Reviews

At the beginning of the last century, Germany was one of the primary powers in the movie industry. Babelsberg, for example, was the oldest film studio in the world. But it all ended in the 1930s when Adolf Hitler and the Nazis came to power. Many leading moviemakers fled to the United States, where directors like Ernst Lubitsch, Michael Curtiz and Fritz Lang went on to have long, solid careers. After the war, it took years for the German film industry to recover. It wasn't until the '70s that directors like Werner Herzog, Wim Wenders and Rainer Werner Fassbinder began to make memorable pictures in the country again.

In 1972, Werner Herzog started writing a new film. Its central character is a man leading a group of Spanish conquistadors down the Amazon River, searching for El Dorado - the legendary city of gold. And the work proceeded at a furious pace. Herzog has said that he wrote the screenplay "in a frenzy" in two-and-a-half days. The script was completed during a 200-mile bus trip with Herzog's football team.

Unlike most Hollywood films today, the entire "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" was made on location. In this case, on the Amazon River in the middle of the Peruvian rainforest. "Aguirre" was also unusual in another way. The film was shot in chronological order, as Herzog believed that the actors' progress on the river should directly mirror the Spanish explorer's journey in the story. And in Klaus Kinski, the director had found a charismatic actor who dominated every scene he was in. In "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" that was pretty much all of them.

Although the film is based on what is known about the historical figure Lope de Aguirre, Werner Herzog later admitted that the storyline actually is a work of fiction. In any case, "Aguirre, the Wrath of God" was enthusiastically received by a collective body of critics. Both in Germany and later also internationally. The movie has even been included on Time magazine's list of the "All-Time Best Films".

In 1929, the English novelist Christopher Isherwood moved to Berlin. As a young gay man, he was fascinated by the German capital's orgiastic cabarets and the city's libertine nightlife. Isherwood socialised primarily with a coterie of expatriate writers, including Stephen Spender, W. H. Auden and Paul Bowles, but he also interacted with many outcasts and marginalised Berliners. During this time, the author met the 19-year-old British flapper Jean Ross. And she, of course, was the young lady who would become world-famous as "Sally Bowles" in Christopher Isherwood's autobiographical novel "Goodbye to Berlin" some years later.

It soon became apparent that many people had been profoundly impacted by Christopher Isherwood's book. In 1951, it was brought to life on Broadway as the play "I Am a Camera". Fifteen years later, the text was transformed into a glitzy musical entitled "Cabaret". It was precisely this version that the young choreographer Bob Fosse saw and decided to bring to the silver screen. And fortunately, his vision included the extraordinaire talented Liza Minelli in the lead role.

Bob Fosse decided early on to focus the film on the venue where Sally Bowles performs. He wanted to use the "Kit Kat Klub" as a metaphor for the decadence of the Weimar Republic in the 1930s. Therefore, the director deleted most of the musical numbers staged outside the club. The only exception is a scene in a rural beer garden towards the end of the film. There, a young boy dressed as a Hitler Youth suddenly starts singing a militant Nazi anthem.

The movie was a massive success at the box office. And it was an even bigger triumph at the 45th Academy Awards. "Cabaret" won eight Oscars. One statuette went to director Bob Fosse and another to leading lady Liza Minelli. The film also "boasts" of another record. "Cabaret" is the picture that has won the most Oscars, without also grabbing the Best Picture award ("The Godfather" won that).

In 1937, the world-famous Danish author Karen Blixen wrote an autobiographical novel about the 18 years she spent running a huge coffee plantation in Kenya. Many directors, including David Lean and Nicolas Roeg, had "Out of Africa" on their to-do lists. Even Orson Welles was fascinated by the book. In fact, the celebrated filmmaker already had inquired if Greta Garbo was interested in playing the lead. However, nothing happened until the head of Universal Pictures asked Sydney Pollack to adapt Baroness Blixen's story into a film.

The director initially envisioned Audrey Hepburn as the Danish writer, but when she said no, the role went to Meryl Streep instead. She learned Karen Blixen's accent by listening to recordings of the author reading her own works. The male lead then went to Robert Redford, an actor Sidney Pollack had already worked with in several films. The third major role was played by Klaus Maria Brandauer, who had impressed Pollack with his performance in "Never Say Never Again".

The movie's production designer spent a year in a suburb of Nairobi, where Universal Pictures built a replica of the city circa 1913. Local craftsmen erected an old-style hotel, some government buildings, a church, a marketplace and a full-scale railway station. Sydney Pollack then arranged for some lions to be imported from California. This was essential, as the ones found in Africa weren't trained to "act". Unfortunately, one of the shackled lions didn't react fiercely enough when confronting Meryl Streep. According to rumor, Pollack immediately ordered the animal to be released.

The movie's length, 150-minutes, limited the number of plays each day, dampening the revenue potential. Still, "Out of Africa" was a critical hit and a solid performer at the box office. At the Academy Awards that year, the film was nominated for eleven Oscars, winning in the categories Best Picture, Best Directing and Best Writing.

Samuel Bronston was something of an oddball, even within the notoriously eccentric world of show business. Born in Russia in 1908, he immigrated to the United States at the age of 30. Bronston settled in Hollywood, where he made a lot of important contacts in the film industry. Ten years later, he moved to Spain. After securing investments from a couple of local banks, Bronston had a vast studio complex built in the town of Las Rozas, outside Madrid. His plan was to start producing a series of spectacular movies, involving massive casts and giant sets.

One of Samuel Bronston's first projects was to tell the story of the Boxer Rebellion in China in 1900. There was just one problem. Hundreds of extras with Chinese appearance were needed to make the movie believable. Bronston, therefore, advertised in various newspapers for people who fit the description. In the end, he hired so many Asian waiters that it was impossible to find an open Chinese restaurant in Spain while the movie was being made.

To everyone's surprise, Samuel Bronston refused to use miniatures or matte paintings during the filming of "55 Days at Peking." Instead, he insisted that all the sets be built to a life-size scale, regardless of the cost. Bronston then hired Nicholas Ray to manage the movie. But that didn't work out so well. The famous director's vision for the film clashed starkly with Bronston's. After several weeks of constant quarrelling, Nicholas Ray, therefore, was ordered to leave the set. Even though the work on the movie was far from completed.

Sadly, "55 Days at Peking" was a commercial disaster in the United States. Samuel Bronston had produced the movie on a hefty budget of $10 million, but it only earned half that amount in theatrical rentals. Since his next big project, "The Fall of the Roman Empire", also bombed at the box office, Samuel Bronston went bankrupt. He never managed to make another picture again.

In the early 1930s, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was a professor of Anglo-Saxon studies at Oxford University. In his spare time, he amused himself by writing fantastic stories for his four young children. One of these tales, "The Hobbit", was read by an English publisher who suggested Tolkien make the story available in book form. To everyone's surprise, the novel became a huge success (the first edition sold out in less than a month). So, the publisher asked Tolkien to write a sequel, which the professor grudgingly agreed to. But it wasn't easy. Almost twenty years would pass before Tolkien was able to complete his work. By now, the book was called "The Lord of the Rings".

Bringing Tolkien's masterpiece to the screen proved to be more difficult than anyone could have imagined. After several years of negotiations, United Artists managed to buy the rights to "The Lord of the Rings" in 1976. Animator Ralph Bakshi then produced a film that covered the first half of the trilogy. But that's where it stopped. The work was suspended indefinitely after scores of disappointed fans complained that Bakshi's version didn't really match Tolkien's original story.

Fortunately, things improved when Peter Jackson took over. The New Zealander had just formed his own special effects company and together with his technicians he was able to conjure up all the orcs, hobbits and goblins Tolkien's story is filled with. And, of course, the breathtaking landscape of New Zealand helped. It transported the audience to a remote fantasy world where anything could happen.

Still, everyone's nerves were on edge before the film's premiere. After all, the Internet was abuzz with people who complained about all the changes Peter Jackson had made to their beloved trilogy. Fortunately, there was no need to worry. As "The Lord of the Rings" opened in London, New York and Los Angeles, it was evident that the picture was a huge success. Consequently, even the die-hard Tolkien fans turned out in droves.

People were surprised when it was announced that Eric Liddell would run the 100-metre race for Great Britain at the 1924 Paris Olympics. After all, the 22-year-old Scotsman was something of an oddball. Born in China, where his parents worked as missionaries, he was also profoundly religious himself. As if that wasn't enough, Liddell decided to drop out when it became clear that his heat would be held on a Sunday. However, the youngster was given a chance to compete in the 400-metre instead. And despite never having tried the distance before, Eric Liddell beat a whole group of favorite American runners and won the competition in commanding style.

Years later, English producer David Puttnam happened to read about Liddell. He realized that the athlete's achievement would make an excellent basis for a movie. A story about a man who follows his conscience, even if the price for his actions might be grave. Puttnam also understood that the film had to be cast with relatively unknown actors. He didn't want the audience to have any preconceived notions about the guys who would portray Liddell and his fellow runners.

Since the film's male leads, Ian Charleson and Ben Cross were not natural athletes, David Puttnam hired an Olympic trainer to prepare them for their roles. Under his professional guidance, the two young actors ran several hours daily for three months. Then, Puttnam took a really bold leap and asked the completely unknown Greek composer, Vangelis Evangelos, to score the movie.

The film, now named "Chariots of Fire", had its world premiere in London in September 1981. David Puttnam expected that the domestic audience would be more receptive to the movie's narrative than the American cinemagoers would be. And the plan worked. After its success in the United Kingdom, the picture was invited to open the New York Film Festival. After that, it was obvious that "Chariots of Fire" was on its way to becoming a major, international box office hit.

One day in the spring of 1919, Jesse Lasky, head of production at Famous Players-Lasky, stood at the window at his Broadway office, watching a ticker-tape parade on the street below. Thousands of people had come out to pay their respects to Alvin York, a brave young farmer from Tennessee. During World War I, Sergeant York had led an attack on a German machine gun nest, killing 25 enemy soldiers and capturing 132 prisoners. For this, he was awarded the distinguished Medal of Honour and several other military decorations. When the conflict was finally over, Alvin York was one of the most decorated American soldiers in modern times.

Jesse Lasky immediately decided to buy the movie rights to Alvin York's story. There was "only" one problem: York didn't want to sell. It would take twenty long years of persuasion before he finally changed his mind. And it was only because a new war was on the horizon that Lasky was able to convince the old soldier that people ought to hear what he had to say. To understand that Alvin York's tale of bravery could inspire other young men to start serving their country as well.

But Alvin York had specific demands that had to be met if the film was to be made. First, the profoundly religious Southerner required that his profits should be used to pay for a Bible school back home. Second, York wanted to be portrayed by none other than Gary Cooper (one of the biggest stars of the time). Luckily, Cooper was more than willing to be a part of the upcoming movie.

Quite surprisingly, "Sergeant York" was a big hit at the box office. Then, while the movie was still playing in the cinemas, the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor occurred. An event that further contributed to the film's success. In retrospect, it turned out that the highly patriotic theme of "Sergeant York" helped recruit a lot of new soldiers to the United States Army. In fact, many young men went directly from their local movie theaters to the nearest military enlistment office.

Sam Peckinpah got his first job in Hollywood when director Don Siegel hired him as an assistant while making "Riot in Cell Block 11". And apparently the young man liked his new profession. Peckinpah made four more movies with Siegel before he, in 1962, got the chance to direct one of his own. "Ride the High Country" initially went unnoticed, but that changed when "Newsweek" placed the film on its annual ten-best list. Unfortunately, Peckinpah was unable to follow up on the success. After several exhausting arguments with producers and crew-members, he was considered impossible to co-operate with. Sam Peckinpah's career seemed to be over before it had even begun.

The director was banned from Hollywood for three whole years. In the meantime, he made a living working as a script writer for American television instead. Then, in the spring of 1968, Peckinpah finally got a second chance. Warner Brothers urgently needed someone to step in and direct a low-budget Western they were making in Mexico. The film was called "The Wild Bunch", and Peckinpah immediately accepted the offer.

The gruelling shoot took place outside the town of El Rosario, Sinaloa, with a budget of $3 million. To everyone's surprise, Peckinpah didn't use any storyboards but came to the sets every morning with a few crude sketches on the back of his script pages. After 80 days of relentless work, though, the heat, sandstorms and intense tension had almost broken down the entire crew. In addition, the picture was now estimated to cost twice as much as it was budgeted for.

The problems didn't end there. At the premiere in Kansas City, more than 30 people left the cinema, disgusted by the graphic violence on the silver screen. In retrospect, however, most critics have reevaluated the movie. It is now considered to be a provocative recasting of a classic genre. In 2008, the American Film Institute named "The Wild Bunch" as one of the greatest Westerns ever made.

Alistair MacLean was 19 years old when he was drafted into the British Royal Navy in 1941. World War II was raging, and MacLean took part in the Allied attempt to overtake the German-held islands in the Aegean Sea. The fighting was fierce off Leros, where the Germans had stationed two gigantic artillery guns. Luckily, MacLean survived the ordeal. After being discharged from the Navy in 1945, he began to write instead. And he drew inspiration from his dramatic war experiences in one of his first novels. The book was called "The Guns of Navarone".

As the novel became an international bestseller, the major studios in Hollywood soon came knocking. In 1961, producer Carl Foreman bought the rights to "The Guns of Navarone". He wanted William Holden to play the lead, but when the star requested $1M to do the role, negotiations broke down. Instead, the part was offered to Gregory Peck for half that amount. Peck accepted after being guaranteed a percent of the movie's gross as a consolation.

Finding a suitable director turned out to be just as tricky. The first name on Carl Foreman's list was Alexander Mackenzie. The Englishman had made films like "Whisky Galore" and "Ladykillers" so he certainly seemed promising. However, it quickly became apparent that Mackenzie wasn't suited for an action-packed war movie like "The Guns of Navarone". Instead, the grizzled old veteran Lee Thompson was called in. And now it looked like all the pieces were falling into place.

Rumors soon began to circulate in Hollywood that Carl Foreman had something big in the works over in Europe. Columbia Pictures therefore decided to release the film in Great Britain first, hoping that this would arouse the interest of audiences in the United States. And the gamble paid off. "The Guns of Navarone" became a huge box office success. Thanks to his percentage of the gross, it also became Gregory Peck's most financially rewarding movie.

One early morning in October 1991, a strong wind blew up off the Atlantic coast of Nova Scotia, Canada. As the blustery weather moved into warmer waters, the system developed into a tropical storm. And worse was to come. A few days later, the northeaster grew into a fully-fledged hurricane, producing winds of 75 miles per hour (120 km/h) with catastrophic results. Several people were swept out to sea and drowned. Tragically, the commercial fishing vessel "Andrea Gail" and her six-man crew were right in the middle of the inferno.

These events were depicted by Sebastian Junger in his 1997 non-fiction novel "The Perfect Storm". As the book became a huge international best-seller, Hollywood soon came knocking. So, no one was surprised when Warner Brothers declared that they had acquired the rights to the material. Directed by Wolfgang Petersen, and starring George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg, "The Perfect Storm" began shooting at the Warner Brothers' studio in Burbank, California, in 2000.

Even if not everyone at the studio knew it, this was the "holy ground" at Warner Brothers. At Stage 16, "The Old Man and the Sea" had been made forty years earlier. But now there was another movie to prepare. Before work on "The Perfect Storm" could begin, though, the crew had to build a seventy-foot replica of Andrea Gail. The vessel was then placed on a giant gimbal so its motions could be controlled by computers. Finally, wind machines, wave makers and water canons were used to bring the devastating storm of the movie's title to life.

Live-action scenes were filmed on location in Gloucester, Massachusetts. However, the townspeople were concerned that Wolfgang Petersen and his team would not be able to tell the story truthfully. To convince them, Petersen therefore premiered "The Perfect Storm" at a local cinema downtown. And fortunately, the family and friends of the Andrea Gail crewmen gave the movie a rousing response.

Robert Elliot Burns was part of the first group of American soldiers sent to the Western Front in France during World War I. When he returned home a few years later, he was a shell-shocked, burned-out wreck. Unable to support himself and his family, Burns robbed a grocery store in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1921. Despite taking little more than $5, he was sentenced to 10 years of hard labor on a Georgia chain gang. Burns managed to escape and make his way to Chicago, where he described his experiences in the penal system to a reporter for "True Detective Magazine". Robert Burns' story was later published as a best-selling novel.

Although several Hollywood companies were interested in Burns' tale, no one dared to invest in the material. The United States was amid the Great Depression, and most studio bosses believed that the public only wanted light entertainment and escapism. But there was one exception. Darryl Zanuck, Warner Brothers' head of production, had always believed in movies with a strong social theme.

As "I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang" was considered a high-risk project, Darryl Zanuck decided to rely on the studio's proven talents. As director, he chose Mervyn LeRoy, an old veteran who had previously made the gangster movie "Little Caesar" into a huge success. Zanuck then cast Paul Muni, renowned for his portrayal of a ruthless mob boss in "Scarface," for the lead. Finally, Zanuck brought in Robert Elliot Burns as an advisor and consultant on the picture.

The film's depiction of the southern penal system became controversial in the United States. But the attention also generated a great deal of public interest. So, to Darryl Zanuck's delight, "I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang" became a big hit at the box office. The movie's most significant aspect, however, was that it helped ending the brutal system of forced labor. And it also prompted the governor of Georgia to finally pardon Robert Elliot Burns.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, Herman Wouk enlisted in the US Navy. He served on a minesweeper that participated in the fighting in the Pacific Theater. His ship was also involved in the Battle of Okinawa - the bloodiest confrontation during the whole Pacific War. In off-duty hours Wouk started writing, and a few years later he published "The Caine Mutiny". A well-received novel that reached number one on the New York Times bestseller list. The book also won Herman Wouk the prestigious Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1952.

Despite substantial public interest in the novel, most Hollywood studios were hesitant to adapt "The Caine Mutiny" for film. They suspected that the Department of Defense would require excessive revisions to the story in order to cooperate. However, the problem was solved by producer Stanley Kramer. He promised to include a disclaimer after the opening credits, telling audiences that there had never been a mutiny on any US Navy vessel. After that, the film crew was given full access to Pearl Harbor and all its naval facilities.

Unfortunately, the problems weren't over yet. Herman Wouk's screenplay exceeded 500 pages, meaning that the film's running time would be more than fifteen hours. So, Stanley Kramer brought in an editor who cut the material down to a more manageable length. Veteran film-maker Edward Dmytryk was then hired to direct. With the successful war movies "Back to Bataan" and "Eight Iron Men" under his belt, Dmytryk was considered ideal for the task.

Columbia Studios had initially intended to cast Richard Widmark as the lead. Stanley Kramer, however, managed to persuade them to use Humphrey Bogart instead (after the star had drastically reduced his asking price). And that was a successful move. Although Bogart had made classics like "Casablanca" and "The African Queen" before, "The Caine Mutiny" became the top-grossing film of his career.

Allied Artists was one of the smaller companies during the golden age of Hollywood. Lacking the financial resources of the larger studios in town, they instead tried to attract its audiences with the promise of action and adventure. Often in the form of science fiction or fantasy. For years, the company supplied a chain of small-town cinemas and drive-in theaters around the United States with low-budget titles such as "Target Earth", "Attack of the Crab Monsters" and "Invasion of the Body Snatchers". A concept that turned out to be quite profitable.

In 1955, Dore Schary, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's then-powerful head of production, decided that his studio should join in on the fun. And since MGM was one of the major players in Hollywood, they weren't doing any tiny little space operas. "Forbidden Planet," as their first try-out movie was to be called, was a big-budget production. It would be shot in glorious color and CinemaScope, and the film's script would be based on William Shakespeare's play "The Tempest."

Surprisingly, the film's most beloved character turned out to be a large, awkward metal being. "Robby the Robot" was designed by MGM's visual art division and built by the studio's prop department. But he didn't come cheap. In relation to the total budget for "Forbidden Planet," the guy was one of the most expensive film props ever created. It was worth it, though. Robby the Robot quickly became the "face" of the movie. Not surprisingly, he is still an enduring cultural icon to this day.

As we now understand, "Forbidden Planet" has left an indelible mark on the history of sci-fi cinema. Not least because of Robby - the first movie robot that was more than a mechanical "tin can" on legs. Unfortunately, the audience at the time didn't see it that way. "Forbidden Planet" was a failure at the box office. Instead, more than 20 years would pass before George Lucas and "Star Wars" demonstrated that there still is an interest in first-class Space Operas on the silver screen.

The 1970s started promisingly for William Friedkin. In 1971, he made "The French Connection", which won an Academy Award for Best Picture (Friedkin was also named Best Director). Two years later he directed "The Exorcist", considered by many critics to be one of the greatest horror movies of all time. Along with Francis Ford Coppola, Peter Bogdanovich and Martin Scorsese, William Friedkin was now considered to be one of the premier directors of the so-called "New Hollywood". Not bad for a guy who had absolutely no formal schooling in cinematic arts.

For his next project, William Friedkin chose to adapt a French novel called "The Wages of Fear." For some reason, however, he renamed the production "Sorcerer." And that was just the beginning of the director's problems. Friedkin wanted Steve McQueen in the lead role, and the star was clearly interested. But, he had married Ali MacGraw earlier that year and had no desire to leave his young wife behind to spend several months in the steaming jungles of Ecuador.

In the film's most spectacular scene, a giant truck crosses a wooden suspension bridge. Under the vehicle, a torrential river rushes forward while a tropical storm roars in the background. But, before filming, the current dwindled to a trickle. The movie crew was forced to divert another section of the river with giant pumps. And, as usual, disaster wasn't far away. Just as the artificial "storm" reached its crescendo, the truck toppled off the bridge.

At the end of the shoot, almost half of the crew was hospitalized. Friedkin dropped 50 pounds. But the worst disaster was yet to come. "Sorcerer" had its world premiere almost at the same time as "Star Wars." While the lines were curling outside the cinemas showing George Lucas' blockbuster, "Sorcerer" quickly disappeared from the repertoire. Something that not only affected the movie itself, but also had a profound impact on the rest of William Friedkin's career.

Irwin Allen began his career at 20th Century Fox, where he co-wrote, produced and directed "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea" in 1961. When the studio began to scale back on its movie production due to huge expenditure on films such as "Cleopatra", Allen turned to television instead. There, he made a name for himself with several science fiction series. Titles such as "Lost in Space", "The Time Tunnel" and "Land of the Giants" were all reasonably successful. But it wasn't enough. Irwin Allen still dreamed of breaking through in Hollywood.

And in 1972, the producer found a key that opened the doors for him in Tinseltown. Irwin Allen had just read "The Poseidon Adventure", a best-selling novel that described how a large luxury cruiser is hit by a tidal wave far out in the Atlantic Ocean. Now, Allen planned to film the book and cast the production with real big stars. Surely, moviegoers would be willing to pay good money to see which of their personal favourites managed to survive the devastation?

Most of the pre-capsize footage of the ocean liner was shot aboard the Queen Mary, a former cruise ship permanently anchored off Long Beach, California. The film crew then gathered at a sound stage at 20th Century Fox to recreate the vessel after the giant tidal wave overturned it. Several scenes were constructed to be tilted with a forklift up to 35° and then flooded with over 3.5 million gallons of water. To say it was a difficult set was something of an understatement.

In Hollywood, many pundits were sure that "The Poseidon Adventure" was completely out of date. During that period, smaller, character-driven films such as "Easy Rider", "Love Story" and "The Graduate" were all the rage. But Irwin Allen knew what he was doing. "The Poseidon Adventure" became a huge box office success. And, since the audience had turned out in record numbers, he could now start planning for his next disaster movie: "The Towering Inferno".

Mary Pickford, the most popular actress of the silent movie era, was not just a creative force but also a business powerhouse. With a career that began in 1909, she became the first woman in Hollywood to earn more than a million dollars in front of the camera. When Pickford stood at the top, she enjoyed complete creative control of her films. A privilege that allowed her to choose precisely what projects she wanted to work with. For many years, Mary Pickford epitomized the word "ingénue" in cinema, earning her the nickname "America's Sweetheart".

Perhaps it was the opportunity to do something different that led Mary Pickford to choose "Stella Maris" as her next project. In the movie, the actress would portray two different characters: the beautiful but disabled Stella Maris, and her poor, unattractive servant girl. The Stella Maris character was no stranger to Pickford, of course, who had performed many variations of attractive young women in films before. The role of the unassuming maiden help, however, was something else. An acting challenge Mary Pickford apparently found it hard to resist.

Of course, Mary Pickford prepared carefully for the role. She began by smearing her head with Vaseline to darken her golden curls. Then the actress pinned her long hair straight back. Finally, Pickford began wearing plain clothes as she walked around the studio, pretending to be a cleaning lady in search of a job. When no one recognized her (not even the film's director, a man she had often worked with), Mary Pickford knew she was ready to bring "Stella Maris" to life.

As expected, the film was a massive success at the box office. However, Mary Pickford was so popular by now that the movie company couldn't hold on to her. Pickford left even before "Stella Maris" had opened at the cinemas. Instead, she co-founded United Artists with Douglas Fairbanks, Charlie Chaplin and David W Griffith. Finally, "America's Sweetheart" had complete control over her cinematic output.

Theda Bara debuted in "A Fool There Was" in the spring of 1915. The role as a female vampire propelled her to stardom, while the film made the term "vamp" synonymous with dangerous women the world over. Fox Studios promoted Theda Bara as the daughter of an Arab sheikh and a French duchess and claimed that she was born in the middle of the Sahara. In reality, her name was Theodosia Goodman, and she came from a lover-class, Jewish background in Cincinnati. One thing was true, though. Theda Bara was Hollywood's first genuine sex symbol.

Speaking of Hollywood: Theda Bara made all her first movies at the Fox Studio in New Jersey. But when it came time to film "Cleopatra," the company decided to move to new premises on the West Coast. Although no one knew it at the time, Hollywood would grow to become the "Movie Capitol of the World." And Theda Bara was very much involved in that process. With "Cleopatra" the young actress would leave an enormous mark on the development of modern cinema.

Starting up in Tinseltown, it was crucial for Fox to maintain the allure of its star. So, Theda Bara wore extremely lavish costumes in every scene. And the company spared no expense on the sets either. The Egyptian pyramids were re-created at Balboa Beach, while the city of Alexandria was built outside Venice, California. Even the screenplay was reasonably historically accurate - except for the touches of mysticism that people had come to expect from a Theda Bara movie.

Unfortunately, Fox Studios underestimated the fickleness of the movie audience. When "Cleopatra" premiered in 1917, the era of big-budget epics that began with "Intolerance" and "The Birth of a Nation" had just concluded. And that wasn't the only disaster that befell the production. In 1935, the Fox vaults in Little Ferry, New Jersey, were ravaged by a catastrophic nitrate fire. The company's entire collection of old movies, including "Cleopatra", was tragically lost.

In 1922, Erich von Stroheim's "Foolish Wives" received international media attention. The film also elevated its creator into the ranks of preeminent directors in the United States. Despite this, the management of Universal Pictures was not happy. The silent drama was the most expensive production ever made in Hollywood, and the chances that the film would make any profit seemed slim. So, no one was surprised when Irving Thalberg, one of Universal's top executives, stepped in and fired Erich von Stroheim. A lethal blow that would have ended most careers.

That's why many people were surprised when Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's studio head, Louis B. Mayer, revealed that he had hired Erich von Stroheim to direct "The Merry Widow." Mayer, however, explained that he knew what he was doing. Sure, von Stroheim was known to be difficult to work with, but the director was also recognized as an extremely skilled filmmaker. Moreover, Louis B. Mayer had just brought Irving Thalberg on board. If anyone could handle von Stroheim, it was Thalberg.

Unfortunately, the problems began immediately. The studio had given Mae Murray the female lead role, despite von Stroheim's objections. And the star asserted her authority directly by arriving on the first day with her own cameraman, costumer and hairdresser. Things got even worse during the shooting of "The Merry Widow Waltz." When Erich von Stroheim dared to show the former Ziegfeld Follies dancer Murray how to dance, she left the set in anger.

Production was halted for several days, until a reconciliation meeting between von Stroheim and Murray was held at MGM's headquarters. After that, work on the film could be concluded. "The Merry Widow" then turned out to be well-received by critics and audiences, but that wasn't enough. A few weeks later, Louis B. Mayer called Erich von Stroheim into his office. He announced that the director was no longer working for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and that was that. A dramatic era was over.

In the early 1930s, Universal Pictures teetered on the brink of ruin. Unlike other studios in Hollywood, the company hadn't managed to adapt to the new reality that the coming of sound brought about. But just when bankruptcy seemed inevitable, Universal's founder, Carl Laemmle, had a flash of genius. He decided to film an old horror novel by the Irish author Bram Stoker. And lo and behold: "Dracula" became a critical and commercial success. Despite the challenges of the Great Depression, Universal Pictures managed to survive.

In Tinseltown, however, you're only as good as your latest movie. It was essential to launch a sequel to "Dracula" quickly. At first, the studio considered "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" or "Sherlock Holmes", but then the management chose to stay within the horror genre. So, Universal decided to film Mary Shelley's classic novel "Frankenstein". Bela Lugosi (who had played Dracula) was interested in the lead, but James Whale had other ideas. And he, after all, was the film's director.

It was important that the audience had no prior knowledge of the man who would portray Frankenstein's monster. Therefore, the director chose the unknown Boris Karloff (born Henry Pratt) for the role. But it wasn't an easy task. To play the beast, Karloff was forced to wear a bulky costume with four-inch platform boots. Awkward, especially since each shoe weighed eleven pounds (five kilograms). And Boris Karloff had long suffered from a bad back.

Since Universal needed money right away, the entire production was put on a fast track. Shooting started early in 1931 so "Frankenstein" could be released before Christmas that year. And the film became a huge success. It has since spawned several sequels and spin-offs. In fact, "Frankenstein" has had an enormous impact on popular culture. The image of the "mad" scientist, his hunchbacked assistant and the lumbering monster is now iconic the world over.

The "Battle of the Bulge" was a decisive combat during World War II. It was fought between American and German forces in the densely forested Ardennes in Belgium. On December 16, several American units, including the 101st Airborne Division, were surrounded by overwhelming German forces in the small town of Bastogne. Due to the severe cold, allied aircraft couldn't resupply the troops, and it also proved impossible to carry out ground attacks against the German forces. It wasn't until December 26 that the legendary General Patton and his Third Army managed to open up a corridor through enemy lines. Finally, the exhausted American troops could be freed.

One of the survivors of the "Siege of Bastogne" was a young man called Robert Pirosh. He had kept a complete diary during the fighting and in 1947 he sold a sixty-page outline of his experiences to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The idea was that the studio should make a realistic war film based on his notes. Robert Pirosh would write the screenplay himself and also act as an adviser and technical expert during the shooting. The title was to be "Battleground".

Most of "Battleground" was made at the MGM studio in Culver City. But it was challenging production. To replicate the Ardennes, a minor forest was planted in the company's main soundstage (the trees were shipped from northern California). Chemical "snow" was then blown by wind machines to duplicate the brutal Belgian winter. But, sadly, Robert Pirosh and the movie's director, William Wellman, had a late falling out. After that, the writer was barred from the set.

Due to the Production Code's strict rules regarding profanity, MGM was forced to "homogenize" most of the film's dialogue. Despite that, the movie became something of a sleeper hit. And there was more to come. It turned out that 1949 was something of a pinnacle for war stories. In addition to "Battleground", classics like "Sands of Iwo Jima" and "12 O'Clock High" also opened that year.

In the middle of the 1940s, director Leo McCarey had a bright idea. He planned to make a buddy film about two priests and wanted Spencer Tracy to play one of them. Unfortunately, Tracy's studio, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, wouldn't lend out their star for such a role. Spencer Tracy had already portrayed a catholic priest in "Boys Town" and its sequel "Men of Boys Town", and MGM was nervous that the actor would be typecast if he would put on the robe again.

With Spencer Tracy out of the picture, Leo McCarey instead suggested his good friend, Bing Crosby, for the role. A choice most punters in Hollywood frowned upon. Bing Crosby was widely considered a great singer and comedian, but not someone who could carry a drama. And certainly not a production that was already considered to be a hard sell at the box office. McCarey was adamant, though. He had always believed in Crosby's charisma in front of the camera. Besides, McCarey had already promised his buddy a role in one of his films.

Eventually, Leo McCarey's studio, Paramount Pictures, agreed to make the film. But, and this was important, only if the director waived his salary instead of a share in any (unlikely) profits. Luckily, McCarey had no problem with that. He threw out most of the screenplay and then urged his cast to improvise their scenes directly on the set. Leo McCarey was more interested in the genuine responses of the actors than in some flashy editing or glamorous photography.

Despite the controversy of showing drinking and swearing priests, "Going My Way" managed to charm the public and critics alike. The film became the year's top-grossing production and laid the foundation for Bing Crosby to become respected as an actor (he won an Oscar for his role). Leo McCarey must also have been quite pleased. As the director had been given a share of the film's profit, he earned more than anyone else in the United States that year. A truly remarkable feat.

Orson Welles was only 26 when he made "Citizen Kane". A story about newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane that many consider one of the greatest movies ever made. But following up on such a masterpiece wasn't easy. The model for the film's media mogul was William Randolph Hearst, and he didn't like the way he was portrayed. As Hearst had plenty of influential friends among Hollywood's powerful studio heads, he was not a person you wanted to offend. Especially not if you want your career in Tinseltown to continue.

Unfortunately, RKO Studios didn't make a dime on "Citizen Kane." So, the company's president began to regret the contract he had offered the young director (according to which, Orson Welles could make three films with total artistic freedom). But at this point, Welles knew nothing about what was going on at RKO. Instead, he began to shoot "The Magnificent Ambersons" along with his usual cast and crew. A film based on a once-celebrated, but now largely forgotten novel.

Now, however, the executives at RKO really had had enough. Alarmed by the adverse reactions the film received at a secret sneak preview, they fired Orson Welles. Then, a young editor was tasked with drastically cutting down "The Magnificent Ambersons". And not only that. After chopping away more than 60 minutes of film, a new, more "optimistic" ending was tacked on. According to Welles himself, the changes basically destroyed the heart of the picture.

And things would get worse. A few months later, Orson Welles' original cut was destroyed. Incinerated by executive order to free up space in RKO's vault (it was standard practice to burn unused nitrate negatives to salvage the silver in the emulsion). The studio didn't even have faith in their 88-minute version of "The Magnificent Ambersons" with its feeble happy ending. The film was released in just two Los Angeles venues, on the bottom half of a double bill.

When Darryl Zanuck, head of production at 20th Century-Fox, read the novel "How Green Was My Valley", he thought he had found his own "Gone with the Wind". Zanuck immediately began preparing the studio for a four-hour Technicolor epic starring Katharine Hepburn and Tyrone Power. The masterpiece would be directed by William Wyler, and it should be shot on location in Wales. The two men then spent months preparing the film, only to be told that the Fox executives in New York had pulled the plug on the production. It looked like "How Green Was My Valley" was dead before it even started living.

Zanuck was not going to give up that easily, though. The producer realized that he had to cut down on expenses. The costly Hepburn and Power had to go, as well as the idea of shooting in Wales on the other side of the globe. Wyler's signature extravagance was also a problem, so Zanuck hired Henry Ford to direct instead. A keen professional, known for being able to keep his films within the decided budget.

Working with art director Richard Day turned out to be a good idea. The guy constructed "Wales" as a gigantic set spanning 80 acres of the Los Angeles coastline (it took 150 builders six months to build the whole thing). John Ford then wanted genuine coal residue to be spread over the Santa Monica hillsides for authenticity. But at that time, the Fox officials had had enough of Ford's "great" ideas. After a meeting at the headquarter in New York it was decided that the hills should be painted black with twenty thousand gallons of paint instead.

After all the problems during the shooting, "How Green Was My Valley" became a great success at the box office. And things also went well at the Academy Awards. The movie was nominated for ten Oscars, of which it won five. Among them, the price for Best Picture and Best Director stood out. After all, the competitors included "Citizen Kane", often considered to be the world's best film.

After a series of fiascos at the end of the 1930s, Katharine Hepburn was branded "box office poison" in Hollywood. The actress fled to Broadway, where she had success in the stage play "The Philadelphia Story". So, Hepburn bought the film rights and returned to Tinseltown. And this time her position at the negotiating table was much stronger. The actress sold the property to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer on the condition that she herself could do the lead. Hepburn's deal also granted her the right to pick her own director, as well as her co-stars.

Katharine Hepburn originally wanted Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy in the lead roles. But, as both were busy with productions elsewhere, she had to "make do" with Carry Grant and James Stewart instead. (Grant was given a choice of which of the two men he wanted to play). Then, when it came to the question of director, the pick was easier. Katharine Hepburn had already made four movies with veteran film-maker George Cukor, so he was a given for the movie.

Katharine Hepburn chose Donald Ogden Stewart to write the script - mainly because he had extensive experience adapting plays to the silver screen. And this time, the job was quite easy. Stewart simply wrote the screenplay while listening to a tape recording of "The Philadelphia Story" from Broadway. He was then careful to include all the lines that received the most laughter from the audience. As the finished film demonstrated, the method worked out just fine.

The movie had its sneak preview in New York City in December 1940. However, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer had promised to hold back its general release until early the following year to avoid competition with the stage play still touring the country. When "The Philadelphia Story" then opened at the Radio City Music Hall it broke all previous box office records. Katharine Hepburn had certainly made a comeback worthy of a true Hollywood superstar.

In the early 1940s, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's powerful studio head, Louis B. Mayer, wanted to make a picture celebrating the period in American history when oil was discovered in Texas. The studio's biggest star, Clark Gable, was given the lead role - not least because he knew the subject so well. While still a teenager, Gable had worked as a rigger in the Oklahoma oil fields with his wildcatter father (whom Clark Gable would use as a model for his character in the movie).

MGM decided to put Claudette Colbert in the female lead role. A casting that created a veritable avalanche of publicity as it was the first time Gable and Colbert had worked together since their Oscar-winning performances in "It Happened One Night" a few years earlier. The supporting roles in "Boom Town" were then completed with Spencer Tracy and the promising newcomer Hedy Lamarr. A young actress Louis B. Mayer had discovered in Vienna, Austria.

Unfortunately, the shooting turned out to be more difficult than expected. Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy had worked together before, but by this point Tracy had grown tired of always having to play the best friend - the guy who stood on the sidelines and watched Gable win the girl (and the top billing). Spencer Trace wanted to be a star in his own right. So, he was irritable and prickly throughout the production. Of course, this also rubbed off on the other cast members.

Thankfully, none of these troubles were noticeable in the finished movie. On the contrary. "Boom Town" became the biggest moneymaker of the year and one of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's top productions of the decade. The studio even considered running the film on a single bill and increase the admission price. MGM's justification for this was that with so many stars, you actually got "four movies in one" (the policy was never carried out). But, sadly, "Boom Town" turned out to be the last film Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy did together.