow" phase with men and a town like this. As a whole, even a movie that probably does not live up to all of the potential that you would think would come from such a neat pair up is still a good enough movie to go along with, regardless of how many films you've circled around with Fields or West.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*And then there was Sextette (1978), the one loosely based on her own play that saw West, now in her eighties, play a sex symbol with an ensemble cast. She died in 1980 at the age of 87.

*The tiniest bit of gripes not exactly related to the movie. I never understood the discourse about how to refer to Native Americans past, say, the year 1980. What the hell is the argument to call them Indians when there are people from India? I know about the "Indigenous" word but, you know, no.

Goin' to Town.

Review #2007: Goin' to Town.

Cast: 

Mae West (Cleo Borden), Paul Cavanagh (Edward Carrington), Gilbert Emery (Winslow), Marjorie Gateson (Mrs. Crane Brittony), Tito Coral (Taho), Ivan Lebedeff (Ivan Valadov), Fred Kohler (Buck Gonzales), Monroe Owsley (Fletcher Colton), and Grant Withers (Young Stud) Directed by Alexander Hall.

Review: 

Mae West made twelve films as an actress, if you can believe that. She was 39 when she made her debut with Night after Night (1932), and it was a comic relief role that she wrote her own dialogue for. That isn't a surprise when you consider that the Brooklyn native, who had been involved in shows from a young age, had cultivated a reputation on the stage for several years before signing a short deal with Paramount Pictures. 1933 saw her rocket into film name status with the releases of She Done Him Wrong and I'm No Angel, both featuring her with Cary Grant. Her trip of stardom subsided after The Heat's On (1943), one of only two films that she did not contribute to the script or dialogue in any shape or form, although she continued to do work in the stage and clubs, free from the preening censor-happy boards that had hindered her later film work (let it be known that the only time I decry lewd amusement is when it isn't particularly funny, such as with, say, Myra Breckinridge). As such, Goin' to Town saw her write the screenplay based on a story by Marion Morgan and George B. Dowell. Not to be forgotten is Alexander Hall, a theatre actor from a young age who worked as a silent actor before eventually moving on to production of film with editing, assistant directing, and well, contract directing. He directed a handful of films from 1932 to 1956, with Here Comes Mr. Jordan (1941) probably being his most notable feature.

The point of picking films on a whim is not so much to give a spotlight to just the best films one has to offer but doing films that, well, will give someone a spotlight worth talking about and then see what goes from there. As a 74-minute attempt at musical comedy, it is fine. West dominates one's attention with her mannerisms and some of her lines that seem to hit and miss in the idea of curtailed risqué, as if the idea of a woman trying to become a lady while having fun with the bounds of courtship needs to be toned in some sort of way. But West always seems on her element, one who simmers what would probably a bland pot of plot with a lesser actress and makes it a worthwhile time (how can one go wrong with lines such as "Juge, wherever there's a man concerned, I always do my best"?). Her fun is our fun, if you get around to it, as if in some ways you might want to enjoy a film like comfort food (note: please do not think of actors as food). She even tries the opera with a staging of Samson and Delilah, which is somewhat funny to consider. Emery is probably the most interesting of the supporting cast, probably because one has to really not try to make a butler / assistant seem bland, and he keeps things on the level. Cavanagh makes do with tolerable material of just being someone that looks like the kind of person that could tolerate the antics that come from West being West and vice versa (which basically means not looking annoyed to be on screen as a second banana); Owsley, meant to be a fool willing to do a loveless marriage, is fine in that regard when briefly with West. Gateson makes a quality adversary, one who ices things with West as if she was a pest that needed to be taken out of commission. As a whole, the movie has a few decent gags when it comes to West remarking upon what seems odd her to her in the idea of people and "manners" when it comes to what really matters for titles. It might not be the first film one should go with to look upon West, but it serves as a decent middle ground of watchable entertainment for those who are interested in seeing her at work, whether as writer or actor.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Myra Breckinridge.

Review #1762: Myra Breckinridge.

Cast:

Raquel Welch (Myra Breckinridge), Rex Reed (Myron Breckinridge), John Huston (Buck Loner), Mae West (Leticia Van Allen), Farrah Fawcett (Mary Ann Pringle), Roger C. Carmel (Dr. Randolph Spencer Montag), Roger Herren (Rusty Godowski), George Furth (Charlie Flager, Jr), Calvin Lockhart (Irving Amadeus), Jim Backus (Doctor), John Carradine (Surgeon), and Andy Devine (Coyote Bill) Directed by Michael Sarne.

Review: 

“When you’re young, you do things sometimes that are impossible because they are impossible. There is a delight in attempting the extraordinary, the immensely difficult merely because it is so. Myra Breckinridge for me became more and more this kind of challenge, the chance to say what I believed was ultimately anarchic and satirical.” - Michael Sarne

“There was this strange bouquet of personalities that were attached to this film, and each one of them was bigger than life in their own sphere. And you thought, Maybe this is the best idea that ever happened, and maybe it’s the worst.” - Raquel Welch

In 1968, Gore Vidal wrote and published a novel in Myra Breckinridge. I have not read the book, but it has been called one of his most famous works, one that challenged the sexual norms of American life in culture and society while also dabbling in writing for film and television from time to time, which included un-credited work on Ben-Hur (1959); incidentally, Vidal was loosely inspired by the exploits of John “Bunny” Breckinridge, a wealthy drag queen that you would recognize from his performance in Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959). Two years later, an adaptation of the novel was done by 20th Century Fox to the derision of Vidal and numerous critics, for which a half century has not quite seen a rehabilitation of what has been considered a turkey of its time. Keep in mind, Hollywood now had a rating system rather than a Production Code, and it followed a decade that had seen films like Easy Rider (1969) and Midnight Cowboy (1969)...along with stuff such as Skidoo (1968). In other words, producers wanted to get with the "hip" crowd, but without getting too much into it. It was one of two X-rated films (well, at the time it was rated X, although now it is R) to be released by Fox alongside Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, which had unfavorable reviews as well, but it managed to be both a box office hit and find its own cult following (coincidentally, that movie also featured a film critic in its production). With this film, not only was the feature disowned by Vidal as a "joke" (albeit one he reportedly never saw), it effectively destroyed the career of the man who directed it as well in Michael Sarne (who occasionally dabbles in acting and painting). Vidal had the first crack at a script (of course Bud Yorkin was the first director in mind for the film), but it did not go well, because Fox (specifically producers David Brown and Richard Zanuck) apparently thought it needed to be as crazy and zany as one would think the ideas presented in the novel evoked. Sarne, who actually had a novelty hit as a singer in the 1960s, had exactly one other major studio film credit: Joanna (1968), which while not a hit at the time was at least given decent reviews. David Giler was brought in to try and deliver a script that would have apparently been a bit more straight-forward (while suggesting George Cukor to take over as director, which Sarne actually endorsed). Each would end up with a writing credit. If there ever was a more bewildering selection of cast mates for any particular movie, I'm sure this one would be one to discuss near the top. On one side, you have a star in Welch who wanted to try and escape the sex symbol status and try to aim for further legitimacy. On the other side introduces a(alleged) film critic with no prior acting experience in a key role. On another side, you have a famous director acting while the director behind the lines tells folks how much he hated his works (because he wanted Mickey Rooney, I kid you not). And, of course, Mae West, making a comeback movie while in the throes of feuding with Welch. Oh, and the debuts of Farrah Fawcett and Tom Selleck. If you think about it, any director that calls one of its stars an "old raccoon" (well, in retrospect, he stated she had a "marvelously artificial way of acting"), another a "old hack", and then spends valuable production time shooting food and "thinking"...probably got exactly what they deserved.  

What do you expect from a movie that has lines such as “the destruction of the last vestigial traces of traditional manhood”? Or how about "Myra Breckinridge is a dish, and don't you ever forget it, you motherfuckers - as the children say nowadays."?  My favorite was probably the one where she states as a Golden Age film nut that there wasn't an unimportant film made in Hollywood between 1935 and 1945 (????) Well, for one, you could expect a memorable experience, this much is true. Beyond the flurry of stock footage and name actors is a movie that drives exactly one thought through one's head: it is the equivalent of seeing someone trying to sing and walk while blindfolded...in a garden full of rakes (and judging by how miserable some of the folks were on the film, I would imagine that they would likely rather go through the rake rather than make the movie again if asked). In theory, this is an interesting cast to feature in a film, even with West in a pseudo-comeback move (Carradine, however, may end up being the most fitting person to have a one-note showing in an one-note movie). It starts with a bizarre dance sequence between two folks who can't quite match in rhythm (Reed and Welch) and never recovers from there. Oh, but don't even get started on the editing choices that come through a movie that acts like sitting still is a sin against nature. Sure, the biggest critique of the film at the time owed to how it managed to offend both folks that were already critical of the book (i.e. conservative audiences) AND folks that were curious to see a misguided attempt at making a studio movie of something that begs for an arthouse experience (or perhaps a French director, if we want to go further into esoteric mockery). The decision to use old film clips throughout the movie does not help matters either, since nothing of merit actually seems to be said with the clips, since this isn't exactly a worthwhile satire; sure, you can show a bunch of Laurel & Hardy clips all you want, but that isn't going to prove anything. Did I mention the twist ending? If this was the part that really sold the studio, they probably should have doubled the amount of alcohol they were drinking.  

If you can believe it, Welch actually wanted to play both Myra and Myron. I can believe that she really wanted to do a movie that would give her some sort of argument for being an actress beyond what you saw (and didn't hear). In a sea of bad decisions, she manages to do the best in terms of performance, probably because she gives it a great go for this artificial role. She can laugh at the movie now, and I can appreciate her attempts at comedy (or whatever is supposed to be present here) far more than anyone else here. Well, I would make a cutting remark about Rex Reed and his attempts at acting in a debut, but having to say "where are my tits?" is humiliating enough. Besides, he seethed at making the film and later talked plenty when it came time to write of the film and its troubled production (for which there was plenty of rope to hang).  Technically, Sarne has been quoted as saying he was "threatened" by Huston's presence, because, well, one would likely be quite speechless at having to direct a man would directed great movies and also acted from time to time in good ones (Sarne merely thought he couldn't act). Huston seems to doze his role with mild abandon, as if he knows that nothing he does here could possibly be the high or low point for an embarrassment like this, so being stuck in neutral is fair. Mae West had not appeared in a film since The Heat's On (1946). Of course, she had made a name for herself in the early sound-era with her raunchy presence...and she agreed to do this film provided she could write her own material. This somehow involves her having multiple music numbers. One could make a note about the dubiousness of West acting as if she is still 26, but stating that her performance seems like it is pulled out of a different movie is enough (that, and anybody who has a problem with Welch earns negative points); one could only wonder how making a flop like this did not stop her from trying to do another comeback a few years later with Sextette (1977) . It is the only film credit for Roger Herren, who either couldn't get film credits after this film or simply fell off the Earth. The infamous pegging scene probably didn't help. Of course, since it features stock footage being spliced in, it also manages to do exactly nothing with how confused it is. The supporting cast looks puzzled as to just what kind of movie they are in (yes, even Carmel), and yet the movie is always quite watchable in its dazzling failure of 94 minutes because it has dazzling style in clothing choices and in its shots that make the stuff shown on screen all the more baffling. 

Well, you have read a thousand words of talking about a turkey. Would I recommend trying to find this film? If you are a curious filmgoer who likes to watch dazzling bad taste...if you are a curious filmgoer who wants to see just how bad a movie can mangle attempts at satire or attempts at something involving gender...if you are a curious filmgoer who wants to see Raquel Welch in a role that shines above the cast in the most ironic of ways...if you can stomach all that, this is the movie for you. It is the mother of all ill-conceived ideas, one too curious to be thought of as the worst of anything but deserving of a great laugh at the expense of both filmmaker and studio.

Overall, I give it 4 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Inchon.