Showing posts with label John Huston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Huston. Show all posts

Tuesday, 15 August 2023

Film Alert 101 notes Angela Allen and draws attention to one of the films she worked on THE MISFITS (John Huston, USA, 1961)

Sydney's adventurous Golden Age Cinema is screening some films to welcome Wes Anderson's Asteroid City. Here's how they explain it. "Set in a small western town in the 1950s, Asteroid City was inspired, directly or indirectly, by a variety of films, many of which are touched upon in the new book DO NOT DETONATE Without Presidential Approval, A Portfolio on the Subjects of Mid-century Cinema, the Broadway Stage and the American West. This series, inspired by similar series at the American Cinematheque and the Museum of Moving Image in the U.S.A., brings together a selection of titles featured in the book, which evoke the historical or social or fantastical milieu of Asteroid City."

One of the films is John Huston's The Misfits. You can read the notes and make a booking if you CLICK HERE.

Why am I telling you this? Well because Bologna's recent Il Cinema Ritrovato  screened another Huston film and the person they found to do the introduction was none another than the woman who did the continuity on all of Huston's films from The African Queen in 1951 through to Wise Blood in 1979. Her name is Angela Allen. Today she's 94 and still lively with a mountain of stories about the film industry. She also worked on The Third Man, The Happiest Days of Your Life, Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, The Charge of the Light Brigade, Women in Love, Macbeth (the Polanski version), The Dirty Dozen and Ronin. In 2005 BAFTA honoured her with its Michael Balcon Award.

Here she is having dinner in Bologna with Nick Varley the founder of the distribution company Park Circus.




Sunday, 10 April 2022

HOLLYWOOD'S MELODRAMATIC IMAGINATION - Geoff Mayer examines the production of THE MALTESE FALCON (John Huston, 1941) and the Final (Missing) Scene

Editor's Note. This is a second extract from Geoff Mayer's new book Hollywood’s Melodramatic Imagination: Film Noir, the Western and Other Genres from the 1920s to the 1950s © 2022 Geoff Mayer . It is reprinted by permission of McFarland & Company, Inc., Box 611, Jefferson NC 28640. mcfarlandbooks.com. The first extract  On GILDA and getting around the Production Code from the Chapter titled Film Noir, Virtue, the Abyss and Nothingness can be found IF YOU CLICK HERE

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Production of The Maltese Falcon began on Monday June 9, 1941, with a budget of $381,000 and a filming period allocation of 36 days. While this was a tight schedule for a first time director, the budget and filming period indicates that it was not intended as a B film. Huston’s preparations were meticulous as he sketched out each scene before filming began and he also shot the script in sequence. Over three days and a long Saturday night in the middle of July, Huston filmed the final confrontation between Sam Spade (Humphrey Bogart) and Brigid O’Shaughnessy (Mary Astor). On July 18, following the burning of the studio “ship,” the La Paloma, on the back lot and a brief scene between Spade and Casper Gutman (Sydney Greenstreet) on Stage 19, the picture officially closed. 

The film’s climax involved the five principal characters: Spade, O’Shaughnessy, Gutman, Wilmer, and Cairo. It was one of the last sequences to be filmed and it consumed almost 20 minutes of the film’s 100 minute running time. This began with them waiting for the arrival of the Maltese Falcon, the discovery that it is a fake and the final confrontation between Spade and O’Shaughnessy. It ends with Spade handing her over to Dundy and Polhaus. As producer Henry Blanke wrote to Hal Wallis, this consisted of one “solid sequence of thirty-five pages of script and every member of the cast is in it.” The climactic confrontation between Spade and Brigid involved eight pages of dialogue, three long days of filming as the actors repeated the scene again and again to match the change of camera angles. Finally, the film’s epilogue, with Brigid looking “like a sleepwalker” according to the screenplay directions“,…led off by the law.”This final scene took seven takes to satisfy the director.


"...Spade, O’Shaughnessy, Gutman, Wilmer (missing), and Cairo..."

 

After controlling the events for much of the film, Spade’s vulnerability is exposed in the final moments. His determination to survive, and not be a “sap,” becomes the deciding factor in his decision to turn Brigid in. There are, however, significant differences between the novel and Huston’s version. For example, Spade tells her in the novel that he is going to survive and that she is going to take the fall: “One of us has got to take it, after the talking those birds [Gutman and Cairo] will do. They’d hang me for sure. You’re likely to get a better break.” Huston omitted this passage. Similarly, after Brigid tells Spade in the novel that he should know whether he loves her or not, Spade replies:


“I don’t. It’s easy enough to be nuts about you.” He looked hungrily from her hair to her feet and up to her eyes again. “But I don’t know what that amounts to. Does anybody ever? But suppose I do? What of it? Maybe next month I won’t. I’ve been through it before—when it lasted that long. Then what?”



 

Huston replaces Hammett’s pragmatic cynicism with the more romantic response from Spade: “Maybe I do [love you].”

 

Spade’s torment is evident in his appearance (loose tie, button undone) and body movements (head lowered, shoulders slumped, wide-eyed). After he tells her he “won’t play the sap for you,” she declares her love for him:

 

Brigid: Oh, How can you do this to me, Sam? Surely, Mr. Archer wasn’t as much to you as….

[Spade, distressed, walks away and slumps in a chair. He explains that when a man’s partner gets killed he’s supposed to do something about it. Also, because he is in the detective business, it is bad business to let the killer get away with it. Finally, he explains, he has no reason he can trust her. Staring into space, he continues]:

Spade: All those are on one side. Maybe some of them are unimportant. I won’t argue about that. But look at the number of them. What have we got on the other side? All we’ve got is that maybe you love me and maybe I love you.

Brigid: You know whether you love me or not.

Spade: Maybe I do. I’ll have some rotten nights after I’ve sent you over, but that’ll pass.

[Spade stands up and pulls Brigid roughly towards him]

Spade: If all I’ve said doesn’t mean anything to you, then forget it, and we’ll make it just this. I won’t because all of me wants to, regardless of consequences and because you’ve counted on that with me, the same as you counted on that with all the others.

[Spade responds to Brigid’s kiss as the doorbell rings and Spade tells the police to come in].


 

Brigid enters the lift (above) with the police as Spade walks away. However, Huston’s script, in accordance with Hammett’s novel, contained a final scene. This takes place in Spade’s office where he tries to explain to his secretary, Effie (Lee Patrick) why he turned Brigid in. Effie, unconvinced, stands by the window, mouth twisted, eyes reproachable:

 

Effie: You did that Sam, to her?

Spade: She did kill Miles, Angel….

Effie: Don’t, please—don’t touch me.

 

A doorknob rattles in the corridor. Effie goes out to see, comes back, and announces Iva Archer. The story ends as Spade, with a shiver, prepares to reunite with his mistress, his dead partner’s wife.

 

Spade: Send her in.

[This effectively replicates the dialogue in Hammett’s novel]

Effie: “I know you’re right. But don’t touch me now—not now.”

Spade’s face became pale as his collar.

[The novel concludes with Effie]:

She said in a small flat voice: “Iva is here.”

Spade, looking down at his desk, nodded almost imperceptibly, “Yes,” he said, and shivered. “Well, send her in.

 

Huston included Hammett’s epilogue in his shooting script but he never filmed it. In an Inter-Office Communication at Warner Brothers, dated July 19, 1941, unit manager on The Maltese Falcon Al Alleborn, wrote that filming was completed on the 34th shooting day, two days ahead of schedule with a budget outlay of $327,182, which was $54,000 under budget. In his memo Alleborn noted that yesterday, Friday, the Huston company had a 2:00 p.m. shooting call, having worked until 2:30 a.m. the night before on Stage 19. The first shot was undertaken at 3:35 p.m. and the filming completed at 2:0a.m.with 14 camera set-ups and nearly 8 pages of dialogue completed. Alleborn declared that “the picture is finished, as stated above, but, at Blanke’s and Huston’s request we eliminated the ending, as written in the script, which takes place on Stage 3 in SPADE’S OFFICE. These gentlemen feel they can cut the picture without this ending, and if necessary they can always get BOGART. Their feeling, however, is that the picture will not need the ending written for SPADE’S OFFICE.”

 

Instead they returned a week later with additional filming to complete the revised ending which appears in the release print. This shows Brigid, Dundy (Barton MacLane) at her elbow, moving towards the door while Spade remains behind with Tom Polhaus (Ward Bond) and the fake statue. The actors were required to return to the studio to film a line added by script supervisor Meta Wilde, also known as Meta Carpenter Wilde. Later Huston claimed it was Bogart’s idea:

 

Polhaus: [picking up the statue] Um, [its] heavy. What is it?

Spade: The stuff that dreams are made of.

 

If they had filmed the final scene in Huston’s script, with Spade preparing to see his mistress, the film would be much different. By eliminating this scene, as Ann Sperber and Eric Lax point out:


The final note, rather than amorality, was of honor among detectives. Find your partner’s killer even if it means sending over your lover; be true to your code even if it means breaking your heart. Spade has done the Right Thing.

 

The decision to eliminate Hammett’s epilogue satisfied one of Joseph Breen’s initial objections to the film. In a memo dated May 27, 1941, he notified Jack Warner that Huston’s final script “could not be approved under the provisions of the Code because of several important objectionable details.”These included any indication of an “illicit sex affair” between Spade and Brigid and Spade and Iva, especially any scenes showing “physical contact between Iva and Spade,” any suggestion that Cairo is “a pansy,” especially any indication of “lavender perfume,” “high-pitched voice” and the deletion of scenes 21 and 115 where Cairo should not appear effeminate while rubbing the boy’s [Wilmer] temple,” the fade-out of Spade and Brigid is unacceptable because of the definite indication of an illicit sex affair. There must be no indication that Brigid and Spade are spending the night together Spade’s apartment,” “Spade’s speech about the District Attorneys [sic] should be rewritten to get away from characterizing most District Attorneys as men who will do anything to further their careers. This is important,“nothing suggestive in Spade’s eyeing of Brigid,”no flavor of a previous sex affair [between Spade and Brigid],and the “action of Spade putting his hand on Effie’s hip must not be offensive.” Breen’s last objection confirms that Hammett’s epilogue was included in the final draft submitted to the PCA.


Spade and Wilmer (Elisha Cook, Jr)

 

The reviews for Huston’s film were uniformly good. Variety applauded the film as “one of the best examples of actionful and suspenseful melodramatic story telling in cinematic form” in their October 1, 1941, review. The term melodrama,” or “melodramatic,” is used three times in the review and it noted that it is a remake of the 1931 film with Ricardo Cortez and Bebe Daniels. The review concluded by noting that the film “is an A attraction in its class, and will hit biz of the same kind in all bookings.” However, Warners did not treat the film as an A attraction, as producer Henry Blanke complained to Hal Wallis:

I should think that the company after … discovering what they had in their possession would go a little after this picture but … it “sneaks in”—and in spite all this makes a success.


Gutman (Sydney Greenstreet), Cairo (Peter Lorre)

 

The failure by the studio to promote the film also mystified Bosley Crowther in his October 4 review in The New York Times. Crowther began his review by pointing out that “Warners have been strangely bashful about their mystery film ‘The Maltese Falcon.’” Crowther, normally a hostile critic of genre films, described the film as “supremely hardboiled” although he viewed the film as “a combination of American ruggedness with the suavity of the English crime school—a blend of mind and muscle—plus a slight touch of pathos.” On October 13, author, film critic and art historian Richard Griffith, in a review titled ‘Maltese Falcon’ Rated Top ‘Number’ in New York” wrote that although the biting performances of Bebe Daniels and Ricardo Cortez made the 1931 film memorable,” the “new version is the best because it is the most cynical, depraved and brilliantly melodramatic. There isn’t an honest motive among the entire cast—which is why we accept the characters as real people.” Hammett, particularly, enjoyed Griffith’s response as he sent a copy of the review to his wife. Long time Los Angeles Times film critic Philip K. Scheuer also celebrated the film as the “finest detective-mystery movie ever turned out by a Hollywood studio” and he noted that you’ve never seen a detective like Sam Spade. … In private practice, not above a shady deal or two.”Despite a lack of advertising, the film fared well at the box office, grossing $967,000 domestically and $805,000 internationally.

Monday, 7 March 2022

A new publication - An excerpt from HOLLYWOOD'S MELODRAMATIC IMAGINATION: Film Noir, the Western and other Genres from the 1920s to the 1950s by Geoff Mayer

Editor's Note: This is the Preface to Geoff Mayer's new book HOLLYWOOD'S MELODRAMATIC IMAGINATION: Film Noir, the Western and other Genres from the 1920s to the 1950s. The book is published by McFarland in the US and is available locally at a number of bookshops including the online service  BOOKTOPIA 

A second excerpt from the Chapter titled Film Noir, Virtue, the Abyss and Nothingness will be published here shortly

Thanks to Stephanie Nichols of McFarland and to Geoff Mayer for assistance in preparing these excerpts for publication here .

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Ricardo Cortez, Bebe Daniels, The Maltese Falcon (Roy Del Ruth, 1931)

Not everything in the Hollywood cinema prior to 1960 was melodrama.Yet it is the foundation of the American cinema. It is not a singular genre; it is more expansive as it functions as a “genre-generating machine” responsible for a wide range of Hollywood genres. Above all else it dramatizes a world with (ethical) meaning as opposed to, for example, the nihilistic universe portrayed in Dashiell Hammett's Flitcraft parable in The Maltese Falcon. The Introduction, Chapters One and Two focus on the characteristics of the most popular form of melodrama, sensational melodrama. This type of melodrama offers the visceral pleasures of spectacle, con-frontation, high emotion and performance embedded in a bipolar clash between good and evil.

Mary Astor, Humphrey Bogart, The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1941)

This book stresses, however, that while the function of melodrama is to identify the existence of a moral universe, the social and political terms of this universe are not decided by melodrama. They are culturally determined.This is shown through a wide range of examples, from the “populist” westerns of the 1930s, to William Randolph Hearst's 1917 propaganda serial Patria and the “Yellow Peril” fiction of Sax Rohmer as well as President Roosevelt's response to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour on December 7,1941.

Chapters Two and Three examine different types of melodrama produced in Hollywood in the 1930s for different audiences. The series western appealed to rural, small town and provincial audiences. These films, exemplars of sensational melodrama, were different aesthetically and thematically from the small number of A-budgeted westerns produced by the major studios. On the other hand,the “sophisticated melodramas of passion” favored by the major studios for their first run theaters in large urban centers were often anathema to rural and small-town audiences. 

Jeanne Eagels, Herbert Marshall, The Letter (Jean De Limur, 1929)

Chapter Three focuses on this type of melodrama and examples are drawn from W. Somerset Maugham's short stories “The Letter” and “Miss Thompson” (retitled“Rain”). Particularly important is the comparison between the 1929 film version of The Letter starring Jeanne Eagels and the 1940 version starring Bette Davis, the same story with different outcomes, largely as a result of different institutional and social factors. Unlike the morally “subversive” 1929 version, the conservatism of the 1940 film was primarily determined by Hollywood censor Joseph Breen's systemic application of the principle of compensating moral values.


Bette Davis, Herbert Marshall, The Letter (William Wyler, 1940)

Chapter Four focuses on the “problematic”world of  film noirs, a world often presented as traumatized protagonists struggling to survive in an arbitrary universe. This chapter traces the shift from the gentleman detective formula to the hard-boiled variation, James M. Cain's extravagant melodramas of violence and passion and the importance of the gothic tradition in the 1940s crime/suspense film.Despite claims that film noir subverted  the moral and formal basis of the  Hollywood system, this chapter includes a wide range of examples to demonstrate that while there were notable shifts in the crime/suspense film in the 1940s, most Holly-wood films, especially A budgeted films from the major studios, retreated to the ethical world of melodrama. 

Particular attention is directed to the ramifications of John Huston's decision not to film the final scene in his script for The Maltese Falcon along with Billy Wilder's elimination of the gas chamber sequence from Double Indemnity. On the other hand, Out of the Past and Criss Cross represent  rare examples of studio films that challenged the world of melodrama. This deviation from Hollywood's determining  dramatic mode was even  more pronounced  in a number  of low budget films such as Detour and Decoy where the financial risks were minimal. 

The book concludes with a comparison between two seemingly similar films starring Robert Mitchum: Where Danger Lives and Angel Face. This follows an earlier comparison between two films directed back to back by Joseph Lewis in the mid-1940s:  My Name Is Julia Ross and So Dark the Night. Only one film in each example is a melodrama.