Kept Woman Wednesday: Anna Karenina (1935)

I've had this Kept Woman Wednesday: Fredric March Edition composed for over three weeks!

Luminous, pensive portrait from
Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde (1931)

Originally composed for a broadcast of  "The Barretts of Wimpole Street," this post was adapted for "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and finally compiled for "Anna Karenina." Without further ado:

In my mid-teens, to be the best possible steward of my junior high-era eccentricities, I kept copious lists. One list documented the mediocre melodramas that made me cry. Although included on the last, The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934) didn't actually incur sobs. It incurred swooning, and I listed it on romantic principle. Elizabeth Barrett! Robert Browning! Mid-nineteenth century drawing rooms! The premise of their romance appealed to me: here a shut-in poet, borrowing from the Rapunzel archetype, created eloquent verses that brought forth this unbounded debonair prince -- who, in retrospect was merely an enthusiastic poet. It was a perfect romance for a sentimental, friendless teenager. Yes, I say: perfect.

How do I love thee?

Robert Browning was played by Fredric March, perhaps my second favorite classic film leading man (after the unrivaled James Stewart). He was so talented and handsome, but, even better, unafraid of rich content. Many of his most significant roles were marked by unusual and nontraditional choices. He won his first Oscar for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931). Indeed, the duality of the performance is attractive to any actor, but this pre-code production is so surprisingly racy and wrenchingly creepy.

Another pre-code confection is Design for Living (1933) a superior piece of film (Lubitsch!), if only for providing documentation of Fredric March in the second most handsome tuxedo in all cinema (after the unrivaled Fred Astaire). But there's more! The famous stage play had a inhibition-less romantic plot that included a perceptible homosexual subtext. The film version was slightly subdued, but still a saucy story for the early 1930s.

Even later in his career, Fredric March knew that the story was best served by characters, not necessarily heroes, and that's illustrated by his role as a fundamentalist politician in Inherit the Wind (1960). Some of his other roles I most appreciate are: A Star is Born (Mrs. Norman Maine!), Nothing Sacred and The Best Years of our Lives.

Nothing Sacred (1937)

For me, they're memorable portrayals because they weren't overwhelmed by an egotistical demeanor. No, it seemed that he played very faceted rolls, informed by great character. As he and his fellow actors confirmed:

"To me characterization is the whole fun of acting. Every part is a character part." -- Fredric March

Shelley Winters remembered: "He was able to do a very emotional scene with tears in his eyes, and pinch my fanny at the same time." (Their film together: Executive Suite).

Fredric March, about Richard Burton: "He has a terrific way with women. I don't think he has missed more than half a dozen."

And my favorite: When March's 1938 return to Broadway in "Yr. Obedient Husband" was a resounding failure, he and [co-star and wife]Florence Eldridge placed an ad in the trades that showed a sketch depicting them as two trapeze artists missing each other's grip in midair. "Oops. Sorry." read the caption.

Kept Woman Wednesday: The Girl Can't Help It (1956)

I was a tad frustrated to discover that Turner Classic Movies’ star of the month is…blondes. Huh? I think it does a real disservice to blondes. Judy Holliday is nothing like Doris Day is nothing like Jayne Mansfield, and yet they’re all huddled together by their hair color.

Conceptually, I’m opposed. Trust me, TCM, I think Betty Grable could handle a month all to herself. But, in terms of scheduling, Wednesday has never looked so good. Tonight, it’s a Marilyn and Jayne film festival, which includes “The Girl Can’t Help It.” Anything I could possible describe is joyously detailed in this video tribute from John Waters.

What earns elaboration is Jayne’s relationship with the press. In this video, John Waters describes her as the “parody of Marilyn Monroe…an insane Marilyn,” persona that she controlled. As John says, “Anyone that has a bar that is open 8 hours in their house -- for the press– which she did have – is a girl after my own heart.”

I’m really pleased that a Jayne Mansfield movie is scheduled this week, because I was going to post about her anyway. In another John Waters interview I’ve seen, he describes how Jayne would alert the photographers prior to strolling down Hollywood Boulevard in a bikini with a Chihuahua under her arm.

Jayne seemed to say “don’t let’s be subtle about this whole fame thing.” Which is why this photog encounter with Katherine Heigl seemed so desperate in nature. She certainly looks classy – but don’t let that Rachel Zoe ensemble fool you – it’s ol’ Katherine’s version of Jayne’s beachwear. It seems to humorlessly bellow "please look at me!" This is quite different from Jayne, not only in yardage, but because it's like John Waters says, "How can it be pitful if you're in on the joke?" Maybe someone could give Katherine a hint.

(Katherine Heigl photo credit goes to one of these three: PacificCoastNews, Flynetpictures, style.com)

Kept Woman Wednesday: Designing Woman (1957)

Today's TCM schedule features...an Elvis Presley movie marathon, which includes my aunt's favorite: Kissin' Cousins (1964).

I don't have too much to write about Elvis, except that his Christmas album is essential holiday fare, though I have no idea why it includes "Mama liked the Roses."

So instead, this Wednesday I'll call your attention to Designing Woman. Which has a mediocre plot. Despite that! it possesses three distinct*, enticing reasons to watch: Vincente Minnelli direction. Gregory Peck in Technicolor (if not Gregory Peck in Rome, Gregory Peck in Technicolor is the next best thing). And, lastly, sumptuous costumes from Helen Rose (also responsible for High Society and a bevy of tantalizing textiles.) The Designing Woman showstopper is this mink dress.

Today, no living being would dare get away with this look. But it was more than passable for a time, an era this Kept Woman would like to revisit today on TCM.

*A fourth attraction is that Lauren Bacall's character's name is Marilla. Marilla! Like Cuthbert.

Kept Woman Wednesday: "Mr. and Mrs. North" (1942)

Gracie shopping with her daughter, Sandra. I'm jealous.

George Burns and Gracie Allen aren’t really known for their movies (though conquering three entertainment mediums – TV, radio, stage – was certainly adequate). Today TCM is showing “Mr. and Mrs. North,” (1942) a comedy with Gracie Allen, which I haven’t seen but would plan to if my day permitted (maybe just a long lunch: 68 minutes?!). Of the handful of Burns & Allen movies, “A Damsel in Distress,” (1937) has some especially cute wordplay and cute Fred Astaire. Though don’t plan on deciphering any utterance from the adolescent eavesdropper character (you’ll see).

Did you know that Gracie Allen is one of my style icons? I adore her. When I was little, I would imagine the two of us shopping at Saks together. Just today, my sister asked me what I'd do if vacationing in Los Angeles. My real, true first thought: visit Forest Lawn Cemetery, where Gracie is interred, and take her flowers, like George used to do. I guess, in effect, I’d be taking flowers to George as well. Anyway, that’s first on my list. Then Disneyland.

The the ripe ol' age of ten, I became obsessed with vaudevillians and the early years of television. Inspired by George’s Gracie: A Love Story, I dreamed of Beverly Hills parties spent rallied ‘round the piano at Jack Benny’s house in the company of Mary Livingstone, George, Gracie, Eddie Cantor, Georgie Jessel. To me, they all seemed like great friends. And I didn’t have too many of those.

Gracie was blithe, kind and clever. She was adorable and well dressed – and maybe the first to impress upon me that style wasn’t just for, you know, them. Gracie loved beautiful clothes. If fashion was for a five foot funny lady with a squeaky voice, the maybe it could be for me, too (who had far greater sartorial inadequacies).

Here's what Gracie taught me about style:
Accessories: To avoid being over-dressed: before leaving the house, Gracie would look in the mirror and remove one accessory. I know, I know that this advice is often attributed to Coco Chanel, but I first learned it from Gracie. (Anecdote from George in Gracie: A Love Story.)
Furs: Fur instant glamour: A source alludes me, but George once said that Gracie "had furs from animals I've never even heard of." I, too, love furs. So taboo! I usually reason that if an animal would have died a natural death prior to my birth -- I'm off the hook because I wasn't around to protest it's inhumane death. (Would you like to know more about Persian Lamb? Yuck yuck ick!)
A Confidante: For the latest trends: Tony Curtis's The Making of 'Some Like it Hot' describes one of my favorite Hollywood friendships: "Orry-Kelly was constantly on the phone, talking to some woman. I assumed he was gay, so that didn’t figure. I later learned that he was talking to Gracie Allen. They were thick at thieves. Even though she’d retired, she wanted to hear all the gossip." Orry-Kelly could definitely shop at Saks with us. Don't know Orry-Kelly? Fix that.

A lively sense of humor is rather winsome, too:

Kept Woman Wednesday: The Great Lie (1941)

Bette Davis. Some of us only recall her as the huffing and cigarette puffing Margo Channing or beastly Baby Jane, or all her colorful remarks about Joan Crawford and Marilyn (I love you, Bette.) But she’s so much more to me. So much more important than a caricature, so much more important, even, than her film persona.

Let me first say that the feeling of adolescent aloneness is not so unusual. Rather, it’s the response and resolution that is unique. So when I remark that I spent many years being very timid and very guarded, it’s not a revelation. But I think what follows might be:

I was, most likely, born eccentric. And for a long time it was inhibiting. And now it isn’t.

There are a lot of Bette Davis movies. I’ve seen most. In 1939 alone, four of her greatest films were released. Just that small sample was enough: what started on Turner Classic Movies, grew to renting out the entire oeuvre of her films from our video store (in one weekend). I learned that being an individual was so powerful, not to intimidate others, but to embolden myself. Her wit, outspokenness and intensity, proved to be the serum I needed to survive shyness.

The actresses I really gravitate toward are the singing stars, tap dancers, and style icons: Judy, Ginger and Audrey. They inspire my wardrobe, eternal embrace of heavy eyeliner and energetic imagination. But before all that, Bette made me brave. She gave me the confidence to live in my own skin.

Acknowledging this connection is even amusing. I’m not brazen or commanding or cunning. My aesthetic and demeanor don’t really resemble much about Bette Davis. And yet, she is the impetus for all of it.

Kept Woman Wednesday selection:
The truth is, I haven’t seen Bette’s 1941 film “The Great Lie,” a surprising blip in a filmography to which I am most dedicated. But with tonight's Turner Classic Movies programming, I could amend that.

Kept Woman Wednesday: Tammy and the Bachelor (1957)

Meet Barbara.

You know the type. Like the Baroness or The Parent Trap’s Vicki. She’s the austere trophy intercepting the affection meant for a pluckier rival. In the case of Mala (m’lah? Mahhh-la?) Powers in "Tammy and the Bachelor," her Barbara isn’t your standard model. No, she also disparages the agricultural ambitions of her beau, twentieth-century southern gentleman, Pete. This helps us understand that Barbara is an especially poor pairing for Pete, who hopes to make his family's plantation sustanable again through tomato farming. Oh, Pete…strong, handsome, kind, oh my god, that’s Leslie Nielsen, Pete.

If you're unfamiliar with this film, acquaint yourself here, then return.

Barbara is a great foil for Tammy Tyree, enhancing the classic fish-out-of-water plotline. Compared to “childish Tammy,” Barbara possesses impeccably tailored and flared suits, polished coiffure and a clipped tone. I suspect that it was fun to portray Barbara. Mahhhh-la!

Rope belt!

Once I dreamed that Debbie Reynolds gave me the lush blue gown Barbara wears in the Pilgrimage Ball scenes. Even though I would rather have Tammy’s green gingham pinafore dress, I was ecstatic and didn’t suggest a trade.

That dream-couture benefactress is the real reason "Tammy and the Bachelor" endures so. Debbie Reyonds as Tammy. She's so pretty and breezy. Even a couple "Tammy! I'm so embarrassed for you right now!" moments are negated by her absolute charm. Maybe it's the denim clamdiggers tied with a rope, or the backwoodsy vocabulary (see: jostling board), or that she has an unexpected facility with historically-based monologues. It endears! It enchants!

There's about a day's worth of movies I could watch at any given moment, any mood, and circumstance. The interesting thing is that these films are not even necessarily in my top ten favorite list. "Tammy and the Bachelor" makes rank with both distinctions. Coincidentally, the only other film to do so is "Postcards from the Edge." ...I know.

Like so many hours spent with Turner Classic Movies before tonight, I would spend my Kept Woman Wednesday thoroughly amused by, and sort of in love with, "Tammy and the Bachelor." (Especially the Bachelor. You guys: Leslie Nielsen).

Emphasis on the bachelor.

Kept Woman Wednesday: Top Secret Affair (1957)

(Susan Hayward, appearing dismissive of my life's dream)

Years ago, I maintained the vision that my adult life could look like a younger, sunnier, carefree-er version of Mary Haines’s glamorous everyday existence. It doesn’t. But that’s fine. My reality is also very desirable.

But if my lifestyle was subsidized by a generous patron, paired with absolutely no expectations, I know how I’d pass the time.

Until I graduated high school, I spent all day every summer watching Turner Classic Movies. I’d nap during the evening, recharging to stay awake until 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. to continue the film marathon.

And I watched some great stuff. I was introduced to my secret favorite musical, “Good News" (1947). I sat through a classic I’m openly ambivalent about: "Citizen Kane" (1941). I recall a great noir starring Betty Grable, of all people. And I happened upon Bette Davis in “The Old Maid" (1939) and discovered a kindred spirit. The summer after high school graduation, I watched “The Great Caruso” (1951) in the small hours of the morning, then saw the screen become snow - - signifying a stubborn dispute between TCM and our cable provider.

I haven’t watched Turner Classic Movies since. But I still pretend, and review the week’s films, remembering all the one’s I’ve seen and yearning to watch all the rest.

So, what cinematic lineup would await my Wednesday? It’s right here.

Today’s line-up is tremendous. Hypothetically, my attention would be rapt until noon.

The dawn is met with Top Secret Affair, a 1957 romantic comedy starring Susan Hayward and Kirk Douglas. Susan Hayward is a favorite of mine. I’ve never forgotten that she was born a New Yorker with the name Edythe Marriner. And she looks like my mom. The year after this film, Susan won an academy award for “I Want To Live,” a claustrophobic, suspenseful death-row movie. Despite the gleaming statuette, Susan Hayward’s name is pretty synonymous with the melodramatic “women’s pictures” of the 1950s – but I consider her an exquisite actress who looked drop-dead gorgeous in Technicolor [See: "I Could Go On Singing" (1963).]

Get a load of this synopsis: Top Secret Affair -- A female publishing magnate tries to keep a general she hates from securing a prestigious appointment.

Those career women are vicious! Yet, imagine what happens when that frosty professional exterior succumbs to Kirk Douglas’s Kirk Douglass-ness. Go ahead, imagine. I'll get you a glass of ice water.