Showing posts with label Deception. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Deception. Show all posts

Sunday, December 1, 2019

Joan & John Spark Musical Melodrama ‘Humoresque’ 1946

In 'Humoresque,' John Garfield doesn't play to Joan Crawford's tune!


Humoresque, WB’s 1946 classical musical drama, recalls somewhat A Star is Born. Joan Crawford’s Helen Wright is a socialite on the skids and patroness of the arts; Paul Boray, played by John Garfield, is a brilliant young violinist on his way up. Helen is disillusioned and on the wane—and the sauce. Paul is just as consumed by his music. Despite their sparring ways, Helen and Paul connect, but his soaring career comes between them, and she staggers off into the sunset, much like the falling stars of previous remakes.
Joan Crawford & John Garfield make a strong romantic teaming in 'Humoresque.'
FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Though fans and critics loved her more authentic self as the scrappy girl from the wrong side of the tracks, Joan Crawford loved to play the great lady, and MGM occasionally obliged her. But MGM’s “classy” romantic dramas were typically so posturing and plastic, that there’s no grit or urgency. I watched The Shining Hour recently, with Crawford and an all-star Metro cast drowning in high-class soap suds, and I nearly got a brain freeze from my eye-rolling. I feel that Joan’s performance as Helen in Humoresque was overshadowed by her career-changing Mildred Pierce comeback. Crawford gives one of her most restrained performances in one of her most fully-dimensional film roles.
Though Crawford's Helen Wright is one of her most subtle performances, Joan works
the props, i.e. the eyeglasses and brandy snifter.

One reason Crawford’s Humoresque may have played second fiddle to Mildred is that hers is really a supporting role. Though Joan has top billing, she doesn’t make her first appearance until 30 minutes in. But Joan makes the most of her screen time, much like her second lead role as Crystal Allen in 1939’s The Women. The story is really Paul’s, and it’s a tribute to Joan that she holds her own and makes her character memorable without over the top performing of some of her later, lesser vehicles. Joan’s Helen Wright runs the gamut from brittle and bitchy to remote and depressed to love struck to heart sick, and Crawford plays all the characters colors as beautifully as Paul Boray plays his violin.
Joan never looked more stellar post-MGM than she did in 'Humoresque.'

Joan Crawford never looked more superb in her post-Mildred years than she did in Humoresque. Bette Davis’ favorite cinematographer, Ernest Haller, lights Joan brilliantly, filling that famed bone structure with beautiful shadows and soft light. The Crawford makeup is there, but subtle compared to latter day JC cosmetic overkill. Joan’s hair was subject to some later curious coiffures, but looks lush and lovely here. Post-comeback Crawford was feeling her oats and insisted that her favorite MGM designer, Adrian, be borrowed for her costumes. The gowns, while shoulder padded to the hilt, are otherwise simple and chic, and in surprisingly modest supply. In a word, despite the character’s tippling, Joan Crawford looks like a million in Humoresque.
Dreamy John Garfield as Paul Boray, the passionate violinist whose bow comes first.

John Garfield, as passionate Paul Boray, gives one of his best performances. The rebellious star has gained more recognition over the years, but for me, Garfield is right up there with Bogart. In fact, he’s the link between Bogart and Cagney and the later Brando and Dean. I think one reason Garfield is not canonized like Bogie is because Humphrey died a valiant death fighting cancer, whereas five years earlier, Garfield died branded with the scarlet letter of being “Red.” And while Bogie had a few more classics under his belt, Garfield had a pretty strong career, considering he was constantly fighting Jack Warner’s typecasting. An instant star with Four Daughters, John Garfield appeared in hits like Tortilla Flat, The Sea Wolf, Destination Tokyo, Pride of the Marines, Gentleman’s Agreement, Body and Soul, and of course, The Postman Always Rings Twice. Garfield’s style is remarkably fresh and modern: he’s intelligent and street smart, the bad boy who is ultimately a decent man, and handsome, plus sexy as hell. As a bonus, Johnny had those cute jug ears framing his ruggedly romantic face!
Aside from being an intense, charismatic actor, John Garfield was sexy as hell, too!

This movie could have been an overwrought soap and still succeeded. However, director Jean Negulesco gives this movie some great visual touches, stylish segues, and vivid asides about the era depicted. The script by Clifford Odets is smart and adult, especially for the studio system era, based on a Fannie Hurst story (Imitation of Life and Back Street). Zingy repartee from the sharp tongued characters aside, there is intelligent dialogue about an artist’s career taking over their personal lives.
Joanie loves Johnny: Garfield's second romp on the beach in '46 with an MGM diva.
The first was Lana Turner in 'The Postman Always Rings Twice.'

Crawford and Garfield make sparks fly, with her first mocking him while he plays for his supper. He responds by playing “Flight of the Bumble Bee” for movie’s Queen Bee! Unlike typical movie romances, this one is love at first sight—more like first fight. Garfield is one of Crawford’s last leading men who is her equal. Aside from Joan and John at their career highpoints, are these actors:
Bobby Blake (later Robert) is remarkable as young Paul Boray.

Bobby Blake, who later became Robert and starred In Cold Blood, then came belated stardom as Baretta, and even later, infamous for murder, is wonderful here as young Paul Boray. Unlike most phony child star acting of the era, Blake is genuine and soulful as the boy who wants a violin more than anything for his birthday. These scenes could have been pure corn, but with Blake, acting with Ruth Nelson as his mother, their moments are magical. Nelson is a tower of strength as Paul’s fiercely loving, but later disapproving mother, Esther. Her dark, emotional eyes practically burn holes in the screen, as she worries about Paul’s path in life. There’s no sentiment or handwringing here, she reminds me much of Anne Revere, who played the no-nonsense mother of Elizabeth Taylor, seeking her dream as National Velvet. Nelson holds her own with Joan Crawford in their showdown, where the mother disapproves most articulately about why her son should not be involved with a thrice-married alcoholic. Interestingly, Joan and Ruth were both the same age! I remember 1990’s Awakenings, starring Robert DeNiro as a man who comes out of lifelong coma, and his mother is played by… Ruth Nelson! I was knocked out by the fact that Nelson was playing the mother of yet another brilliant actor, nearly 45 years later.
Ruth Nelson is a rock as Paul Boray's loving, but plain-spoken mother.
Nelson played Robert DeNiro's mother 45 years later in 'Awakenings!'

Joan Chandler plays Gina, the nice girl Paul grows up with, who doesn’t stand a chance when the other Joan comes into his life. It’s one of Crawford’s first movies where her female competition is at least 15 years younger than her. Chandler’s sadness in the role seeps into the melancholy tone of the movie. I was sad to read that Chandler’s career didn’t go the way she hoped, and she died at age 57 in 1979, just two years after Crawford passed away.
Joan Chandler and John Garfield have some genuinely sweet scenes in the opening scenes of 'Humoresque.'

J. Carrol Naish is the one throwback to old-style acting in this rather modern post-war movie. He plays Paul’s grocer father in full EYE-talian style. Still, it’s a warm-hearted performance and when he gives in to young Paul’s wishes for a violin, he’s genuine.
Oscar Levant plays a wise-cracking (what else?) pianist who befriends Paul Boray.

I’m usually allergic to the charms of Oscar Levant. The famed Hollywood wit’s delivery of his choice one-liners often seemed flat and charmless. Here, Oscar fares better, as he gets some of Odets best lines. Still, his performance seems like a series of zingers, with him waiting for either laughs or a rimshot. Yet, Levant fits into to the general melancholy tone of the movie, so he didn’t bother me as much as usual.
Paul Cavanagh plays Joan’s wealthy, older, self-described “weak” husband, which reads more like “gay.” Craig Stevens plays a small part as one of Helen’s light weight boy toys, named Monte. A hangover from Mildred Pierce, perhaps?
The bug-eyed John Abbott is an irritated conductor during one of Paul’s early paying gigs. Funny, since he plays a weasel musician in Bette Davis’ Deception, that OTHER musical melodrama WB rolled out the same year. Another milestone in the Bette vs. Joan competition, and Joan’s the winner in this round.
Joan's Helen finally faces herself in 'Humoresque' and hurls another liquor glass!

Humoresque is stylish, smart, romantic, adult, and wonderfully watchable. My one criticism of the movie is that it goes on a tad too long, specifically at the finale, when Joan’s Helen is at the end of her rope, and bids adieu. After an endless phone call with Paul, Helen gets drunk as she listens to his performance on the radio. Then she decides to end it all, with Joan getting one of her most famous film farewells. It could have finished beautifully, with her drowning, and Paul fading back in the scene, playing the violin. But no, then comes Garfield post-mortem, to mourn and spout some absurd lines. Then he argues with Oscar some more, then ultimately goes back to his roots, the old neighborhood. I’m surprised they didn’t have Gina patiently waiting for Paul. This all just goes on from here to eternity. It could have been twice as effective in half the time.
One of Joan Crawford's most memorable finales on film was in 'Humoresque.'
But overall, it’s a minor criticism for a major melodrama that’s been a bit overlooked over the years. Humoresque showcases two powerful stars at their best, with one of WB’ best studio productions to back them up.


This high drama was a career high point for Crawford and Garfield.



Thursday, December 28, 2017

Deception 1946

1946 'Deception' recap: Bette with gun & shoulderpads, conductor Claude killed, & Paul Henreid as a jealous cellist!

I often watched 1946’s Deception, a twisted triangle set to classical music, on the afternoon movies while growing up. This Warner Brothers melodrama seemed very grownup to a ‘70s high school kid.
After not seeing Deception for decades, I re-watched the sudsy drama recently, and managed to make it half way through, before giving up in exasperation.
Claude Rains steals 'Deception' as the catty conductor, Alexander Hollenius.
Deception has a dazzling cast—Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, and especially Claude Rains—tangling with one another in a jealous triangle that leads to murder. The acting is fine, but the trio is done in by a premise that is patently unbelievable.

Bette Davis is Christine Radcliffe, a struggling pianist who lost her lover, cellist Karel Novak (Paul Henreid), in Europe five years ago to a concentration camp. Relocated in post-war NYC, Christine rediscovers Karel after the war, when she sees his name in a concert review. Speaking of names, Christine tells Karel that she took Radcliffe as her “professional name.” I guess Christine Sarah Lawrence sounded too pretentious!
Bette Davis and Paul Henreid as musical lovers reunited in post-war NYC.
Christine’s first line is as declarative as only Davis can be: “I thought you were dead!” Equally subtle is when Karel takes her hand, and Christine holds both up: “No rings.” Reunited, they return to her apartment. On the way up the stairs, Christine tells Karel that she struggles to make ends meet as a pianist, by giving lessons. Unfortunately, once they walk through the door, her apartment is actually a luxurious loft. Hanging up his jacket, Karel notices several fur coats in the closet. Looking around the loft, the cellist sees lots of lovely paintings and sculptures. Christine soft pedals all this obvious luxury. However, Karel is not just a cellist, but a jealous cellist! He attempts to choke her to stop her barrage of non-stop lies. 
After apologies, Henreid’s Karel decides the best thing for them to do is marry as quickly as possible. Bette turns her big eyes away from Henreid, and pops them for the camera…uh-oh.

The deadly...dull triangle that is 'Decption.'
You see, Bette’s been living large due to a beau, egomaniacal maestro Alexander Hollenius. And the maestro is mad as hell about getting dumped by Christine, on her impromptu wedding day, practically. Despite Karel telling her that it tortures him when he feels she’s not telling the truth, and with numerous opportunities to do so, Christine refuses to fess up.
What transpires is a prolonged cat and mouse game: Can Christine keep piling on lies to pacify jealous and insecure Karel? Can she keep equally jealous and self-centered Hollenius from spilling the beans? Can Christine keep the cellist and the conductor from killing each other as they collaborate? About half way through, I decided I didn’t care anymore and ditched Deception.
The most fascinating part of 'Deception' is the loft, that Bette's pianist tries to tell Henreid is paid for by giving lessons!
I’m pretty good at suspending disbelief and not imposing today’s social mores onto old movie conventions and morality. Here’s the big problem I have with Deception: the premise makes ZERO sense. This was also the critics’ problem with Deception over 70 years ago. Why should Christine try to hide a lover from Karel? They weren’t married when the war separated them. She thought he was dead—for five years! Was she supposed to become a nun? First off, Christine’s living situation is suspect. Also, all the people that she invited to her and Karel’s wedding know…because they were her and Hollenius’ friends! What’s to keep any of them from spilling? Plus, the maestro crashes the couple’s reception and acts absurdly jealous. Finally, Hollenius threatens to tell Karel from the get-go.
Paul's Karel is constantly jealous; Bette's Christine endlessly lies!
Most importantly, Bette’s character has NOTHING to feel guilty about, even by 1940s standards. Still, many film write-ups I’ve read about Deception refer to Christine as the conductor’s mistress. According to good old Merriam-Webster, a mistress is a woman who is having extra-marital relations, usually with a married man. Neither character was married during their affair. Yet Davis’ Christine lies her head off, just to keep two hot-headed men appeased. 
Specifically, I gave up after Deception’s famous “dinner scene.” Claude Rains as Hollenius has a field day here. The conductor treats the couple to dine at a fancy French restaurant and proceeds in taking great delight in showing off his talents as a gourmand. The maestro’s game becomes so protracted that Karel becomes unglued—perhaps he was just “hangry.” Though devilishly performed by Rains, and with increased agitation by Davis and Henreid, the whole scene feels as forced as the film’s premise. There’s no story to go forward, so Deception is just all snarky cocktail party chat.

Joan loved to talk about Bette's B.O.! 'Deception' was Davis' first 'disappointment'for WB, and the beginning of her box office slide.

If you can get past the major plot obstacles—there’s fun to be had. The three leads, who all worked together in far better films, do well with the rather unappealing characters they’re playing. The dialogue is sharp—especially the digs by the catty conductor. The sets that depict upscale NYC life are marvelous, especially Bette’s loft with a skylight that covers the entire living room. The classical music and film’s score, by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, set the mood.
Bette's character tries everything to soothe Claude's maestro...even grovelling!

Claude Rains does a delicious turn as Alexander Hollenius: childlike, sexy, jealous, devilish, sarcastic, egotistical, spiteful, and funny. Despite an intense performance by Paul Henreid, his character frequently comes off as peevish. Even with fits of violent jealousy, he ultimately just stews. In the original play, the Henreid’s character rises to the occasion and kills Hollenius. Wait just one minute! Since this a Bette Davis movie, where nobody is as good as Bette when she’s bad, Davis gets to do the dirty deed. Even so, Christine is a thankless character and Davis can’t do much more than to work herself up in a dither of denial.
Irving Rapper, who always seemed good with actors, does what he can with his collaborators, and gives Deception a smart visual style. The screenplay moves heaven and earth to compensate with occasional sharp dialogue to make up for the lack of story. My favorite credit for Deception is Jack Daniels listed as dialogue director—indeed!

Bette Davis as Christine, with a Rita Hayworth pompadour!

Bette Davis often played older and in period pictures. But when Bette essayed modern roles, she kept her look simple. Here, for the only time in her career, Davis sported shoulder pads, a hugely popular but short-lived trend. In fact, in the climactic scene, Bette sports a white fur over her shoulders, and I thought of Carol Burnett’s “curtain dress” take-off on Scarlett O’Hara. And through most of the movie, Bette sports a WWII-era pompadour, with an uncharacteristically lush mane that Rita Hayworth would have envied.
Bette Davis prays that Ernest Haller's noir-style lighting hides all that's going on off-camera!
Perhaps Bette overcompensated because she wasn’t looking her best. Davis’ character is amusingly described as a music student when she met the maestro four years earlier—struggling and taking “rich, untalented students” to get by…and pushing 40! Pregnant and ill during Deception, plus her new marriage was to jealous, violent artist William Grant Sherry—life imitating art? Davis’ favorite cinematographer, Ernest Haller, did what he could. Note that in certain scenes, especially evening shots, Bette’s face is totally surrounded by shadow. Bette admitted later that she wasn’t at her best here. Perhaps driving Davis was that Joan Crawford was following up her Mildred Pierce comeback in a romantic melodrama with a classical music backdrop, Humoresque. Neither films were smash hits, but Joan’s came off better and also turned a better profit, since Bette ran up her film’s budget by her pregnancy, plus emotional and health issues.

Deception isn’t a dud, just an exercise in style—great style, for sure—but no substance. 
The happy newlyweds are taken out for dinner by the maestro, not realizing they're the main course!


FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page.