Showing posts with label Louis Jourdan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Louis Jourdan. Show all posts

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Madame Bovary 1949

MGM's 1949 'Madame Bovary' is wildly erratic and highly watchable.
The Vincente Minnelli-directed 1949 version of Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary is fascinating, but wildly erratic, much like the heroine herself.
The huge hurdles for the movie-makers with this take on the once-scandalous novel of a French housewife are never satisfactorily resolved: telling a story that would satisfy audiences, critics—and censors; movie-making with more post-war modern realism, and less from the past era’s style; and bolstering a leading lady who lacked confidence in her acting ability.
I never realized how James Mason sounded like his own best hammy imitation!
Some critics have cited the MGM treatment of Madame Bovary as anti-Emma, claiming that the studio framed the story within the censors’ rule that movie sinners must be punished by the last reel. I disagree. There are plenty of instances in the movie that defends Emma as trapped by her role of a woman, in male-dominated society. I have not read the book, but this adaptation posits that her childish ideas of life arise from her sheltered upbringing as a small town farm girl. When Emma attempts to act on them as an adult woman, the results are tragic. Director Minnelli deserves credit for a reasonably faithful rendition of Madame Bovary, filmed in an era when studios didn’t particularly care about fidelity—to a book, at least. In case you don’t get the message that Madame Bovary is great art and not scandalous trash, there’s a prologue and an epilogue that bookends the trial, which in turn bookends the movie. The idea of portraying author Gustave Flaubert on trial, to defend the decency of MGM’s Madame Bovary, must have seemed like a brilliant idea to offset showbiz censors. However, after James Mason's sonorous speechifying at the trial, we’re treated to his pompous narration that’s so intrusive that it’s comical. You’re relieved when he finally shuts up half way through.

The eternal triangle: Madame Bovary, the suave French playboy, and Mr. Bovary, the dull doctor. Guess what happens next?

This 1949 version of Madame Bovary was one of Metro's 25th silver anniversary movies, but in reality, it was their last hurrah as Hollywood’s greatest studio. Like other MGM takes on the classics about modest folk with only proximity to wealth, the stars of Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and Madame Bovary still wear improbably lavish costumes and live in “cozy” luxury. Jennifer Jones sports gowns by Walter Plunkett, famed for his Scarlett O’Hara designs for David O. Selznick’s Gone with the Wind. Director Minnelli, despite his own love of glamour, at least attempted to give Emma's rustic life some genteel grit, but was thwarted by MGM.
Just a simple French farm girl making an omelette for the visiting doctor.!
In her first scene, when Emma is cooking breakfast, I burst out laughing. After a stormy night with rain seeping into the country kitchen, there is Jones as Emma, looking utterly pristine. Emma’s morning wear is a gigantic gown, with a huge decorative rose, as she delicately makes an omelette for visiting doctor Charles Bovary (Van Heflin.)
So it goes, with each scene, as Jones swans around in a gown or cape even more lavish and absurd than the last. How much more dramatic would it have been if Emma actually dressed like a country doctor’s wife, and finally gets to fulfill her dream at the Marquis’ ball, swathed in her soiree-stopping, snowy white confection.
Emma is encouraged to live large by the sinister shopkeeper!
Madame Bovary is one of those studio system era movies that are a mish mash of accents—American, British, and one actual Frenchman! Van Heflin is sympathetic as Charles Bovary, the benign and bewildered husband, though he is directed to play the drunken hubby at the ball very broadly, where he bursts Emma’s romantic bubble. The supporting cast, though playing archetypes, offer skillful portrayals. Ellen Corby, Grandma Walton herself, plays Emma’s long-suffering maid. I was puzzled that the great Gladys Cooper (Now, Voyager) has just one scene, making me wonder if a subplot had been cut out of the final film. Louis Jourdan plays yet another charming, smarmy French playboy, who helps lead the heroine to ruin.
Ultimately, Madame Bovary is all about Emma and the actress who plays her. There are a bevy of Madame Bovarys, all have their merits, but the Vincente Minnelli version is still the most famous. This is a bit surprising, since MGM’s Madame Bovary was a flop at the box office. Originally, Lana Turner was offered the role of Emma. This could have been an apt choice, as Turner was a romantic whose shallow outlook created as much disaster in her own life, as Emma Bovary did in hers. Lana thought the script dull and turned it down, and found out she was pregnant, as well. Minnelli was relieved, as he felt Turner’s notoriety would attract more attention from censors, and that an actress with a more respectable screen image would be a better choice.

Lana: "No, Jen, YOU play 'Madame Bovary!' You'll win a second Oscar!'
Enter Jennifer Jones as Emma. Never mind that Jones’ marriage and family with Robert Walker was wrecked when Gone with the Wind producer David O. Selznick set his sights on Jennifer. Or four years later, Selznick was still haggling with his current wife over the end of their marriage. In fact, it was during Madame Bovary’s production that Irene Selznick was granted a divorce. Ultimately, image is everything in Hollywood, and Jones was the dream girl of super productions like Song of Bernadette and Since You Went Away. Ethereal Jennifer Jones as Emma Bovary therefore took the onus off playing a scandalous character.

Jennifer Jones is one of Hollywood's most puzzling personalities. Jones grew up in a theatrical family, who owned a chain of movie theaters. She and first hubby Robert Walker were aspiring actors together. Yet, friend and co-star Joan Fontaine said of working with Jones on her last big movie, 1962’s Tender is the Night, even at that late date, acting “was a kind of torture” for Jennifer.  Jones is an anomaly among performers who grew up surrounded by showbiz—Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland, Sammy Davis—who lived for the limelight. And there are many stars that are shy off-stage, but who have brash personas. Jennifer Jones seemed a bit like Marilyn Monroe, both seeking and repelling stardom. Some critics of Jones have questioned the “shy” Jennifer, claiming it was an act to cover her ambition. To me, her reclusive nature and increasing discomfort on-screen seemed to indicate that Jennifer was not pretending. And yet Jones aspired to stardom, or she wouldn’t have broken up her family for the siren call of superstardom that Selznick promised.

Portrait of Jennifer, as Madame Bovary, dressed to the nines.
Though he technically had nothing to do with this Madame Bovary, David Selznick peppered everyone involved with his famous memos—all about how to bring out the best in Jennifer Jones. Like so many powerful Hollywood men, Selznick was obsessed with his star, and determined to make her into Hollywood’s greatest superstar. Newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst attempted the same with Marion Davies. Davies was a showgirl with a natural flair for comedy, but Hearst’s desire was to make her a great dramatic actress. Instead, they made a string of big budget flops that made Marion a punch line. Film contemporaries and historians later said that Davies might have had a more interesting and relaxed career if Hearst had just butted out. And many film folk and critics felt the same in regard to Selznick and Jones.
Jones’ ambivalence is apparent in many of her movies, which is why movie fans and critics are still wildly divided over Jennifer’s abilities as an actress. As Emma Bovary, Jones gives off a jittery intensity throughout, which serves her character well. Jennifer is also wildly uneven as the country girl who longs for romance and riches. Jones can be subtly in tune with Emma in one scene, studio era “dramatic” in the next, and feverishly unnerving after that. Even here, critics and audiences were starting to notice Jones’ nervous tics, especially her tendency to grimace during dramatic scenes.
Every time Emma embraces a new dream—a new home, a baby, a lover, or even a ball gown—Jennifer makes the pronouncement with a fixed, wild stare as if she's playing the beatific Bernadette again, seeing visions. Jennifer seems most comfortable in her love scenes, luxuriating in her romantic fantasy. Yet, as the desperate Emma calling on her former lover for financial help, Jones is theatrically obvious, and therefore, not especially sympathetic. Finally, as Emma on her death bed, after swallowing gobs of arsenic, Jones dies a realistically painful death. 
Jones as Emma, facing her ruin. Jennifer reminds me of Kim Cattrall here.
Perhaps it is Jennifer’s lack of confidence and the inability to create empathy for a basically unsympathetic character that makes Jones' Emma Bovary off putting. Vivien Leigh and Elizabeth Taylor often played passionate women who did foolhardy things (off-screen, too!) but they always retained audience sympathy, especially from female fans. Leigh, a few years before, or Taylor, a decade later, could have easily played Emma. I think MGM’s Ava Gardner might have made a fine Emma. Gardner was a small town farm girl who came to Hollywood, where her dreams turned to disillusion, too. However, Ava was about as insecure about her talent as Jones.
'Madame Bovary' comes alive in the famous waltz scene. This is one of director Vincente Minnelli's best scenes on film.

Wildly uneven as Jones is, Jennifer still has her moments. For this Madame Bovary, the famed ballroom scene is where everything comes together. Jennifer Jones, who looks lovely throughout, is especially fetching in her gauzy, snow-white gown, with black feathers across the bosom. Surrounded by admirers, Scarlett O’ Hara-style, Emma takes a breather between dances. Jourdan as Rodolphe makes his move, the suave stud ready to sweep Mrs. Bovary off her feet. Emma goes from Cinderella to belle of the ball, and this scene is the perfect moment: the increasingly giddy waltz, the camera swirling along with Emma, surrounded by aristocrats, in the arms of a handsome man, waiters who smash windows with chairs when she exclaims that she can’t breathe, and Emma Bovary’s romantic daydreams momentarily come true.

Jones’ other big scene in Bovary is when Emma plans to run off with Rodolphe. Waiting for a stagecoach on a dark, windy night, Jennifer’s intensity conveys Emma’s yearning to escape her small town life. As the stagecoach comes closer into the village, the horses’ hoof beats become louder—symbolizing Emma’s heart pounding? The stagecoach looms into view…and then passes by, followed by a huge close-up of Emma screaming, powerfully portrayed by Jones. Emma, defeated, returns to her home and husband. Charles is waiting and so is a basket of fruit, from Rodolphe, along with a farewell note. Jones’ reaction to her lovers’ kiss off is eerily catatonic.

Emma Bovary's romantic dreams go up in flames. Jones with Van Heflin as Charles Bovary.
Looking at Jennifer Jones’ career in terms of hits is bizarrely skewed. Jennifer starred in eight bonafide blockbusters: Song of Bernadette, Since You Went Away, Love Letters, and Duel in the Sun in the 1940s. Then in the '50s, there were The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, Love is a Many Splendored Thing, and the critically panned but commercial A Farewell to Arms. Finally, Jones literally went out with a blaze of glory in 1974’s The Towering Inferno. Nearly none of these movies hold up today.  After those films, Jones’ box office stand takes a huge dip when looking at her other films like Portrait of Jennie, Carrie, We Were Strangers, Tender is the Night, as well as Madame Bovary. All were box office duds. The films that have won her cult status were financial flops too, but got her good notices, like Cluny Brown, Beat the Devil, and Indiscretion of an American Housewife. I find her appealing both as the saintly Good Morning, Miss Dove and as the trashy bayou babe in Ruby Gentry—again, not big hits. In Jones’ defense, the movies that stars are most remembered for aren’t always their biggest hits, and Jennifer’s work is worth exploring. Happy hunting though, because Jennifer Jones' career is checkered, to say the least.

Bette as a bitchy Madame Bovary!
Here's a fascinating coincidence: the same year as Jennifer Jones played Emma Bovary, Bette Davis ended her Warner Brothers contract playing a modern day version of Bovary in Beyond the Forest. Having just seen Madame Bovary for the first time, I was shocked at how much Forest author Stuart Engstrand ripped off the Flaubert classic. Seriously, Beyond the Forest is pretty much a replay of Madame Bovary in modern dress. And Bette's character Rosa Moline is just a mean girl version of Emma Bovary. Like Emma, Rosa is also married to a doctor, lives for luxury, looks down on her fellow townspeople, takes a rich lover, humiliates her husband, berates her maid, and dies a slow, painful death. The only thing Emma doesn't do is shoot a porcupine and a boozy tattletale!


The best way to watch this Madame Bovary is to ignore or enjoy its contradictions. Or maybe watch Jones’ Emma as a double feature with Bette’s bitchy broad version of Bovary!



Let's leave Emma Bovary on a happy note, the belle of the ball, and surrounded by admiring men!

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Joan Crawford Commands 'The Best of Everything'


Joan Crawford IS tough, driven book editor Amanda Farrow in 'The Best of Everything."

Here’s a classic, sometimes clichéd, Hollywood plot premise: A trio of young women set off in search of riches and romance, only to find hardship and heartache—surprise! Whether it’s Hollywood or Broadway, New York City, Italy, or heck, even Fort Lauderdale, the gal pals inevitably learn tough lessons about life and love. The results are often box-office bonanzas: How to Marry a Millionaire, Valley of the Dolls, Three Coins in a Fountain, and Where the Boys Are, to name just a few.

Fresh from her Oscar-nominated farm girl Selena Cross in 'Peyton Place,' Hope Lange goes to
 NYC as Caroline Bender.
They deserve the best of everything, but seem to get the worst!

The Best of Everything depicts, 1959-style, three young career women who set out to succeed in the Big Apple. The setting is sophisticated Fabian Publishing, but the girls’ goals are pure soap opera. Caroline (Hope Lange) is determined to become a book editor before she becomes a bride. April (Diane Baker) wants to work only to land a husband. Gregg’s (Suzy Parker) dream is to become a stage actress, but gets romantically blindsided. Warning signs of the rocky path ahead: Aging, hard-as-nails editor Amanda Farrow (Joan Crawford) and damaged goods divorced mother, Barbara (Martha Hyer).

Hope Lange, Suzy Parker, and Diane Baker as the "three girls" in the big city!

As with most ‘50s and early ‘60s movies, Hollywood tries to have it both ways: the girls seek to fulfill their ambitions and desires, as they titillate audiences. Then they suffer the consequences, courtesy of Hollywood’s censorship code. Sleeping with playboys will make you crazy or pregnant. Climbing the corporate ladder will only attract married jerks or criticism for not being a “real woman.”

Rona Jaffe was 25 when she wrote 'The Best of Everything.'

Despite promoting it as “In the outspoken tradition of Peyton Place,” like Wald’s most recent big-screen adaptation, The Best of Everything was “cleaned up” for the big screen. The most notable example was when April’s abortion was changed to a movie miscarriage, much like the screen version of Selena Cross in Peyton Place. However, hot young The Best of Everything writer Rona Jaffe insisted that realistic details of her “girls” personal and office lives be kept. Producer Jerry Wald, interested in depicting modern working women, listened.

The “movie-smart” dialogue in this movie has so many clinkers, I’m surprised that The Best of Everything hasn’t hit the camp status of Valley of the Dolls. When despicable Dexter is pressed by April whether he has gotten other girls pregnant, his gallant response is, “Not that I know of.” And when April wakes up in a hospital bed after losing the baby, she turns her head away: “I’m so ashamed…now I’m just somebody who’s had an affair!”

I know my various workplace cafeterias weren't this swanky, but then I wasn't working at
 'Fabian Publishing!'

For me, what makes The Best of Everything so watchable is to know that such stereotypes were once archetypes. Now, they are a snapshot of another era—but I know not all people feel that way. Movies like this are also a tribute to studio era filmmaking at its best. The lush score by Alfred Newman is intoxicating. William C. Mellor’s cinematography is stellar, particularly the NYC locales, capturing it in all its mid-century glory. Director Jean Negulesco was an old pro in utilizing Cinemascope and driving the “three girls” story, as director of How to Marry a Millionaire and Three Coins in a Fountain. The look of the film, from recreating Pocket Books’ offices for the fictional Fabian Publishing, to the various apartments of its characters, is Fab Fifties at its best. Technically, The Best of Everything really is the best. The reality that the makers were selling, even for its time, was fast becoming dated.

Lange is moving on up as the bright young thing in publishing.
There are two acting standouts in this movie. The first is Hope Lange, who gives the one natural performance in The Best of Everything. Lange is lovely but real, a strong presence. It's a shame Hope’s career didn’t take off beyond promising newcomer. However, Hope Lange’s star rose just as the studio system was waning, and a lot of promising newcomers ended up on television, rather than the big screen.

"I'll get the cards out on time, okay?!" Joan as bossy Amanda Farrow, hazing Hope Lange's
 Caroline on her first day at work!

The second is Joan Crawford, in full veteran star mode. Crawford makes her entrance as the dragon lady editor by opening her office door and announcing to Lange’s Caroline, “I’m Amanda Farrow,” in a manner akin to movie space aliens pronouncing their dominance over hapless earthlings. Crawford was well into the next phase of her career: Pepsi spokesperson. So the role of business pro Amanda Farrow was a perfect fit. Crawford plays a variation of the same role that Susan Hayward later immortalized in Valley of the Dolls, Broadway barracuda Helen Lawson—a role Joan expressed interest in! And like hard cookie Hayward, Crawford steals the movie with her withering delivery. Time has stood on Joan Crawford’s side: When The Best of Everything was first released, Joan’s name and image was at the bottom of the film’s posters. Now, on DVD covers, Joan is prominently displayed, despite the brevity of her role.

Joan was not in the best of spirits during filming. Photo by legendary Eve Arnold.

It's really a shame that Joan's part was later trimmed, because she was lured into the part with a showy drunk scene, depicting her lonely personal life. Crawford’s return to film wasn’t under the best of circumstances. Her hoped-for “happy ending” of a marriage to Pepsi executive Alfred Steele ended with Joan cast as a widow. Also, Crawford was short on cash. So, for the first time in 30 years, Joan Crawford took a secondary role. Imagine her mood on the set. There was a clash with co-star Lange over which actress a scene ended on. Joan no longer held sway over Jean Negulesco, who directed her a dozen years earlier in Humoresque, right after her Oscar win. The director, a well-known art collector and artist, also mocked Crawford in front of the cast, over her taste in art—those Keane paintings!

In contrast to Lange’s fresh take on a starlet role was Martha Hyer as Barbara, the slightly older, single mother. Hyer’s obsolete delivery only calls attention to her own sell-by date as a starlet. Despite her inexplicable best supporting actress Oscar nomination the prior year, for Some Came Running, her part was cut as much as co-star Crawford’s. While Hyer was at her short-lived peak and Crawford then considered passé, both got a trim job from a movie brimming with plot and characters.

Diane Baker is gullible April; Robert Evans is greasy Dexter.

Most of the characters are hilariously hopeless. Diane Baker, usually a good actress, is stuck with April, who is a total dip. The small town girl, apparently was dropped on her head as a baby, finds Mr. Perfect in Robert Evans as playboy Dexter. Evans, who looks like a greasy gigolo, is so repellent that he later found the perfect career, as a sleazy movie producer! April is so gullible that Dexter dupes her into getting dolled up for their “wedding” day, and instead takes her to an abortionist.

Suzy Parker starts off all breezy banter as “Gregg,” the aspiring actress whose day job is secretary. Then she goes all Fatal Attraction over Louis Jourdan, the womanizing director, David Wilder Savage—that name alone should have sounded off alarms. Jourdan, unlike Evans, was an established star, so he’s given the chance to look sadly repentant when Parker plunges from a fire escape, after spying on him.

Suzy Parker as Gregg & Louis Jourdan as the aptly named David Wilder Savage!

 Former Crawford leading man Brian Aherne is Mr. Shalimar, the “charming” old office letch. Every time I hear someone say his name, I think of that ‘80s one hit wonder singing Dancing in the Sheets—which is most appropriate for this movie. Despite his pinching and cornering the vulnerable office females, Shalimar always has a quip or quote to deflate his own sails.

Here's my take on the anti-Mildred Pierce, the notorious Mommie Dearest starring Faye Dunaway: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-making-aftermath-mommie-dearest-1981.html

The nicest guy in the movie is a self-hating office lush named Mike Rice, played by Stephen Boyd. He tries to warn Lange’s Caroline off the career track so she doesn’t end up bitter like Crawford’s Amanda. Ironic, since Rice is pretty cynical himself. Boyd’s attempt at hiding his Irish accent to play an American is right up there with Sean Connery’s Scottish brogue in Marnie. Like Sean, Stephen is such a fine specimen that he could speak Pig Latin for all I care.
A decade later, everything would become much tougher for certain young NYC gals!


The Best of Everything is a look at life in the Big Apple during the Mad Men era, filtered through the lens of studio era Hollywood. The Old Hollywood glamour and the glimpses of a new reality that shine through are fascinating, if not heartwarming reminders of the ‘50s era.