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- Actor
- Soundtrack
Though born in Georgia and having a Russian-sounding name, Akim Tamiroff is actually of Armenian descent. At 19 he decided to pursue acting as a career and was chosen from among 500 applicants to the Moscow Art Theater School. There he studied under the great Konstantin Stanislavski, and launched a stage career. This included road company productions, in one such tour in 1920 Tamiroff came to New York City, which he liked so much he decided to stay there. Broadway suited him, and he worked steadily with the Theatre Guild from the mid-1920s to the early 1930s. He was a short, stout man with a guttural baritone voice and a thick but rather generic Russian accent that, with his skill in characterizations, seemed to mesh with any role calling for a foreign type--whether European, West Asian or even East Asian. His voice became his principal asset. He came west to Hollywood in 1932 to break into the movie business, and first appeared on screen in a bit part in Okay America! (1932). Until 1934 his appearances were usually uncredited, but he managed to stand out in several films, one of his best roles of the time being the servant Pedro of John Gilbert Queen Christina (1933). By early 1934 he was much in demand, appearing in 12 films during that year. The next year was even busier for him, with roles in 15 films altogether, and not just bit parts--he was getting more feature supporting roles, such as Gopal the emir in The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935) and the comic puppet master Rudolpho in the adapted operetta Naughty Marietta (1935). He signed with Paramount in 1936 but was often loaned out to other studios. He went to Warner Bros. for one of his earliest big supporting characters: the sly Cuban mercantile agent Carlo Cibo in Anthony Adverse (1936). For Paramount, his General Yang in The General Died at Dawn (1936) brought him his first of two Oscar nominations for Best Supporting Actor. Along with substantial supporting roles in top movies, Tamiroff was getting starring roles in "B" pictures, allowing him to show his range by playing everything from amiable rogues to thoroughly evil villains. Two of his roles from that time exemplify what a versatile actor he was. As French trapper and scout Dan Duroc of North West Mounted Police (1940), he was something of a rascal but with a sense of humor and dignity. However, as the vile Colonna in The Corsican Brothers (1941), he is irredeemably wicked, and deservedly dies in the longest sword duel on film. For his role as the self-serving guerrilla Pablo in For Whom the Bell Tolls (1943), Tamiroff received his second Oscar nomination. He continued through the decade with more fine work, and in 1949 he joined the cast of Black Magic (1949) and met Orson Welles, who played late 18th-century charlatan Cagliostro. The two became friends and associates in Welles' later film projects. Through the 1950s Tamiroff's time was fairly divided between T.V. productions and films earlier in the decade and a surprising number of episodic TV and more films later. His three films with Welles, as director and sometime actor, were: Confidential Report (1955) with its Wellesian maze of flash-backs; the over-the-top Touch of Evil (1958) with its gritty surrealism and incredible cast; and The Trial (1962) (The Trial), Welles' stylistic spin on the Franz Kafka story. Certainly it was in "Touch of Evil" that Tamiroff's Tijuana boss Uncle Joe Grandi--outlandishly bug-eyed alternately with fear or mercurial anger intensified by Welles' wild camera angles--stood out as a most intriguing character. He took a last fling at Broadway in 1959. For the 1960s Tamiroff continued to sample American T.V. but was still very active in American, French and Italian movies. His voice and talent were still a draw in films like Topkapi (1964) and Alphaville (1965). In addition, he remained on call for Welles' meandering/unfinished Don Quixote (1992) as Sancho Panza for nearly twenty years. One of the great character actors of film history, Akim Tamiroff appeared in over 150 screen projects.- Actor
- Additional Crew
- Second Unit Director or Assistant Director
Though not as well known as his nearly decade-older brother Barry Fitzgerald, Shields was a talented actor with well over twice the film roles in his career. Fitzgerald was already a well established player at the renowned Dublin Abbey Theater when Shields, also bitten by the acting bug, joined in 1914. He performed but was also out front directing plays. Already he had dabbled in the new medium of Irish film (1910) with two notable examples (1918). There was more to the seemingly mild-mannered Shields than met the eye. His family was Protestant Nationalist and he himself fought in the Easter Uprising of 1916. And he was in fact captured and imprisoned in a camp in North Wales. Late in 1918 he came to the United States and first helped bring Irish comedy and drama to Broadway. He would continue to appear on Broadway for some 24 plays until 1941, especially reviving two Abbey Theater favorites from the hand of Sean O'Casey, "The Plough and the Stars" and "Juno and the Paycock", the latter being produced and staged by him in 1940. Still not settled, Shields was back in Dublin through most of the 1920s but returned to Broadway almost full time in 1932 moving through the repertory of Irish plays. When John Ford finally convinced his brother - and some other Abbey players - to come to Hollywood to do the 1936 film version of "The Plough and the Stars", Broadway veteran Shields was asked to take the pivotal part of Padraic (Patrick) Pearse, perhaps the most important leader of the Easter Rising.
By early 1939 he was finished with his concentration on Broadway and found Ford eager to offer him a part in his Revolutionary period adventure Drums Along the Mohawk (1939) as the matter-of-fact pioneer minister with a good shooting eye Rev. Rosenkrantz. Ministers, reverends, priests, and other assorted clerics would be a Shields staple throughout his career - and he always managed to breath an individual humanity into each and every one. From then on through the 1940s he was in demand as character actor - and not just Irish roles as Fitzgerald with his gravelly, prominent brogue, found himself. Along with the aforementioned men of the cloth, Shields was provided a steady offering of the gamut of Hollywood's character storehouse-Irish and otherwise. And among them were parts for some of Ford's most memorable films: How Green Was My Valley (1941) and especially The Quiet Man (1952). Here again, he was a cleric but a uniquely sympathetic one - the lone Protestant Reverend Dr. Playfair - whom John Wayne affectionately calls "Padre" in the vastly Catholic village of the film. He alone knows the former identity of Wayne and convinces the latter of his final struggle to go on with his new life in Ireland. Enough said - with a wonderful cast of Ford stalwarts and native Irish (including Fizgerald), this was Ford's long awaited crowning achievement.
Though Shields was taking on the occasional film through the 1950s, most of his time was going to television. Along with TV playhouse roles he became a most familiar face of episodic TV with a variety of roles (even the old Mickey Mouse Club Hardy Boy Adventures), especially in the ever-popular TV Western genera. Aside from his numerous appearances in plays throughout his career, all told Arthur Shields screen appearances approached nearly 100 memorable acting endeavors.- Director
- Producer
- Second Unit Director or Assistant Director
Carol Reed was the second son of stage actor, dramatics teacher and impresario founder of the Royal School of Dramatic Art Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree. Reed was one of Tree's six illegitimate children with Beatrice Mae Pinney, who Tree established in a second household apart from his married life. There were no social scars here; Reed grew up in a well-mannered, middle-class atmosphere. His public school days were at King's School, Canterbury, and he was only too glad to push on with the idea of following his father and becoming an actor. His mother wanted no such thing and shipped him off to Massachusetts in 1922, where his older brother resided on--of all things--a chicken ranch.
It was a wasted six months before Reed was back in England and joined a stage company of Dame Sybil Thorndike, making his stage debut in 1924. He forthwith met British writer Edgar Wallace, who cashed in on his constant output of thrillers by establishing a road troupe to do stage adaptations of them. Reed was in three of these, also working as an assistant stage manager. Wallace became chairman of the newly formed British Lion Film Corp. in 1927, and Reed followed to become his personal assistant. As such he began learning the film trade by assisting in supervising the filmed adaptations of Wallace's works. This was essentially his day job. At night he continued stage acting and managing. It was something of a relief when Wallace passed on in 1932; Reed decided to drop the stage for film and joined historic Ealing Studios as dialog director for Associated Talking Pictures under Basil Dean.
Reed rose from dialog director to second-unit director and assistant director in record time, his first solo directorship being the adventure Midshipman Easy (1935). This and his subsequent effort, Laburnum Grove (1936), attracted high praise from a future collaborator, novelist/critic Graham Greene, who said that once Reed "gets the right script, [he] will prove far more than efficient." However, Reed would endure the sort of staid, boilerplate filmmaking that characterized British "B" movies until he left this behind with The Stars Look Down (1940), his second film with Michael Redgrave, and his openly Hitchcockian Night Train to Munich (1940), a comedy-thriller with Rex Harrison. It has often been seen as a sequel to Alfred Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes (1938) with the same screenwriters and comedy relief--Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne, who would just about make careers as the cricket zealots Charters and Caldicott, from "Vanishes".
The British liked these films and, significantly, so did America, where Hollywood still wondered whether their patronage of the British film industry was worth the gamble of a payoff via the US public. Dean was just one of several powerhouse producers rising in Britain in the 1930s. Other names are more familiar: Alexander Korda and J. Arthur Rank stand out. For Reed, who would wisely decide to start producing his own films in order to have more control over them, finding his niche was still a challenge into the 1940s. He was only too well aware that the film director led a team effort--his was partly a coordinator's task, harmonizing the talents of the creative team. The modest Reed would admit to his success being this partnership time and again. So he gravitated toward the same scriptwriters, art directors and cinematographers as his movie list spread out.
There were more thrillers and some historical bios: The Remarkable Mr. Kipps (1941) with Redgrave and The Young Mr. Pitt (1942) with Robert Donat. He did service and war effort fare through World War II, but these were more than flag wavers, for Reed dealt with the psychology of transitioning to military life. His Anglo-American documentary of combat (co-directed by Garson Kanin), The True Glory (1945), won the 1946 Oscar for Best Documentary. With that under his belt, Reed was now recognized as Britain's ablest director and could pick and choose his projects. He also had the clout--and the all-important funds--to do what he thought was essential to ensure realism on a location shoot, something missing in British film work prior to Reed.
Odd Man Out (1947) with James Mason as an IRA hit man on the run did just that and was Reed's first real independent effort, and he had gone to Rank to do it. All too soon, however, that organization began subjugating directors' wishes to studio needs, and Reed made perhaps his most important associative decision and joined Korda's London Films. Here was one very important harmony--he and Korda thought along the same lines. Though Anthony Kimmins had scripted four films for Reed, it was time for Korda to introduce the director to Graham Greene. Their association would bring Reed his greatest successes. The Fallen Idol (1948) was based on a Greene short story, with Ralph Richardson as a do-everything head butler in a diplomatic household. Idolized by the lonely, small son of his employer, he becomes caught up in a liaison with a woman on the work staff, who was much younger than his shrewish wife. It may seem slow to an American audience, but with the focus on the boy's wide-eyed view of rather gloomy surroundings, as well as the adult drama around him, it was innovative and a solid success.
What came next was a landmark--the best known of Reed's films. The Third Man (1949) was yet another Greene story, molded into a gem of a screenplay by him, though Reed added some significant elements of his own. The film has been endlessly summarized and analyzed and, whether defined as an international noir or post-war noir or just noir, it was cutting-edge noir and unforgettable. This was Reed in full control--well, almost-- and the money was coming from yet another wide-vision producer, David O. Selznick, along with Korda. Tension did develop in this effort keep a predominantly Anglo effort in this Anglo-American collaboration.
There were complications, though. For one thing, Korda--old friend and somewhat kindred spirit of wunderkind director Orson Welles--had a gentlemen's agreement with the latter for three pictures, but these were not forthcoming. Korda could be as evasive as Welles was known to be, and Welles had come to Europe to further his inevitable film projects after troubles in Hollywood. Always desperate for seed money, Welles was forced to take acting parts in Europe to build up his bank account in order to finance his more personal projects. He thus accepted the role of the larger-than-life American flim-flam man turned criminal, Harry Lime. The extended time spent filming the Vienna sewer scenes on location and at the elaborate set for them at Shepperton Studios in London, entailed the longest of the ten minutes or so of Welles' screen time. Here was a potential source of directorial intimidation if ever there was one. Welles took it upon himself to direct Reed's veteran cinematographer Robert Krasker with his own vision of some sewer sequences in London (after leaving the location shoot in Vienna), using many takes. Supposedly, Reed did not use any of Welles' footage, and in fact whatever there was got conveniently lost. Yet Citizen Kane (1941)'s shadow was so looming that Welles was given credit for a lot of camera work, atmospherics and the chase scenes. He had referred to the movie as "my film" later on and had said he wrote all his dialog. Some of the ferris wheel dialog with its famous famous "cuckoo clock" speech (which Reed and Greene both attributed to him) was probably the essence of Welles' contributions.
Krasker's quirky angles under Reed's direction perfectly framed the ready-made-for-an-art designer bombed-out shadows and stark, isolated street lights of postwar Vienna and its underworld. Unique to cinema history, the whole score (except for some canned incidental café music) was just the brilliant zither playing of Anton Karas, adding his nuances to every dramatic transition. Krasker won an Oscar, and Karas was nominated for one.
Reed's attention to detailed casting also paid off, particularly in casting German-speaking actors and background players. Selznick insisted on Joseph Cotten as Holly Martins, the benighted protagonist, and his clipped and sharp voice and subterranean drawl were perfect for the part. Reed had wanted James Stewart--definitely a different perception than Americans of its leading men. Selznick parted ways with Reed on other issues, however; there was a laundry list of reasons for his re-editing and changing some incidentals for the shorter American version, partly based on negative comments from sneak preview responses. Perhaps it was the constant interruptions from the other side of the Atlantic that drove Reed to personally narrate the introduction describing Martins in the British version of the film (given the basic tenets of noir films, the star always played narrator to introduce the story and voice over where appropriate). Selznick showed himself--in this instance, anyway--to have a better directorial sense by substituting Cotten introducing himself in the American cut. It made far more sense and was much more effective. On the other hand, Selznick's editing of the pivotal railway café scenes with Cotten and Alida Valli had continuity problems.
Nonetheless, the film was an international smash, and all the principal players reaped the rewards. Reed did not get an Oscar, but he did win the Cannes Film Grand Prix. Greene was motivated enough to take the story and expand it into a best-selling novel. Even Welles, with his minimum screen time--he was spending most of his time in Europe trying to obtain financing for his newest project, Othello (1956)--milked the movie for all it was worth. He did not deny directorial influences (though in a 1984 interview he did), and even developed a Harry Lime radio show back home.
However, the movie had its detractors. It was called too melodramatic and too cynical. The short scenes of untranslated German dialog were also criticized, yet that lent to the atmosphere of confusion and helplessness of Martins caught in a wary, potentially dangerous environment--something the audience inevitably was able to share. It was all too ironic that Reed, now declared by some as the greatest living director of the time, found his career in decline thereafter. Of his total output, four were based on plays, three on stories and 15 on novels. With less than half of them to go, he was to be disappointed for the most part. His The Man Between (1953) with James Mason was too much of a "Third Man" reprise, and A Kid for Two Farthings (1955) was too sentimental.
By now Reed was being sought by enterprising Hollywood producers. He had--as he usually did--the material for a first-rate movie with two popular American actors, Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis for Trapeze (1956). However, it suffered from a slow script, as would the British-produced The Key (1958), despite another international cast. Things finally picked up with his venture into another Greene-scripted film from his novel, with Alec Guinness in the lead in the UK spy spoof Our Man in Havana (1959) with yet another winning international cast.
When Hollywood called again, the chance at such a British piece of history as Mutiny on the Bounty (1962) with a mostly British cast and Marlon Brando seemed bound for success. It was the second version of the movie produced by MGM (the first being the Clark Gable starrer Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)). However, Brando's history of being temperamental was much in evidence on location in Tahiti. Reed shot a small part of the picture but finally left, having more than his fill of the star's ego (and, evidently, being allowed too much artistic control by the studio) and the film was finished by Lewis Milestone. Reed would ultimately be branded as a failure in directing historical movies, but it was an unfair appraisal based on the random aspect of film success and such forces of nature as Brando, not artistic and technical expertise.
The opportunity to make another film came knocking again with Reed and American money forming the production company International Classics to produce Irving Stone's best-selling story of Michelangelo and the painting of the Sistine Chapel, The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965). Here is perhaps the prime example of Reed being given short shrift for a really valiant effort at an historical, artistically significant and cultural epic because it was a "flop" at the box office. Shot on location in Rome and its environs, the film had a first-rate cast headed by Charlton Heston doing his method best as the temperamental artist with Rex Harrison, an effortless standout as the equally volatile Pope Julius II. Diane Cilento did fine work as the Contessina de Medici, with the always stalwart Harry Andrews as architect rival Donato Bramante. Most of the other roles were filled by Italians dubbed in English, but they all look good.
Reed's attention to historical detail provided perhaps the most accurate depiction of early 16th-century Italy--from costumes and manners to military action and weapons (especially firearms)--ever brought to the screen. The script by Philip Dunne was brisk and always entertaining in the verbal battle between the artist and his pontiff. Yet by the 1960s costume epics were going out of style and bigger flops, such as Cleopatra (1963) (talk about agony) despite the wealth of stars which included Harrison, tended to spread like a disease to those few that came later. Despite a high-powered distribution campaign by Twentieth Century-Fox, Reed's exemplary effort would ultimately be appreciated by art scholars and historians--not the stuff of Hollywood's money mentality.
For Reed the only remaining triumph was, of all things, a musical--his first and only--yet again he was working with children. However, the adaptation of the great Charles Dickens novel "Oliver Twistt" top the screen (as Oliver! (1968)) was a sensation with a lively script and music amid a realistic 19th-century London that was up to Reed's usual standards. The film was nominated for no less than 11 Oscars, wining five and two of the big ones--Best Picture and Best Director. Reed had finally achieved that bit of elusiveness. He could never be so simplistically stamped with an uneven career; Reed had always kept to a precise craftsman's movie-making formula.
Fellow British director Michael Powell had said that Reed "could put a film together like a watchmaker puts together a watch". It was Graham Greene, however, who gave Reed perhaps the more important personal accolade: "The only director I know with that particular warmth of human sympathy, the extraordinary feeling for the right face in the right part, the exactitude of cutting, and not least important the power of sympathizing with an author's worries and an ability to guide him."- Actress
- Soundtrack
Claire Trevor was born Claire Wemlinger in the Bensonhurst section of Brooklyn, New York, the only child of Fifth Avenue merchant-tailor Noel Wemlinger, an immigrant Frenchman from Paris who lost his business during the Depression, and his Belfast-born wife, Benjamina, known as "Betty". Young Claire's interest in acting began when she was 11 years old. She attended high school in Mamaroneck, Westchester County, New York. After starting classes at Columbia University, she spent six months at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, also in New York. Her adult acting experience began in the late 1920s in several stock productions; she appeared with Robert Henderson's Repertory Players in Ann Arbor, Michigan in 1930. That same year, aged 20, she signed with Warner Bros. Not too far from her home haunts was Vitagraph Studios in Brooklyn, the last and best of the early sound process studios, which had been acquired by Warner Bros. in 1925 to become Vitaphone. Trevor appeared in several of the nearly 2000 shorts cranked out by the studio between 1926 and 1930. Then she was sent west to do ten weeks of stock productions with other contract players in St. Louis. In 1931 she did summer stock with the Hampton Players in Southampton, Long Island. Finally, she debuted on Broadway in 1932 in "Whistling in the Dark".
Trevor moved to the silver screen, debuting in the western Life in the Raw (1933). There would be three more films (one more western) that year and six or more through the 1930s. Although she had been typed playing gun molls and hard-case women of the world, she displayed her already considerable versatility in these early films, often playing competent, take-charge professional women as well as "shady" ladies. There was a disappointed-pout-vulnerability in her face and that famous slightly New York-burred voice that cracked with a little cry when heightened by emotion that quickly revealed an unusual and sensitive performer. Many of her early films were "B" potboilers, but she worked with Spencer Tracy on several occasions, notably Dante's Inferno (1935).
Hollywood finally took notice of her talents by nominating her for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her standout performance as a slum girl forced by poverty into prostitution in Dead End (1937), opposite Humphrey Bogart. That same year she did the radio drama "Big Town" with Edward G. Robinson, then teamed with he and Bogart again for the slightly hokey but entertaining The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse (1938). Director John Ford tapped her for his first big sound Western film, Stagecoach (1939), the film that made a star of John Wayne. All her abilities to bring complexity to a character showed in her kicked-around dance hall girl "Dallas", one of the great early female roles. She and Wayne were electric, and they were paired in three more films during their careers.
In the 1940s, Trevor began appearing in the genre that brought her to true stardom: "film noir". She started in a big way as killer Ruth Dillon in Street of Chance (1942) with Burgess Meredith. She was equally convincing as the more complex but nonetheless two-faced Mrs. Grayle in the Philip Marlowe vehicle Murder, My Sweet (1944). However, she was something very different and quite extraordinary as washed-up, hopelessly alcoholic former nightclub singer and moll Gaye Dawn in Key Largo (1948), for which she won an Academy Award as Best Supporting Actress, again working with Bogart and Robinson. Her pitiful rendition of the torch song "Moanin' Low", which her character was forced to sing, humiliatingly, for the sadistic crime boss played by Robinson (to whom she is, figuratively speaking, permanently tethered) in exchange for a desperately needed drink. There were more quality movies and an additional Academy nomination (The High and the Mighty (1954)) into the 1950s,, but she also was doing work on stage and in television.
She was enthusiastic about live TV and appeared on several famous shows by the mid-1950s. She won an Emmy for Best Live Television Performance by an Actress as the flighty wife of Fredric March in NBC's Dodsworth (1956). She alternated her career among film, stage and TV roles. As she aged she easily transitioned into "distinguished matron" and mother roles, one of her most unusual ones being the murderous Ma Barker in Ma Barker and Her Boys (1959). Her final film role was as Sally Field's mother in Kiss Me Goodbye (1982).
Trevor and her third husband, producer Milton H. Bren, had long been residents of tony Newport Beach, California, to which they returned when she finally retired from screen work. However, she did maintain an active interest in stage work, and became associated with the University of California-Irvine's School of Arts. She and her husband contributed some $10 million to further its development for the visual and performing arts (that included three endowed professorships). After her passing in April 2000 at 90 years of age, the University renamed the school The Claire Trevor School of the Arts. Her presence on the UCI campus is in more than spirit alone. She donated her Oscar and her Emmy to UCI; both are on display in the arts plaza at the campus theatre that bears her name.- Actor
- Additional Crew
- Soundtrack
William Claude Rains, born in the Clapham area of London, was the son of the British stage actor Frederick Rains. The younger Rains followed, making his stage debut at the age of eleven in "Nell of Old Drury." Growing up in the world of theater, he saw not only acting up close but the down-to-earth business end as well, progressing from a page boy to a stage manager during his well-rounded learning experience. Rains decided to come to America in 1913 and the New York theater, but with the outbreak of World War I the next year, he returned to serve with a Scottish regiment in Europe. He remained in England, honing his acting talents, bolstered with instruction patronized by the founder of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, Herbert Beerbohm Tree. It was not long before his talent garnered him acknowledgment as one of the leading stage actors on the London scene. His one and only silent film venture was British with a small part for him, the forgettable -- Build Thy House (1920).
In the meantime, Rains was in demand as acting teacher as well, and he taught at the Royal Academy. Young and eager Laurence Olivier and John Gielgud were perhaps his best known students. Rains did return to New York in 1927 to begin what would be nearly 20 Broadway roles. While working for the Theater Guild, he was offered a screen test with Universal Pictures in 1932. Rains had a unique and solid British voice-deep, slightly rasping -- but richly dynamic. And as a man of small stature, the combination was immediately intriguing. Universal was embarking on its new-found role as horror film factory, and they were looking for someone unique for their next outing, The Invisible Man (1933). Rains was the very man. He took the role by the ears, churning up a rasping malice and volume in his voice to achieve a bone chilling persona of the disembodied mad doctor. He could also throw out a high-pitched maniac laugh that would make you leave the lights on before going to bed. True to Universal's formula mentality, it cast him in similar roles through 1934 with some respite in more diverse film roles -- and further relieved by Broadway roles (1933, 1934) for the remainder of his contract. By 1936, he was at Warner Bros. with its ambitious laundry list of literary epics in full swing. His acting was superb, and his eyes could say as much as his voice. And his mouth could take on both a forbidding scowl and the warmest of smiles in an instant. His malicious, gouty Don Luis in Anthony Adverse (1936) was inspired. After a shear lucky opportunity to dispatch his young wife's lover, Louis Hayward, in a duel, he triumphs over her in a scene with derisive, bulging eyes and that high pitched laugh -- with appropriate shadow and light backdrop -- that is unforgettable.
He was kept very busy through the remainder of the 1930s with a mix of benign and devious historical, literary, and contemporary characters always adapting a different nuance -- from murmur to growl -- of that voice to become the person. He culminated the decade with his complex, ethics-tortured Senator "Joe" Paine in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939). That year he became an American citizen. Into the 1940s, Rains had risen to perhaps unique stature: a supporting actor who had achieved A-list stardom -- almost in a category by himself. His some 40 films during that period ranged from subtle comedy to psychological drama with a bit of horror revisited; many would be golden era classics. He was the firm but thoroughly sympathetic Dr. Jaquith in Now, Voyager (1942) and the smoothly sardonic but engaging Capt. Louis Renault -- perhaps his best known role -- in Casablanca (1942). He was the surreptitiously nervous and malignant Alexander Sebastian in Notorious (1946) and the egotistical and domineering conductor Alexander Hollenius in Deception (1946). He was the disfigured Phantom of the Opera (1943) as well. He played opposite the challenging Bette Davis in three movies through the decade and came out her equal in acting virtuosity. He was nominated four times for the Best Supporting Actor Oscar -- but incredibly never won. With the 1950s the few movies left to an older Rains were countered by venturing into new acting territory -- television. His haunted, suicidal writer Paul DeLambre in the mountaineering adventure The White Tower (1950), though a modest part, was perhaps the most vigorously memorable film role of his last years. He made a triumphant Broadway return in 1951's "Darkness at Noon."
Rains embraced the innovative TV playhouse circuit with nearly 20 roles. As a favored 'Alfred Hitchcock' alumnus, he starred in five Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955) suspense dramas into the 1960s. And he did not shy away from episodic TV either with some memorable roles that still reflected the power of Claude Rains as consummate actor -- for many, first among peers with that hallowed title.- Actor
- Soundtrack
Who could forget Colin Clive's "It's Alive! It's Alive!" as he melted to the floor mumbling the same over and over in ecstasy after his success at animating the Monster in the first sound version of Frankenstein (1931). Film history - horror film history - but part of a short history for actor Colin Clive - he died at 37 years of age. The son of a British army colonel on assignment in France at the time of Colin's birth, Clive the younger might have been expected to follow an army career-his ancestor was Baron Robert Clive, founder of the British Indian Empire. But he became interested in theater instead. His acting talents progressed through the 1920s to sufficient degree to replace Laurence Olivier who was starring in the R. C Sherriff play "Journey's End" in London. The director was up-and-coming James Whale, who had also been working his way up in London stage and film work as a budding scene designer and director. Among his stage and entertainment acquaintances in London was Elsa Lanchester - the future bride of Frankenstein. When Olivier moved on to other stage work, the play moved to the Savoy Theater in London with Clive in the lead in 1928.
Whale was waiting for the opportunity to move onto Broadway and Hollywood films. The success of "Journey's End" gave Whale his break. Broadway called for the play with him as both director and scene designer. It opened in March of 1929 but with Colin Keith-Johnston in the lead. Nevertheless, Clive came to New York as well to await developments. Halfway through 1930, the play had ended, and Whale was contracted by Paramount as a dialog director. Things continued to unfold quickly. Whale was very soon called on to direct what would be the first British/American co-produced sound film, a movie version of the popular Journey's End (1930). Whale got Clive back as the lead-the laconic, alcoholic Capt. Stanhope. And Clive showed on screen what came out in his stage performances - a measured intensity to his character, bolstered by his unique cracked baritone voice - seemingly always on the edge of irritation. Clive's first picture then led to opportunities in both British and American films. But he got his first play on Broadway "Overture" in late 1930 which ended in January of 1931. Then it was back to London where he was prophetically cast with Lanchester in The Stronger Sex (1931).
As they say, what came next was film history. Whale was contracted by Universal where Dracula (1931) had just been a huge hit and the studio was looking for a quick follow up. Shelley's Frankenstein was optioned as the next 'horror' movie with Whale directing. Whale wanted Clive as Dr. Henry Frankenstein, and it all came together. Clive played the tortured legitimate doctor driven to macabre surgery and near insanity with over-the-top theatrics that would type him for the remainder of his short career.
The next few years he played both B leading and A supporting roles. Two apt examples were playing brooding but romantic Edward Rochester in an early Jane Eyre (1934) and playing a British officer in Clive of India (1935) in which Ronald Colman - not he - played his illustrious ancestor. Clive returned to Broadway for two plays in 1933 and 1934 and one more in the 1935-36 season. Then it was back to Universal for the "Bride" sequel of Frankenstein (1935) in which his Dr. Henry was somewhat more subdued. This was mostly to do with a broken leg suffered from a horseback riding accident. He is seen doing a lot of sitting or lying down because of it. Dour and sour seemed to be his trademark, bolstered that much more with the remainder of his films in which he was usually disturbed supporting characters.
His final two films were in early 1937 with the better known History Is Made at Night (1937) - awkward type-casting him as the world's most sour grapes ex-husband, Bruce Vail, who engineers a sure collision of his new steamship with any available iceberg in foggy weather to hopefully drown his ex-wife Jean Arthur and her romantic true love Charles Boyer. But the sinking ship is stabilized and the lovers are saved to live happily ever after. Ironically, but befitting such a deed in Hollywood ethics, Vail shoots himself.
Ironically, Clive, suffering from tuberculosis, furthered along by chronic alcoholism, died not long after in late June of 1937.- Actor
- Additional Crew
Already accomplished in his homeland, Irish actor Colin Kenny came to the US in 1917 to make his bid for film stardom. To the best of his memory, there would be over 150 of them. Silent movies were more generous in ladling out cast credit. He had steady roles from 1918 to the late 1920s. One of his best opportunities had been as Cecil Greystoke in Tarzan of the Apes (1918) and its sequel, The Romance of Tarzan (1918). When sound arrived the studios got stingy about giving credits, and handed the out in the most efficient way they could--to as few actors as possible. That, however, was the lot of many a character actor of the time, as well as some production people. Kenny found the parts most varied just the same. He was the Talking Clock in Alice in Wonderland (1933). His opening line (one of the few he actually had) as Lord Chester Dyke in Captain Blood (1935), "Ahh, guilty!" in a distinctively clipped aristocratic attitude during the courtroom scene in England, sets him apart.
Small parts of all sorts would be his sole acting fare in that era, for he was already in his late 40s. Yet he would average five or six parts each year from 1934 to 1947, and the list would include many a major film. His busiest year would be 1952, with parts in such films as The Quiet Man (1952) and Limelight (1952). After that the bit parts became scarcer and he started doing uncredited extra work. Yet Colin Kenny kept working. He joined a whole crowd of fellow elder British expatriates for a choice bit part in My Fair Lady (1964). His last movie was the Steve McQueen vehicle The Cincinnati Kid (1965).- DeVeren Bookwalter honed his TV and movie acting talents originally in stage work in New York. From the east he moved to Los Angeles in the early 1970s, to plumb the opportunities of West Coast acting. One of the first of varied small roles in his new movie career was The Omega Man (1971). Bookwalter had a particular passion for Shakespeare and found an adequate outlet in his association with R. Thad Taylor's Shakespeare Society of America in West Hollywood. Working out of a turn-of-the-century Victorian mansion converted to several production stages, the SSA was especially devoted to performing all of Shakespeare's plays with a pool of LA legitimate theater, TV, and movie talent. Bookwalter played Feste the Clown in the SSA's ambitious Twelfth Night (1971)which used the mansion's massive backyard patio as the central stage. The production included young British actors Vincent Mongol and Vickery Turner and veteran funny man Avery Schreiber. When the mansion's owners tore it down in early 1972 (for the proverbial parking lot), Taylor moved the SSA to a converted garage a few miles north and with Bookwalter and the addition of a varied trove of talented volunteers constructed within it a half scale model of the Globe Theater.
Reconstituting the new location as the LA Globe Theater, the SSA continued the goal of completing Shakespeare's plays, along with a steady insertion of new plays and some modern classics. Bookwalter took the helm as director and star in the SSA's acclaimed Cyrano de Bergerac (1975) which garnered the Los Angeles Drama Critics Circle Awards for production, director, and lead performance for that year. The SSA completed the Shakespeare collection of plays in 1976-77 season, and Bookwalter once again moved into movies, including the American TV production of Othello (1981). His most notable movie role was as the home grown terrorist leader Bobby Maxwell in the Clint Eastwood continuing Dirty Harry installment The Enforcer (1976). Thereafter Bookwalter moved into the steady work of soap operas (1982-84) and finally returned to New York where he passed away before his time in 1987. - Born in Ontario, Canada, Douglas, like other Canadian actors before and since, made his way to Chicago, then New York. Being of slight frame with a boyish face with a tuft of blond hair completing that latter effect, Walton looked the part of ineffectual, effeminate, snobbish sophisticates, whining cowards, and other assorted types which were in demand during Hollywood's heyday of 1930s and 1940s film-noir. Not interested in the stage, Douglas made his way to Hollywood, where casting directors were availing themselves of his type. From mere small character roles, he began to receive lines to speak--to accent the parts. Walton's soft tenor voice lent well to the 'weakling' roles, but he could talk in a deeper voice for dramatic moments, an early example being his young Albert de Mondego in The Count of Monte Cristo (1934), in which he registers a fine dramatic range. A year later, another opportunity presented itself. One of the real gems in Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is the opening scene with Elsa Lanchester as Mary Shelley with Walton as husband Percy and American character actor Gavin Gordon as Lord Byron. In one of the old Universal sound stages with a huge fireplace and an even huger picture window looking out on a stormy night, the histrionics of these three make the film, if nothing else did--but as a sequel, 'Bride' lends enough to campiness to make it work wonderfully. Walton continued his run of high-profile film outings later that year with the much-anticipated Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) starring Clark Gable. As jealous, priggish midshipman Stewart, he lends the right characterization to make the part his own. Walton's best role of the period was probably Lord Darnley in Mary of Scotland (1936), in which he gives an over-the-top, playing-to-the-hilt rendition of the effeminate noble weakling who by default weds Katharine Hepburn as the vivacious Mary Stuart. Director John Ford was noted for pushing his actors, and he must have been satisfied with Walton and his impressive registering everything in the human emotional range from Darnley's fawning and jealous snits to the fear and terror of his impending doom. Into the late '30s the parts were more conventional secondary characters.
By 1939, halfway through his career of almost 60 films, he decided to take his first (and only) Broadway role, in the original comedy "Billy Draws a Horse". Unfortunately, the play folded after only a week and a half in late December. Ford called on him again for two films: his western remake of The Lost Patrol (1934), Bad Lands (1939); and his reading of Eugene O'Neill's The Long Voyage Home (1940).
There were other high-profile films into the 1940s, including Northwest Passage (1940) and The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945), but by the late decade, he was simply credited as 'Fop' in the epic flop Forever Amber (1947) or, as in the remainder of his films, given no credit at all.
Walton left film after 1950 and passed away form a heart attack a decade later at only 51. - Actress
- Soundtrack
Elsa Sullivan Lanchester was born into an unconventional a family at the turn of the 20th century. Her parents, James "Shamus" Sullivan and Edith "Biddy" Lanchester, were socialists - very active members of the Social Democratic Federation (SDF) in a rather broad sense - and did not believe in the institution of marriage and being tied to any conventions of legality, for that matter. Her mother had actually been committed to an asylum in 1895 by her father and older brothers because of her unmarried state with James. The incident received worldwide press as the "Lanchester Kidnapping Case."
Elsa had a great desire to become a classical dancer and to that end at age 10 her mother enrolled her at the famed Isadora Duncan's Bellevue School in Paris in 1912. But the uncertainties of WW1 brought her home after only two years. At age 12, she was sent to a co-educational boarding school in Kings Langley, Hertfordshire, England, to teach dance classes in exchange for her education and board. In 1918, she was hired as a dance teacher at Margaret Morris's school on the Isle of Wight.
Next to dance, she loved the music halls of the period, so in 1920 she debuted in a music hall act as an Egyptian dancer. About the same time she founded the Children's Theater in Soho, London and taught there for several years. She made her stage debut in 1922 in the West End play "Thirty Minutes in a Street." In 1924 she and her partner, Harold Scott, opened a London nightclub called the Cave of Harmony. They performed one-act plays by Pirandello and Chekhov and sang cabaret songs. She would later collect and record these and many others. The spot was frequented by literati like Aldous Huxley, H.G. Wells and also James Whale, working in London theater and soon to be directing on Broadway and Hollywood's most famous horror films. Lanchester kept busy including, on her own admission, posing nude for artists. During a 1926 comic performance in the Midnight Follies at London's Metropole, a member of the British Royal family walked out as she sang, "Please Sell No More Drink to My Father." She closed her nightclub in 1928 as her film career began in earnest.
Perhaps not beautiful in the more conventional sense, Lanchester was certainly pretty as a young woman with a turned-up nose that gave her a pert, impish expression, all the more striking with her large, expressive dark eyes and full lips. She had a lithe figure that she carried with the assuredness of her dancing background. Her voice was bright and distinctive, and had a delightful rush and trill that had an almost Scottish burr quality. What clicked on stage would do the same in the movies.
Her first film appearance was actually in an amateur movie by friend and author Evelyn Waugh called The Scarlet Woman: An Ecclesiastical Melodrama (1925). Her formal film debut was in the British movie One of the Best (1927). She continued stage work and became associated in 1927 with a rather self-possessed but keenly dedicated actor, Charles Laughton. He appeared with her in three of four films Lanchester did in 1928. (Three of these were written for her by H.G. Wells). They did a few plays as well and wed in 1929. According to Lanchester, after two years, she discovered Laughton was homosexual but they remained married until his death in 1962. Lanchester declared in a 1958 interview that she kept to a separate career path from her husband. They appeared together on occasion, moving through 1931 with several smart play-like films including Potiphar's Wife (1931) with Laurence Olivier. She had done the play "Payment Deferred" in London in 1930 and followed it to Broadway in 1931.
MGM offered her a contract in 1932. In 1933 Alexander Korda was casting his The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933) and decided that Laughton was the perfect choice - and his wife would be just as perfect as one of Henry's six wives. Her versatility pointed to a part with some comedic elements and fitting more into a caricature. She looked most like Hans Holbein's famous portrait of Anne of Cleves (Henry's fourth wife who was actually somewhat more homely than the painter depicted). In costume Lanchester was charming if not striking. Her interpretation of Anne was a perfect integration with herself, and her scene with Laughton informally playing cards on the marriage bed and deciding on annulment is a high point of the movie.
Of course, it would be hard to mention her film career of the 1930s without mentioning the one role that would forever dog her, Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Having come to Hollywood with Laughton in 1932 (but not permanently until 1939), Lanchester did only a few films up to 1935 and was disappointed enough with Hollywood's reception to return to London for a respite. She was quickly called back by an old friend from London, stage and film associate James Whale, now the noted director of Frankenstein (1931) and The Invisible Man (1933). He wanted her for two parts in Bride: author Mary Shelley and the bride. A central joke of the movie build-up was the tag lines: "WHO will be The Bride of Frankenstein? WHO will dare?"
Indeed, it was no honeymoon for her. For some ten days, Lanchester was wrapped in yards of bandage and covered in heavy makeup. The stand-on-end hairdo was accomplished by combing it over a wire mesh cage. Lanchester was in real agony with her eyes kept taped wide open for long takes - and it showed in her looks of horror. Her monster's screaming and hissing sounds (based on the sounds of Regents Park swans in London) were taped and then run backward to spook-up the effect. She was delightfully melodramatic and picturesque as Wollstonecraft, and her bride would become iconic. Many have considered Bride of Frankenstein (1935) the best of the golden age horror movies.
Lanchester stood out in her next movie with Laughton the next year, Korda's dark Rembrandt (1936), but she only did a few more films for the remainder of the decade. Through the 1940s she was doubly busy - a couple of films per year while regenerating her beloved musical revue sketches. She performed for 10 years at the Turnabout Theater in Hollywood, using old London music hall/cabaret songs and others written for her. Later she would have to split her time further doing a similar act at a supper club called The Bar of Music. By the later 1940s she had become rather matronly, and the roles would settle appropriately. But she always lent her sparkle, as with her charming maid Matilda in The Bishop's Wife (1947). She would be nominated for best supporting actress in Come to the Stable (1949).
She entered the 1950s busy with road touring of her nightclub act with pianist J. Raymond Henderson (who went by "Ray" and who is sometimes confused with popular songwriter Ray Henderson). There was a series of tours to complement Laughton's famous reading tours, called Elsa Lanchester's Private Music Hall which ended in 1952; Elsa Lanchester--Herself which ended in 1961; and once more in 1964 at the Ivar Theater. She was equally busy with a stock of film roles and a large share of TV playhouse theater. She made ten movies with Laughton, the last of which, Witness for the Prosecution (1957) garnered her second supporting actress nomination. But her dizzy Aunt Queenie Holroyd of Bell Book and Candle (1958) is a fond remembrance of that time.
With the two decades from the 1960s to early 1980s, Lanchester was a fixture on episodic TV and an institution in Disney and G-rated fare - perhaps a bit ironic for the unconventional Lanchester. She wrote two autobiographies: "Charles Laughton and I" (1938) and "Elsa Lanchester: Herself" (1983), both recalling her nearly 100 roles before the camera. Lanchester remained humorously reflective in regard to her film career, describing it as "...large parts in lousy pictures and small parts in big pictures." It was the mix of silly, bawdy, and outrageous in her revues that was her great joy: "I was content because I was fully aware that I did not like straight acting but preferred performing direct to an audience. You might call what I do vaudeville. Making a joke, especially impromptu, and getting a big laugh is just plain heaven."- Actor
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Born in London, Eric Blore came out of college and started his working life as an insurance agent. But while touring in Australia he took an interest in the stage and theater. He gave up his insurance job and turned to acting after returning to England. With his elfish long, straight nose, squint-eyed demeanor and a crisp voice, he successfully began a career starring in many shows and revues, focusing on traditional British comedy. Encouraged further, in 1923 he came to New York and was almost immediately using his London stage experience on Broadway. Though there were a few dramatic parts, he inevitably played comic roles in musical comedies and revues (in some of which he also received billing as a lyricist) regularly from 1923 to 1933. He would return once again some ten years later to take on multiple roles for Ziegfeld Follies of 1943. No stranger to film, as early as 1920 he had tried his hand in British cinema. And in 1926 he did the US silent version of The Great Gatsby (1926) that starred Warner Baxter. His familiar role as a head waiter began with his first Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers film, Flying Down to Rio (1933). With a foot still on Broadway, in 1933 he played the waiter in the stage version of The Gay Divorcee and was then tapped to reprise the role in the film version with Fred and Ginger. Blore had been perfecting his basic comic characters since his London days -- a leering English gentlemen, brusque/wise-acre butler or waiter or other service provider -- with a lockjawed British accent. These characters accompanied by Blore's flawlessly timed delivery were thoroughly applicable and effective as he moved permanently to Hollywood character acting. He played a fair spectrum of other roles, even in a few rare dramas, such as the adventure The Soldier and the Lady (1937) and Island of Lost Men (1939).
Blore was very busy with movies from 1934 through most of the 1940s. He appeared in five of the nine Fred and Ginger dance musicals. Some of his best mugging and scripted lines were in Top Hat (1935) and Shall We Dance (1937) of that series. He was also cast very effectively as valet/butler Jamison in the screen adaptations of the Wolfe Kaufman Lone Wolf mystery novel series. There were eleven films between 1940 and 1947, with all but the last three starring the dashing, sonorous-voiced Warren William (who had a greater profile than 'The Great Profile', John Barrymore) as Michael Lanyard. This was a popular series with first-rate scripts and good production values to keep the public coming back for more. Blore was also invited into the company of stock players ruled over by zany comedy director Preston Sturges. Though Blore only did two films for Sturges, his role in the first of these, The Lady Eve (1941), was a Blore tour de force. Playing the suave confidence man, Pearly, to his old bunko acquaintances Barbara Stanwyck and Charles Coburn, he took the role of pseudo-wealthy Sir Alfred McGlennan Keith out to fleece the local American business gentry. His scene with a gullible Henry Fonda taking in Sir Alfred's concocted story of Stanwyck's being a twin daughter of the lady of the manor by way of her coachman is a delight, punctuated with Blore interrupting perplexed Fonda's questions with a loud shhhhhhh of silence at each.
Inevitably, the parts started to become less frequent. Several of Blore's 1940s movies were with lesser known up-and-comers or older stars such as himself. Still, he enjoyed a variety of roles, including the opportunity of animation immortality when Disney chose him for the voice of Mr. Toad in the classic short The Wind in the Willows (1949). But for two widely spaced appearances, Blore essentially retired by 1955.
And as sometimes is the case when personalities move into obscurity, their deaths are prematurely announced. Such was the case with Blore when the New Yorker journalist Kenneth Tynan reported him as having already passed on. Blore's lawyer raised a flurry, as did the editor of the New Yorker, who claimed the periodical had never had to print a retraction. The night before the highly profiled retraction appeared, Blore indeed passed away. And the next morning the New Yorker was the only publication with the wrong information. It seems likely Blore would have been particularly tickled with the irony of this last comedic bit in honor of his passing.- Director
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From Ernst Lubitsch's experiences in Sophien Gymnasium (high school) theater, he decided to leave school at the age of 16 and pursue a career on the stage. He had to compromise with his father and keep the account books for the family tailor business while he acted in cabarets and music halls at night. In 1911 he joined the Deutsches Theater of famous director/producer/impresario Max Reinhardt, and was able to move up to leading acting roles in a short time. He took an extra job as a handyman while learning silent film acting at Berlin's Bioscope film studios. The next year he launched his own film career by appearing in a series of comedies showcasing traditional ethnic Jewish slice-of-life fare. Finding great success in these character roles, Lubitsch turned to broader comedy, then beginning in 1914 started writing and directing his own films.
His breakthrough film came in 1918 with The Eyes of the Mummy (1918) ("The Eyes of the Mummy"), a tragedy starring future Hollywood star Pola Negri. Also that year he made Carmen (1918), again with Negri, a film that was commercially successful on the international level. His work already showed his genius for catching the eye as well as the ear in not only comedy but historical drama. The year 1919 found Lubitsch directing seven films, the two standouts being his lavish Passion (1919) with two of his favorite actors--Negri (yet again) and Emil Jannings. His other standout was the witty parody of the American upper crust, The Oyster Princess (1919) ("The Oyster Princess"). This film was a perfect example of what became known as the Lubitsch style, or the "Lubitsch Touch", as it became known--sophisticated humor combined with inspired staging that economically presented a visual synopsis of storyline, scenes and characters.
His success in Europe brought him to the shores of America to promote The Loves of Pharaoh (1922) ("The Loves of Pharaoh") and he become acquainted with the thriving US film industry. He soon returned to Europe, but came back to the US for good to direct new friend and influential star Mary Pickford in his first American hit, Rosita (1923). The Marriage Circle (1924) began Lubitsch's unprecedented run of sophisticated films that mirrored the American scene (though always relocated to foreign or imaginary lands) and all its skewed panorama of the human condition. There was a smooth transition between his silent films for Warner Bros. and the sound movies--usually at Paramount--now embellished with the flow of speech of Hollywood's greats lending personal nuances to continually heighten the popularity at the box office and the fame of Lubitsch's first-rate versatility in crafting a smart film. There was a mix of pioneering musical films and some drama also through the 1930s. The of those films resulted in Paramount making him its production chief in 1935, so he could produce his own films and supervise production of others. In 1938 he signed a three-year contract with Twentieth Century-Fox.
Certainly two of his most beloved films near the end of his career dealt with the political landscape of the World War II era. He moved to MGM, where he directed Greta Garbo and Melvyn Douglas in Ninotchka (1939), a fast-paced comedy of "decadent" Westerners meeting Soviet "comrades" who were seeking more of life than the mother country could--or would--offer. During the war he directed perhaps his most beloved comedy--controversial to say the least, dark in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way--but certainly a razor-sharp tour de force in smart, precise dialog, staging and story: To Be or Not to Be (1942), produced by his own company, Romaine Film Corp. It was a biting satire of Nazi tyranny that also poked fun at Lubitsch's own theater roots with the problems and bickering--but also the triumph--of a somewhat raggedy acting troupe in Warsaw during the Nazi occupation. Jack Benny's perfect deadpan humor worked well with the zany vivaciousness of Carole Lombard, and a cast of veteran character actors from both Hollywood and Lubitsch's native Germany provided all the chemistry needed to make this a classic comedy, as well as a fierce statement against the perpetrators of war. The most poignant scene was profoundly so, with Felix Bressart--another of Reinhardt's students--as the only Jewish bit player in the company. His supreme hope is a chance to someday play Shylock. He gets his chance as part of a ruse in front of Adolf Hitler's SS bodyguards. The famous soliloquy was a bold declaration to the world of the Axis' brutal inhumanity to man, as in its treatment of and plans for the Jewry of Europe.
Lubitsch had a massive heart attack in 1943 after having signed a producer/director's contract with 20th Century-Fox earlier that year, but completed Heaven Can Wait (1943). His continued efforts in film were severely stymied but he worked as he could. In late 1944 Otto Preminger, another disciple of Reinhardt's Viennese theater work, took over the direction of A Royal Scandal (1945), with Lubitsch credited as nominal producer. March of 1947, the year of his passing, brought a special Academy Award (he was nominated three times) to the fading producer/director for his "25-year contribution to motion pictures." At his funeral, two of his fellow directorial émigrés from Germany put his epitaph succinctly as they left. Billy Wilder noted, "No more Lubitsch." William Wyler answered, "Worse than that - no more Lubitsch films."- Ethel Barrymore was the second of three children seemingly destined for the actor's life of their parents Maurice and Georgiana. Maurice Barrymore had emigrated from England in 1875, and after graduating from Cambridge in law had shocked his family by becoming an actor. Georgiana Drew of Philadelphia acted in her parents' stage company. The two met and married as members of Augustin Daly's company in New York. They both acted with some of the great stage personalities of the mid Victorian theater of America and England. The Barrymore children were born and grew up in Philadelphia. Though older brother Lionel Barrymore began acting early with his mother's relatives in the Drew theater company, Ethel, after a traditional girl's schooling, planned on becoming a concert pianist.
The lure of the stage was perhaps congenital, however. She made her debut as a stage actress during the New York City season of 1894. Her youthful stage presence was at once a pleasure, a strikingly pretty and winsome face and large dark eyes that seemed to look out from her very soul. Her natural talent and distinctive voice only reinforced the physical presence of someone destined to command any role set before her. After the opportunity to appear on the London stage with English great Henry Irving in "The Bells" (1897) and later in "Peter the Great" (1898), she returned to New York to star in the Clyde Fitch play "Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines" (1901) (produced by her friend and benefactor Charles Frohman), which brought her initial American acclaim. Lead roles, such as Nora in Henrik Ibsen's "A Doll's House" (1905) and starring in "Alice By the Fire" (also 1905), "Mid-Channel" (1910) and "Trelawney of the Wells" (1911) proved her popularity as a warm and charismatic star of American stage. In the meantime she married stockbroker Russell Griswold Colt in 1909 and gave birth to three children while continuing her acting career.
Although the stage was her first love, she did heed the call of the silver screen, and though not achieving the matinée idol image that younger brother John Barrymore garnered in silent movies after similar chemistry on stage, she won over audiences from her first film appearance in The Nightingale (1914). However, her early film roles, steady through 1919, took a back seat to continued stage triumphs: "Declassee" (1919), her impassioned Juliet in "Romeo and Juliet" (1922), "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray" (1924) and, especially, "The Constant Wife" (1926).
She harnessed her considerable talents in the role of an activist as well, being a bedrock supporter of the Actors Equity Association and, in fact, had been a prominent figure in the actors strike of 1919. By 1930 she was entering middle age and her movie roles reflected this. Except for Rasputin and the Empress (1932) with her brothers, the roles were elderly mothers and grandmothers, dowager ladies and spinster aunts. Perhaps wisely she put off Hollywood for over a decade, with stage work that included her most endearing role in "The Corn is Green" (a tour that lasted from 1940 to 1942). She finally moved to Southern California in 1940.
Yet the consummate actress glowed still in the films that came steadily in the mid-'40s and through much of the 1950s. As the mother of Cary Grant in the pensive None But the Lonely Heart (1944) she started off her late film career brilliantly by receiving the Oscar for Best Actress in a supporting role, though she was not satisfied with that effort. Her engaging wit and humanity stood out in even supporting roles, such as, the politically savvy mother of Joseph Cotten in The Farmer's Daughter (1947) and, once again with Cotton, as sympathetic art dealer Miss Spinney, with those eyes, in the haunting screen adaptation of Robert Nathan's novel Portrait of Jennie (1948). There was also a mingling of some TV work to round out her last movies in the late 1950s. In 1955 she saw her book "Memories, An Autobiography" see publication. For the enduring legacy she had already begun years before, a theater named for her was dedicated in New York in 1928. When she passed away in 1959, she was interred near her brothers at Calvary Cemetery in East Los Angeles. - Actress
- Soundtrack
Flora Robson knew she was no beauty, but her wise and sympathetic face would become a familiar - indeed, shining - ornament of the 1930s and '40s silver screen. Though not sure of acting as a career in her early years, she first appeared on stage when 5 years old. She was educated at Palmer's Green High School and went on still in her teens to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London, winning a Bronze Medal in 1921. Between 1921-23 she performed in London and Oxford, but both uncertainty and the unstable income of acting convinced her to spend the next few years working at a factory welfare officer in east London.
Still, her versatility, even in her youth, as a budding character actress of the first water, was noticed. In 1929 a friend urged her to join the Cambridge Festival Theatre where she remained two years.
By 1931 she was in residence at the Old Vic with as varied roles as Herodias in "Salome" (1931), a drunken prostitute in Bridie's "The Anatomist", Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth in "Macbeth", and Gwendolen in "The Importance of Being Earnest" (both in 1933).
She stayed with the Old Vic until 1934, but she was already turning to the film with her debut in A Gentleman of Paris (1931).
Her dexterity as screen monarchs began shortly thereafter as Russian Empress Elisabeth in The Rise of Catherine the Great (1934). Flora even had a place in television history in the pre-WWII British TV production of Anna Christie (1937).
She was a forceful Livia in Josef von Sternberg's ill-fated and unfinished I, Claudius (1937), but gave a hint of her future potential with her rousing Queen Elizabeth I in Alexander Korda's Fire Over England (1937) with Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh.
The year 1939 was extremely busy for Robson. It marked her first association with British director Michael Powell in his The Lion Has Wings (1939) and Smith (1939) and the unsurprising call from Hollywood.
There she was lauded quickly for 2 roles that year: as the domineering wife of Paul Muni in We Are Not Alone (1939) and opposite fellow British stars Laurence Olivier, Merle Oberon, and David Niven as narrator and housekeeper Ellen Dean in the haunting Wuthering Heights (1939). Her compelling Elizabeth marked her for a reprise of the role in the Errol Flynn swashbuckler The Sea Hawk (1940) in which she played the role to the hilt.
Among early screen Elizabeth standouts, Florence Eldridge in Mary of Scotland (1936) resembled the historical queen and the more famous Bette Davis displayed the manner and temperament with her usual command (though it is hard not to feel it's Bette playing her - albeit - brilliant self and not Elizabeth) in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), but Robson seemed to best personify the total person and spirit of 'good Queen Bess'.
Flora's film career was marked with a character versatility which had and continued to mark precious time for stage work (as in her murderess Ellen Creed in "Ladies in Retirement" (Broadway, 1950). In 1941, she returned to war-torn London to boldly continue theater performances to a grateful country. After the war, it was a full life of crisscrossing the Atlantic. Though some British critics were not impressed with her return to Hollywood to play the overly protective mulatto servant of Ingrid Bergman in Saratoga Trunk (1945), it was an outstanding tour-de-force character performance honored with an Oscar nomination.
Among other memorable roles in the late 1940s, even her reflective Anglican Sister Philippa in Powell's visually stunning and provocative Black Narcissus (1947) displays her depth as a solid character actress. Another quarter of a century of roles was accented with memorable theatrical performances as Lady Macbeth on Broadway (1949) and as Paulina in Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale" (1951), production by John Gielgud, to add to a kaleidoscope mix of movies from 1948 to 1981 and a sprinkling of character pieces on British TV, when she retired from the stage in 1969.
The material success of Hollywood played a part in her much deserved honor as Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (CBE) in 1952 and her ascension as Dame Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (DBE) in 1960. Kenneth Barrow wrote a biography Flora: The Life of Dame Flora Robson (1981). Flora had the further honor of rating 2 portraits in London's National Portrait Gallery for her full and distinguished life.- Actor
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- Director
President of the Dramatic Club at Cornell University, Franchot Tone gave up the family business for acting, making his Broadway debut in "The Age of Innocence".
Tone then went into movies for MGM, making his film debut (at Paramount Pictures) in The Wiser Sex (1932). With his theatrical background, Tone became one of the most talented movie actors in Hollywood.- Francis J. McDonald - not a name to bring ready recognition-but a look at the face reminds one of many old movie roles indeed. His career as an actor literally spanned from early silent films and the great silver screen era of sound film to follow on through the golden age of television. His screen credits, noticeable and small, amount to an amazing nearly 350 roles. Starting on stage, he was a slight but handsome leading man who entered films in 1913 and continued lead and featured romantic roles from contemporary to costume adventure into the 1920s. It was during this period that he married - and divorced - actress Mae Busch, most familiar for the many Laurel and Hardy comedies she did. MacDonald worked on Broadway briefly in only two plays (mid-1918). By the time he did his first totally sound film (late silent movies had intervals of background or short dialog sound), Burning Up (1930), MacDonald had 83 films under his belt. But into the 1930s, being older, his roles were turning toward shady characters of second order - and increasingly uncredited. With dark hair and mustache and beady eyes with a prominent nose, MacDonald fit well into many an ethnic or sneaky villain role and continued in demand. He got to know Cecil B. DeMille and had a regular featured character role in his long history of films beginning with The Plainsman (1936).
Still through the 1930s and 40s MacDonald averaged a steady five to ten films a year-dipping somewhat in the World War II years. Into the 1950s he was increasingly cast in one of his perennial staples, westerns, with roles already familiar to him: weaselly, tin horn gamblers, henchmen, but also dignified Indian chiefs. He was a natural to move into the incredibly popular western phenomenon that burst over the new medium of TV. He showed up in the spectrum of episodic oaters: from early Range Rider, Kit Carson, Wild Bill Hickok, and The Lone Ranger to later fare, such as, Have Gun-Will Travel, Wanted Dead or Alive, Wagon Train, the whole stable of Warner Bros. westerns at the end of the decade (Maverick, etc.), and The Virginian in the next. In the meanwhile there were some good character pieces in movies. Perhaps the most poignant being his last for DeMille's, The Ten Commandments (1956), where he had the small but showcase role as Simon, the old Jewish slave. Bedraggled and working in the clay pit - with Charlton Heston - he pleads for freedom for the Israelites - and gets a a trowel in the gut from a Egyptian guard for his trouble - dying heroically in Heston's arms - it is classic DeMille. And it was classic MacDonald - always ready to give a skillful and memorable performance. - Actor
- Soundtrack
Franklin Pangborn - a name more befitting a fictionalized bank president rather than a great comedic actor - was a singular character actor but little is known of his early years. He spent some time in developing acting talent prior to appearing on Broadway by March of 1911, and would do six plays until mid-1913. He was noticeably absent afterward and corresponding with the early years of World War I. He was in the US Army after America entered the war in 1917. Pangborn did one more play on Broadway in 1924. Interestingly, for someone immediately identified with comedy, Pangborn's roles were for the most part dramatic and included Armand Duval in "Camille", a role in a play adaptation of "Ben Hur", and two parts in "Joseph and His Brethren". Two years later, Pangborn turned to silent films. And although he would play some villains and romantic leads, that droopy pudding-face of his was bound for comedy. In all these early roles from his debut in 1926, his first talkie (On Trial (1928)), and on through most of 1932 (when he made 24 appearances on film), Pangborn was playing comedic roles, many of which were for short films (many by Mack Sennett) where the players usually had no on-screen persona and no billing credit. His many appearances in shorts tapered off and ended through 1935.
These roles were quite varied and continued as such into the later 1930s. He played the compromised husband in two Bing Crosby vehicles (1933); no fewer than three photographers, reporters, radio announcers, bartenders, and much more, including a character meant to parody his own name: 'Mr. Pingboom' (Turnabout (1940)). But through the same period he was piling up a lot of clerk, floorwalker, and, perhaps most of all, hotel manager roles. These latter were the basis for Pangborn typed as the straight-laced, nervous minor official or service provider or manager of whatever whose smug self-assurance in his orderly world is sorely tested.
The term 'sissy' (so prominent a condemnation from childhood memories) was used in early film (and still used today by some film historians) as a catchall name for a spectrum of rather gentle and nebulous male personalities; a simpering voice of any kind would be an instant label that also implied the taboo of homosexuality. Pangborn is often first on the list of actors noted as typed in this general category with Edward Everett Horton with his dignified but slightly simpering New England drawl a close second. Animator Robert Clampett at Warner Bros. in the late 1940s patterned his Goofy Gophers, Mac and Tosh, with their polite and flowery speech after both men. Pangborn had a mellow, lyrical voice which he could ramp up to a staccato, rapid-fire rhythm when perturbed. Indeed, the face and the voice fit well with characters of convention and control, as well as the fastidious to the point of being another slang term of many faces: 'prissy'. And maybe that does not include effeminate - he was not quite that - though the term is indelibly tagged to the character type. His characters were the sort of proper and snobby figures who the easygoing American public would find suspicious - and thus all the funnier on screen when they get their comeuppance. Yet Pangborn never implied 'gay' in his portrayals despite all the gender revisionism of today that might reinterpret his work as such. In real life, people are more complex; on the mainstream screen - as opposed to the shadowy blue one - of the 1930s and 40s, characters were more generally defined within usual convention.
By the later 1930s, Pangborn had perfected a wonderful sense of timing of demeanor, manner, and voice to fit the control freak who is gradually dragged into his worst nightmare of relative chaos by hapless situation. By this time his characterizations were such a fixture of guaranteed laughs that the movie-going public expected to see him. Pangborn was in great demand to do what he did best. And having already worked from the silent era with great stars and directors, he continued to do so. W.C. Fields was a great fan of him and used him in several movies. He was a constant in smart comedy from Frank Capra and Gregory La Cava to the more extreme screwball comedies of Preston Sturges, though frequently upstaged with such a company of funny men as Sturges gathered around him. The Pangborn progression from very funny to uproarious is seen evolved, for example, from La Cava's My Man Godfrey (1936) to Sturges's Hail the Conquering Hero (1944). In the first he is the volunteer swell who coordinates store-keeping for the scavenger hunt of his fellow - if downright silly - affluent crust of New York society. As the flow of items brought to him for registering turns into a flood (including a live goat kid), his demeanor, mannerisms, and vocal speed display increasing irritation. Head spinning, he is in defensive mode as he fends off shouting, grabbing participants. The role perhaps was his defining moment as established celebrity comedian. In Sturges's movie, and Pangborn appeared in most of his best efforts, he is the committee chairman of the reception for false hero Eddie Bracken, trying to coordinate festivities and caught in a literal battle of bands at the beginning of the film. Converged upon by various hokey town bands who all want to play the featured pieces, Pangborn attempts order but is methodically carried away as people out of the blue arrive to suggest other songs, and the bands continue to assail him with arguments, and finally all play all the songs - and all at once - to prove the most deserving. It is musical chaos with Pangborn finally reduced to desperate blasts on a whistle and jumping up and down, yelling "Not yet! Not yet!" It is one of the actor's finest pieces.
Yet Pangborn's usual stock of characters could fit drama as well. Actually, in "Hero", his coordinator also has some straight scenes as well. In Now, Voyager (1942) as the cruise tourist director, his only problem is that Bette Davis has not arrived on deck to be partnered for the land touring of Rio. As an accomplished stage actor, he did miss the boards. Friend of Edward Horton, he was able to exchange his quirky screen characters for dramatic ones, participating in Horton's Los Angeles-based Majestic Theatre productions. But times changed for Pangborn's specialties. Movies were more diverse and updated as the 1950s ensued. But he was immediately adaptable to the small screen which would re-introduce him. He was right at home as a guest star on TV comedy shows, playing his beloved characters as cameo celebrations of his matter-of-fact stardom.
There were a handful of film roles in his last decade with perhaps the overambitious and black-and-white dull but star-studded The Story of Mankind (1957) a bit of a showcase. Also in 1957 he had the singular distinction of being honored as guest announcer - a familiar enough role - and first guest star on the premiere of the "Tonight Show" with its first host Jack Paar. To pass away after surgery seems such a disordered way to go for one such as Franklin Pangborn whose on-screen characters struggled for order above all else. There is no order in the frailty of life by definition, but Pangborn's legacy, rich in comedic gems, has and surely will continue to endure.- Music Department
- Composer
- Actor
Franz Waxman (Wachsmann) pursued his dream of a career in music despite his family's misgivings. He worked for several years as a bank teller and paid for piano, harmony and composition lessons with his salary. He later moved to Berlin, where he continued his study and progress as a musician. He was able to support himself by playing and arranging for a popular German jazz band, Weintraub Syncopaters, in the late 1920s. Friedrich Hollaender, who had written some music for the Weintraubs, gave Waxman his first chance to move into movie scoring by hiring him to orchestrate and conduct Hollander's score (an arrangement of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart) for the film that launched Marlene Dietrich, The Blue Angel (1930), directed by Josef von Sternberg. During 1932 Waxman, a Jew, joined many other Jews leaving Germany as the Nazi vise closed irrevocably on free society. He continued working with Germanfilm makers in France. Waxman did musical arranging and co-scoring, usually with Allan Gray, for approximately 15 European movies (his first independent score was in 1932). "The Blue Angel" producer Erich Pommer liked Waxman's work and offered him the composing job for Liliom (1934), directed by Fritz Lang in France.
Pommer decided to do Music in the Air (1934), a Jerome Kern musical, which meant going to Hollywood. Waxman was asked to come along to do the arranging. Needing no further reason to remain in Europe as the Nazi clouds darkened over it, Waxman began a new chapter in Hollywood film music history. He fortunately had some spare time to study with 'Arnold Schoenberg' after coming to Los Angeles, but he was soon talking to another new arrival, English director James Whale, about scoring Bride of Frankenstein (1935) for Universal. Waxman gave Whale what he wanted--an unusual score to fit the quirky, somewhat over-the-top content of the film (in fact, some of this score was later used in other films). As Waxman worked for Universal through the 1930s, he found himself in assembly-line mode, sometimes sharing scoring credit, and doing a lot of arranging stock music, which was usually used for the studio's many serials. This cranked up Waxman's yearly film output to around 20 or so through 1940.
By 1940, however, he was composing original music scores for other studios, beginning with the romantic music for Selznick Studios' Rebecca (1940)--the first Hollywood film for Alfred Hitchcock--and whimsical fare for MGM's The Philadelphia Story (1940). In 1941 he was doing more work for MGM with Honky Tonk (1941) and his second Hitchcock score, Suspicion (1941) from RKO. By 1943 and for the rest of the decade Waxman was usually scoring for Warner Bros., starting with Destination Tokyo (1943) and including music for some of that studio's classics of the period, such as To Have and Have Not (1944) with Humphrey Bogart. Through the decade he was nominated for an Oscar seven times for Best Film Score.
Waxman moved on to Paramount through the first half of the 1950s and garnered his two Oscars in back--to-back wins for Sunset Blvd. (1950) and A Place in the Sun (1951). This recognition finally underscored what was at the heart of all of Waxman's music: seriously focused attention on relaying a film's story through the content of the music. He would continue his scoring work for several studios into the 1960s, with three more nominations. Some of his music in the 1950s was recycled from his previous scores, as in the case of his third assignment for Hitchcock, Rear Window (1954) which contained used music. Waxman was also active in contemporary classical music. In 1947 he founded the Los Angeles International Music Festival and, as Music Director and Conductor, brought the premieres of works by world renowned contemporary composers to the Los Angeles cultural scene. Among his own output of such music was his popular "Carmen Fantasy" for violin and orchestra. Waxman also composed for TV's Gunsmoke (1955), The Fugitive (1963), Peyton Place (1964) (he had composed the music for the film the series was based on, Peyton Place (1957)) and others. Waxman died relatively young, but because of his steady output, only fellow emigrant Max Steiner (who was nearly 20 years older and whose output entailed more than 200 arrangements of stock music, rather than original scores) was a more prolific early Hollywood composer.- Hailing from Chicago (his birth has also been noted as late as 1907 which to the purpose would be too late), Gavin Muir had that sort of lean and hungry John Carradine face and slight build that begged for character villain parts. Indeed he was bit by the acting bug and started in regional theater but jumped to Broadway by 1920, though his first role noted was "Enter Madame" in 1922. This play was also the debut Broadway performance for another young actor destined for Hollywood -- but a sadly short career -- Ross Alexander. By 1923 Muir's abilities beckoned further demands, and he produced and performed in the comedy "Love Set". In fact the majority of his plays were comedy rather than drama. And with twenty-one plays to his credit (until 1939) and making the round of famous New York houses, the St. James and the Lyceum, for example, Muir worked with some Broadway's greatest leads and some later fellow film actors, such as, Harry Davenport, Robert Warwick, and Henry Hull. Although he had one film for an uncredited part in 1932, he was a fixture of the Broadway theater season until 1933. Although Muir still had a few more Broadway plays to do, he was finding his niche in Hollywood. The next year he was in the film adaptation of the play Mary of Scotland (1936) directed by John Ford. Along with an assemblage of some of the best character actors of Hollywood, Muir joined a rogues' gallery of self-seeking Scottish lords who included: Robert Barrat, William Stack, and Ian Keith trying to discredit the young queen. Muir was busy thereafter through the war years of the 1940s his acting, and especially his various British accents (he was sometimes mistaken as a British actor) but others were in demand as military officer, doctor, noble, dignitary - and, of course, villains. Into the 1950s he even endured Abbott and Costello in their continued pop success, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello Meet the Invisible Man (1951), one of five such formula 'Meet' films. The film parts continued to get leaner, so he ventured into TV, doing playhouse theater and also some series. He was a regular-the butler Hollister - on The Betty Hutton Show (1959) and did not retire until later 1965 after over seventy screen appearances.
- George Bancroft was raised in Philadelphia and attended high school at Tomes Institute (Philadelphia). He won an impressive appointment to the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis and graduated as a commissioned officer. He served in the Navy for the prescribed period of required service but no more. He decided to turn to show business, first as a theater manager. He worked in the old and fading minstrel show variety format into the 1920s but then decided to try his hand at acting. By 1923, he was good enough for Broadway and spent about a year there doing two plays. But he was already good enough for some early camera work for by 1921, so he had made his first appearance in the silent movie medium. Being a big man with dark features, he was a natural for heavies. And it seemed that early Westerns were an easy fit as well after his first four films. Through 1924 and into 1925, he did four, culminating with pay dirt in his appealing performance as rogue Jack Slade in the James Cruze Western The Pony Express (1925). With him was another up-and-coming character actor, Wallace Beery. Bancroft's acting made Paramount Pictures take a look at him as star material. His roles as tough guy took on more flesh into the later 1920s, especially in association with director Josef von Sternberg and his well-honed gangster films that started with Underworld (1927). Their work culminated with Sternberg's Thunderbolt (1929) for which Bancroft received an Oscar nomination. He was tops at the box office.
Bancroft's various on-screen personas as bigger-than-life strong man was not far from his off-screen character as Hollywood notability got to him. It was recalled that he became more difficult to deal with as his ego grew. At one point, he refused to obey a director's order that he fall down after being shot by the villain. Bancroft declared, "One bullet can't kill Bancroft!" Although he stayed busy through the 1930s, he was older and stouter -- the stuff of featured characters. And Bancroft was also getting a lot of competition from younger character actors. In the early '30s, his roles continued to typecast him as lead heavies, but increasingly, he was cast as second tier -- if with more variety -- in later roles. He was paper editor MacWade in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936); a doctor in A Doctor's Diary (1937); a few sea captains along the way; and most memorably Marshal Curly Wilcox in the John Ford Western (his first with sound) Stagecoach (1939). Here he is particularly engaging tough lawman but with a big heart. Into the 1940s, he only did a handful of films. But he again had a rogue's spotlight with another name director -- Cecil B. DeMille -- in one of his always epic yarns. This time it was a Texas Ranger chasing a murderer over the Canadian border in North West Mounted Police (1940) with a stellar cast including Gary Cooper, everybody's favorite blond Madeleine Carroll, and Paulette Goddard as fleeing criminal, Jacques Corbeau's (Bancroft) daughter. By 1942, Bancroft had decided to move on, retiring with the intention of becoming a Southern California rancher. He quietly assumed this new role for a long run of 14 years before his passing. - George Macready--the name probably does not ring any bells for most but the voice would be unmistakable. He attended and graduated from Brown University and had a short stint as a New York newspaperman, but became interested in acting on the advice of colorful Polish émigré classical stage director Richard Boleslawski, who would go on to Hollywood to direct some notable and important films, including Rasputin and the Empress (1932)--the only film in which siblings John Barrymore, Ethel Barrymore and Lionel Barrymore appeared together--and Clive of India (1935) with Ronald Colman. Perhaps acting was meant for Macready all along--he claimed that he was descended from 19th-century Shakespearean actor William Macready.
In 1926 Macready made his Broadway debut in "The Scarlet Letter". His Broadway career would extend to 1958, entailing 15 plays--mainly dramas but also some comedies--with the lion's share of roles in the 1930s. His Shakespearean run included the lead as Benedick in "Much Ado About Nothing" (1927), "Macbeth" (1928) and "Romeo and Juliet" (1934), with Broadway legend Katharine Cornell. He co-starred with her again in "The Barretts of Wimpole Street" and with with Helen Hayes in "Victoria Regina" twice (1936 and 1937).
Macready's aquiline features coupled with distinctive high-brow bottom-voiced diction and superior, nose-in-the-air delivery that could be quickly tinged with a gothic menace made him perfect as the cultured bad guy. Added to his demeanor was a significant curved scar on his right cheek, remnant of a car accident in about 1919--better PR that it was a saber slash wound from his dueling days as a youth. He did not turn to films until 1942 and did not weigh-in fully committed until 1944, with a host of both well-crafted and just fair movies until the end of World War II. When he went all in, though, he excelled as strong-willed authoritarian and ambitious, murderous--but well-bred--villains. Among his better roles in that period were in The Seventh Cross (1944), The Missing Juror (1944), Counter-Attack (1945) and My Name Is Julia Ross (1945) with a young Nina Foch. Averaging six or more films per year throughout the 1940s, he appeared not only in dramas and thrillers, but also period pieces and even some westerns. His standout role, however--and probably the one he is best remembered for--was the silver-haired, dark-suited and mysteriously rich Ballin Mundson in Gilda (1946), who malevolently inserted himself into the lives of smoldering Rita Hayworth and moody Glenn Ford.
By the early 1950s he had sampled the waters of early TV. He had many appearances on such anthology series as Four Star Playhouse (1952), The Ford Television Theatre (1952) and Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955), among others. He became a familiar presence in episodic TV series beginning in 1954. He made the rounds of most of the hit shows of the period, including a slew of westerns, including such obscure series as The Texan (1958) and The Rough Riders (1958). He was familiar to viewers of crime dramas--such as Perry Mason (1957)--and such classic sci-fi and horror series as Thriller (1960), The Outer Limits (1963) and Night Gallery (1969). He did some 200 TV roles altogether, but still continued his film appearances. He assayed what many consider his best role as the ambitious French Gen. Paul Mireau, a fanatic and martinet whose lust for fame and glory leads to the deaths of hundreds of French soldiers in a senseless frontal attack on heavily fortified German lines in Stanley Kubrick classic antiwar film Paths of Glory (1957). Macready's performance stood out in a film brimming with standout performances, from such veterans as Kirk Douglas, Adolphe Menjou, Ralph Meeker and Timothy Carey. The film was even more striking when it turns out that it was based on a true incident.
Macready stayed busy into the 1960s, mainly in TV roles. He had a three-year run as Martin Peyton in the hit series Peyton Place (1964), the first prime-time soap opera and a launching pad for many a young rising star of the time. His film roles became fewer, but there were some good ones--the Yul Brynner adventure period piece Taras Bulba (1962) and a meaty role as an advisor to US Prlesident Fredric March attempting to stop a coup by a right-wing general played by Burt Lancaster in the gripping Seven Days in May (1964). His next-to-last film appearance was as a very human Cordell Hull, Secretary of State, in Universal's splashy, big-budget but somewhat uneven story of Pearl Harbor, Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970).
Another role that stands out in his career is a one-in-a-kind film which you would not expect to find George Macready--Blake Edwards' uproarious comedy -The Great Race (1965) -. Macready shined in one of the film's several subplots, this one a spoof of the "Ruritanian" chestnut "The Prisoner of Zenda", in which the racers find themselves in the middle of palace intrigue in a small European monarchy. Macready played a general trying to stave off a coup by using Professor Fate (Jack Lemmon, who is a double for the drunken ruler. Macready held his own with such comedy veterans as Lemmon, Tony Curtis, Natalie Wood and a host of others. To top it of, Macready gets involved in one of the great pie fights in film history, and takes one right in the kisser!
In real life George Macready was as cultured as he appeared to be on-screen. He was a well-regarded connoisseur of art, and he and a fellow art devotee--and longtime friend--Vincent Price, opened a very successful Los Angeles art gallery together during World War II. As far as the villain roles went, Macready was grateful for the depth they allowed him through his years as both film and television actor. "I like heavies," he once said, and to that he added with a philosophic twinkle, "I think there's a little bit of evil in all of us." - At 22, George Zucco decided to begin his stage career in earnest in the Canadian provinces in 1908. In the course of the following decade, he also performed in an American vaudeville tour with his young wife, Frances, in a routine called "The Suffragette." As World War I grew in scale, Zucco returned to England to join the army. He saw action and was wounded in his right arm by gunfire. Subsequent surgery partially handicapped the use of two fingers and a thumb. However, having honed his theatrical talents, he proceeded to enter the London stage scene and was rewarded with a developing career that made him a leading man as the 1920s progressed. By 1931 he began working in British sound films, his first being The Dreyfus Case (1931) with Cedric Hardwicke. What followed were 13 B-grade movies through 1935, until The Man Who Could Work Miracles (1936) with Roland Young and Ralph Richardson. Zucco was on his way to America and Broadway by late 1935. He had signed to play Disraeli opposite Helen Hayes in the original play "Victoria Regina," which ran from December 1935 to June 1936. After that came a Hollywood contract and his first American picture, Sinner Take All (1936). Zucco had a sharp hawk nose, magnetic dark eyes, and an arching brow that fit well with authoritative and intimidating characters. That same year, he was in the second installment of the "Thin Man" series, followed by a series of supporting roles in nine films in 1937, usually typed as an English doctor or lord character. They were good supporting roles in "A" films, but he was also taking on darker characters. This was evident in Charlie Chan in Honolulu (1938) and more so with Arrest Bulldog Drummond (1938). Here, he was Rolf Alferson, alias the criminal mastermind "The Stinger," who could administer a poisonous sting from a needle at the tip of his cane. It was a typical pop movie in the pulp mystery/horror genre with the usual sort of ending, but it started him on the road as a Hollywood arch villain. That same year, he was cast as Professor Moriarty, the brilliant archenemy of the world's most famous detective in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939). Also that year, he and Hardwicke reunited to play the dark clerical heavies in the classic The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939). Although into the early 1940s Zucco was still getting some variety in shady roles, he was increasingly accepting parts as mad doctors--ancient and otherwise--starting with The Mummy's Hand (1940), the sequel to the original The Mummy (1932). Although this was made by the relatively major Universal Pictures, Zucco began grinding out outlandish horror stuff for bottom-of-the-barrel Producers Releasing Corp. (PRC). It would be incorrect to say he sold out to the horror genre, though, even if horror buffs have made him their own. Into the later 1940s, he was still giving good accounts as nobles, judges and not-so-mad doctors in such "A" hits as Captain from Castile (1947), Joan of Arc (1948), and Madame Bovary (1949). Zucco was in real life an engaging personality and was also known as a very dependable actor. He suffered a stroke not long after his final film, David and Bathsheba (1951), once more in Egyptian garb but this time not even credited. He retired and lived on in fragile health. He evidently recovered his health enough to be offered the role of the mad scientist in Voodoo Woman (1957), but he declined. About that time, his health required a move to a nursing home, where he lived out his last years with dignity.
- Composer
- Music Department
- Actor
At the least George Auric was a fine musician, having been a child prodigy, but he was much more in the musical world. He studied under Vincent D'Indy (a devotee of Cesar Franck and the German school of symphonic composition) and attended the Paris Conservatory (1920). By the time he was 20 he had orchestrated and written incidental music for ballets and the stage. With some interest in the avant garde, he became a friend of Erik Satie and playwright Jean Cocteau and joined their friends, the musical group "Les Six", whose members were impressive: Darius Milhaud, Francis Poulenc, Arthur Honegger, Germaine Tailleferre (the only woman member), and Louis Durey. Auric moved into music criticism for a short time and then began composing for poetic and other textual formats from his Les Six associations. But his stylistic development would prove to be very classical in sympathy.
He especially continued his association with Cocteau who finally turned to films, and Auric turned to writing film scores. Their first collaboration was Cocteau's Blood of the Poet (1930). But Auric did the scores of many small format movies with other French directors through the 1930s and the war years. He was also interested in what the British were doing in film work. His first UK score was for Dead of Night (1945), a stylish horror film. The same year he also scored the Bernard Shaw comedic Caesar and Cleopatra (1945) with Claude Rains and Vivien Leigh. The next year he scored perhaps his most famous musical partnership with Cocteau, Beauty and the Beast (1946). Auric's haunting, subdued music for the movie would be typical of his inventive style of transparent orchestration in which he might use only a few instruments at a time in a particular passage but eventually employ all the usual orchestral instrumentation in this progression to convey the whole of his score. Auric's music (here Stravinsky-like) provided the perfect atmospheric score for the eerie British horror classic The Queen of Spades (1949).
Auric's first American score very much displayed his depth in conveying the nuances of mood change in a story musically. This was the wonderful, bittersweet comedy Roman Holiday (1953), directed by William Wyler and introducing a vivacious Audrey Hepburn to the silver screen. On through the 1950s and into the 1960s Auric was very busy with scores predominately of French films but some notable British and American efforts as well. Among several for the English language were the charming American war drama Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison (1957) with Deborah Kerr and - with Kerr again - the spooky 'Henry James' novel ("Turn of the Screw") UK adaptation The Innocents (1961). For the remainder of the 1960s and sporadically in the mid 1970s, Auric did some additional scoring, mostly French TV, but he was busy elsewhere as of 1962 being director of Paris Opera. Providing a unique finesse to film music, George Auric contributed nearly 130 scores, placing him along side some of the most prolific of the contemporary Hollywood film composers.- Actress
- Soundtrack
Gladys Cooper was the daughter of journalist William Frederick Cooper and his wife Mabel Barnett. As a child she was very striking and was used as a photographic model beginning at six years old. She wanted to become an actress and started on that road in 1905 after being discovered by Seymour Hicks to tour with his company in "Bluebell in Fairyland". She came to the London stage in 1906 in "The Belle of Mayfair", and in 1907 took a departure from the legitimate stage to become a member of Frank Curzon's famous Gaiety Girls chorus entertainments at The Gaiety theater. Her more concerted stage work began in 1911 in a production of Oscar Wilde's comedy "The Importance of Being Earnest" which was followed quickly with other roles. From the craze for post cards with photos of actors - that ensued between about 1890 and 1914 - Cooper became a popular subject of maidenly beauty with scenes as Juliet and many others. During World War I her popularity grew into something of pin-up fad for the British military.
In the meantime she sampled the early British silent film industry starting in 1913 with The Eleventh Commandment (1913). She had roles in a few other movies in 1916 and 1917. But in the latter year she joined Frank Curzon to co-manage the Playhouse Theatre. This was a decidedly new direction for a woman of the period. She took sole control from 1927 until other stage commitments in 1933. She was also doing plays, some producing of her own, and a few more films in the early 1920s. It was actually about this time that she achieved major stage actress success. She appeared in W. Somerset Maugham's "Home and Beauty" in London in 1919 and triumphed in her 1922 appearance in Arthur Wing Pinero's "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray". It was ironic that writer Aldous Huxley criticized her performance in "Home and Beauty" as "too impassive, too statuesque, playing all the time as if she were Galatea, newly unpetrified and still unused to the ways of the living world." On the other hand, Maugham himself applauded her for "turning herself from an indifferent actress (at the start of her career) to an extremely competent one". She also debuted the role of Leslie Crosbie (the Bette Davis role in the 1940 film) in Maugham's "The Letter" in 1927.
In 1934 Cooper made her first sound picture in the UK and came to Broadway with "The Shining Hour" which she had been doing in London. She and it were a success, and she followed it with several plays through 1938, including "Macbeth". About this time Hollywood scouts caught wind of her, and she began her 30 odd years in American film. That first film was also Alfred Hitchcock's first Hollywood directorial effort, Rebecca (1940). Hers was a small and light role as Laurence Olivier's gregarious sister, but she stood out all the same. Two years later she bit into the much more substantial role as Bette Davis' domineering and repressive mother in the classic Now, Voyager (1942) for which she received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress - the first of three. Though aristocratic elderly ladies were roles she revisited in various guises, Cooper was busy through 1940s Hollywood.
She returned to London stage work from 1947 and stayed for some early episodic British TV into 1950 before once again returning to the US, but was busy on both sides of the Atlantic until her death. Through the 1950s and into the 1960s Cooper did a few films but was an especially familiar face on American TV in teleplays, a wide range of prime-time episodic shows, and popular weird/sci-fi series: several Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Twilight Zone, and Outer Limits. When Enid Bagnold's "The Chalk Garden" opened in London in 1955, Cooper debuted as Mrs. St. Maugham and brought it to Broadway in October of that year where it ran through March of 1956. Her last major film was My Fair Lady (1964) as Henry Higgins' mother. The year before she had played the part on TV. In the film, the portrait prop of a fine lady over Higgins' fireplace is that of Cooper painted in 1922. She wrote an autobiography (1931) followed by two biographies (1953 and 1979). In 1967 she was honored as a Dame Commander of the Order of British Empire (DBE) for her great accomplishments in furthering acting.- Actress
- Soundtrack
One of the finest, if relatively short-lived, character actresses of Hollywood, during the 1930s and 1940, Gladys George was born into an acting family who were literally on the road at the time of her birth.
Her parents were actually English and touring with a Shakespearean theater company in Patten, Maine, when she was born (although usually noted as 1900, other sources put it as late as 1904). Her parents stayed in America, and by the time she was 3, they formed a vaudeville family act; The Three Clares (Gladys's middle name).
Beginning then, George would focus herself on developing an acting career.
As George gained experience, she developed an interest in the stage and while still in her teens, she first trod the Broadway boards in 1918 in the original play "The Betrothal", the star being Isadora Duncan. Her experience in stock meshed with her natural talent and a face to frame the emotion of great pathos as well as hard cased and worldly wise. She was in good hands when she worked for the famous Broadway star Pauline Frederick, who made a fortune on ' The Great White Way', and via her touring stock company.
Frederick's career took on new dimension when she turned to film as well (1915), and George was probably influenced to follow her.
George began working in silent films - first as the young female romantic lead in Red Hot Dollars (1919) and would steadily move in lead and good costarring roles through 1921.
Around this time, George was severely burned in an accident which caused a delay in her early film career. She returned to stock and married for the first time.
By 1934, she had a new husband - the millionaire manufacturer, Edward H Fowler who was able to further her career. After only a month into her next show (Queer People)'s run, George abruptly left the company, when Paramount offered her a screen test. After the test, MGM signed her for a contract. Her first film was not surprisingly an adapted play, Straight Is the Way (1934). In this, her first sound picture, George played the mouthy bad girl to good effect, displaying her acting ability.
In her personal life, she had a socialite's talent for partying, and alcohol, and romance on the edge. She had only been married to Fowler about a year when he found her with her leading man from her then-Broadway hit comedy, Personal Appearance (ironically, she played a carousing, man-hungry star, and the press loved the coincidence).
Her next film was not until 1936 and as a loan-out to Paramount, but it was pay-dirt for George, as the mother-against-the-world, in Valiant Is the Word for Carrie (1936),George made her role the film's focus, and she was so good at that she received a Best Actress nomination for that year. It and perhaps her personal life had much to do with her biggest role the next year, Madame X (1937), as the long suffering soap opera-like Jacqueline Floriot.
Though some mark it as the beginning of a downturn to character roles, George pulled out all the stops, and played the role of Madame du Barry, in Marie Antoinette (1938) (starring, Norma Shearer with real gumption
Sadly, over the next year, physical changes caused by her carousing lifestyle were becoming more apparent (as the speakeasy owner, Panama Smith in The Roaring Twenties (1939) with its famous ending of the fatally wounded James Cagney staggering up the church steps after having rubbed out old rival Humphrey Bogart. He staggers back down diagonally and falls professionally face up with George quickly kneeling next to him. 'He used to be a big shot', she says as the police arrive).
In the 1940s, George spent a year-or-so on Broadway,and was cast in several soap opera B-films, where she alternated between sympathetic, or tough-as-nails characters. She was usually right on, but the roles were throwaways, compared to what she was capable of doing.
Her most well-remembered role of this period was as the widow of murdered detective, Miles Archer, in the legendary The Maltese Falcon (1941) (with Humphrey Bogart, once again). One is hard-put to even recognize her in black lace, mourning profiles and the few lines she has.
The same year she had a good comedic lead role, displaying her range - from hard headed to soft hearted with the Dead End Kids in Hit the Road (1941).
But a standout role of the decade was so small, and yet it was subtlety nuanced for showing how she excelled at displaying pathos of the human condition, in the great classic of post-World War II homecoming, The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). As Hortense Derry, she was the second wife of aging failure Pat Derry (played by Roman Bohnen). That they lived near poverty's starkly shown in their 'home'; a hovel under an overpass. George, frowzy with little makeup and clutching her old threadbare robe, eagerly patronizing and quick to speak, with a slight edge in her voice.
Except for showing some of the old fire in her supporting role in Flamingo Road (1949), George only appeared in a few more roles; including a couple of brief TV appearances in the early 1950s.
Sadly, Gladys George was worn out; her hard living lifestyle, having caused her serious afflictions, including cirrhosis of the liver, advancing throat cancer, and cumulative heart disease. Though she's listed as having passed away due to a stroke, there was suspicion that she had taken an overdose of sleeping pills to put an end to her story.- Actor
- Soundtrack
Born at Shakespeare's birthplace, Stratford-on-Avon, Halliwell Hobbes could perhaps not aspire to anything else but to be an actor. He made his stage debut in 1898 playing Shakespearean repertory with the famous acting company of Sir Frank Benson throughout England. Among others he played opposite Mrs. Patrick Campbell and Ellen Terry. Hobbes came to the American and Broadway as early as 1906, doing performing and some directing until early 1929 when he came to Hollywood as an elderly actor to launch a long career of memorable character roles. In those first years he seemed to be either a lord or a butler. But by 1931 he was much in demand, lending his distinctive and dignified nasal voice to nearly ten films per year through most of the 1930s. Moving from one studio to another, he was doctors, diplomats, more lords, and some very memorable clerics-especially the staid archbishop reduced to laughter in The Prince and the Pauper (1937). The roles were scarcer through the 1940s, but he was back on Broadway by mid 1940 playing Capulet in "Romeo and Juliet." Still that distinctive voice graced over 100 films by 1949. He turned to the richly diverse American TV playhouse format by 1950 and continued with roles through the decade along with a continued presence on Broadway until late 1955. Although he was sometimes uncredited in films, his roles were no less a recorded legacy of a dedicated acting talent.- Actor
- Soundtrack
British character actor Harry Andrews had the sort of massive granite face and square jaw that would stamp that career, but he set himself apart with brilliant stage and screen work. He had graduated from Wrekin College in Shropshire and then moved on to the stage, appearing with Liverpool Repertory in 1933 and focusing on Shakespearean roles. He was befriended by stage star John Gielgud who invited him to New York and Broadway as part of the cast of "Hamlet" in 1935. On the return to London, Andrews did a run of plays in the West End. Then Gielgud invited him into his own stage company. Soon after he was asked into the Old Vic Company by its director Laurence Olivier. His roles were becoming increasingly substantial, authoritative parts to match his sharp and forceful, through-the-teeth delivery of lines. Next he did not pass up the opportunity to join the Stratford Memorial Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon, where he spent a decade honing himself into an established, fine, versatile actor, described by the controversial London theater critic Kenneth Tynan as "the backbone of British theater."
He came to the small screen before the large, having debuted in British experimental television in 1939, followed over a decade later with his debut on the ever expanding and fecund American playhouse TV in 1952. His big screen debut came the next year in a character part which would accent his career-from ancient to modern-the disciplined military man in Paratrooper (1953). From there the roles came his way - three or four per year - well into 1979, when TV took up most of his time. His movie making was spent either before American or British cameras. And the military roles were always masterly done, whether a roughed out sergeant or a more dignified officer. Though his most famous noncom may be Sergeant Major Tom Pugh alongside John Mills in J. Lee Thompson's classic adventure Ice Cold in Alex (1958), his achievement as Sergeant Major Bert Wilson, the near psychotic martinet, opposite Sean Connery and Ian Bannen, in The Hill (1965) was an over-the-top tour de force. That same year he was back in costume - having played many an ancient and medieval noble role through the 1950s - in something different - playing the great Renaissance architect Donato Bramante against Charlton Heston as rival Michelangelo in The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965). Not a big part, nevertheless Andrews gave the role a subdued and matter-of-fact strength that well fit the ambitious architect of the fiery Pope Julius II (played with great verve by Rex Harrison). While Andrews was also excellent with a tongue-in-cheek style for comedic roles, as in the send up, The Ruling Class (1972), he excelled against type as a flamboyant homosexual in the black comedy Entertaining Mr Sloane (1970). He had said something like: "I don't want to be a star -- I want to be a good actor in good parts" - but his presence always made him standout. It was ironic that he had difficulty in memorizing lines. Sometime later co-star Alan Bates thought him very courageous for his obvious triumph over this impediment. Bates further remarked that Andrews' great sense of humor and no-nonsense personable character made him a favorite with younger actors as a continuous well of encouragement and learning experiences. Though his parts were smaller as he grew older, he filled each of his roles, big or small - over 100 of them - with a giant's footsteps.- Actor
- Soundtrack
Herbert Marshall had trained to become a certified accountant, but his interest turned to the stage. He lost a leg while serving in World War I and was rehabilitated with a wooden leg. This did not stop him from making good his decision to make the stage his vocation. He used a very deliberate square-shouldered and guided walk, largely unnoticeable, to cover up his disability. He spent 20 years in distinguished stage work in London before entering films. He almost made the transition from the stage directly to sound movies except for one silent film, Mumsie (1927), produced in Great Britain. His wonderfully mellow baritone and British accent rolled out with a minimum of mouth movement and a nonchalant ease that stood out as unique. His rather blasé demeanor could take on various nuances, without overt emotion, to fit any role he played, whether sophisticated comedy or drama, and the accent fit just as well. He filled the range from romantic lead, with several sympathetic strangers thrown in, to dignified military officer to doctor to various degrees of villainy, his unemotional delivery meshing with the cold, impassive criminal character.
He was almost 40 when he appeared in his first picture in Hollywood, The Letter (1929), a film worthy of comparison (but for the primitive sound recording) to the more famous second version (The Letter (1940)) with Bette Davis. Marshall is the murder victim in 1929 and the betrayed husband in 1940. He was heavily in demand in the 1930s, sometimes in five or six pictures a year. Perhaps his best suave comedic role was in Trouble in Paradise (1932), the first non-musical sound comedy by producer-director Ernst Lubitsch--to some, Lubitsch's greatest film. That same year, Marshall did one of his most warmly human, romantic roles in the marvelously erotic Blonde Venus (1932), with the captivating Marlene Dietrich.
Through the '40s, his roles were more of the character variety, but always substantial. He was deviously subtle as the pre-World War II peace leader actually working against peace for a veiled foreign power (Germany) in Foreign Correspondent (1940). The film was one of Alfred Hitchcock 's earliest Hollywood films and definitely an under-rated thriller. Who could forget Marshall's small but standout performance as "Scott Chavez", who at the beginning of Duel in the Sun (1946), with typical Marshall nonchalance, calmly shoots his Indian cantina-entertainer wife for her cheating ways? By the '50s, Marshall was doing fewer movies, but still in varied genres. His voice was perfect to lend credence to some early sci-fi classics, such as Riders to the Stars (1954) and Gog (1954) and the The Fly (1958). He was also busy honing his considerable talent with various early-TV playhouse programs. He also fit comfortably into episodic TV, including a rare five-episode run as a priest on 77 Sunset Strip (1958). All told, Herbert Marshall graced nearly 100 movie and TV roles with an aplomb that remains a rich legacy.- Music Department
- Composer
- Soundtrack
Hugo Friedhofer -- how many times have you seen that name in the credits of 1930s and '40s movies for "orchestration" or "musical arranger" and thought -- Gee, what a busy guy! He was, and, ironically, much of that work went uncredited. He is not usually mentioned with the great film composers of early Hollywood, but he was very much an equal and as prolific once he received the opportunities to compose as well. Friedhofer began studying the cello at age 13. In 1917, he dropped out of high school in support of a teacher who had been fired for radical and anti-war beliefs. He worked as a cellist for the People's Symphony Orchestra in San Francisco (always a liberal kind of place). He married quite young at 19 and had a child by the age of 22. He quickly put his music expertise to a working life by playing in theater orchestras and accompanying silent films and stage shows between features. He also started writing arrangements of music and worked at the Granada Theater (became the Paramount in 1931), with the opportunity to write some incidental music.
Friedhofer came to Los Angeles in the later 1920s and became a friend of the violinist George Lipschultz, who just happened to be the musical director at Twentieth Century Fox. It was 1929, and Lipschultz asked him to fill in a musician spot for film music recording at a small studio. That was the beginning of Friedhofer's career in films. When this small studio was taken over by Fox, he and other musicians were on the street. But he was brought to the notice of Erich Korngold, a relatively new film composer at Warner Bros. where Max Steiner was king. Friedhofer was hired by Warner Bros soon after to arrange scores for musicals and orchestrate scores-mostly for these two composers. Including orchestrating all of Korngold's movie scores and fifty of Steiner's, Friedhofer would orchestrate or musically direct 105 films into the mid 1950s during his career.
But he was already doing significant film composing as well from 1930 along with incidental and stock music for several studios before his stay at Warner. Friedhofer's developing style was in the romantic vein of his contemporaries. He studied composition with Ernst Toch after aiding the composer with contributions to Peter Ibbetson (1935) at Paramount. With the move to Warner, Friedhofer's problem became being just too valuable as an orchestrator and musical director for Warner to free him for composing assignments until the late 1930s. With tight budgets and the need for musical managers to wear several hats, Friedhofer's legendary efficiency was hard to give up. His first full film score was for Samuel Goldwyn's The Adventures of Marco Polo (1938) after being recommended by another film composer great Alfred Newman. His first for Warner's was The Oklahoma Kid (1939) (with James Cagney debuting as a cowboy!). He did not get credit for this nor for The Mark of Zorro (1940) (co-work with Newman) and Santa Fe Trail (1940) both in 1940. Into and after the war years Friedhofer was very busy -- but still not getting the composing credit due -- as for Gilda (1946). All told, he was not credited as composer for some 120 films.
Friedhofer broke from the confines of Warner Bros. finally in 1946 to freelance and received the grand prize right off. Again, it was Newman who recommended him for scoring Goldwyn's wonderful post-war drama of adjustment The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and Friedhofer showed his power as composer with a score that engaged the story at every turn and most deservedly won the Oscar for Best Score. Other memorable credited scores included such classics as: the gripping music for Lifeboat (1944), directed by Alfred Hitchcock; the delightful Christmas strings score of The Bishop's Wife (1947); and the soaring music for 'Ingrid Bergman' in Joan of Arc (1948).
Though he continued in demand, much of Friedhofer's scoring output through the 1950s went to films mostly relegated to Saturday mornings these days, but there were notables, as the 1957 duo An Affair to Remember (1957) and the well-received The Sun Also Rises (1957). And the next year came the engaging and thought-provoking The Barbarian and the Geisha (1958) (a fine performance by John Wayne) under the always versatile direction of John Huston. He also did some TV episodic and mini-movie music through the 1960s in addition to more films.
Friedhofer had all the qualities of an accomplished, indeed, incisive and intuitive film composer -- proved with a total of eight Oscar nominations -- and yet he was his own worst enemy. Anxieties about his abilities brought self-criticism and doubts that boiled out in a misanthropic view of the world in general that no amount of praise from public or friends could dislodge. At the least he should have believed that he had succeeded in grand style -- with nearly 250 pieces of screen music as a realistic basis for affirmation.- Actor
- Soundtrack
Ian Hunter was born in the Kenilworth area of Cape Town, South Africa where he spent his childhood. In his teen years he and his parents returned to the family origins in England to live. Sometime between that arrival and the early years of World War I, Hunter began exploring acting, then in 1917 - and being only 17 - he joined the army to serve in France for the last year of the conflict still remaining. Within two years he did indeed make his stage-acting debut. Hunter would never forget the stage was the thing when the lure of movie making called - he would always return through his career. With a jovial face perpetually on the verge of smiling and a friendly and mildly English accent, Hunter had good guy lead written all over him. He decided to sample the relatively young British silent film industry by taking a part in Not for Sale (1924) for British director W.P. Kellino who had started out writing and acting for the theater. Hunter then made his first trip to the U.S. - Broadway, not Hollywood - because Basil Dean, well known British actor, director, and producer, was producing Sheridan's "The School for Scandal" at the Knickerbocker Theater - unfortunately folding after one performance. It was a more concerted effort with film the next year back in Britain, again with Kellino. He then met up-and-coming mystery and suspense director Alfred Hitchcock in 1927. He did Hitch's The Ring (1927) - about the boxing game, not suspense - and stayed for the director's Downhill (1927). And with a few more films into the next year he was back with Hitchcock once more for Easy Virtue (1927), the Noël Coward play. By late 1928 he returned to Broadway for only a month's run in the original comedy "Olympia" but stayed on in the United States via his first connection with Hollywood. The film was Syncopation (1929), his first sound film and that for RKO, that is, one of the early mono efforts, sound mix with the usual silent acting. As if restless to keep ever cycling back and forth across the Atlantic - fairly typical of Hunter's career - he returned to London for Dean's mono thriller Escape! (1930). There was an interval of fifteen films in all before Hunter returned to Hollywood and by then he was well established as a leading man. With The Girl from 10th Avenue (1935) with Bette Davis, Hunter made his connection with Warner Bros. But before settling in with them through much of the 1930s, he did three pictures in succession with another gifted and promising British director, Michael Powell. He then began the films he is most remembered from Hollywood's Golden Era. Although a small part, he is completely engaging and in command as the Duke in the Shakespearean extravaganza of Austrian theater master Max Reinhardt, A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935) for Warner Bros. It marked the start of a string of nearly thirty films for WB. Among the best remembered was his jovial King Richard in the rollicking The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). Hunter was playing the field as well - he was at Twentieth Century as everybody's favorite father-hero - including Shirley Temple - in the The Little Princess (1939). And he was the unforgettable benign guardian angel-like Cambreau in Loew's Strange Cargo (1940) with Clark Gable. He was staying regularly busy in Hollywood until into 1942 when he returned to Britain to serve in the war effort. After the war Hunter stayed on in London, making films and doing stage work. He appeared once more on Broadway in 1948 and made Edward, My Son (1949) for George Cukor. Although there was some American playhouse theater in the mid-1950s, Hunter was bound to England, working once more for Powell in 1961 before retiring in the middle of that decade after nearly a hundred outings before the camera.- Actor
- Soundtrack
Ian Keith became a well regarded fixture on the Broadway stage during the 1920s, but from 1924 through the remainder of the decade he expanded his acting into a string of silent movies as well. To begin the next decade, he appeared in the cast of Abraham Lincoln (1930), one of the later movies of D.W. Griffith. His forte was perhaps already becoming obvious -- his role was that of John Wilkes Booth. Keith had a sly look, and there was an irritated but deadpan demeanor and a side-of-the-mouth delivery to his speech that marked him as a great villain. And he played many -- including a surprising number in historic costume. There was never any emotional nuance, but his straight delivery was always completely effective. He figured prominently in some of the most ambitious of the early sound epics: The Sign of the Cross (1932), Cleopatra (1934), and The Crusades (1935) of Cecil B. DeMille, and in the latter Keith was -- a sort of good guy -- the great Sultan Saladin (surely a strange miscast but DeMille obviously liked him -- he showed up in the much later The Ten Commandments (1956) as well). He was the nemesis of John Gilbert in Queen Christina (1933) and of a similar cast in Mary of Scotland (1936), the early John Ford classic with Katharine Hepburn. He also portrayed an odd twist in the first sound The Three Musketeers (1935). Counter to the book, his Rochefort is the plotting genius, not Cardinal Richelieu, as it should be. Incidentally, he reprised Rochefort, but more in keeping with the original character, in The Three Musketeers (1948) version for Gene Kelly. In between those years were a lot of B level movies of everything from the comics to murder mysteries to mark a downturn said to be the result of too much nightlife. He still did Broadway intermittently throughout his career amid early TV theater and episodic fare from the late 1940s through the 1950s. The stage remained his first choice. At the time of his death he was appearing in "The Andersonville Trial" (1960) on Broadway.- Writer
- Actor
James Ramsey Ullman was born in New York City, the son of Alexander F. Ullman. As a boy, he attended Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts. In 1929 he graduated from Princeton University and moved to Brooklyn to begin work in journalism as a newspaper reporter and feature writer. Ullman decided to try his hand at producing theater. This endeavor included the production of plays: "Faraway Horses", "Men in White", "Blind Alley", and "The Milky Way" among others of which he authored or co-authored a dozen. No production with which he was associated made it to Broadway. After a string of failed productions, Ullman decided to take a fresh look at career and traveled to the Amazon to relieve a growing fascination for travel and the lure of adventure. This experience inspired a travelogue narrative, The Other Side of the Mountain (1938), upon his return to America.
Although he took a position with the Federal Theater, he began to devote himself to freelance writing and produced short stories and articles with the emphasis on the mountain climbing that he had taken up enthusiastically at a basic level as a hobby and a means to satisfying that adventure urge. Later in 1938 he climbed in the Canadian Rockies with friend J. Monroe Thorington, the American eye doctor and mountaineer who climbed extensively and wrote many guide books on the Canadian Rockies. He made a trip to the Tetons in Montana in 1941 and evidently climbed with guide and later Himalayan mountaineer Paul Petzoldt. This must have inspired his first book on the subject of mountain climbing, a history of the sport up to contemporary time, High Conquest (1941). This was the first of nine books for the publisher J.B. Lippincott. World War II intervened at this point, and Ullman was with the American Field Service from 1941 to 1943. True to one's life experiences he was inspired to write a first novel, The White Tower (1945). This dramatic rendering was about a post-World War II veteran American and casual mountaineer who climbs a fictitious unclimbed and killer peak that had taken the life of the father of his Swiss love interest. The story had a good plot and was the second of Ullman's books to make it to Hollywood, the first being a fictitious script about climbing the Matterhorn carved out of his history High Conquest and made into a 1947 film by that name. White Tower became a film vehicle for Glenn Ford, Alida Valli, and a great supporting cast in the film version also called The White Tower (1950).
Ullman's traveling continued to inspire new literary projects: books as well as many magazine articles. He had already gone to South America in 1937 and spent more time there in 1946 and enjoyed the chance to hike in the foothills of the Andes. An interest in the continued attempts at climbing the highest mountain in the world, Mt. Everest, prompted the 1947 book The Kingdom of Adventure: Everest. Ullman and his wife (they had three children) vacationed in Europe in 1951 and 1952 which at some point gave him the opportunity to achieve a climber's historical goal -- do the classic northeast ridge route (first route to the summit accomplished in 1865) on the Matterhorn. The early 1950s marked notable events in world mountaineering history in the Himalayas. Annapurna was climbed by the French led by Maurice Herzog in 1950, and nearly 30 years after the British sustained efforts on Everest in the 1920s, an Anglo/Tibetan team reached that summit in 1953. As mountaineering participants' books began pouring from the press, Ullman was much in demand from publishers to write book reviews: Herzog, another famous French climber Gaston Rebuffat, Sir John Hunt (longtime British Himalayan expedition leader), Sir Edmund Hillary, and others.
For Ullman this was all fertile authoring material. In 1954 he completed Banner in the Sky, a historical fiction of the first ascent of the Matterhorn, involving a young Swiss man whose father had died in an attempt - a basic storyline reminiscent of White Tower - the characters mirroring to various degrees the actual participants involved in the race to the summit in 1865. Another of Ullman's books had made it to the screen Windom's Way (1957), and with Banner winning the Newbery Award for children's literature in 1955, the book was certainly Hollywood bound. Ullman was busy otherwise in the meantime. There were more novels of faraway places, a continuation of his history of mountaineering with The Age of Mountaineering (1954), and his ghost writing of the biography of co-Everest conqueror Tenzing Norgay, Man of Everest (originally published as Tiger of the Snows, 1955). Travel continued as well: Africa and a climb up Kilimanjaro (1957) and back to Europe (1958). Walt Disney optioned Banner as the feature Third Man on the Mountain (1959) with a cast headed by veterans Michael Rennie and Herbert Lom and up-and-coming young male lead James MacArthur. No expense was spared. Real mountaineers were hired for stunt work, and everything was shot on location in Switzerland. Ullman himself had an uncredited role as a tourist in the film. It was good family fare, but White Tower had more of the complexity factor that made it superior as an adult film. Ullman was off to the South Pacific from 1959 to 1960, visiting Pitcairn Island, Fiji, the Cook Islands, Tahiti, Wake, and the U. S. Pacific Island Trust. He finished out 1960 with a noteworthy biography of American geologist and explorer John Wesley Powell in Down the Colorado with Major Powell.
The mountain experience continued to drive Ullman's writing. Ullman's fascination with Everest garnered a special dream-come-true status when he was asked to be the official historian for the American attempt on the summit in 1963 headed by Swiss/American Norman Dyhrenfurth, who was able to interest the National Geographic Society to foot the bill with the addition of scientific data gathering. Though Ullman got no closer than Kathmandu due to delicate health (altitude acclimatization for the Himalayas can be extremely difficult even for superbly fit individuals), Ullman was busy with gathering and beginning to draft the story of what would be a resoundingly successful expedition, Americans on Everest (1964). Three teams made it to the summit, one via a new west ridge route. Ullman was also involved in writing for the TV production about the American success.
Two years later high drama in the Alps would be yet another authoring source. In 1966 American climber John Harlin fell to his death near the top of his goal to forge a direct route up the north face of the Eiger. That same year of 1966 British journalist Peter Gillman, who had been part of the ground team, wrote a narrative with the one successful team member to summit, Scots climber Dougal Haston (the remaining climber being noted American climber Layton Kor). Ullman became thoroughly intrigued with the complex Harlin, interviewed his parents and widow and produced the thought-provoking biography Straight Up (1968). It is not too much of a conjecture that the incident also inspired author Rod Whitaker, who gave himself the European-sounding pseudonym Trevanian, to write The Eiger Sanction (1972) - also made into a popular film (1975). To top off his inspiring travels, Ullman made a trip to Antarctica in 1970. For a man of deeply urban New York City, James Ramsey Ullman had written about and been a part of enough high adventure to fulfill any lifetime.- Actor
- Director
- Second Unit Director or Assistant Director
If ever there was a Great Dane in Hollywood it was Jean Hersholt - and one of its great hearts as well. He was from a well-known Danish stage and entertainment family that had toured throughout Europe performing with young Jean as an essential cast member. He graduated from the Copenhagen Art School and continued expanding his stage experience and evidently decided early that he wanted to work in films. He did just two very early (1906) silent films in Germany. Hersholt emigrated from Denmark to the US while still a young man in 1913. Like many another European he came to America to seek further opportunities. Unlike many other European actors who appeared on Broadway in their early American careers, Hersholt never trod The Great White Way. He moved on to Hollywood in 1914 where the future of silent movies had taken the lead. He started as a movie extra then progressed into small feature player roles from 1915 through 1917. For that latter year he had no less than 17 bit parts.
By the 1920s his roles were substantial feature pieces, but most of these were as villains - in fact, a concoction of really vile characters. His theater experience serving him well, he played them so well that he much sought after by directors. Several of his 1920s films were landmarks of the silent era, an early one being The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921) which helped propel Rudolf Valentino into the stellar heights. Hersholt became popular and well paid. And certainly his signature silent role was the lead character of Marcus Schouler in the Erich von Stroheim great film Greed (1924), based on the novel McTeague. Stroheim, who spent far more time in front of the camera as an actor, was already well know as a task master and perfectionist director. He went through 42 reels of film for the picture - a numbing nine hours of screen time (shown only once at that length in a private studio screening). He cut the film to five hours, but it was further whittled to a bit over two for release, causing Stroheim to quip bitterly of the editor, "The only thing he had on his mind was his hat!" The powerful film was still there, but the massive editing resulted in whole roles disappearing, not to mention some telltale continuity. Stroheim's need for realism resulted in the climax of the movie to be shot in Death Valley. Still hot in the fall time, Hersholt endured like a veteran but required a hospital stay after sweating away 27 pounds.
Fortunately into the later 1920s Hersholt's roles expanded into a more realistic balance of characters-more virtuous roles - but still some shady fellows and especially the unsuspected, and thus surprising, guilty party in the ever popular murder mysteries. He worked for Samuel Goldwyn for about a year (1923-1924), for Paramount from 1927 through 1929, and several other studios during the period. By the end of the silent era, including those early primitive part mono features with small bits of audio music, sound effects, or dialog, Hersholt was a tried veteran of 75 films. His first all mono sound film was The Climax (1930) and despite a Germanic accent, he had a pleasant, mellow voice and a camera friendly presence that ensured him continued success. The variety ran the gamut from a sturdy supporting part in Grand Hotel (1932), to supporting Boris Karloff and a pretty hot Myrna Loy in The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932), and doing the same in Dinner at Eight (1933). Busy with nine movies in 1930, he also moved into people's living rooms on radio as well during that year.
Of course, for some time Hersholt was a mature actor-simply meaning he had many secondary roles as doctors and professors and nobles of many sorts and increasingly he appeared as benign fatherly types. Father roles of the 20s continued into the 30s - augmented with grandfather roles as well. He was the father of Sonja Henie in that charismatic champion ice skater's first Hollywood film One in a Million (1936), and he is perhaps best remembered as the embittered but deeply caring grandfather of Shirley Temple in the beloved Heidi (1937). But it was another role as a doctor that would provide a continuing vehicle for Hersholt and something of a fateful direction for the actor. The mid-30s were abuzz with the births of the Dionne Quintuplets in Canada. Hollywood jumped on it with usual alacrity, highlighting the story and the officiating obstetrician, Dr. Dafoe, who was translated into Dr. John Luke, in The Country Doctor (1936). Hersholt brought the right ingredients to the part of Luke and two years later a sequel followed, Five of a Kind (1938). Hersholt thought the character good medicine all round and was enthusiastic about a series of movies, but Dafoe himself blocked this idea. Nevertheless, in 1937 Hersholt had already germinated a new radio series to continue portraying a dedicated and kindly small town doctor. For a character name Hersholt turned to his most beloved author, his countryman, literary light Hans Christian Andersen, for a name-Dr. Christian. It was a hit and, and he convinced RKO Radio Pictures to bankroll a series of six Dr. Christian films (1939-41).
These latter and a few other films would mark the end of Hersholt's film career, but he was so very busy otherwise. His familiarity with Andersen was a scholarly avocation and labor of love, furthered by enthusiastic collecting of a library of important Andersen editions and related bibliography (which would later go to the Library of Congress). His English translation (see Trivia below) of the Andersen corpus of fairy tales (including his addition of several other Andersen stories from the author's private papers) remains perhaps the most comprehensive and best effort-even more so for Hersholt personal interpretation of Andersen. Hersholt would also write several articles about Andersen and edit The Andersen-Scudder-Letters (1948). Among other literary pursuits Hersholt also co-wrote a novel based on his Dr. Christian character.
It was in Hersholt's generous nature to give back something in gratitude for the acting career afforded him in Hollywood. His payment was rich indeed: the Motion Picture Relief Fund, the retirement home and hospital inspired by it and generated from it (see Trivia below), and the great charitable work that Hersholt would perform were paid back with two Academy Awards, the second after his tenure as president of the Academy. These special honors would be the seed of the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award (see Trivia below). But in 1956 Hersholt was dying of cancer - and yet that would not stop him from one more good turn. His beloved Dr. Christian character was going to TV (produced by the Ziv Studios), and he was asked to symbolically pass the baton to the new Dr. Christian, Macdonald Carey. With a tremendous effort, Hersholt, now withered to 95 pounds braved the first episode shooting, capping his life with one last magnificent example of his humanity.- Actor
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John Clements hailed from southern England and was educated at St Paul's School in London and St John's College, Cambridge. His acting aspiration prompted his first stage appearance at the Lyric Theatre, Hammersmith in 1930 in the play "Out of the Blue". Through the 1930s, he continued to develop his acting skills touring with the Ben Greet Company. It was in late 1935 he founded the Intimate Theatre at Palmer's Green in North London. There he provided weekly plays in repertory until 1941. During the war, he worked with Entertainments National Service Association (E.N.S.A) and from 1944 worked with the Old Vic Company headed by Ralph Richardson and Laurence Olivier, while the theater group was resident at the New Theatre in London. Already he had broken in to films with the Anthony Kimmins science fiction story Once in a New Moon (1934). He had other small parts in two historically significant films of cinema: the Alexander Korda production Rembrandt (1936) with Charles Laughton and the unfinished I, Claudius (1937) of Josef Von Sternberg with its stellar British cast. Clements had another small but most memorable role in the adaption of the James Hilton novel Knight Without Armor (1937), as a young communist police official helping English spy Robert Donat and beautiful noblewoman Marlene Dietrich escape from the Russian Revolution. Clements finally got star billing with Richardson, being chosen by director Victor Saville for the rather soap opera-tinged South Riding (1938). The next year, again with Richardson, he had the romantic lead in his most recognized role as the principled coward who redeems himself fourfold in the epic The Four Feathers (1939) by the ever enterprising Korda Brothers. Though his films numbered less than 30, and into the 1940s the roles became decidedly 'B' in production value, his stage appearances numbered 200. And Clements had found himself drawn to directing as well as acting. He wrote, directed, and produced his film Call of the Blood (1948). Also, he functioned as actor-manager-producer in a number of West End theater productions from the mid-1940s into the early 1950s and others productions to 1957, acting with his second wife actress Kay Hammond to critical success. In 1955, he accepted the appointment as Advisor on Drama to Associated Rediffusion Ltd and also as one of the Board of Directors of the Saville Theatre. He was appointed Director of the Chichester Festival Theatre from 1966 to 1973. He had continued small supporting film and a few TV roles intermittently through the 1960s, his last film appearance being a cameo in the Richard Attenborough biographical flick Gandhi (1982). For his distinguished work as actor, director, and producer John Clements was awarded a CBE (Commander of the Order of the British Empire) in the Queen's Honours List 1956 and awarded Knight Bachelor of the Order of the British Empire in the 1968 Queen's Honours List for his services to drama.- John Laurie was a Scotsman who would play many character roles in his long career - a lot of Scotsmen to be sure - but an enthusiastic and skilled actor in nearly 120 screen roles. He was the son of a mill worker, and studied for a career in architecture which he indeed began. But with World War I he left his position to join the British army. After the war he set his sights in a different direction, training to become an actor by attending the Central School of Speech and Drama in London. His first stage play was in 1921. He honed his skills thereafter (from 1922 to 1939) principally as a Shakespearian actor at the Old Vic in London or at Stratford-upon-Avon - and later the Open Air in Regent's Park. But by 1930 he was giving time to films as well. His first movie was the Sean O'Casey play Juno and the Paycock (1929), one of Alfred Hitchcock's early sound efforts. With his craggy profile and arcing bulbous nose, and rather stern visage (though it could as quickly break into a broad smile), he was right for many a memorable character. Hitchcock made sure of that first off by calling on him again to play the dour, suspicious, and miserly farmer, John Crofter, in The 39 Steps (1935). Laurie became a good friend of another Shakespearean, Laurence Olivier, and the two, Olivier as a lead, were in Hungarian director/producer Paul Czinner's As You Like It (1936). The year 1937 was a busy one, with six films, the most important giving him one of his few leading roles. This was director/screen writer Michael Powell's intriguing The Edge of the World (1937), doubly important in that it was the film that sold Powell to producers like Alexander Korda. The film was shot on location on the remote Shetland isle of Foula, the furthest point of Britain. It dealt with the impact of the modern world on the lives of the inhabitants of an economically decaying island. Into 1938 and 1939 Laurie was involved in British experimental TV movies, that medium to be revisit later frequently. In 1939 he was taped by Alexander Korda for his classic film production of The Four Feathers (1939) in which Laurie, who could fit his Scots voice to any part, played the zealous Mahdi (the Khalifa). He is hardly to be recognized in character.
During the war Olivier was planning one of the important morale movies of World War II; his Henry V (1944), and Laurie was asked to play a memorable Capt. Jamie. Olivier also called on him for his two other Shakespeare ventures: Hamlet (1948) and Richard III (1955). As any good character actor, Laurie could play comedy as well and set a number of roles to that end into the 1940s. He and Roger Livesey were cast in Emeric Pressburger and Powell's first color film, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943). And Laurie was a jubilant John Campbell in the Powell/Pressburger wonderful and thoughtful comedy of more insular Scots life, I Know Where I'm Going! (1945) with a delightful young Wendy Hiller and worldly-wise Livesey.
Through the remainder of the decade and into the 1950s, Laurie's face showed up in a variety of films - with greater frequency as assorted Scotsmen-comedic and otherwise - and further down the credits list of supporting actors. He was familiar in the decade invasion to the UK of American co-productions, such as Disney's Treasure Island (1950) and Kidnapped (1960). And he even trod the uncertain path of a few sci-fi films - that shall remain nameless here. But he was certainly always busy - when all told - the actor's foremost blessing. Television drama and series gave him better opportunities for a veteran actor, beginning with a Henry V (1953) where he played the comic role of Pistol. Along with some BBC TV theater (more Shakespeare and some American playhouse as well) and sporadic serials, he had a stint on the long-running BBC children's reading program "Jackanory". And he is probably best remembered as the dour James Frazer on the popular "Dad's Army" series (1968-1977). But one of his last and most touching performance was simply being his good-natured self - 80 years old but still a vibrant man with his Scots burr - when he accompanied Powell back to dramatically isolated Foula for the director's short documentary Return to the Edge of the World (1978) (included with the 2003 DVD release of the 1937 movie). There was a bit of staging by Powell. But Laurie's animated face was a picture of profound humanity, as - with a shade of theatrics when appropriate - he remembered the shoot and with sincere joy renewed acquaintances with the inhabitants, as if he himself had returned once more to his native heath. A bonnie old actor indeed! - Actor
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His full name was Joseph Alexander Caesar Herstall Vincent Calleja - but he was better known as Joseph or Joe Calleia, one of Hollywood's most recognized bad guys. But Calleia's roots and talents ran much deeper than character actor. He was Maltese, born on that barren but historically important island of Malta between Italy and Africa in the Mediterranean. The Maltese culture was a crossroads of peoples (partially Arabic) but as intrepid fisherman, navigators, and warriors-as they proved to the 16th century Turks - it was a proud one. But it could not hold Calleia, who, blessed with a good singing voice and a talent for composing, joined a harmonica band that left for the Continent in 1914. This was a Europe feeling the initial blows of World War I, and Calleia's band toured the length and breadth of it in music halls and cafes. He went to Paris and eventually came to London to perform some concert singing engagements. And from there the lure of the New World brought him to New York by 1926.
It was a natural enough transition for a talented singing performer to acting. Calleia did his first play on Broadway in an original drama suitably called "Broadway" for a long run from late 1926 early 1928. This was the first of seven plays he did into early 1935. He took a double role as actor and stage manager for the 1930-31 run of "Grand Hotel". He received good reviews (once called him a "bright light" on Broadway) and later recalled that his treading the boards were his best years as an actor. By 1931 he had yet another course to steer. Hollywood had noticed him, for his constrained intensity as an actor was matched by a singular visage - heavy-lidded eyes and dark features that gave him a disquieting and menacing appearance. Yet the sometime telltale lilt in his voice betrayed the fine singer. He had just enough accent to make him Latin or Greek or Middle Eastern - or indigenous sorts. Of course, his look meant early heavy roles as he went under contract to MGM, doing his first two films in that year of 1931.
By 1935 his looks landed him the role of Sonny Black, a mob boss with many facets, and with a characteristic clenched-teeth delivery, Calleia acquitted himself in fine fashion. Through the 1930s he was pretty much typed-cast as a mobster-with variations. Always with the lean and hungry look, he was a club owner in After the Thin Man (1936) and played a government cop in the atmospheric Algiers (1938). He even had time to help write a screenplay for the film Robin Hood of El Dorado (1936) with veteran Warner Baxter. Calleia ended the decade with roles at opposite ends of the character acting spectrum-somewhat center stage as a priest in the sometimes heavy-handed Full Confession (1939) and most memorable as Vasquez, the brought-to-justice criminal on the ill-fated DC-3 that crash lands in headhunter-infested Amazon highlands in Five Came Back (1939). This is a classic adventure drama -- remade with Rod Steiger -- with a great supporting cast that included everyone's favorite wisecracking redhead, Lucille Ball.
Into the 1940s, Calleia was cast in more ethnic roles - particularly as Hispanics of various sorts. But his roles were memorable nonetheless, as El Sordo in For Whom the Bell Tolls (1943) and Rodriguez in The Cross of Lorraine (1943). But two roles stand out. His Buldeo in the Alexander Korda classic production of The Jungle Book (1942) was a personal favorite, a double role, as trouble-making villager and the selfsame man now old and wise telling the story to the village children as narrator. The makeup is so good-and Calleia enjoyed character makeup-that most viewers are surprised when the old man reveals his identity. More mainstream Hollywood was his intriguing role as Detective Obregon in Gilda (1946). He's the good guy-right? - but he comes off so sly with his sidelong looks and the way he bates the principals - Glenn Ford and Rita Hayworth - that you just don't know. In the end he has the task, like the chorus in a Shakespearean play, to explain and summarize-perhaps not the best means of getting to the point - but that was the director's choice. His secondary parts receded a bit into the later 1940s and further into the 1950s with Calleia typed to retrace former roles but giving them new nuance just the same. He has little more than a cameo as Indian chief Cuyloga-Native American chiefs being the lot of no few elder actors in 1950s Hollywood - in the otherwise worthwhile Disney adaptation of The Light in the Forest (1958). Calleia ventured into the TV briefly about that time.
But also from that year was another of his favorite roles. Without doubt Touch of Evil (1958) is one of the strangest of Orson Welles later efforts as director/star. It borders on the uneven but is so off-the-wall that one cannot help watching and thoroughly enjoying all the antics of Welles still brilliant film techniques: shadow and light, wild camera angles, gringos playing Mexicans-Charlton Heston is a wow and stained darker than necessary-and over-the-top performances with veteran dramatis personae like Marlene Dietrich, Akim Tamiroff, Calleia, of course, and Welles himself looking like a police captain from skid row and using that funny character voice of his that pops up in his films as an aside. Calleia, with white hair, is tired old cop Sergeant Menzies, long associate of Welles' seedy character. Doing what he has always done, covering up and running interference, in the end Menzies has to face the truth about his crooked captain. Calleia enjoyed the role as going so against his usual type - showing a man harried by his past and haunted by dirty secrets - vulnerable - and very human. It's a great part.
By 1963 Calleia walked away - or, that is - sailed away from Hollywood. He returned to his native Malta for a well deserved retirement. The Maltese had followed the career of their native son, and he had made several visits during his film career. Not surprisingly his biggest fan club was right at home. He was a kind and generous man and very appreciative of his fans wherever they were - quick to read all their letters and quick to send autographed pictures. It was strictly tongue-in-cheek when he supposedly quipped: "Everyone recognizes my face, but no one knows my name." After his passing, the government of the island state of Malta issued two commemorative stamps (1997) to honor him. A bust was erected before the house in which he was born as a further memorial to this Maltese VIP who had made good.- Actor
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Joseph Cheshire Cotten, Jr. was born in Petersburg, Virginia, into a well-to-do Southern family. He was the eldest of three sons born to Sally Whitworth (Willson) and Joseph Cheshire Cotten, Sr., an assistant postmaster.
Jo (as he was known) and his brothers Whit and Sam spent their summers at their aunt and uncle's home at Virginia Beach. And there and at an early age he discovered a passion for story-telling, reciting, and performing acts for his family. Cotten studied acting at the Hickman School of Expression in Washington, D.C. and worked as an advertising agent afterward. But by 1924 tried to enter acting in New York. His money opportunities were limited to shipping clerk, and after a year of attempting stage work, he left with friends, heading for Miami. There he found a variety of jobs: lifeguard, salesman, a stint as entrepreneur -- making and selling 'Tip Top Potato Salad' - but more significantly, drama critic for the Miami Herald. That evidently led to appearance in plays at the Miami Civic Theater. Through a connection at the Miami Herald he managed to land an assistant stage manager job in New York. In 1929 he was engaged for a season at the Copley Theatre in Boston, and there he was able to expand his acting experience, appearing in 30 plays in a wide variety of parts. By 1930 he made his Broadway debut. In 1931 Cotten married Lenore LaMont (usually known as Kipp), a pianist, divorced with a four-year-old daughter.
To augment his income as an actor in the mid-30s, Cotten took on radio shows in addition to his theatre work. At one audition he met an ambitious, budding actor/writer/director/producer with a mission to make his name-Orson Welles. Cotten was 10 years his senior, but the two found a kindred spirit in one another. For Cotten, Welles association would completely redirect his serious acting life. Their early co-acting attempts boded ill for employment in formal acting vehicles. At a rehearsal for CBS radio the two destroyed a scene taking place on a rubber tree plantation. One or the other was supposed to say the line: "Barrels and barrels of pith...." They could not overcome uncontrolled laughter at each attempt. The director berated them as acting like 'school-children' and 'unprofessional', and thereafter both were considered unreliable. Welles's ambition put that quickly behind them when he formed The Mercury Theatre Players. Coming on board were later Hollywood stalwarts: Everett Sloane, Agnes Moorehead, Ruth Warrick, and Ray Collins. In 1937, Cotten starred in Welles's Mercury productions of "Julius Caesar" and "Shoemaker's Holiday". And he made his film debut in the Welles-directed short Too Much Johnson (1938), a comedy based on William Gillette's 1890 play. The short was occasionally screened before or after Mercury productions, but never received an official release. Cotten returned to Broadway in 1939, starring as C.K. Dexter Haven in the original production of Philip Barry's "The Philadelphia Story". The uproar over Welles's "War of the Worlds" radio broadcast, was rewarded with an impressive contract from RKO Pictures. The two-picture deal promised full creative control for the young director, and Welles brought his Mercury players on-board in feature roles in what he chose to bring to the screen. But after a year, nothing had germinated until Welles met with writer Herman J. Mankiewicz, resulting in the Citizen Kane (1941) idea - early 1940. The story of a slightly veiled William Randolph Hearst with Welles as Kane and Cotten, in his Hollywood debut, as his college friend turned confidant and theater critic, Jed Leland, would become film history, but at the time it caused little more than a ripple. Hearst owned the majority of the country's press outlets and so forbade advertisements for the film. The film was nominated for nine Academy Awards in 1942 but was largely ignored by the Academy, only winning for Best Screenplay for Welles and Mankiewicz.
The following year Cotten and Welles collaborated again in The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), acclaimed but again ignored at Oscar time, and the next year's Nazi thriller Journey Into Fear (1943). Cotten, along with some Welles ideas, wrote the screenplay. Welles with his notorious overrunning of budgeting was duly dropped by RKO thereafter. Later in 1943 Cotten's exposure and acquaintance with young producer David O. Selznick resulted in a movie contract and the launching of his mainstream and very successful movie career as a romantic leading man. Thereafter he appeared with some of the most leading of Hollywood leading ladies - a favorite being Jennifer Jones, Selznick's wife with the two of them being his most intimate friends. Cotten got the opportunity to play a good range of roles through the 1940s - the darkest being the blue beard-like killer in Alfred Hitchcock thriller Shadow of a Doubt (1943) with Teresa Wright. Perhaps the most fun was The Farmer's Daughter (1947) with a vivacious Loretta Young. Cotten starred with Jennifer Jones in four films: the wartime domestic drama Since You Went Away (1944), the romantic drama Love Letters (1945), the western Duel in the Sun (1946), and later in the critically acclaimed Portrait of Jennie (1948), from the haunting Robert Nathan book. Cotten is thoroughly convincing as a second-rate, unmotivated artist who finds inspiration from a chance acquaintance budding into love with an incarnation of a girl who died years before. Welles and Cotten did not work again until The Third Man (1949), directed by Carol Reed. For Cotten, the role as the hapless boyhood friend and second-rate novel writer Holly Martins would be a defining moment in a part both comedic and bittersweet, its range making it one of his best performances. Unfortunately, he was again overlooked for an Oscar.
Cotten was kept in relative demand into his mature acting years. Into the 1950s, he reunited with "Shadow Of A Doubt" co star Thereas Wright, to do the memorable bank caper "The Steel Trap"(1952).He co stared with Jean Peters in "Blueprint For A Murder"(1953). For the most part, the movie roles were becoming more B than A. He had a brief role as a member of the Roman Senate, reuniting with lifelong friend Welles in his Othello (1951). There were a few film-noir outings along with the usual fare of the older actor with fewer roles. However, he was much more successful in returning to theater roles in the new television playhouse format. He also did some episodic TV and some series ventures, as with On Trial, which was later called The Joseph Cotten Show. He had a memorable role in an Alfred Hitchcock Presents, "Breakdown", where he was a man in a lone and isolated car accident, trapped and unable to speak. He voices over and shows his great acting skill simply through facial expressions. His one last stint with Welles was uncredited and sort of Jed Leland-revisited as the hokey coroner early in Welles's over-the-top Touch of Evil (1958). Of his association with Welles, Cotten said: "Exasperating, yes. Sometimes eruptive, unreasonable, ferocious, yes. Eloquent, penetrating, exciting, and always - never failingly even at the sacrifice of accuracy and at times his own vanity - witty. Never, never, never dull."
With the passing of his first wife in 1960 Cotten met and married British actress Patricia Medina. The 1960s found him equally busy in TV and film. He made the circuit of the most popular detective and cowboy series of the period. By 1964 he returned to film with the money making old-Hollywood-dame- horror-movie genre hit Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964) with other vintage Hollywood legends Bette Davis, Olivia de Havilland, and Agnes Moorehead. His other films of that decade were of the quick entertainment variety along with some foreign productions, and TV movies. There were also more TV series and guests appearances, especially The Ed Sullivan Show, a popular stop during its long run. In the 1970s Cotten was still in demand-for even more of the curiosity-appeal of the populace for an older star. Along with the new assortment of TV series, he anchored himself at Universal with small parts in forgettable movies, the sluggish Universal epic dud Tora! Tora! Tora! for instance, and the steady diet of TV series being cranked out there. Though older actors have laughed in public about their descent into cheap horror movies, one can only wonder at the impetus to do them -- by such greats, as Claude Rains -- besides a can't-pass-up alluring salary.
Cotten did the campy The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) with Vincent Price and about that time two second rate Italian horror outings where he was Baron Blood and Baron Frankenstein. Then again there was better exposure in the Universal minor sci-fi classic Soylent Green (1973). And in yet another Universal sequel, where the profit-logic was to gather a cast of veterans from the Hollywood spectrum in any situation spelling disaster and watch the ticket sales skyrocket, Cotten joined the all-star cast of Airport '77 (1977). He rounded out the decade with the ever faddish Fantasy Island and more Universal TV rounds. This contributor met and worked with Joseph Cotten during this latter evolution of one of Hollywood's greats. He wore his own double-breasted blue blazer and tan slacks in several roles - no need for wardrobe. His pride and joy was a blue 1939 Jaguar SS, something of a fixture on the Universal lot.
Cotten was not ready to turn his back on Hollywood until the beginning of the 1980s when he managed to appear in the epic flop Heaven's Gate (1980). After a Love Boat episode (1981), Cotten joined his wife and his love of gardening and entertaining friends in retirement. He also had the time to write an engaging autobiography Vanity Will Get You Somewhere (1987). Cotten's somewhat matter-of-fact and seemingly gruff acting voice served him well. Certainly his command of varied roles deserved more than the snub of never being nominated for an Academy Award. He was not the only actor to suffer being underrated, but that is largely forgotten in those memorable roles that speak for him. And for what it is worth, the Europeans had the very good sense to award him the Venice Film Festival Award for Best Actor for Portrait of Jennie, one of his favorite roles.- Leo Genn was the son of a successful jewelry merchant Woolfe (William) Genn and his wife Rachel Asserson. He attended the City of London School as a youth and went on to study law at Cambridge. He received his law degree as a qualified barrister (which in English law tradition is a lawyer who is a specialist in law and who appears in court as representative of a client, whereas a solicitor is also a lawyer but further defined as an attorney who deals directly with the client, writing all case-related briefs and hiring a barrister for court appearance - there is no such division in the USA). He began practice in 1928, however law was not his only interest. Acting caught his eye, and about 1930 he made the acquaintance of actor/manager Leon M. Lion, who needed an actor and a legal advisor. Genn fitted both and was hired and later that year made his stage debut. It was certainly of practical value that he continued offering legal counsel into the 1930s to augment the small income of a budding stage performer learning his craft. In 1933 he met and married Marguerite van Praag, a casting director at Ealing Studios.
His first screen role was as Shakespeare's Shylock in the UK production The Immortal Gentleman (1935). It mortised nicely between his two year (1934-36) period of Shakespearean apprenticeship as a member of the Old Vic Company where he appeared in many productions of Shakespeare. Genn had a very pleasant neutral British accent that could fit anywhere. And his voice was wonderfully smooth and yet authoritative, likened to "black velvet", that fit like a glove to his refined manner. Douglas Fairbanks Jr.., in London for one of his many UK starring vehicles, hired Genn as a technical advisor on the law for Accused (1936) and received a bit role - not for his legal advice - but for a "splendid voice and presence". But the legal side of his character stuck to him as he was in the process of dropping the law for acting full time. He spent 1937 playing film prosecutors and defending attorneys - not something he expected. Things picked up the next year - though still wading through some crime dramas - when he nabbed a small Indian character role in The Drum (1938), the ambitious adventure yarn by producer Alexander Korda. And he was the prince dance partner to Wendy Hiller in Pygmalion (1938) - uncredited - as was a young Anthony Quayle. Obviously, small featured extra roles allowed time for more ambitious outings. He starred in the stage hit "The Flashing Stream" also in 1938. It received the nod from Broadway, and Genn made his American debut in early 1939 in the play's successful run in New York.
Though still tagged for law officialdom in several films, Genn moved on to more hearty supporting roles in 1940 with war looming. He joined the Royal Artillery and received a rank of Lieutenant Colonel in 1943. In that year he was already wanted for film's war effort agenda as movie narrator. In 1944 he was given leave for two flag-waver movies - the second a most unusual and significant cinematic event. For Genn, it was a small part, but it was part of a glorious celebration of England and English history during the crisis of World War II - the Henry V of Laurence Olivier. Genn was the Constable of France, and though the lines were few, Shakespeare infused them with a sardonic wink that Genn delivered perfectly in an understated style that became one of his hallmarks. This part brought him to notice as a film actor, but he did not entertain its fruits until later 1946, for with the end of the war Genn, who had been awarded the French Croix de Guerre in 1945, went back to law counseling. He volunteered his legal knowledge to the British army unit involved in the investigation and prosecution of Nazi war crimes perpetrated at the Belsen concentration camp near Luneburg, Germany. And in the subsequent tribunals, Genn served as assistant prosecutor.
He was back in film in 1946, but more so he was being courted by Broadway to return - which he did in that crowded year with one of his best stage roles in the Lillian Hellman classic "Another Part of the Forest". Hollywood waited in the wings to grab him for the Eugene O'Neill update Mourning Becomes Electra (1947) of the ancient Greek tragedy triangle "Orestaia". It was not Genn's American film debut, for he had appeared in the UK/US crime drama The Girl in the News (1940) - as - what else - a prosecuting counsel - a barrister. He was competing with the American debut of Michael Redgrave in the O'Neill adaptation (3 hours, pared to about 2 hours for general release). The film was a great piece of dialog display but a disaster at the box office. But the chemistry of Genn with Rosalind Russell was such that they were marketed together again the next year in another American film, The Velvet Touch (1948), more whodunit but with snappy lines. Subsequently Genn was about equally in demand for film and stage on both sides of the Atlantic.
His film roles on into the 1950s were somewhat uneven, but Genn was always to form - the calm, understated but in control male lead or supporting character, whether war adventure or the inevitable crime drama - many a steady military officer and understanding professional - with a bit of comedy and a few shady characters thrown in.
Perhaps his best known American film role was as the sardonic Gaius Petronius Arbiter in Quo Vadis (1951). Genn's generous part as the ancient Roman satirist was filled with double meaning quips and understated sarcasm that Genn delivered with his poker face charm and subtle sidelong glances. He is so good that the audience hangs on his next sub-level dig with anticipation that partially eclipses the first rate histrionics of Peter Ustinov as a tongue-in-cheek deranged Nero. The level of Genn's performance was recognized with a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination. The next year he was more than just a straight-laced William Bradford of American colonial history fame in Plymouth Adventure (1952), a much maligned American film that was, in fact, a realistic portrayal of the trials and tribulations of the Pilgrims (they were not all religious dissenters, not the dour, black and white Puritans who were later arrivals). Having to compete with a cantankerous, perhaps too hammy Spencer Tracy as the ship's captain, Genn's understated intensity brings off a compassionate portrayal.
Genn helped grace some of the most ambitious films of the later 1950s and into the 1960s: Moby Dick (1956), The Longest Day (1962), and 55 Days at Peking (1963). He embraced TV playhouse, both American and British programs, and US/UK episodic series through the period, as well as more outings on Broadway. He made six appearances on the Great White Way - the last in a short run of "The Only Game in Town" in mid 1968. All along Genn's voice had found welcoming slots in narration. Beside films, he was the voice of the royal coronation programs of 1937 and 1953. And he always kept a foot in his first love, British theater; he was a governor of London's The Mermaid Theatre. - Actor
- Director
- Writer
Although he sounded very British, Leo McKern was an Australian. By the time he was 15 years old, he had endured an accident that left him without his left eye. A glass eye replaced it - one might conjecture for the better, as far as making McKern a one-day actor of singular focus (no pun intended; his face had that extremely focused look). He failed to complete Sydney Technical High School, though his interest in engineering prompted him to transfer into the role of engineering apprentice (1935 to 1937). He expanded his horizons in a different direction with a two-year stint (1937-1940) at a commercial art college. By then World War II was escalating toward Australia, and he volunteered for service with the Engineering Corp of the Australian Army (1940 to 1942). But yet one more career move was needed, and that while the war moved northward away from Australia when America joined the fight. He studied acting and debuted on stage in 1944. He also met an Australian stage actress (Jane Holland), and mutual attraction took its course. In 1946 she had acting opportunities in England, and McKern decided that, along with the wish to propose to her, his own future as an actor lay there also.
McKern was short and stout with a great bulbous nose upon an impish face--all the ingredients for great character. His voice was a sharp and vociferous grind upon the back teeth--also perfect for character. After some touring (which included a trip to post-war Germany), he began to appear with regularity on London's premiere stages, particularly the Old Vic (1949-52 and then again 1962-63). These roles meshed with classic English work when he moved on to the Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) at Stratford-upon-Avon and the Shakespeare Memorial Theater (later reconstituted as the now Royal Shakespeare Theater) from 1952 to 1954. He also spent a season at the New Nottingham Playhouse. He had weaned himself off his Australian accent long before this with his bid for film roles, the first being as one of the four murderous barons in the Thomas a' Becket story Murder in the Cathedral (1951). And he kept his medieval tights on for his next screen appearances (though the small screen of TV) in some roles for the popular Richard Greene series The Adventures of Robin Hood in 1955, while he continued stage work.
From then on, McKern had roles in two to three movies a year--busy but not too busy--gradually mixing progressively more and more TV work in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. The films were as varied as a good stage actor could justify moving into a popular medium. Though he was usually police officials, doctors, and authoritative figures, he always made these early parts stand out. Drama comes in various packages; he was not averse to the rise of sci-fi as a vehicle for it. He graced two British sci-fi classics: X the Unknown (1956) and the better The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961). And there was also TV fantasy work, one of the best known examples being multiple outings as interrogator and chain-yanker Number Two in The Prisoner series. In the late '70s, he condescended to add some weight to two of the Omen movies, as did Gregory Peck and William Holden, putting him in good company. Great drama was McKern's meat. And doing some historically significant on a great scale was an opportunity for a Shakespearean not to miss. He was cast in the screen version of the Robert Bolt hit play A Man for All Seasons (1966). And his visage was perhaps part of the allure. Cast as ruthless political climber and fated chancellor of England Thomas Cromwell, McKern looked like the Hans Holbein court painting of the man who rather nefariously succeeded to Sir Thomas More's position. More was played by McKern's fellow RSC resident Paul Scofield. McKern gave flesh to the commoner Cromwell, making him loud and abrasive with a delightful verve. Later he and Scofield shared another film role, in the sense that the latter turned down the part of Thomas Ryan in the David Lean epic of Ireland Ryan's Daughter (1970), while McKern accepted it and made the role work. (Scofield would have been a miscast, something he probably wisely foresaw.)
McKern, from his early screen roles, could do comedy. He had a fair share of outrageous characters, and he could play them with a glint in his eye and a bit of extra cheek in his performance to show that he must have had fun in the role. In this regard, he showed his stuff supporting Peter Sellers in the endearing The Mouse That Roared (1959) and had the lead in the outlandish They All Died Laughing (1964) as a college professor who decides to snuff out humanity with poison laughing gas. He was a broad country fellow with a Shakespearean twist as Squint in The Amorous Adventures of Moll Flanders (1965). In one of his later comedies, he is rather overlooked because of its clever script; in fact, it is an over-the-top tour de force for McKern. As the infamous nemesis Professor Moriarty in The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother (1975), McKern manages to steal the show from funny man and director/writer Gene Wilder along with Marty Feldman and Roy Kinnear. McKern's Moriarty is devilish but tongue-in-cheek with a vengeance, especially with his nervous tic of suddenly, at any time and out of nowhere, yelling, "YAAA, YAAA!"
Yet McKern's chief legacy has been and probably will continue to be his long-running TV role in more mystery (he had done his fair share in film and TV already) as Horace Rumpole in "Rumpole of the Bailey" (1978-1992), a role originally introduced by him in the teleplay "Rumpole of the Bailey" in 1975. The role had been specifically created for him by writer John Mortimer, and though every actor can appreciate the security of a long-running role, McKern feared that it was subsuming his more than considerable body of work. Along with that, McKern became increasingly self-conscious of his acting, and mixed in was the idea that his physical appearance was not appealing to the public. As a result, he had to deal with a progressively increasing stage fright. He need not have worried; he was working in diverse TV and movie roles nearly to the time of his passing, and he was beloved by movie and TV fans alike. Along with receiving the award of Officer of the Order of Australia from his home country, in 1983 McKern's memoir "Just Resting" was published.- Leonard Mudie was a stalwart acting veteran who made nearly 150 appearances before the camera. He was from the Midlands of England and began on stage in 1908 at the Gaiety Theater (1884-1959) in Manchester. This was the first regional repertory theater in England and well noted for the spectrum of plays produced and the patronage of new plays by local writers. Mudie was well accomplished when he came to America and Broadway in 1914, where he first appeared in the original play "Consequences". He was active there off and on through 1948 in some twenty-five roles. Later in 1921 Mudie was lured to Hollywood and silent films, sampled two for a year and then returned to Broadway. But after late 1931 Mudie returned to Hollywood, not to return to the Great White Way until his last appearance in 1948. Hollywood sound era could use his efficient, somewhat nasal British intonation and did - profusely. He managed to appear as at least a featured extra - not always with lines - in many of the great and historic films of the mid 1930s. About half his roles to 1946 were uncredited, but his was a steady voice of realism in whatever the part: stiff British official, doctor, lawyer - lots of judges - but also many an everyman role. In 1935 alone he was in thirteen films. And in one of these he was a particularly noteworthy judge. Warner Bros. was gambling on a dashing but relatively untried and unknown Australian (well Tasmanian) actor named Errol Flynn for a hoped hit remake version of the Rafael Sabatini novel Captain Blood (1935). Production was combing Hollywood for character actors for the huge cast, and Mudie was picked for one of the most villainous yet historical characters of the film, Chief Judge George Jeffreys, Baron of Wem, the "Hanging Judge", who presided over the "Bloody Assizes", the wholesale trials of the followers of the Duke of Monmouth's Rebellion at the beginning of the film. Flynn's first big dramatic scene is his confrontation with Jeffreys, bewigged and looking ashen with the kidney disease killing him. It is a great scene with great lines for both actors. Mudie was busy with over ten roles per year from 1937 thru 1941 before he began to slow down, age bringing about fewer character roles -- four or so per annum in the ensuing years. He had a somewhat prophetic line playing an old traditional actor Horace Karlos in a Charlie Chan whodunit The Scarlet Clue (1945) when he makes a reference to appearing in the still infant television as "Well, it's a living!" Indeed by 1953 Mudie got his feet wet in TV, and by later 1955 he was more a fixture of that medium than film and visiting all the varied series with a full sprinkling of character roles-including judges. In fact in the super cast of Hollywood who's who in the film The Story of Mankind (1957), he was the Chief Inquisitor for the cosmic aliens putting humanity on trial. That bit of fantasy was director by future sci-fi and underwater adventure showman Irwin Allen. He finished off his long, busy life with a few more TV roles at 82 - it certainly was a living.
- Actor
- Additional Crew
Lionel Atwill was born into a wealthy family and was educated at London's prestigious Mercer School to become an architect, but his interest turned to the stage. He worked his way progressively into the craft and debuted at age 20 at the Garrick Theatre in London. He acted and improved regularly thereafter, especially in the plays of Henrik Ibsen and George Bernard Shaw. Atwill came to the US in 1915 and would appear in some 25 plays on Broadway between 1917 and 1931, but he was already trying his hand in silent films by 1918. He had a sonorous voice and dictatorial British accent that served him well for the stage and just as well for sound movies. He did some Vitaphone short subjects in 1928 and then his first real film role in The Silent Witness (1932) (also titled "The Verdict").
That voice and his bullish demeanor made Atwill a natural for a spectrum of tough-customer roles. As shady noblemen and mad doctors, but also gruff military men and police inspectors (usually with a signature mustache), he worked steadily through the 1930s. He had the chance to show a broader character as the tyrannical but unforgettable Col. Bishop in Captain Blood (1935). It's hard to forget his Inspector Krogh in Son of Frankenstein (1939), wherein he agrees to a game of darts with Basil Rathbone and proceeds to impale the darts through the right sleeve of his uniform (the character sported a wooden right arm). And he sends himself up with rolling and blustering dialogue as the glory-hog ham stage actor Rawitch in the classic To Be or Not to Be (1942) with Jack Benny. However, Atwill effectively ruined his burgeoning film career in 1943 after he was implicated in what was described as an "orgy" at his home, naked guests and pornographic films included--and a rape perpetrated during the proceedings. Atwill "lied like a gentleman," it was said, in the court proceedings to protect the identities of his guests and was convicted of perjury and sentenced to five years' probation.
He was thereafter kept employed on Poverty Row with only brief periods of employment by Universal Pictures, while the rest of Hollywood turned its collective back on him. He is more remembered for the horror films generally than for better efforts, but they have fueled his continued popularity and a bid by the Southern California Lionel Atwill Fan Club to petition for a Hollywood Blvd. star (he never received one).- Actor
- Soundtrack
It would no doubt be a real shock to most people to discover that the rich baritone Bronx-like accent of great veteran character actor Lloyd Nolan was a product of the San Francisco streets--not the urban jungle of New York City. Nolan was born in the City by the Bay, and his father, James Nolan, was a successful shoe manufacturer of hard-working Irish stock. Lloyd caught the acting bug while at Santa Clara College (at the time, a junior college). He gained as much theatre experience as he could, attaining his AA in the process. Though he continued on to Stanford, he was still focused on acting and soon flunked out of that school, preferring to focus his attention on acting opportunities rather than studies. Forsaking his father and the family shoe business, Nolan went to sea on a freighter, which soon burned, and then headed south to Hollywood.
He continued to hone his acting skills by first taking up residence at the Pasadena Playhouse (1927). With his father's passing he was able to sustain himself on a small inheritance. Continuing at PP and elsewhere in stock for two years, he headed east to Broadway, where he landed a role in a musical revue, "Cape Cod Follies", in late 1929. He continued with two other similar roles through 1932 before breaking out with an acclaimed performance as less-than-wholesome small-town dentist Biff Grimes in the original hit play "One Sunday Afternoon" (1933). He would stay on for two more plays until mid-1934, when he headed back to Hollywood with heightened expectations of success in the movies. His voice and that rock-solid but somehow sympathetic face made Nolan someone with whom audiences could immediately identify, and ahead were over 150 screen appearances. Nolan didn't waste any time; he signed with Paramount and had five roles in 1935, getting the lead role in two and working with up-and-coming James Cagney and George Raft. In the next five years Nolan settled into his niche as a solid and versatile player in whatever he did. His genre was more "B", and he could play good guys and heavies with equal skill. The production values on some B-level efforts were every bit as good as those of "A" pictures. Everybody starting out did at least a few "B" pictures, and Nolan was doing quality work, even in pictures that are little-known--if known at all--today, pictures like King of Gamblers (1937) with Claire Trevor and King of Alcatraz (1938). He was a mainstay at Paramount until 1940, competing with Warner Brothers in that studio's popular gangster films. Unlike better known Cagney and Humphrey Bogart across town, Nolan's bad and not-so-bad guys often had more depth, and again it was that face along with his verve and that distinctive voice that helped to bring it out.
The 1940s saw Nolan moving around within the studio system. He was taking on more familiar roles, such as private detective, government agent or police detective--tough and hard-boiled but sympathetic and understanding at the same time--and World War II action heroes. He landed the role of "Mike Shayne" in the private-eye series from 20th Century-Fox--seven of them between 1940 and 1942. Nolan showed a surprising flair for comedy in this series, with a continuing stream of wisecracks along with the fisticuffs. The Shayne series was well received by both critics and audiences, but Nolan is best known during that period as one of the familiar faces of World War II action films. The first is, at least to this observer, the best, but probably least known--Manila Calling (1942). It was a part of Hollywood's concerted effort to boost civilian morale during the war, with the subject being the Japanese invasion of the Philippines, its conquest and liberation, as center stage in the War in the Pacific. Most films dealt with both retreat and return later in the war years; this 1942 film was perhaps the first to deal with the beginning and hope for the future. Nolan is his usual reliable, get-things-done professional here, an ace communications technician trying to keep the radio airways open amid the onslaught of Japanese invaders. Of all the flag-waving messages given in so many WWII films, none is as stirring as Nolan's, who by the way gets the girl, Carole Landis. It's she who stays behind with him while the rest of the radio team escapes with bombs falling. Microphone in hand and in his best hard-boiled monotone, Nolan spits out: "Manila calling, Manila calling - and I ain't no Jap!" Significantly, Nolan appeared in several other films dealing with the struggle in the Pacific, turning in a particularly strong performance in Bataan (1943).
By 1950 Nolan was ready for television (nearly half of his career roles would tally on that side of the ledger). In addition to his series work, television in the 1950s also played a lot of Nolan's action films from the 1930s and 1940s, earning him a whole new generation of fans--kids who would sit for hours in front of the TV, watching not only current shows but "old" movies. Nolan appeared in many different genres on television, and he could be seen in everything from distinguished dramatic productions to variety and game shows, in addition to having his own series, including Martin Kane (1949) and Special Agent 7 (1958).
After having been away from Broadway for nearly 20 years, Nolan returned in early 1954 in the original production of the hit play "The Caine Mutiny Court Martial", in the pivotal role of the paranoid Captain Queeg. He spent a year in this production, to great critical acclaim. He repeated the role on television in a Ford Star Jubilee (1955) production in 1955. His TV roles kept him busy. It must have been fun for him when, at nearly 60 years of age, he played notorious Chicago gangster George Moran, aka "Bugs" Moran--who in real life was much younger than Nolan was at the time--on the popular The Untouchables (1959), as well as appearing in five continuing episodes of the extremely popular 77 Sunset Strip (1958) series, and he appeared in other crime dramas playing, in one form or another, the kinds of roles he played on the big screen in the 1930s and 1940s.
In the 1970s, when cameo roles by older stars were becoming a popular means of luring people back to the theaters, Nolan was happy to oblige in box-office hits like Ice Station Zebra (1968), Airport (1970) and Earthquake (1974). When the same circumstances spread to episodic TV, Nolan was only too happy to be on hand. Most older actors--even those with good reputations--have a tendency to be a bit difficult, but Nolan was such a professional. His joy at still being able to work at the craft he loved was profound, almost childlike in enthusiasm. He never complained or claimed special privilege.
That was the measure of the man--what had been and what would continue to be. Unconventional in a natural sort of way was the norm for Lloyd Nolan. Call it keeping to one's dignity. He kept no Hollywood secrets, as was the fashion. He was very open about his autistic son. Into the 1980s and entering his 80s, Nolan still deftly handled a few final TV and screen roles, though his noted memory for lines began to fade and cue cards became necessary. He was inspired in his final film role as a retired actor, husband of showy, boozy has-been Maureen O'Sullivan and three individualistic daughters in Hannah and Her Sisters (1986). It's a great role, and probably the most even and satisfying film effort of director Woody Allen.
Nolan's last role was a Murder, She Wrote (1984) TV episode with old friend Angela Lansbury. He still had not revealed his final secret--he was dying with lung cancer--which by then revealed itself just the same. Ravaged as he was by the disease, Lloyd Nolan--with the help of his friends and well-wishers--successfully wrapped his 156th professional acting performance before his passing. His was a life of quality, commitment, character and integrity. Were things increasingly rare in Hollywood. But, which described Lloyd Nolan, plain and simple.- Actor
- Director
- Producer
From his birthplace in South Africa, Louis Charles Hayward was brought to England and was educated there and on the Continent. He spent a short time managing a London nightclub, displayed some acting talent and decided on acting, and was quickly tapped by playwright Noël Coward, who became his patron. Matinee-idol-handsome, Hayward developed his acting skills on the London stage in various versions of Broadway plays, such as "Dracula" and "Another Language". He began his film career in the British romance drama Self Made Lady (1932), which was followed by five British films through 1933.
Hayward came to New York and Broadway in 1935 to star in "Point Verlaine". It was his only Broadway venture, but it brought him a Hollywood contract. His first American film role was in The Flame Within (1935). After several supporting roles in 1936, he got his real break starring in the extended romantic prologue of Warner Bros.' Anthony Adverse (1936). As dashing officer Denis Moore, he was Anthony's father, rescuing his soon-to-be mother Maria from an arranged marriage to the Marquis Don Luis, brilliantly played by Claude Rains. Shot with gauze focus in part to increase the dreamlike romantic interlude of the lovers, the prologue played to a bitter end with Hayward dispatched in a sword duel with the outraged Don Luis, and Maria, now pregnant, forced to return to her husband. However, Hayward had had his defining moment. He was now a romantic leading man, and a swashbuckler at that. Through the remainder of the 1930s he would have ample opportunities to vary that class of character, starting with some early "B"-tier efforts. His good looks were complemented by an airy manner of speaking, which worked as both hero and rogue or occasional suave villain. The familiar British Simon Templar character was brought to the screen by Hayward in The Saint in New York (1938) to cap his "B"-picture career. He was destined for plenty of sword point adventure. The stylish The Man in the Iron Mask (1939), the third volume in the Alexandre Dumas musketeer trilogy, gave Hayward the opportunity to play the good and evil royal twins, which he did with impressive flair. However, his swashbuckling efforts did not pan out as well as they did for Errol Flynn. The Son of Monte Cristo (1940), with Hayward paired with Joan Bennett again (as they were in "Iron Mask") was a The Prisoner of Zenda (1937) rip-off that fell flat. Another sort of bad break was his 1941 casting in a pivotal role in Orson Welles' The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), his part was edited out of the final print.
World War II brought Hayward a respite from the vagaries of Hollywood luck. He was a United States Marine combat photographer, and his work during the invasion of the Japanese-held island of Tarawa earned him a Bronze Star for courage under fire. Overcoming the psychological stress of his war experiences, Hayward returned to the Hollywood spotlight. He had already notched a few mysteries on his belt when he was cast in the Agatha Christie thriller And Then There Were None (1945), which was a hit. His subsequent list of romantic parts included yet another "Monte Cristo" adventure: the Robin Hood-like Robert Louis Stevenson adventure The Black Arrow (1948) and a succession of pirate parts. He played in two "Captain Blood" sequels, neither of which turned out well for him. There was also yet another "twin" sequel, this time a twist of the Jekyll/Hide story but with the doctor's twin sons, called The Son of Dr. Jekyll (1951). There was also one more outing in an "Iron Mask" vehicle, this time with twin royal sisters and Hayward as a mature D'Artagnan. Amid all this blandness - and seeing double - Hayward had the good sense to develop a business sense in case his career kept on its downward spiral. He was one of the first to incorporate the one percentage-of-profits deal for both the theatrical and television releases of his post-1949 films, ensuring him comfortable lifelong income.
Although he continued to make movies, Hayward ventured enthusiastically into television, not only with some ten American playhouse theater productions and episodic television through the 1960s but productions of his own. In 1954, Hayward produced and starred in the 39-week television series The Lone Wolf (1954) (aka "Streets of Danger") after buying exclusive rights to several of Louis Joseph Vance's original "Lone Wolf" stories. He also produced the British series The Pursuers (1961) and the American The Survivors (1969). He bowed out of acting in the mid 1970s, not the screen legend that he had hoped to be, but wiser and certainly comfortable. On February 21, 1985, Louis Hayward died at age 75 of lung cancer in his home in Palm Springs, California.- Additional Crew
- Director
- Writer
Max Reinhardt was from an Austrian merchant family (surname officially changed from the family name Goldmann to Reinhardt in 1904), and even as a boy, after his family moved to Vienna, he haunted the "Hofburg Theater" and tried to see every play. In 1890 he studied at the Sulkowsky Theater in Matzleinsdorf and started acting in Vienna and later at the "Stadtheater" in Salzburg with duties as an assistant director. But by 1894 he was invited to Berlin by Otto Brahm, director, critic, and theater manager. And that was an important juncture. Brahm had founded the "Free Stage" (1890), a theater company crusading for realism in German theater by providing a forum for so-called banned plays - the iconoclastic works, such as, those of Henrik Ibsen and Leo Tolstoy. The result was the opening of German state theater to the corpus of the modern stage by 1894. Brahm became director of the Deutsches Theater in Berlin, and there Reinhardt cut his teeth on the full theater experience, not simply acting alone, although he was much applauded for his convincing specialty of playing old men.
In 1901 Reinhardt co-founded his own - sort of avant garde - cabaret "Schall und Rauch" (Sound and Smoke) for experimental theater. It was renamed "Kleines Theater" (Small Theater) in 1902, a place for contemporary plays accented with the sort of spirit confined to cabaret entertainment. He then opened and managed his own theater "Neues Theater", now called the "Berliner Ensemble", from 1902 to 1905. These were all a part of his evolving philosophy of the harmony of stage design, costumes, language, music, and choreography as a whole unified artwork, Gesamtkunstwerk. He was influenced by several figures, August Strindberg for one, but most significantly by Richard Wagner and his operatic ideal that the director must pull together all aspects of art in his production. Reinhardt's infusion gave new dimensions to German theater. After producing more than fifty plays at Neues Theater, wherein he always found somebody to donate the money for productions, he was asked to take the helm of Deutsches Theater in Berlin for Brahm in 1905. At Deutsches Theater he embarked on big theater, employing the whole physical theater space for productions and often even spreading scenes into the audience as a means of fusing actors and audience in a total theater experience. Here was something different - making theater a democratic institution - after all the audience was the means of generating the money to do more. And Reinhardt was never avant garde enough to disdain making profit when it finally came knocking. He staged truly gargantuan productions of epic pageantry and lighting with stark colors for various dramatic effects. He staged one of his most famous early productions, his first rendition of Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" with a wooded forest revolving stage - turning to reveal progressive new scenes. He became famous for realistic direction of huge crowd and mob scenes.
He built the smaller Kammerspiele, a theater near Deutsches Theater in 1906. At this latter theater Reinhardt developed "Kammerspiel" theater, chamber dramas in a minimalist and naturalistic style. This followed from his expressionist influences which defied the realist dictum (though he would look to realism as well in the mix to appropriately stage some of his most ambitious efforts) and sought out more personal, expressive, and emphatic ways of coaxing the elements of theater from the conventional objective into palpable subjectivity. This all opened Reinhardt to even more experimental ideas in staging with sometimes nightmarish and vivid lighting techniques. He began introducing the expressionist plays to the German-speaking public. And he also opened a famous acting school which would function for decades turning out many of Germany's great actors and actresses. In addition there was a acting troupe that played in neutral areas of Europe during World War I. On the bill was always a cycle of Shakespeare plays. Reinhardt did everything in a big way and to accommodate a growing enthusiastic theater-going public he had expanded with a chain of theaters throughout Germany. He would manage thirty theaters and acting companies in all.
Reihardt fulfilled another of his ideals, and that was of finding the 'perfect playhouse' as a means of complementing the content and experience of a play. In 1919 he opened an enormous arena theater, the "Grosses Schauspielhaus", (Great Playhouse), but known as the "Theatre of the Five Thousand", which included a large revolving stage. Many of his biggest productions were done here, including Shakespeare and Greek plays. In the 1920s he built the two Boulevard Theaters on the Kurfürstendamm in Berlin. And yet, the privations of post-war Germany and the perennial anti-Semitic undercurrent caused a gradual loss of his big audiences. In 1920 Reinhardt went back to Salzburg and established the Salzburg Festival with composer Richard Strauss and playwright Hugo von Hofmannsthal. Annually he enjoyed staging the most apropos of morality plays, the medieval "Everyman", with the biggest set he could muster as a backdrop-the Austrian Alps in the open air before the Salzburg Cathedral. From 1924 he became director of the Theater in der Josefstadt in Vienna and renewed his Berlin popularity with a new theater called "Komoedie". His output was no less than astounding. Whereas a theater director today would not commit himself beyond two or three productions in a year, Reinhardt averaged twenty in his first twelve years. Between 1916 and 1917 he produced 48 - his highest output. Although he did few films, he was very interested in the potential of the medium. He directed four silent movies starting in 1910. One of these was the filming of one his favorite pantomime plays "The Miracle".
Reinhardt was a titan of influence and inspiration on a whole generation of theater and film directors in Germany-many who spread the word to the rest of the world. His disciples included: F.W. Murnau, Paul Leni, Ernst Lubitsch, William Dieterle , and Otto Preminger. His staging of crowds and use of lighting were frequently appropriated by the great silent filmmakers of the Weimar Republic, including 'Fritz Lang' and Murnau. And he profoundly influenced the expressionist movement in German film. He also influenced many actors with his techniques of developing expressive characterizations and movement-many would eventually come to New York and Hollywood. But by 1933 Hitler had come to power, and Reinhardt found himself falling victim to the same methods of attrition as other German Jews. So-called assimilative families of ethnic mixtures, whether high or low, were increasing placed in the same category as ethnic Jews. His theaters were `appropriated' one-by-one by the government and later his considerable properties confiscated. Later in 1933 he moved back to Austria to the "Theater in der Josefstadt" in Vienna (where Preminger had quickly become a director), hoping his native land could resist the Nazi machine. But the same pressures enveloped him there. He left for a last theater tour of Europe and arrived in America in 1934. "Midsummer" had a special significance for Reinhardt. The play was his continued inspiration of a world without ideologies - a utopia - as the theater itself was a haven from the harsh realities of the world and of the individual. The audience learned something, but they also could steep themselves without taxing imagination in the illusion of theater. "Midsummer" was always a work-in-progress for him - he had staged it twelve times up to 1934, and in fact had already brought it to Broadway in late 1927. And that was not his first trip to the US, having started presenting plays as producer, director, or writer since early 1912 there (he did ten productions in all to 1943).
He came to Hollywood in 1934 with his fame preceding him. His last tour through Europe had included lavish productions in Florence (1933) and a"Midsummer" at Oxford (1934). He offered to do the same in Hollywood at an ideal outdoor stage-the Hollywood Bowl. But the bowl had to go - it was removed to provide a view of a "forest" up the hillside - a "forest" that required tons of dirt hauled in especially for its planting, Reinhardt and his design staff erected a 250-foot wide, 100-foot deep stage. Also included was a pond and a suspension bridge or trestle constructed from the hills in back to the stage to be lined with torchbearers - with real flaming torches - for the wedding procession inserted between Acts IV and V. This lavish production included a ballet corps, children playing faeries, and hundreds of extras. The 18-year-old Olivia de Havilland was at Mills College in Oakland, participating in a school "Midsummer" production where in attendance was none other than Max Reinhardt himself. He was so impressed with her that he picked her for his extravaganza. Along with other Hollywood actors, was 14 year old veteran of the cinema 'Mickey Rooney', added to the cast as Puck. Another new arrival from Austria was classical opera composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold, musical collaborator of Reinhardt's from Vienna. Reinhardt cabled his friend to come over and help him by doing the orchestrations of Felix Mendelssohn's famous 1843 music for the Hollywood Bowl production. It was a night to remember - even for Jack L. Warner - who was not always sure of what he was seeing. But it was enough to sign Reinhardt to direct a filmed version of A Midsummer Night's Dream (1935) which began shooting in December of 1934. De Havilland was back to start her film career-Rooney for another memorable part. Otherwise, it was new cast headed by Hollywood stars 'Dick Powell' and James Cagney and boasting the best actors from Warner's impressive stock company of players. Since Reinhardt did not know Hollywood filmmaking, Warner assigned a co-director, William Dieterle, Reinhardt's acting then directing protege, from the Deutsches Theater days in Berlin. Dieterle, the disciple, had directed in Germany since 1923 and then came to Hollywood to become one of the studio's most reliable new directors. It was the beginning of Korngold's screen career as a film composer when he was hired to do the film score, an arrangement based on Mendelssohn's music used at the Bowl. But he actually mixed in much more of a variety of the composer's music to fit the play. Warner's laid down 1.5 million dollars and had its top technical staff step up to the challenge. But all-most of all, Reinhardt - was on a bit of a learning curve. Reinhardt was allowed the liberty of long play-like rehearsals instead of rehearsing scene by scene. Reinhardt's early over-emphasized stage acting directions were recalled by Cagney, who noted the actors often stood around on the sidelines whispering to one another, "Somebody ought to tell him." It was the politic Dieterle who did - setting his old master straight as to the subtle wonders of the microphone and sound film techniques. Shakespeare's lines were cut for public consumption, but there was so much to see - who would notice. In Depression era America the movie theater had taken the place of Reinhardt's all encompassing theater as a haven - and that was certainly fine with him. And here was a feast for starving souls. Reinhardt's multi-faceted approach to theater shone in all its entertaining best-through Warner stage design efficiency. There was the realist extravagance in forested backdrops, but the wonderful ballet of the coming of night with dancer Nini Theilade was distilled expressionism. Other ballet sequences featuring the fairies-children and adults - were choreographed by 'Bronislava Nijinska' (the great Nijinsky's sister). Reinhardt conjured all his and the camera's magic to create the summation of a lifetime of stagecraft. His imaginative wizardry with lighting put the remarkable glow on the faces of Cagney and his motley peasant comrades as they rehearsed - on the dancing faeries in their sequins - on the enchanted sparkle of shimmering (painted and tensiled) woods and veiled atmosphere that awaited the gaiety of Titania and the black looks of King Oberon. Everything of British and German folklore was thrown in for good measure - from gossamer English faeries and magic animals to rather frightening, rubber-masked dwarfs dressed as Teutonic gnomes and goblins. Reinhardt fuzzed and gauzed the camera lens and even put scintillating borders and covers of various sorts on the camera cowling to frame some faerie scenes as if from a Victorian painting by English artists Richard Dadd and Joseph Noel Paton-obvious influences. The movie was not a box office success, but it was Hollywood history-salute to Shakespeare? - certainly - but more so, a great event of melting pot talent and modern film making that was Hollywood coupled with profound European stage traditions that began with Max Reinhardt. He - by the way - did no more films, perhaps deciding that the real challenge was still the stage. But this one record on sound film measures the genius of the man of theater and gives today a glimpse of his creative powers and something of what his stage productions were like. He was more interested in continuing working on-stage as a director and producer, but he did not forsake Hollywood. With his second wife actress 'Helene Thimig', from a famous Viennese acting family, he split his time between the coasts. He found a Hollywood-based theater workshop and an acting school in New York. All of Reinhardt's productions were tallied - just from 1905 to 1930 - and found to total 23,374 performances of 452 plays - and still a little short. His wide-eyed exuberance for spreading out a great show was indicative of the child in Max Reinhardt. He betrayed that very comparison unashamedly: "Theater is the happiest haven for those who have secretly put their childhood in their pockets, so that they can continue to play to the end of their days."- Actor
- Writer
A veritable everyman of stage and screen, both big and small, but relatively unfamiliar to American audiences, Michael Craig is of Scots heritage, born in India to a father on military assignment. When he was three, the family returned to England, but by his eleventh year, they moved on to Canada - where he undoubtedly acquired his North American accent. He left school for the Merchant Navy at 16, but finally returned to England and the lure of the theater. By 1947, he debuted on stage and, in 1953, Sir Peter Hall gave him his first lead stage role. In the meantime, he was trying his hand at extra work and had speaking roles by 1954. This eventually led to discovery by Rank Films and a list of lead movie roles into the early 1960s. When his 7-year contract with that company expired, he was optioned by Columbia Pictures and his Hollywood career commenced. Yet his American work is perhaps only modestly remembered in two films, ironically co-American productions with the UK, Mysterious Island (1961), and Australia, the Disney TV installment, Ride a Wild Pony (1975).
By the mid-1970s, Craig's TV and film work was heavily concentrated in Australia (where he still resides) and composed a depth or roles, both comedic and dramatic, that has included memorable and solid character pieces as he has matured in age. As a screen writer, he has written for and created several British TV series. And he has never been far from the stage, remaining a familiar face in both London and New York theater.- Actor
- Soundtrack
Montague Love - certainly an intriguing name - but his own - started his working life as a newspaper man in London. His primary expertise centered on being a field illustrator and cartoonist who covered the Boer War (1899-1902). His realistic battle sketches gained him popularity among readers, but he was bound for a different career. He decided to become an actor. A robust man with a massive head of noble bearing and brooding lower lip, these were ingredients well suited to this goal. Love honed basic stage talents in London, and then made an early departure for the US in 1913 with a road-company production of Cyril Maude's "Grumpy." An early stop was Broadway, and he returned many times to appear in a laundry list of important plays from 1913 to 1934.
Silent film studios of the early days were originally based in the East, and Love started his film career at World Studios, New Jersey in 1914. His silent career alone was prodigious-nearly a hundred films. His look and bearing were perfect for authoritative figures. And, though certainly taking on a whole spectrum of roles (sultan, native chiefs, many a doctor and military officer, among many others) he became famous for his bad guy characterizations through the 1920s. Some historians credit him as the best villain of the silent era.
In 1926 he was nemesis to Rudolf Valentino in The Son of the Sheik (1926) and 'John Barrymore' in Don Juan (1926). The latter movie had the particular fame of sporting the longest sword duel in silent history between Love's Count Giano Donati and Barrymore's Don Juan. The fight filming was unique and realistic with middle and close shots looking directly at the individual combatants-with the appropriate blood in their eyes. The duel was all the more complex choreography for being one with swords and daggers (historically correct but rarely seen in film history). But Love was just as effective as the Roman centurion in The King of Kings (1927) by 'Cecil B DeMille'. Starting with Synthetic Sin (1929), Love's movies followed the trend of an increasing number of silent films using recorded music and some snatches of dialogue or background sound with the several incipient audio systems. Some movies originally issued as silent were released again with the process added. `Sin' was one of 11 films of 1929 featuring Love given the semi-sound treatment. The last of these was Jules Verne's The Mysterious Island (1929), very loosely adapted to the point of being hokey, but one of the first films also using the primitive two-color process.
Love had a commanding, puckered-lip British delivery of speech which he could believably weld to any part, but it particularly fit characters of authority, as in the silent era. Into the 1930s, these were increasingly benign rather than despotic-always colonels and generals, prime ministers, American presidents - even Zorro's father. Perhaps his best known character tour de force displaying his genuine acting power was his Henry VIII in Prince and the Pauper (1937). It is hard to forget him in purple as the Bishop of the Black Canons in The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). Sometimes, as with other veteran character actors, his roles were almost as featured extra-but his very costumed presence was all that was needed to lend realism. A very apt example was his Detchard, noble henchmen to 'Raymond Massey', in The Prisoner of Zenda (1937), in which he has little more than one line. He was still in demand in the early 1940s - ten roles in 1940 alone. But these slowed into the war years. By his passing in 1943, an actor who was considered as noble on screen as off, he had lent his voice as well as virtuoso acting skills to eighty-one additional films.- Niall MacGinnis is not as well known outside of Europe, but he was a wonderful character actor whose variety of roles matched his great gift for characterization and the look beyond just makeup that he projected. He was educated at Stonyhurst College and Trinity College, Dublin. He obtained a basic medical education which qualified him as a house (resident) surgeon during World War II in the Royal Navy. But after the war he decided to pursue acting. He worked in stage repertoire and stock companies and moved on to do significant stage work at the Old Vic Theatre in London, where John Gielgud was director and Shakespeare has a particular focus. MacGinnis had the burly look of a farm hand with a large head and curly hair falling away from a progressively receding hairline. He could portray a broad enough accent - or little at all, as the case might be - which could entail any part of the British Isles.
He moved on to film work in 1935 when British sound cinema was hitting its stride. He met young but well experienced director Michael Powell, who was eager to sell his script for an intriguing film to be shot on the furthest island from the north coast of the UK, Foulda. Alexander Korda was impressed and optioned the production of this script for The Edge of the World (1937), and MacGinnis got the nod as the central protagonist, Andrew Gray. Soon after in 1938, MacGinnis worked with Old Vic mentor and director Gielgud for a role in an early TV production of the play "Spring Meeting" (1938). As the war years ensued and before his own service, MacGinnis did several war effort films, most notably asked by Powell to take the role of a German U-boat cook in 49th Parallel (1941). The film sported a great ensemble cast, including Leslie Howard and Raymond Massey, and was shot in Canada where the drama unfolded, but it lacked the drive to keep the story vital. MacGinnis shone as the good-natured peasant who loved food and had no use for Nazi strictures and warring on the world. Luckily for Powell, the movie with its flag waving spirit was a huge hit on both sides of the Atlantic.
By the late 1940s, MacGinnis was donning historical garb for what would be some of his most familiar roles. Olivier remembered him and gave him small but standout roles in both his Henry V (1944) and Hamlet (1948). At about that time MacGinnis began associations with American film actors and production money coming over to Britain, the first being with Fredric March and his wife Florence Eldridge in Christopher Columbus (1949). He finally came to American shores with an appearance on Broadway in "Caesar and Cleopatra" in late 1951 through April of 1952. In 1952 back in England, he had a supporting role as the Herald in a screen version of the story of Thomas a' Becket titled Murder in the Cathedral (1951). Interestingly, he was also in the much better known and Hollywood-financed Becket (1964), as one of the four murderous barons. When MGM came back to England to follow up its previous visit and subsequent huge hit, Ivanhoe (1952), with Knights of the Round Table (1953), MacGinnis had a brief but again noticeable role as the Green Knight, bound by loss of combat to Robert Taylor as Ivanhoe. The next year brought one of his rare lead roles, an exemplary one in every measure. As Luther in Martin Luther (1953), MacGinnis joined a mostly British cast in a US/West German co-production and American director Irving Pichel with West German and historical scenery topped with a first rate script with American and German co-writers. It received two Oscar nominations.
Into the later 1950s, MacGinnis held to a steady diet of sturdy movie roles, usually supporting but always memorable because of his great acting skill. Historically, he went further back in time with several films of epic Ancient Greece, first as King Menelaus in Helen of Troy (1956), an American/Italian co-production with Robert Wise directing. That same year he stayed on the continent for another epic, this time Alexander the Great (1956) with American director Robert Rossen in an US/Spanish co-production that enlisted another first tier British cast, centered on box office idol Richard Burton, along with former co-star Freddy March. MacGinnis finally made it to Mount Olympus - that is, playing Zeus - in the rousing US/UK co-production of Jason and the Argonauts (1963), certainly best remembered for the stop motion animation magic of Ray Harryhausen.
Yet, MacGinnis' perhaps best remembered role - certainly to discriminating fans of horror/fantasy - was that of two-faced Dr. Julian Karswell, jocular magician - but deadly serious cult leader and demon conjurer (loosely based on the outrageous English social rebel and occultist Aleister Crowley). The film Curse of the Demon (1957) (the American cut was renamed "Curse of the Demon") was a stylishly atmospheric and convincingly spooky outing directed by Jacques Tourneur, the protégé of Hollywood veteran film producer Val Lewton, best known for Cat People (1942). Based on M.R. James' Edwardian ghost story, "Casting the Runes," the film is now considered a classic of the genre with MacGinnis, sporting a devilish goatee, having fun with his split personality but also effectively betraying his inward fear of the powers he has unleashed. He easily stole the show from co-star Dana Andrews, as the stubborn American psychologist almost done in by the demon he does not believe exists.
Through the 1960s and into the 1970s, MacGinnis kept to up a fairly steady stream of varied historical and contemporary movie roles, always noticeable, and in some of the high profile films of the period, including: Billy Budd (1962), The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1965), and the Cinerama adventure Krakatoa: East of Java (1968). There were some TV spots as well to showcase his character-molding talents into the year of his passing to round out a body of over 75 screen appearances. - Music Department
- Actor
- Composer
Oscar Levant's own versatility may have helped to cloud his memory as a sort of Hollywood utility man, perhaps in the worst sense; people tended to see him as one among many personalities, but he was so much more. It is unfortunately forgotten that he was first and foremost, a brilliant musician and very competent composer. He was from an Orthodox Jewish Russian family, growing up in the Hill District of Pittsburgh. Like his siblings, he started music lessons at an early age and on various instruments, first taking piano lessons from his older brother Benjamin. At seven he continued piano under Martin Miessler, originally of the Leipzig Conservatory. Levant was giving public recitals within a year. He attended music lessons at the Fifth Avenue High School, where he was exposed to classical performance by his instructor, Oscar Demmler. This included going to recitals of the great Polish pianist Ignacy Jan Paderewski and concerts conducted by Leopold Stokowski. Demmler invited Levant to accompany him in violin and piano repertoire, which was Levant's first public playing - he was only twelve.
Levant dropped out of high school (Fifth Avenue) in 1922 when his mother decided to take him to New York to continue music instruction. There he studied with Zygmunt Stojowski, a compatriot and disciple of Paderewski and a student trained by Wladyslaw Zelenski, Louis-Joseph Diemer and Clement Philibert Léo Delibes. By early adulthood, Levant had evolved an engaging and opinionated personality that was attracted to the social life of the city. One great influence on him was the glamor and allure of Broadway, which he saw firsthand while hiring out as a pianist for the stage pit and the many nightclubs in the area. He was in the musical play "Burlesque" (1927) and had his first stint at Broadway composing as co-composer for "Ripples" (1930). Though he gave a private recital in early December 1922 for Paderewski and kept up a schedule of attending mainstream classical musical events, he was also becoming something of a bon vivant in popular music circles, and became attracted to the seamier side of New York society, developing acquaintanceships with a variety of the city's mobsters. His mobility in social circles was, to say the least, surprising. Later Levant became a member of the Algonquin Round Table, the exclusive circle of New York wits and writers that met regularly at the Algonquin Hotel and included such luminaries as Robert Benchley, Dorothy Parker and Alexander Woollcott.
It would seem natural that Levant would eventually be attracted to the glitter of Hollywood. He had a taste of "the movies" in 1923 when he appeared with popular orchestra leader Ben Bernie and his band, All the Lads, in a little-known experimental sound effort by DeForest Phonofilm in New York City. Touring in cabaret in London from 1926, Levant heard about New York composers and musicians going west to Hollywood, where music was coming into big demand. He left for the coast in 1928. He quickly secured employment as a composer, and from that year to 1929 his compositions appearing in 21 films. From 1929 to 1937 he composed regularly for films, and a bit more sporadically from 1939 to 1948, for a total of 19 films. His mingling with the musical elite in town resulted in his developing a close friendship with legendary composer George Gershwin. The association resulted in a profound musical relationship. He was still keeping a foot in the New York music scene, mainly in Broadway and on Tin Pan Alley (he co-wrote many pop songs). He also returned to some concertizing (1930 and 1931) at two large venues: the Hollywood Bowl and Lewisohn Stadium in New York.
By 1932 Levant was turning his attention to classical composing and limiting his concertizing. His "Sonatina for Piano" caught the ear of composer Aaron Copland, who persuaded him to premiere it in April 1932 at Copland's festival for contemporary American music. Gershwin asked him to play second piano in a duet version of the "Second Rhapsody" under conductor Arturo Toscanini. He also played - almost as his own - Gershwin's signature "Concerto in F" in 1932. Although Levant launched into a crowded schedule of radio performances of popular and easy listening classical music, he did no more public concerts for some five years. He did take Gershwin's advice and refreshed his theory skills with Joseph Schillinger, a Russian who was a resident Hollywood theorist/composer. Levant was not alone in using Schillinger's music school services; at that time some of the Big-Band era's most famous names appearing on the silver screen, including Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller, were also using the Russian. This was in 1934, the same year Levant's "Sinfonietta" (in three movements) premiered with Bernard Herrmann conducting in New York.
Levant was back in Hollywood in 1935 for more film composing, but part of the time was spent studying under one of the great musical minds to arrive in Southern California, Arnold Schönberg. Schoenberg's time was already crowded with local academia commitments and studying with some of Hollywood's brightest composers, including Alfred Newman and Franz Waxman. Levant's study ranged from 1935 to 1937. Part of the result was the inspiration for completing his "Piano Concerto", his first of several string quartets (among other pieces he composed, including a woodwind trio), and the "Nocturne for Orchestra" (premiered in L.A. in 1937). The latter was released by New Music Editions in 1936 - this was his only orchestral score to be published. In the meantime Levant was doing music for Hollywood. His "Crayon est sur la Table", ("The Pencil is on the Table") was a sort of parody of French opera in the style of Claude Debussy. It was a centerpiece (though transformed as "Carnaval" with an Italian libretto) for the 20th Century-Fox film Charlie Chan at the Opera (1936).
In July of 1937 Gershwin passed away. This opened a new period of recognition for Levant, for he was immediately crowned sole interpreter and virtuoso performer of Gershwin's music, the beginning of a quixotic 20-year reign. That same year Levant started his "Suite for Orchestra" and finished its orchestration by early 1938. In October of that year he returned to the east to debut as a Broadway conductor while replacing his brother Harry for 65 performances of George S. Kaufman and Lorenz Hart's "The Fabulous Invalid". He augmented that by seeing to the Broadway stage as composer and conductor a new Kaufman and Hart work, "The American Way" in January of 1939.
By the middle of that year Levant had returned to concertizing in all the big American cities, showcasing not only such Gershwin works as "Concerto in F" and the "Rhapsody in Blue", but also a whole repertoire including an occasional work of his own, including his two 1940 pieces "Caprice for Orchestra" and "A New Overture and Polka for 'Oscar Homolka'" (the actor). "Caprice" was particularly showcased by British conductor Thomas Beecham. But these were his last major concert works. Nevertheless, this marked a decade of concertizing, radio broadcasts and recording significantly with Columbia Records and great conductors such as Reiner, Eugene Ormandy, Andre Kostelanetz, Wallenstein, Efrem Kurtz and Morton Gould.
Occasionally Levant appeared on film in a showcase piano piece, but there are only a handful of film roles where he showed his substantial skill as an actor. He played himself in the highly fictionalized Gershwin bio Rhapsody in Blue (1945), highlighted by his playing of the piece. He was still himself but convincingly in character in one of his best dramatic roles as wisecracking (he often wrote his own lines for his film characters) concert pianist Sid Jeffers in Humoresque (1946) with John Garfield and Joan Crawford. He went into the studio to record a set of excerpts from Richard Wagner's "Tristan" arranged for piano, violin, and orchestra with violinist Isaac Stern, and conductor Franz Waxman as part of the sound track for the film. He was able to play two of his favorite pieces (Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's "Piano Concerto No. 1" and Aram Khachaturyan's "Sabre Dance") when he got around to doing the sophisticated comedy The Barkleys of Broadway (1949). A few years later he did his last two films. In An American in Paris (1951) the focus is on Gene Kelly, but a close second was Gershwin's music, the title of the movie taken from his extraordinary montage of movements visualizing Paris. Levant was his usual carefree pianist character, but during a fantasy concerto sequence, he is spotlighted as playing the piano soloist, the conductor, and representative musicians for each orchestra instrument, a great sight gag tour de force of his musical know-how. In his final film Levant is a caricature of himself mixed with the film's co-screenwriter, Adolph Green. This was the comedy musical The Band Wagon (1953) in which friend Fred Astaire was also a caricature of himself as a legendary but essentially washed-up song and dance man who has a stellar comeback.
Levant seemed to have fun with this film and its bright script that poked fun at entertainment in general, but his dialog, obviously more of his own input, included hints at his progressive decline, including his accumulative neuroses and accompanying hypochondria. His extraordinarily glib and incisive tongue had evolved from earlier life-of-the-party witty repartee to increasingly self-critical and acerbic patter which showed up sometimes most inappropriately in his recitals from the late 1930s. His spontaneous remarks bordered, and often flowed over into, downright rudeness and sometimes only slightly veiled invective. He seemed unable to resist putting down his own musical efforts, a compulsion to parody himself, revealing his insecurities and a rather knee-jerk need to be funny and play the clown at his own expense. He had renamed his "Poeme for Piano", "Insult for the Piano" or "The Lone Ranger in Vienna." In answer to friend/musical promoter Robert Russell Bennett's radio interview with Levant (1940) asking what he thought about the reception of his first string quarter, he replied: "Violently. It not only brought me obscurity but many enemies." Such was typical of his sometimes inextricably extreme one-liners. During the height of his concertizing, Levant was the highest paid concert performer, but after 1951 he canceled many commitments, which finally brought a temporary banning by the American Federation of Musicians. There were still occasional concerts in the 1950s, one of the most memorable being Royce Hall at UCLA (1958) when he launched into the first movement of the second piano concerto of Dmitri Shostakovich only to forget his place and stop, turning to the audience and quipping,"I don't even know where I am. I'm going to start all over again". He did, and with great triumph. His final public effort that same year was the "Concerto in F" in which it took all the urging of conductor Andre Kostelanetz to keep Levant from simply stopping mid-course and walking off stage. Levant prefaced his encores with the quip that he was "playing under the auspices of Mt. Sinai" (the high-profile Los Angeles hospital often patronized by the stars).
That statement was rather pathetically true. Along with real and imagined illnesses, Levant's mental state, always fragile at best, developed into classic stage fright. By this time he was long-addicted to prescription drugs and was in and out of the hospital on a regular basis. His faithful second wife of 33 years, actress/singer June Gale, had to commit him to mental institutions on several occasions. Yet Levant continued onward. There was a series of album recordings in the late 1950s. He made the rounds of a few prime-time game shows and late-night TV talk shows, particularly that of friend Jack Parr. Between 1958 and 1960 he had his own prime-time local Los Angeles TV show called "The Oscar Levant Show", which sometimes offered a rather subdued and intimate look at the restive mind of Levant. As a talk show with guests and Levant, usually ringed in a cloud from his chain smoking, playing impromptu pieces on the piano, it was inevitably canceled because of Levant's controversial monologues and off-color, inflammatory remarks about personalities. He wrote three memoirs: "A Smattering of Ignorance" (1940), "Memoirs of an Amnesiac" (1965) and "The Unimportance of Being Oscar" (1968), each incisive as well as outlandish in the context of Levant's lifelong self-analysis and skewed view of humanity. He increasingly retired from any sort of public exposure over the last decade of his life. A composer of vital and original music and an extraordinary individual in whatever interpretation one might use, Oscar Levant was one of the most intriguing entertainment enigmas of the 20th century.- Actor
- Soundtrack
Fourteen-year-old Reginald Lawrence Knowles was being readied to take his place with other relatives in the family bookbinding business (in Leeds) when he ran off to become an actor. He was inevitably brought back home, but he made good his second escape a few years later - his willful Knowles Yorkshire origin would not be denied. What stage experience he had amounted to a few seasons in regional theater, but he started in British sound films early (1932), calling himself Patric Knowles. He was the proverbial tall, dark and handsome type and headed for romantic lead roles. He rose slowly rose up the ranks of featured players in an array of 14 British films that included one of director Michael Powell's early successes, The Girl in the Crowd (1934). The last of his British efforts was Crown v. Stevens (1936) which, being a British Warner Bros. production, was scouted for the studio's Hollywood home base. This and a few previous films that year were lead vehicles for Knowles, and for this last he was recommended for a Hollywood contract. His first American effort was the big-screen soap opera Give Me Your Heart (1936) with notable Warner players, in which he played a noble cad. His chance for a more romantic introduction came later in the year with The Charge of the Light Brigade (1936), where he joined an already popular new Angle face, Errol Flynn. Knowles played his younger brother in this well received bit of revisionist historical drama.
Through the remainder of the 1930s Knowles had a few leads with second-tier featured stars, but more often he was second lead as strait-laced but engaging in comedies as well as dramas. There were other films with Flynn, most notably the classic The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) in which he played Will Scarlett (in bright red jerkin). Knowles was a licensed private pilot and during free time provided some white-knuckle moments for Flynn, whose on-screen derring-do cloaked several phobias including vertigo. Knowles preferred freelancing to the confinement of long contract associations--one means of dodging the pitfall of being typecast. He was at RKO to play - with great verve - the shallow and rich playboy on the ill-fated plane of Five Came Back (1939). At Twentieth Century-Fox he played - very effectively - one of the big brothers of the Morgan family in the classic How Green Was My Valley (1941). Of course, freelancing could also lead to typecasting. Knowles parked himself at Universal in 1943, condemned to play clean-up hero in its formula horror films, such as The Wolf Man (1941) and the less engaging Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943). He also had to endure straight man duty to the insipid antics of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, among other indignities suffered as a utility player at Universal.
He continued through the 1940s to 1951 with a mix of capable first and second lead roles with other studios, but that somewhat bored and deepening grimness on his face perhaps reflected frustration with typecast characters, as well as the realization that big fame would never come his way. He continued to be game, though, and fairly leaped at the new live playhouse theater phenomenon of early television. Along with one or two movies a year, he worked in this pioneering small screen theater starting in 1951. He also embraced episodic TV and made the rounds of the popular western and private eye shows of the period. Big- and small-screen work gradually tapered off for him through the 1960s. In the late part of the decade he was playing dignified military officers, such as Lord Mountbatten in the hit The Devil's Brigade (1968). He spent time doing college lecturing, commercials, and wrote a novel called "Even Steven." Retiring to the north end of the San Fernando Valley in Woodland Hills, Knowles was close to the Motion Picture Country Home in Calabasas, where he spent much time volunteering to help with the various functions provided for the many elderly show business people, many of whom had not been as fortunate as Knowles to have graced nearly 125 film efforts.- Though his number of film roles amount to a bit over 30, Paul Scofield has cast a giant shadow in the world of stage and film acting. He grew up in West Sussex, the son of a schoolmaster. He attended the Varndean School for Boys in Brighton. The love of acting came early. While still high school age, he began training as an actor at the Croydon Repertory Theatre School (1939) and then at the Mask Theatre School (1940) in London. He took on all the experience he could handle by joining touring companies and also entertained British troops during World War II. He joined the Birmingham Repertory Theatre and, from there in 1946, he moved to Stratford-upon-Avon. There, in the birthplace of William Shakespeare, he had his first great successes. He had the title role in "Henry V"; he was "Cloten" in "Cymbeline"; "Don Adriano de Armado" in "Love's Labour's Lost", "Lucio" in "Measure for Measure", and then "Hamlet". And there were many more as he honed himself into one the great Shakespearean actors of the 20th century. With a rich, sonorous voice compared to a Rolls Royce being started up, in one instance, and a great sound rumbling forth from an antique crypt in yet another, he was quickly compared to Laurence Olivier.
Scofield did not move on to commercial theater until 1949, when he took the lead role of "Alexander the Great", in playwright Terence Rattigan's unfortunately ill-received "Adventure Story". And as he continued theater work, he moved toward film very carefully. From his first in 1955, Scofield was always - as with any of his acting assignments - extremely picky about accepting a particular role. It was three years before his second film. Meanwhile, Scofield had the opportunity to play a great lead part in a new play by a schoolmaster-turned-new-playwright, Robert Bolt. The play was "A Man for All Seasons" and Scofield's choice role was that of "Sir Thomas More", the great English humanist and chancellor, who defied the ogre "King Henry VIII" in his wish to put aside his first wife for "Anne Bolyne". It was a once in a lifetime part, and Scofield debuted it in London in 1960. His only appearance on Broadway was the next year in that play, which ran into 1962. It was no surprise that the work began garnering awards for him (see Trivia below for details on theater and film awards).
He returned to Shakespeare in 1962 with Peter Brook, the noted British director and producer, directing him as "Lear" at the newly formed Royal Shakespeare Company (RSC) at Stratford. This was a pioneering minimalist production, one of the first "bare stage" efforts - though things were pretty bare stage in Shakespeare's day. Scofield then did "Coriolanus" and "Love's Labour's Lost" for the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, Ontario in 1963. His third film came six years after his second screen appearance (1958). This was his standout performance in The Train (1964), a production of his co-star, Burt Lancaster, that grew in size and budget with the entrance of Lancaster's second choice for director, John Frankenheimer. Some of the difficulties involved might have turned someone of Scofield's discipline back to the stage thereafter, but the filming of "Seasons" arrived, and he would hardly refuse. With Robert Bolt handling the screenplay and a superlative supporting cast, the film version of A Man for All Seasons (1966) collected some thirty-three international awards, including a three-statue sweep of prime-Oscar categories plus another three for good measure. Scofield was unforgettable as the incisive man of state, able to juggle the volatile politics of the time but always keep his honor and so brimming with faith as to endure the inevitably mounting tide against him.
It suited Scofield for a time to keep his screen-acting to adaptations of plays, books, and ensemble pieces fitted to the big screen. Peter Brook and he teamed again for a film version of the Brook-adapted play Tell Me Lies (1968). The adaptation of Herman Melville's Bartleby (1970), despite Scofield's efforts, did not wash as an attempt to update Melville's story in the late twentieth century. Then Brook was back again to finally attempt what he said had really never been done correctly -adapting Shakespeare to film. Scofield's 1962 "Lear" was held in high esteem, and Brook decided on a film version, King Lear (1970), an even more uncompromising, even uncomfortable, desolation staging and editing of the tragedy. Despite some oddball camera work and not wholly satisfying adapting of the play, Scofield was magnificent and got his chance to show that he is perhaps the best Lear of modern times. While still keeping a concerted interest in filmed play adaptations, Scofield could be lured into more typical screen drama. He joined former co-star, Burt Lancaster, for the spy thriller, Scorpio (1973), as a memorable Russian comrade of Lancaster from the days of World War II, caught in late-Cold War spy craft brutality.
Through the 1980s, Scofield did a mix of TV and film on both sides of the Atlantic. But he was drawn back to Shakespeare and filming efforts, though in humbler parts, first in the Henry V (1989) of ambitious Kenneth Branagh, as the French king, and, the next year, in the Franco Zeffirelli, Hamlet (1990), as "The Ghost" - with the real buzz being for Mel Gibson as the dour "Prince of Denmark". Both films were well-crafted with impressive supporting casts. And Scofield could be content that as with all his roles, he was remaining consistent with himself as his own best judge of how to challenge his acting gifts. Gibson was appropriately awed, saying that working with Scofield was like being "thrown into the ring with Mike Tyson" (that is, Mike Tyson then, not now). Through the 1990s, he enjoyed his continued sampling of all acting media, even radio narration and animation voice-over.
The matter of British actors weighing upon the acceptance of knighthoods for their work began most publicly with Scofield. In 1956, after his tour of "Hamlet" with a triumph in Moscow, he gratefully accepted the appointment as a Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE), but thereafter he refused on three occasions the offer of knighthood. "If you want a title, what's wrong with Mr.? If you have always been that, then why lose your title? "I have a title, which is the same one that I have always had. But it's not political. I have a CBE, which I accepted very gratefully". He said this with great simplicity and charm. The matter of 'theatrical nobility' has prompted others to follow Scofield's example. One high profile example with a twist is actor Anthony Hopkins, now an American citizen, who quipped that he only accepted the knighthood because his wife wanted him to do so. In taking the oath of citizenship, Hopkins pledged to "renounce the title of nobility to which I have heretofore belonged". But Scofield's demeanor in his logically crafted refusals from the first so fit this man's very private life. Yet quite averse to being interviewed, he has always been considerate to the public for their patronage. Brilliant man and acting legacy, on and off the stage, Paul Scofield truly is a "Man for All Seasons".