SLIFR Movie Quiz

It's that time of year again. The inimitable Dennis Cozzalio of Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule has published another SLIFR Movie Quiz, this time in honor of spring and Sister Clodagh. This is not your grandmother's movie quiz. Any time Dennis makes a quiz, it is a palm-sweating, pencil-breaking, wake-up-at-3AM-thinking-of-the-answer-you-should-have-given test of cinephilia. I've posted my answers in the comment section of his blog as per his rules but I thought I would post here too, to give my readers a chance to see them. And to invite you guys to visit Dennis's blog and post there too.

Ready? Here we go.

1) Favorite movie featuring nuns
Black Narcissus

2) Second favorite John Frankenheimer movie
The Manchurian Candidate (The more flawed but more fascinating Seconds is first.)

3) William Bendix or Scott Brady?
William Bendix

4) What movie, real or imagined, would you stand in line six hours to see? Have you ever done so in real life?
The restored version of The Magnificent Ambersons in its original cut and I can see that I'm not the only one.

5)Favorite Mitchell Leisen movie

Midnight

6) Ann Savage or Peggy Cummins?
Peggy Cummins (Savage is fantastic but Cummins in Gun Crazy is perfection.)

7) First movie you remember seeing as a child
Beauty and the Beast (1990)

8) What moment in a movie that is not a horror movie made you want to bolt from the theater screaming?
One of the combat scenes from Black Hawk Down, can't remember which, because I had a splitting headache and oh God, it was seizure-inducing.

9) Richard Widmark or Robert Mitchum?
Richard Widmark

10) Best movie Jesus
Robert Torti in Reefer Madness: The Movie Musical (2005) . For serious Jesus, I suppose I prefer the way his presence is handled in Ben-Hur.

11) Silliest straight horror film that you’re still fond of
I'm not really up to speed on true campy horror so I'll say The Fly (1958). 

12) Emily Blunt or Sally Gray?
Emily Blunt

13) Favorite cinematic Biblical spectacular
Ben-Hur. We watched it in my seventh-grade homeroom class, over the course of several days like a movie serial and I still say, big screens aside, that is the proper way to watch it. (Will Judah ever reunite with his family? Tune in tomorrow!)

14) Favorite cinematic moment of unintentional humor
Everyone and their accountant have made fun of this already but yes, the "I hate sand" dialogue from Attack of the Clones. 

15) Michael Fassbender or David Farrar?
Fassbender is a very attractive man and a fascinating talent no question, but David Farrar has three Powell and Pressburger classics to his credit. Advantage, Farrar. 

 
16) Most effective faith-affirming movie
Groundhog Day could  affirm pretty near any faith.

17) Movie that makes the best case for agnosticism
I've pondered this one for some time and come up blank.

18) Favorite song and/or dance sequence from a musical
For solo dance: Gene Kelly's "Singin' in the Rain"
For pair dancing: Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth, the "I'm Old Fashioned" number from You Were Never Lovelier
For dance as emotional narrative: The final dream sequence from Lili

19) Third favorite Howard Hawks movie
A tie between Ball of Fire and Rio Bravo.

20) Clara Bow or Jean Harlow?
Jean Harlow

 
21) Movie most recently seen in the theater? On DVD/Blu-ray/Streaming?
Theater--War Horse. On actual DVD--The Magnificent Ambersons. On streaming--Robocop.

22) Most unlikely good movie about religion
The Truman Show

23) Phil Silvers or Red Skelton?
I really don't have a horse in this race.

24) “Favorite” Hollywood scandal 
Favorite? The William Desmond Taylor murder remains one of the most fascinating, I guess.

25) Best religious movie (non-Christian)
Don't know about best, but I've loved Fiddler on the Roof since childhood.

26) The King of Cinema: King Vidor, King Hu or Henry King? (Thanks, Peter)
King Vidor

27) Name something modern movies need to relearn how to do that American or foreign classics had down pat 
Exposition, especially when it comes to pacing a film. Hollywood could learn so much from watching some of those good old snappy 70-minute programmers and how expertly they sum up the characters and the situation.

28) Least favorite Federico Fellini movie
Since I'm pledged to honesty, the only Fellini film I've seen is La Dolce Vita. You are now welcome to stone me to death with DVD copies of 8 1/2.

29) The Three Stooges (2012)—yes or no?
Not a Stooges fan.

30) Mary Wickes or Patsy Kelly?
Mary Wickes ("Dora, I suspect you're a treasure.")

31) Best movie-related conspiracy theory
All the theories about Walt Disney's corpse. Talk about random...

32) Your candidate for most misunderstood or misinterpreted movie
Network. How many times have we heard some pundit misappropriate the "I'm mad as hell speech" now?

33) Movie that made you question your own belief system (religious or otherwise)
Before watching The Unknown (1927), I was convinced I'd never wholeheartedly enjoy a 
silent film.

Well, that's all for now, folks. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some frantic film renting to do.

Farewell, Dick Clark

I played records, the kids danced, and America watched.

Dick Clark (1929-2012)

The Fascination Films

On my list of Indispensable Bloggers, there would be a place of honor for Greg Ferrara, who always manages to stir up the most thought-provoking film discussions. Just a casual glance at his posts for Movie Morlocks and I guarantee you'll find something to jolt your movie-lover's brain. Anyway, Greg's latest topic for Movie Morlocks is "I Half-Heartedly Recommend This Movie," about the films we sorta-kinda-maybe want our friends to see except for the fact that the good is matched with just enough bad to make it a little embarrassing. We all have movies like that.

But Greg's post got me thinking, not so much about mediocre films, but about what I think of as my "fascination films." Have you ever had that moment of walking down a street and suddenly swiveling your head to stare at someone, thinking, "Huh, they're not my type, maybe they're not even that attractive, but there's something there?" Some films I don't consider great, hell maybe I don't even like them all that much, but they fascinate me.

I'm not talking about the feeling of guilty pleasure as in, "Holy shit, guys, I'm starting to find myself actually invested in the love story of Samson and Delilah. Hold me." Nor am I talking about the nostalgia you feel for much-flawed, much-loved films of your childhood (which is where I'd put something like Desiree). I'm talking about the films that I find myself thinking about, weeks, even years afterward, possibly more than I think about genuinely better films. For example, The Ox-Bow Incident is a fantastic film, but I don't think I've given it half the mental space I've given to the muddled, murky Pursued.

What is it about these films that intrigues me? Do they hit some kind of emotional trigger? Am I drawn by their tantalizing possibilities or by their grating flaws? Well, before this post is lost in a sea of rhetorical questions, here's a look at some films I can't help but find...fascinating.

The Collector (1965)

I'll be tackling this one for an upcoming blogathon. The Collector is William Wyler's adaptation of the classic John Fowles novel about an insane, working-class butterfly collector and the beautiful posh girl he captures to make his own. It's got Terence Stamp  in a frightening performance as the creepy collector (the fact that Stamp can look so genuinely repulsive while at the height of his beauty is a feat in and of itself) and Samantha Eggar was never better. And of course it has Wyler, probably one of the greatest "actor's directors" that ever lived. But somehow, The Collector ends up stranded somewhere between a polished but airless film translation and a brilliant, gripping thriller. It's got far more subtlety and nuance than your average thriller yet, watching it, I can't help thinking that the film needed a director with more willingness to be lurid and animalistic and sexual. More like Nicholas Ray or Samuel Fuller. Something in Fowles' harsh, class-conscious novel doesn't translate to Wyler's reasoned, reserved style. And Maurice Jarre's goofy score just tears a gaping hole through the film's mood. And yet, I find this movie so compulsively watchable. If it only took that one step forward into being truly twisted, it would be a genuine classic.

Pursued (1947)

It's not every day you get to watch a Freudian Western noir. Not to mention one with Robert Mitchum as an amnesiac hero, Teresa Wright as his semi-incestuous love interest, and Judith Anderson as the stoic homesteader who adopts Mitchum. Hell, just trying to wrap your head around the idea of Judith Anderson in a Western is hard enough. The film's plot is so bizarre I don't dare summarize it (go watch it yourselves), but it is an oddly enjoyable film. Give credit to director Raoul Walsh and cinematographer James Wong Howe for making such an incredible mishmash of ideas into a coherent film. Howe's cinematography in particular; he manages to make the wide open vistas of New Mexico into a space as dark and cramped as any film noir alleyway. And I have to admit, I'm a sucker for Teresa Wright and watching my favorite cinematic good girl get all vengeful and seductive is a real treat. True, the Niven Busch script stumbles pretty badly at times, as if Busch really, really wanted to make this another Duel in the Sun and had to be forcibly restrained. But man, this film is a trip. If nothing else, it proves my theory that film noir and Westerns have always really been two sides of the same coin.

Stella Dallas (1937)

Ah, Stella Dallas. The film that's essentially required watching for any Barbara Stanwyck fan. I have to admit though, even as a Stanwyck fan, that this movie pisses me off. I don't like how ridiculously manipulative it is. I don't like the Jekyll-and-Hyde nature of Stanwyck's Stella (who is poised and attractive enough to charm a rich man into marrying her, but suddenly displays the taste and subtlety of a circus clown whenever the film wants her to be embarrassing). I don't like the way the film asks me to believe in the beauty and selflessness of the love between Stella and her daughter Laurel and then tries to tell me that Laurel could be so easily tricked into believing that her mother doesn't love her. Even Laurel's actress, Anne Shirley, said this was a load of crock and she had no sympathy for this ninny she was playing.

However, and I hate to admit it, there is a great deal of truth in Stella Dallas. There's Stella's anguish as she slowly comes to see herself as a burden. There's Laurel's teenage desperation as she practically hurls her long limbs off a stool in an attempt to keep her mother away from the boy she likes. There's the brittle condescension and forced "understanding" of the upper classes, when faced with their raucous inferiors. Unlike many critics, I don't think the film agrees with Stella's decision to abandon her daughter to a better life. I don't think this film even likes rich people that much. The movie looks at the American cultural divide of the time and sees it as a self-perpetuating tragedy. When it focuses on that and Stanwyck's performance, it's a sharp and heartbreaking film. If only the film didn't take such ham-handed methods to get us there.

Peter Ibbetson (1935)

Peter Ibbetson is that rarest of cinematic unicorns, a unique film. Peter Ibbetson (Gary Cooper) fell hopelessly in love with Mary (Ann Harding) when they were children and when they reunite, circumstances force them apart. Yet, through some kind of miracle, they find that they can meet together in each other's dreams, living out their pure, deathless love in their minds even as their bodies age. There was a flood of romantic fantasy film in the 40s (The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, Portrait of Jennie, A Matter of Life and Death, etc) that handled this kind of material with humor and longing and sophistication. But Peter Ibbetson, especially compared to other 30s films, is like a Victorian aunt that suddenly wandered out into a crowd of wisecracking showgirls. Mary becomes Peter's spiritual guide,  the symbol of absolute purity and devotion, essentially the Beatrice to his Dante. It's the kind of romantic ideal that's been pretty much killed stone-dead for the past century or so; nowadays we like our romances a little more human. And I can't really say I like Peter Ibbetson. Cooper and Harding are stiff as boards, the child actors are dreadful (and they call each other Gogo and Mimsey, no really) and outside of the dream sequences, the film doesn't really convey any kind of otherworldly charm. But it's the kind of film which compels me to ask people, "Have you seen it? What did you think?"

Marnie (1964)

Well, you all knew by my intro picture that this one was coming. A lot of critics like to call Vertigo Hitchcock's most personal film. But for me, this is the one that feels like it sprang fully forth from somebody's Id. All of the Hitchcock obsessions are here: blondes, Tippi Hedren, sadism, rape, traumatic memories, flashing colors, bad matte paintings, and a suspense plot that's more about attraction and repulsion than whether anyone actually commits evil. It's like Hitchcock had so much he wanted to say that he no longer cared whether his audience would follow his lead. The first time I saw Marnie, as a middle-schooler speeding my way through every Hitchcock film, I thought it was okay but a little off. The next time, I saw Marnie, I thought it was dreadful. And then the next time I saw it, I was completely enthralled. It's just that kind of film. Half the time I don't know whether I should be giggling or shuddering.

Robin Wood's famous salvo ("If you don't love Marnie, you don't love cinema") doesn't do the film any favors and my opinion of Hedren's performance sways with every passing breeze. And all that "red is the color of blood" imagery is even worse than the matte paintings. But even so, the film's incoherent passion and darkness and cruelty still give it the power to draw you in. The relationship between Marnie and Mark is one of the most fascinating in all of Hitchcock. And the character of Marnie herself, childish, sarcastic, cold and tormented, is compelling enough to defy any schlock psychology about frigid females. She's more interesting perhaps, than even Hitchcock knew.

While writing this post, I struck up a conversation with one of my co-workers and, hoping to get some inspiration from her, asked her if there were any films she found, not just good, not just bad, but fascinating. With a puzzled smile, she told me, "I don't feel that way about moves." To which I can only respond, like Barbara Stanwyck, "What a life!"

Movie Review: Death Takes a Holiday

Death Takes a Holiday (1934)
directed by Mitchell Leisen, starring Fredric March, Evelyn Venable

(Note: This is my entry for the March in March Blogathon, hosted by Jill at Sittin' on a Backyard Fence)

Our film begins on a moonlit night, as a group of reckless, laughing aristocrats race their cars down a winding mountain road. They are on their way to the villa of Duke Lambert (Sir Guy Standing). But as they round the corner, they realize that a dark shadow is following them. And not metaphorically. Trying to escape, they end up crashing into a flower seller's cart and as the petals rain down on them, they realize to their shock that everyone is alive and unharmed.

The guests reach the Duke's villa and go to bed. But then the Duke is awakened by that same mysterious shadow that chased the car. And when the shadow draws near, the Duke realizes that he is talking to the Angel of Death himself (Fredric March). Death tells the Duke how tired he is of being misunderstood and feared. So, in order to find out why men fear him so, he has decided to take human form for three days. He instructs the Duke to present him as Prince Sirki and not to tell the other guests what he really is.

And so, Death's holiday begins. He quickly charms and intrigues the Duke's guests, most especially the three young women, Rhoda (Gail Patrick), Alda (Katharine Alexander), and Grazia (Evelyn Venable). Rhoda and Alda, two sophisticated women of the world, vie for his attention but it's the sensitive, dreamy Grazia who seems most in sympathy with him. However, Grazia is already engaged to the Duke's son Corrado (Kent Taylor). Under the advice of Baron Cesarea (Henry Travers), Death tries his hand at gambling and pleasure-seeking, all without figuring out what life really means. He becomes convinced that love must be the answer to his question. If a woman could love him as he really was, look upon his true face without fear, then he will have what he wants. But is there such a woman? And if there is, does Death have the right to take her?

Well, if you are going to make a movie that posits that the meaning of life can be found by spending three days in the homes of fabulously glamorous aristocrats, Paramount would be the studio to do it. But pithy remarks aside, Death Takes a Holiday is one of the most unusual of that studio's glossy romances. Taken from a 1924 Italian play, the film is a modern-day fairy tale that examines what happens when the Reaper is tempted to put away his scythe. It's little surprise that the play was attractive to a post-World War I audience, still grappling with the question of how to pick up their lives again, with the specter hanging over them. The 1934 film is a little more distanced from this context, but it's still present and gives a lot more weight to the characters and their musings on the Great Beyond. There's an urgency behind all that glitzy partying.

While the film does toy with the fantastic possibilities of Death's vacation (people mysteriously pick themselves up after falling off building, flowers bloom in autumn, armies can no longer battle), it's more interested in how Death learns to interact with people. He is there as a student, finding out why these puny humans cling to life so desperately.  The fact that it's taken Death all of earthly existence to finally get around to answering this question does suggest our fatal angel is a little slow on the uptake, but no matter. It's a fable after all.

Director Mitchell Leisen has been steadily climbing his way up the auteur ladder these past few decades and Death Takes a Holiday makes a strong case for his talents. Leisen has a visual facility that can veer from lushly romantic to whimsical and strange with ease. The film's opening, with the racing cars, the pursuing shadow, and the falling flowers is a fantastic moment and sets the film's tone perfectly. The way Leisen uses that moving shadow (a surprisingly good visual effect for that time), letting it move in and out of the light, is brilliantly unsettling. And the way he films the set-piece of the villa gives it a grandeur and mystery straight out of Midsummer Night's Dream. Anything can happen here. 

Leisen's direction is interesting enough to make me wish he had jettisoned some of the play's more redundant speeches and concentrated even more on the visuals. Compare Death Takes a Holiday to Jean Cocteau's Orphée and it shows clearly how the image of a man stepping through a mirror can say much more than five speeches on the meaning of life and death. But that's a fault of the original script, not Leisen, and it's his talents, both with visuals and with actors, that carry this film.

Death Takes a Holiday  rests on the shoulders of Fredric March, who must convey Death, both as a concept, and as a sympathetic hero. The film's creators must have taken a close look at Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde when casting March, because his role here draws on the same elements: the combination of dark, inhuman menace and painful longing. In his first appearance, Death is shown only as a floating black specter; March does a lot here with just his voice and it's surprisingly brilliant. Instead of the deep, booming tones you might expect for the Angel of Death, March sounds surprisingly light and cordial as he explains to Duke Lambert why he want to be human. When he suddenly reminds us of his inhumanity ("What could terror mean to me, who have nothing to fear?"), he's all the more unsettling. 

In fact, I'd have to say that it's March's vocal performance I was struck with the most; he has the ability to switch from imperious to humorous to distant to pleading. Few actors of 1934 could sound so convincing as they argue just why they want to lead a beautiful young woman to her grave. Nobody is as lonely as Death after all. March's physical mannerisms are stiffer and less interesting (I'm going to go on record here that unless you're Erich von Stroheim, a monocle never does an actor any favors) and having to tear through many weighty, philosophical speeches is a stumbling block even for his abilities. But it's still a tribute to March that he manages to make Death a person without turning him into a human being.

As Death takes on the mysteries of life, he asks Henry Travers for a little advice. "I came here looking for a game worth playing," he tells him, "but what you do with yourselves still seems so very futile and empty." "There are only three games," Travers tells him. "Love, money, and war." Is it any surprise to a Hollywood audience that Death decides to find meaning in love? (Although a movie in which Death discovers the meaning of life through winning the stock market or blowing people to bits sounds pretty entertaining as well.) In the quest for that love and in true fairy tale fashion, he tests each of the three young women of the house in turn. It makes the romance feel more distanced and abstract than we might want it to be but it also gives the film a nicely creepy tone. What exactly does it mean for a young woman to fall in love with Death?

Evelyn Venable, whose sweet, regular features look like they came straight out of a Victorian postcard, is best remembered as the voice of The Blue Fairy in Pinocchio. Here, as the love interest Grazia, she's quite convincing as an innocent, dreamy girl who seems to be yearning after something bigger than what life can bring her. She uses that beautiful, fluting voice of hers (a little like Eliza Doolittle, post-education) to great effect in her scenes with March, giving Grazia an out-of-the ordinary quality that makes his interest and her fate believable. Her character's attraction to Death can be taken as a sign that love can cross all boundaries. Or it can be seen, disturbingly, as a metaphor for a beautiful, sensitive girl being slowly drawn to suicide. The film leaves it open to be interpreted either way, but the suggestion of tragedy to the Grazia character gives the film a fascinating new element (not surprisingly, the modern remake made her a much more straightforward love interest).

The film's compressed storyline (only 79 minutes and much of it told through abstract speeches) means that most of the other characters fail to resonate strongly. This is a pity because it's quite a talented cast, including Henry Travers as a loveable mentor, Gail Patrick as a sharp, funny romantic prospect (her battle with Katharine Alexander for March's attention is one of the film's comic high points), and Sir Guy Standing as the world's most harried host. It's really a missed opportunity since if Death is going to spend his precious three days in one place with the same group of people, we want these people to be truly memorable and exciting.

A while back, in my New Year's meme, I asked people to name a classic film that deserved a remake (Judging by most people's response to the question, I might as well have asked if Pearl Harbor was this generation's Casablanca). I make no secret of the fact that I support remakes, when they're done with a spirit of affection and creativity. And Death Takes a Holiday is just the kind of classic I was thinking of when I asked that question. It's an irresistible premise, a modern-day fairy tale that can be taken in whatever comedic, fantastic, or romantic direction its director wants. Here, under Mitchell Leisen's direction, it becomes a fascinating, uneasy blend of stage comedy and dark fantasy, a classic with just enough flaws to warrant reinterpretation. No wonder Martin Brest would lavish three hours on the Brad Pitt remake, Meet Joe Black. And no wonder the original play has been retooled into a musical; the rambling, philosophical characters were halfway to bursting into song already.

So far however, no remake has really come around to knock the original out of first place. The Brest film is more conventionally romantic, the musical is more openly comedic, but the original film remains the most daring and beguiling of the three. Helped in no small part by the commanding performance of Fredric March, it's a movie that lingers in the memory. Right down to a conclusion that is either comforting or horrifying, depending on your point of view. By all means, go check it out.

Favorite Quote: 

"I wish that we may never meet when you are less beautiful and I must be less kind."

Favorite Scene:

For me, the moment which best encapsulates the film is the love scene between Death and Alda. Alda is a smart, attractive woman and her Cheshire Cat grin speaks for a pretty satisfactory life. But the mystery of this handsome, foreign prince has completely overwhelmed her and she goes to him and offers love. Death warns her that she would turn away from him if she knew what he really was. "Try me?" Alda offers. (In spite of her limited screen time, Katharine Alexander manages to convey a sense of real intelligence and yearning in Alda that makes you want her to succeed). "Look into my eyes," Death snaps at her, holding her close. "I will you to know what I am!" March's features darken and blur into something sinister. The love slowly drains from Alda's face and her voice rises in utter terror. "No, no, I want to live!" she screams, running away from him to throw herself into a friend's arms. Alda can't explain what has happened to her but something in her, some instinct of survival, has revolted. With the best intentions in the world, she's still only human. The film never quite answers the question of whether Alda's fear or Grazia's willing surrender is the right response to Death. But we can make up our own minds about that.

Final Six Words: 

Glittering, troubled tale of fantastic redemption

Final image credited to Old Hollywood Tumblr

The 7x7 Link Award

Well, the weather's been cold and wet where I am, but what does that matter when the sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love? The acid bath of disappointments and despair known as Oscar season is finally over (For the record, I had no special horses in that race, but I was pleased to see Christopher Plummer finally get his Oscar). I don't know about you guys, but I know I breathe a little sigh of relief when the Academy Awards are over and movie criticism can go back to being fun again.

But just because the film industry's award season is fraught with more tension than the tape holding up some of those starlets' dresses doesn't mean that awards can't be fun. The brilliant and beautiful Karen over at shadowsandsatin has nominated me for a 7x7 Link Award! Anybody who follows this blog knows that I am shamelessly happy to win anything and to get it from someone like Karen, who writes so beautifully about noir, pre-Codes, and film performance, well, that's a special treat. I would apologize for responding late but since Karen herself took a month, I figure it can't be wrong to follow my hostess' fashionably late lead.

That said, let's take a look at this award.

The rules of this award are as follows:

• Tell everyone something that no one else knows about
• Link to one of my posts that I personally think best fits the following categories: Most Beautiful Piece, Most Helpful Piece, Most Popular Piece, Most Controversial Piece, Most Surprisingly Successful Piece, Most Underrated Piece, and Most Pride-worthy Piece
• Pass this award on to seven other bloggers

Well, I'll do my best.

Something that no one else knows about: And we jump right into Truth or Dare territory. Huh. Well, okay. It took me a full year to work up the courage to start writing my own blog. I lurked around for quite a while, pouring over other people's reviews and discussions before finally saying to myself, "Look, you're already writing this stuff in your head, just go ahead and do it."

Now, for the linking!

Most Beautiful Piece: In terms of visual beauty (which is a whole lot easier to judge than the beauty of the prose), I think my screencap-heavy post on Letter to Three Wives for the Fashion in Film Blogathon wins that prize. That post was an anomaly for me as I usually don't rely so much on images or on plot summary but it was incredibly fun to do. You can't argue with about twenty different views of Linda Darnell, can you?

No you can't.

Most Helpful Piece: Helpful? I'm a little confused. I can't think of much on this blog that's helpful as opposed to simply entertaining. Err, my news posts, I guess.

Most Popular Piece: According to my hit count and by a very wide margin, my hasty and not very planned-out post on Veronica Lake is the one that's pulling in the viewers. That was one of my earlier posts, an attempt to sort out a muddled fascination with an unhappy but unforgettable star. And as always happens, whenever I write about a performer, I always end up feeling incredibly fond of them. I'll have to test the limits of that someday and write about Wallace Beery or Rex Harrison.

Most Controversial Piece: Now, you've really stumped me. I'm a classic film blogger, how much controversy could I possibly attract? I suppose for lack of an alternative, I'll put up my post on Citizen Kane because well, it did heat things up to the level of a polite debate in the comments section.

Most Surprisingly Successful Piece: I was a little surprised at how much response I got for my post on great screen teams that never were. I guess I'm not the only one that enjoys thinking about what might have been.

Most Underrated Piece: It's one of the quirks of blogging that many times the more you say, the less you'll get in response. My review of Pandora and the Flying Dutchman was one of my wordiest and most difficult-to-write movie reviews. Yet reader interest was...lacking. Still, it's a piece I'm proud of.

Most Pride-worthy Piece: I think I will give the nod to my review of I Walked with a Zombie. Not because it's my best piece (not by a long shot) but it was the first post I ever did for this blog. The first step's always the hardest.

And now for the fun part, tagging seven other bloggers! Hopefully, this will lead to more traffic for each of these brilliant blogs. If I tag you and you'd rather not participate, I won't feel offended. My tagging is meant in a spirit of fun and affection, not obligation. If you do accept the award, great! 

Krell Laboratories: I am in continual awe of Vulnavia's ability to write thoughtful, creative posts every time. I've been reading her blog for over a year now and I've yet to catch her ever phoning it in.

Who Can Turn the World Off With Her Smile?: Laura's one of my favorite bloggers. Witty, whimsical, and always original. If you aren't following her, then what are you waiting for?

Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear: Nate, any time you want to organize another blogathon, I'll be there in a shot.

In the Mood: I thought I was a Barbara Stanwyck fan, but Natalie leaves me in the dust. But she's more than a fan, she's also an enthusiastic and generous writer. Always look forward to her thoughts.

Sittin' on a Backyard Fence: It's probably a good sign when you start reading someone's blog and your first response is, "Wow, where have you been all my (blogging) life?"

Tales of the Easily Distracted: Dorian's one of the funniest and smartest reviewers out there, as well as one of the kindest commenters I've ever had.

Garbo Laughs: Welcome back, Caroline! We've missed you.

Happy (belated) Valentine's Day, everyone!

I know it's a bit late for Valentine's posts but the idea came to me and I just couldn't resist it. I've been thinking lately that what we classic film geeks could really use (you know aside from money for film preservation and more big-screen venues for classic film showings and more DVD releases, etc.) is a personality quiz tailored to our needs. I'm a sucker for personality quizzes, but sadly, most of them are along the lines of "What Elemental Dragon Are You" and while that's cute and all, it gets old fast.

So, because it was Valentine's, I had the idea to just write up my own quiz, asking film geeks a series of romantic questions, geared at finding out which classic film director's movies best describe their romantic personality. I would have preferred to just post it up here on the blog but for now, Quizilla is still the most convenient host for personality quizzes. So, if you're interested, here's a link and here's the quiz description:

The Auteur's Guide to Romance

Here's a personality quiz for classic film lovers (and lovers in general). Which classic film director's movies best describe your romantic personality? Are your dark, twisted romances like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock film? (For your sake, we hope not.) Or are you more like a fast-talking, flirty Howard Hawks character? For the relatively few people who have ever pondered this question, this quiz is for you. (Note: This quiz is meant in fun. Any hasty generalizations were made intentionally.)

If you do take the quiz, by all means come by and post your result. And yes, I did take the quiz myself and it turns out I'm a Hawks-Romantic. Huh. Wasn't expecting that one.

Happy Valentine's, you guys! And rest assured that I will be getting back to the land of in-depth reviews and discussions soon. I don't plan on hanging out in meme-land forever, nice and fluffy as it is.

The Classic Film Survey (from Frankly, My Dear)

I know I'm incredibly late on this one, but the fantastic Rianna over at Frankly, My Dear has come up with a new fifteen-question movie meme. Rianna's always been a thoughtful and generous commenter for this blog and I love reading about her own cinematic enthusiasms. So, I'm just going to push up my sleeves and answer this one, tardiness be damned. Anyone who's interested, go over to Rianna's blog and give a link to your answers as well.

1. Favorite classic Disney?

Looking back on it, it's a toss-up between Fantasia and Sleeping Beauty. I haven't seen Fantasia in ages but it was the film that really got me started on classic music as a kid and I loved it even then.  It's ambitious and complicated and it lets you see the best animators in the world just feeling their way through some of the greatest scores ever written. But Sleeping Beauty just has such an elegant animation style and the use of Tchaikovsky is perfect and the villainess is unforgettable. Granted that our main heroine has no personality (even by classic Disney heroine standards) but she has the beautiful voice of Mary Costa to make up for it.

2. Favorite film from the year 1939?

Surprisingly, this one didn't take me that long to decide. Ninotchka, definitely. How can you resist Garbo laughing? And getting drunk on champagne? And buying hats that look like this? And falling for Melvyn Douglas while he rambles on about snail sex (I'm not kidding about that one)? But aside from Garbo's magnificence, it's witty, it's romantic and it gives me a high every time I watch it.

3. Favorite Carole Lombard screwball role? 

I know I should give the nod to My Man Godfrey or To Be Or Not to Be, as the high water marks of Lombard's comic brilliance. But my heart belongs to Nothing Sacred and Lombard and March circling each other for a knockout punch. And Carole looks heart-stopping in Technicolor.

4. Favorite off-screen couple? (It's ok if it ended in divorce.)

It's the rule of Hollywood romance that the best marriages are the ones you hear least about (with the obvious exception of Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward). Being of a house cat temperament myself, I tend to like the stable, long-lived romances like Frances Dee and Joel McCrea or James and Gloria Stewart. But to my own astonishment, after reading Lee Server's excellent Ava Gardner biography, I got really caught up in the romance of Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner. In real life, I would have been scared to get within a hundred feet of their plate-throwing romance. But on the page, they broke my heart. Those crazy, mixed-up kids, they really loved each other rotten.

5. Favorite pair of best friends (i.e: Barbara Stanwyck and Joan Crawford)

I don't like to poach on Laura's territory, but for me, the friendship between Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee just warms my not-so-frostbitten heart. I'll let Christopher Lee sum it up:

"I don't want to sound gloomy, but, at some point of your lives, every one of you will notice that you have in your life one person, one friend whom you love and care for very much. That person is so close to you that you are able to share some things only with him. For example, you can call that friend, and from the very first maniacal laugh or some other joke you will know who it is at the other end of that line. We used to do that with him so often. And then when that person is gone, there will be nothing like that in your life ever again."

6. Favorite actor with a mustache?

Well there's Clark Gable of course and Vincent Price and Don Ameche and others. But since I already mentioned Ninotchka, I can't resist slipping Melvyn Douglas into this slot. Hardly anyone's idea of a cult actor but the man deserves more respect. Dry-humored, intelligent, and quite the gentleman in real life. He also gave us Illeana Douglas, an actress who follows the family tradition of being quietly excellent wherever she is.

7. Favorite blonde actress?

Dammit, all these favorite actor/actress questions are going to have me waking up at 3AM in a cold sweat, muttering to myself. So please bear in mind that my answers are subject to change and whim. Honorable mentions go to Meryl Streep, Simone Signoret, Jean Harlow, Angela Lansbury, and Veronica Lake. And Joan Bennett, even if she technically becomes a favorite once she hits her brunette stage. But today, I'll give the honors to Kathleen Turner. The woman who gave one of my all-time favorite performances in Romancing the Stone. Still sexy, still ballsy, and still completely unlike anyone else.

8. Favorite pre-code?

Actual favorite pre-code is It Happened One Night but I'm going to say The Bitter Tea of General Yen in the hopes that more people will see it. Bizarre, beautiful, and unique film.

9. Which studio would you have liked to join?  

This really depends on era for me. If we're talking early 30s, then it's glitzy, ditzy Paramount all the way. In the 1940s, I think my sentimental fondness is for that ambitious upstart 20th Century Fox. By the 1950s though, I'm hightailing it to United Artists (well before Heaven's Gate appears on the horizon). One thing's for sure, I'm staying far, far away from Columbia and the dreaded Harry Cohn.

10. Favorite common on-screen pairing that SHOULD have gotten married?

I don't know about "should," but I sometimes wonder if Henry Fonda and Barbara Stanwyck might have been better for each other than the people they actually married.

11. Favorite I Love Lucy episode? 

I'm really, really tempted to lie here but I never watched it enough to really bother with favorites. Let me recompense you with a picture of Lucille Ball looking gorgeous.

12. Lucille Ball, Audrey Hepburn, Katharine Hepburn, Natalie Wood, Grace Kelly, Ingrid Bergman and Greer Garson - which one do you like best?

What a line-up! I'm imagining it sort of like the Kentucky Derby now, with the two Hepburns and Bergman battling it out in front of the pack. A tough race to call, but ultimately, I think my loyalty lies with Miss Katharine Hepburn. The most maddening of them all, in every sense of the word.

13. Shadowy film noir from the 1940's or splashy colorful musicals from the 1950's?

There's some musicals I'd hate to give up but for me, film noir is, to co-opt Humphrey Bogart's words, "the stuff that dreams are made of."

14. Actor or actress with the best autograph (photo preferred)

I never pay much attention to classic film star signatures (except to pause and mourn the slow death of beautiful cursive writing), but I have to say, I love Gloria Grahame's looping G's.

15. A baby (or childhood, or teenage) photo of either your favorite actress or actor (or both, if you'd like.)

Here, have a picture of Jimmy Stewart on a tricycle.

Thanks so much for the meme, Rianna! I enjoyed this a lot.