A Birthday Tribute to Greer Garson

I will never forget the first time I heard that voice.

"You are from the asylum, aren't you?"

It came from an unseen face. If velvet could speak, it would sound just like that. Oh, sure, I had heard the voice before, but it was not until that moment that I really, truly heard it. As the richness resonated in my ears, the soft-focus lens went to a close-up on the face belonging to the voice.

That face.

In my seventeen years of existence, I had never seen such a face. I had seen the face before, but, in the way that I had never really heard the voice, I had never really seen the face. It was magnificent. Radiant. The most exquisite thing I had ever seen. The soft, perfectly coiffed hair, the glistening eyes, the perfectly chiseled bone structure marked by high cheekbones, a beautiful jawline, and a cleft in the chin – how could anything so ethereal be real? The movie was Random Harvest (1942). The face was that of its star, Greer Garson. How could I have known what a defining moment that would be in my life? How could I have prepared myself for the inspiration I would find in this woman?

I had seen her in two films before. The first of these was The Valley of Decision (1945; a personal favorite). The second was Pride & Prejudice (1940), which I watched because I was going through an Olivier phase. But it was Random Harvest (1942) that really brought her to my attention. She was so beautiful; her voice was comparable to a piece of silk or a saucer of cream, and her every move was so, well, perfect. Bewitching. You couldn't look away out of fear that you would miss some subtle yet brilliant nuance of her acting. And then … she performed "She's Ma Daisy." In a kilt. With a Scottish accent. This charming woman, this paragon of perfection, had suddenly become a music hall performer. Vitality radiated from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She was hilarious and brash and still just as poised and elegant as she could be.

This woman could do anything.

Greer Garson's 1939 film debut performance as Katherine Chipping in Goodbye, Mr. Chips brought her an Academy Award nomination. She brought tears to our eyes in the Technicolor treat Blossoms in the Dust (1941), schooled the proud Mr. Darcy in archery in Pride & Prejudice (1940), fought the Germans in her kitchen and gave an Academy Award-winning performance as Mrs. Miniver (1942), discovered radium as Madame Curie (1943), loved Walter Pidgeon in countless films such as Mrs. Parkington (1944), won the heart of a young Gregory Peck in The Valley of Decision (1945), made us laugh until we cried in Julia Misbehaves (1948), defied the segregation of Catholics and Protestants in Scandal at Scourie (1953), warned her husband of his impending death in Julius Caesar (1953), and threatened to bash a child's brain in Her Twelve Men (1954), among others. Be it comedy, drama, or Shakespeare, she did it all. And she did it well.

It's hard to say what has drawn me to Greer Garson for going on ten years now. Her beauty, her talent, her perfection are all undeniable, but there's something more. There's an electricity to everything she does. The way her eyes light up when she laughs, the way her jaw clenches and nostrils flare when she's upset, the truth behind everything she does – every gesture and word is filled with a great, intangible quality unlike anything I have ever seen before, and unlike anything we shall ever see again. She has inspired me as an actress and classic film buff. She has taught me that as a comedienne, beautiful and silly can go perfectly hand-in-hand. She has shown me as a person the importance of faith, compassion, strength and dedication. But most importantly, she has brought me immeasurable amounts of joy. She is a star whose luster can brighten up even the darkest nights, a source of warmth when the world around us turns cold.

Thank you, Greer Garson, for all that you have done and all that you will continue to do. You are beloved and missed more than you possibly know. Happy 109th birthday, Duchess.

"Anything worth having is worth going for, all the way."

The show "Dallas" has nothing to do with my typical content, which is that of classic films.  I suppose one could argue that "Dallas" has several old movie connections -- the presence of veteran actresses and actors such as Barbara Bel Geddes, Jim Davis, Howard Keel, Donna Reed, and Alexis Smith.  But, in my eyes, that'd be stretching it a little.  My apologies for straying away from the norm, but last week's episode of "Dallas," in which we said goodbye to J.R. Ewing (and, ultimately, Larry Hagman), brought me to tears and completely inspired me.

My love of the eighties primetime soap began when I was ten years old.  I know my parents watched it in my childhood, but it went off the air when I was five, so I remember nothing of it until the first reunion movie, J.R. Returns, in 1996.  My father, who constantly usurped the living room TV, forced me to watch it.  (Well, I'm sure he didn't force me, but that's what was on.)  I have no idea what it was about that show that I loved and connected with, but I remember being instantly caught up in the drama.  Who were these characters?  What was their backstory?  Why did Major Nelson have insane eyebrows? 

It was around that same time that TNN (RIP that channel) began to air the original series.  My dad being my dad, he watched it religiously.  Me being me, I decided to join him.  Now, my father and I have never had an easy relationship.  We haven't always gotten along and our relationship during this time was incredibly strained, in many ways nonexistent.  "Dallas" was what brought us together.  For an hour at a time, we could sit there and root for our favorite characters -- his were Jock and J.R. (to this day, he always says, "J.R. is everything I wanna be: rich, powerful, and corrupt.") and mine was Sue Ellen.  More on her later.

To this day, this is one of my favorite shows.  I'd go so far as to say it's my second favorite show of all-time.  The characters and their relationships are so compelling that even a reboot of the show 34 years later is still popular.  So when Larry Hagman died, I was beside myself.  Is that a little much for a man I've never spoken to a day in my life?  Probably.  But the fact of the matter is that I considered Hagman (and J.R. Ewing) more of a member of my family than, well, most members of my family.  He has been a constant presence, a source of bonding for me and my own father, and let's face it -- a life without J.R. Ewing is simply no life at all.  I still like to pretend November 23rd never happened, but last week proved that, without a shadow of a doubt, our beloved Larry Hagman is gone.  (Unless he's faking his death.  Which is unlikely.  But would be THE GREATEST PLOT TWIST OF ALL TIME.)  And that beautiful memorial last week brings me to this woman:

Have you ever seen a sadder-looking individual?  When I first saw Linda Gray, I thought she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.  She was fifty-six at the time.  When I started watching the original series, I thought the same thing, but with an added layer: she was also the most tragic person I had ever seen.  Between those huge eyes and that trademark lip-quiver, Linda Gray made you want to save Sue Ellen.  Neglected by J.R. and driven to alcoholism by his philandering, I have never seen any character before or since that I felt that sorry for.  And yet, there were times when she could be a woman of steely resolution.  She was a dichotomy, and in so many ways, the most real of any character on there.  She will always be my favorite.  I will always want to be her.  And when she threw her slightly intoxicated self across J.R.'s grave last week and told him she'd have dinner with him, it felt like somebody was tearing into the depths of my soul.

So thank you, to the cast of "Dallas," for 35 years of incredible television.  Thank you for the joy you have brought to both my family and to myself.  Thank for the laughs, the jaw-dropping moments, and even for the tears.  Thank you to Linda Gray for being an inspiration to me for the past 17 years of my life.  And thank you, to Larry Hagman, for being the man the world loved to hate.  You will forever be missed. 

TCM Star of the Month for March: Greer Garson

When I found out a few weeks ago that Greer Garson was going to be TCM's Star of the Month for March, I was overjoyed.  For those of you who do not know, this woman is my favorite actress -- has been since I was around 17 years old.  And yet, my love for her was not instantaneous. 

I had seen her in a couple of films prior to the onslaught of love, those films being Pride & Prejudice (1940) and The Valley of Decision (1946).  I loved her in both, but I must have been too obsessed with Debbie Reynolds at the time to become enamored with anyone else.  (Don't worry, Debbie, I still love you.)  It was not until I saw Random Harvest (1942) that I completely, unabashedly fell head-over-heels with her. 

If you've never seen Random Harvest, stop whatever you're doing and buy it.  Right now. For those of you who have seen this classic, you know about Greer Garson's entrance.  Aside from Bette Davis' shooting that guy in the beginning of The Letter, it may be the greatest film entrance of all time.  Ronald Colman, playing the tongue-tied, shell-shocked WWI veteran who just peaced out of an asylum, is standing in a tobbaconist's shop (yes, definitely the first place I would go if I just rolled out of the looney bin), and all of a sudden you hear this voice.  The voice, in tones of liquid velvet, asks, "You are from the asylum, aren't you?"  You have just enough time to process the fact that this individual should be doing books on tape when the camera goes into a soft-angle close up of the face attached to the voice.  That face.  The incredible false eyelashes, the perfectly chiseled cheekbones, the cleft in her chin -- everything about her is just exquisite.  After I picked my jaw up off the floor that fateful day, I actually watched the movie and couldn't believe what I was seeing.  The story of Random Harvest is that of a chorus girl (Garson) who falls in love with and marries this amnesiac soldier (Colman), only to undergo more tragedy than I can even put into words.  It has the potential to be schmaltzy, sappy, and completely unrealistic.  But Greer Garson plays Paula Ridgeway in a way that makes her believable.  There isn't a false note in Garson's portrayal.  You believe her, you believe her improbable circumstances, and you root for her life to stop sucking so much.  It was after watching that movie that I realized what an incredible performer she was.  Regal and stiff-upper-lip she may have been, but she is also one of the warmest, most accessible personalities to have ever graced the silver screen.  There's a reason why she was the Queen of MGM from 1939 to 1945.   I've seen nearly every single thing she's ever been in, and while some of the films were mediocre (Adventure, I'm talkin' to you), she never turned in a mediocre performance.

Ironically, her performance in Random Harvest is one that was overshadowed by another film she made that year, Mrs. Miniver.  She won the Academy Award for her portrayal of Kay Miniver, and rightly.  It takes one heck of an actress to win an Academy Award for playing a housewife.  And that's exactly what Greer Garson was -- one heck of an actress.  She could have stood onscreen and read the phone book and it would still be one of the finest performances ever recorded.  And, contrary to popular belief, she was versatile.  Go watch her play an Irish maid in The Valley of Decision or a screwball actress in Julia Misbehaves.  Look at her performance as Eleanor Roosevelt in Sunrise at Campobello or as a frontier girl (and brunette, no less!) in Mrs. Parkington.  If you take the time to investigate her body of work, you will see what an incredible actress she truly was. (Oh, and let's not forget that time that she took over the role of Auntie Mame on Broadway when her friend, Rosalind Russell, left the stage to go film the movie.  WHERE IS THE FOOTAGE OF THIS?  I need to hear the words, "But darling, I'm your Auntie Mame!" issue forth from Greer Garson's mouth.)

Greer Garson was also a generally remarkable person.  Most actresses peak in their 20s.  In fact, the average age of the winner of the Academy Award is 26 according to something someone posted on Twitter last weekend.  (Obviously, I'm not fact checking this because I'm just assuming all of the film buffs I follow on Twitter know what they're talking about.  Apologies in advance if I'm wrong.)  Garson didn't even make her first film until she was 34 years old.  She went through two failed marriages, one of which ended after being subjected to verbal abuse and mental cruelty (Richard Ney, God rest his soul, should be glad I never met him in a dark alley) before finally marrying her soul mate, oil magnate Buddy Fogelson, at the age of 44.  She loved the theatre (she first began acting on the London stage) and gave a great deal of money to the theatre program at Southern Methodist University in Texas to help fund the arts. She loved her fans, particularly the young ones, as evidenced by her cameos as herself in The Youngest Profession (aka my life story) and "Father Knows Best." 

Greer Garson was intelligent, beautiful, witty, warm, and talented -- everything that every woman should aspire to be.  The world is a better place for having once been home to this incredible individual. Make sure to catch as many of her films as you can every Monday this month on TCM this month, starting this Monday, March 4th, at 8 PM.  You won't regret it.

So Kiss Me Kate (1953), Darling Devil Divine!

Picture it: a movie theater, 1953.  You're "sitting in the darkness, popcorn on your knee" as the old song goes, a pair of 3D glasses perched atop your nose.  Suddenly, the opening credits begin to roll, and as they appear on-screen, you realize -- holy cow! -- EVERYTHING IS COMING AT YOUR FACE.  3D!  In color!  With Stereophonic Sound!  This is what audiences experienced while watching MGM's film version of Cole Porter's Kiss Me Kate (albeit with "cleaned up" lyrics and the absence of Lilli's profane entrance), the tale of divorced actors who are forced to reunite when they are both cast in a musicalization of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew.  Sumptuous and extravagant (and even hilarious), this movie musical is a gem, regardless of the number of gimmicks it employed at the time to get audiences out from in front of their television set and into the theatre.  It's fast-paced, frivolous fun from the Jack Cummings unit (a step down from Arthur Freed, but it's all good, Jack -- I support you) with some epic dance numbers choreographed by the fabulous Hermes Pan, and even a segment choreographed by a featured dancer in the film ... a blond fellow by the name of Bob Fosse. 

The Actors:

• Kathryn Grayson: This is easily my favorite film of my fellow North Carolina native.  Grayson, whose petite frame and heart-shaped face lent itself to playing pretty much every soprano ingenue ever, is really able to sink her teeth into the role of tempestuous stage star Lilli Vanessi.  Her delivery of "I Hate Men" (and really, every hateful line she throws at Howard Keel) is hilarious -- and not just because she keeps throwing junk at your face.  (3D WIN!)  She basically portrays the kind of human I aspire to be.  Also, I have to add that I don't think Kathryn Grayson ever looked any lovelier than she does in that beautiful, long, red wig she wears for playing Kate.  Seriously, she should have worn that wig forever.
• Howard Keel: True story - I was first exposed to Howard Keel at some point in my elementary school career when I became obsessed with the TV show, "Dallas."  Teenage me discovering twelve/thirteen years ago that he had actually been a huge MGM singing star was like discovering America or a third arm.  I feel that Howard Keel was to musicals what Errol Flynn had been to swashbucklers.  He's the perfect combination of brash and boastfulness as Fred Graham.  The chemistry between Keel and Grayson in this film is positively electric.  No more of this precious Magnolia/Gaylord Show Boat nonsense.  It's time to throw things and yell! 
• Ann Miller: Sheeeeeeeeeee's baaaaaaaaaaaaaack!  And this time her name is Lois Lane.  (No.  Not a joke.) I never love Annie more than when she's a man-eater, and boy does she feast upon the dudes in this movie.  She has four big dance numbers in this film, all of which contain some of the greatest dancing ever captured on film.  (We'll talk about those later.)  Girl can bust a move. 
• Tommy Rall: Rall plays Ann Miller's paramour numero uno, Bill Calhoun, dancer and gambler extraordinaire.  It's fun to see him in another film with Howard Keel, with whom he would work again the following year in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  (Incidentally, not exactly my favorite movie.  My apologies to everyone I just offended.)  Also, he really knows how to work the guyliner. 
• Keenan Wynn and James Whitmore: Uncle Albert's son and Ado Annie's dad in a movie together?  Playing Runyonesque gambler-thugs named "Lippy" and "Slug"?  YOU BETCHA.  MGM seriously had some of the best ideas -- and truly more stars than there are in the heavens.  These two character actors are hilarious, particularly in their duet "Brush Up Your Shakespeare."  Also, I just have to throw out there that Wynn was also on "Dallas" as Digger Barnes no. 2.  How many future "Dallas" cast members can we put in this movie?
• Bob Fosse, Bobby Van, Jeanne Coyne, and Carol Haney: All four of these folks are featured dancers, but they all deserve recognition.  While film fame never really found Coyne and Haney, they are both tremendously talented in their own right.  See my post on On the Town (1949) for more on Carol Haney.  Jeanne Coyne, on the other hand, was married to director Stanley Donen for three years.  They divorced, and she later married Donen's buddy, Gene Kelly.  (Bet those Christmas parties were awkward.)  Coyne and Kelly had two children together and were married until her death from leukemia.  Fosse and Van were later able to secure some decent roles in a number of MGM musicals, but theatre types will know Fosse for his immense contribution to the world of musical theatre.  Of course, later in his life, Bob Fosse became a high-profile Hollywood director of films like Cabaret. 

The Memorable Quotes:

• LILLI: Do you really think I could play the shrew?
  FRED: You'd make a perfect shrew!
• "There's another good song in the score for Lilli!  'I Hate Men'." - faux Cole Porter
• LOIS: Hey, wait a minute!  Now it's coming through to me.  She wants to do the number!  You gave it to her!
  LILLI: Why, that's absurd!  I wouldn't dream of displaying my legs.
  LOIS: What's the matter with your legs?  Are ya knock-kneed?
• FRED: Calling me a louse.  And on stage!
  LILLI: Sorry.  I should have waited.  YOU LOUSE!
• FRED: (to Lilli who is filing her nails) Lilli, will you stop that infernal squeaking? You know it gets on my nerves.
  LILLI: What do you want me to do, bite them off?!
• LILLI: What happened to us, Fred?
  FRED: I -- I don't know.
  LILLI: Whose fault was it?
  FRED: Well.  Could've been your disposition.
  LILLI: It might have been your ego.
• LIPPY: I don't like my face.
  SLUG: Neither do I.
• "Thou jerk!" - Lilli
• "Bill, you've simply got to tell Mr. Graham.  Signing somebody else's name is perjury!" - Lois
• LOIS: (after Bill walks in on her being kissed by Fred) I was just saying, 'Thank you!'
  SLUG: How do you suppose she says, 'You're welcome'?"

The Favorite Musical Numbers:

• "Too Darn Hot."  Ann Miller sizzles and shows off those gorgeous gams while throwing things at the audience and tap dancing on the furniture in a hot pink, beaded costume.  What's not to love?  Unfortunately, when she's finished dancing up a storm, Cole Porter informs her they've cut the number.  Reminds me of that moment in Singin' in the Rain when we spend twenty minutes watching the "Broadway Melody Ballet," only to have Millard Mitchell tell us he'll have to see it on film first.  *headdesk*
• "Wunderbar."  You can tell that Howard Keel and Kathryn Grayson are having such fun in this number.  The staging is simultaneously humorous and romantic.  You really root for them to get back together, regardless of the egomaniacal/violent tendencies.
• "Tom, Dick or Harry." Another great dance number, not only for Ann Miller, but for Tommy Rall, Bob Fosse, and Bobby Van, all of whom are wearing really tight pants. 
• "Always True to You in My Fashion."  Probably my favorite number in the whole show.  It's flirty, it's witty, and I'm pretty sure Hermes Pan shows up as a sailor boy toward the end of the song.
• "From This Moment On."  This number is not so much about the song as it is the dancing.  You've got six outstanding dancers -- Ann Miller, Tommy Rall, Jeanne Coyne, Bobby Van, Carol Haney, and Bob Fosse.  The best part of the dance is the duet between Haney and Fosse, choreographed by Bob Fosse himself.  I don't know what made Hermes Pan decide to let him do his own thing, but it was a brilliant move on Pan's part.  The choreography is so perfectly Fosse, and of course Carol Haney is second only to Gwen Verdon when it comes to executing his style.  If you click on the above link, his piece starts at 2:11.  If it doesn't blow your mind, there might be something wrong with you.

The Random Thoughts Swimming Through My Head:

• HAHAHAHAHAHA, FAKE COLE PORTER, HAHAHAHAHAHA.  However, he's just as snarky and flamboyant as the real Cole Porter, which makes it even better.  Also humorous is the fact that they try to have him distracted by Lois' legs.  How unlikely.  Pretty sure he's more distracted by Howard Keel.  Just sayin'. 
• Somebody kill that blonde wig they forced Kathryn Grayson to wear.  
• I just realized (upon viewing this film for the umpteenth time) that there are pictures of Howard Keel in Annie Get Your Gun and Kathryn and Howard in Show Boat sitting on their piano.  Well played, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.  
• Walter Plunkett, you've done it again.  These costumes are absolutely stunning.
• Ann Miller's first entrance consists of her coming in and taking off her clothes.  Why don't more people do this when they come into a room nowadays?
• How many times can one person say "sweetie" in one film? (Talkin' to you, Lois Lane.)
• Lilli should have stabbed Fred with that nail file.  I feel it would have added something to the scene.
• I dig Howard Keel's earring. And his burro.
• Ann Miller should obviously have done Shakespeare professionally.  
• This film promotes domestic violence.  
• Fosse caught Fred's little black book in the end.  There's some irony.

Just ten baby fingers and ten baby toes--Troubles? Scandal?--Gosh--Nobody Knows

Bachelor Mother (1939)

My first encounter with the beautiful, talented Ginger Rogers was as a little girl watching the 1965 version of Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella.  (No.  I was not alive in 1965.  At least, not in this lifetime.)  I remember being enamored with this elegant, blonde woman playing the Queen.  I also recall my mother telling me that she had been a very famous dancer.  Famous dancer, indeed.  Rogers was 54 at the time.

Bachelor Mother (1939) is the first non-musical I ever saw Ginger Rogers in.  All of her big roles up until Stage Door in 1937 had primarily been in musicals, initially those of the Busby Berkeley variety, and later, her famed films with Fred Astaire. It's fascinating to watch her incredible skills as a brilliant comedienne in this witty comedy, knowing that only a year later she would win the Oscar for the title character in the drama Kitty Foyle (1940).

Directed by the fantastic Garson Kanin, Bachelor Mother tells the story of Polly Parrish (played by a sparkling, sensational Rogers), a woman who loses her seasonal job at Merlin's Department Store (akin to Macy's) after the holidays.  While out and about searching for a new job, she happens upon a foundling outside of an orphanage (umm, Merry Christmas?) which everyone, of course, assumes is actually hers.  Complications ensue when David Merlin (played by David Niven), Polly's former boss, finds out he's recently fired a single mother with a baby, and decides to give her her job back.  Things really get out of control when Merlin's father, J.B. (Charles Coburn), thinks that the baby has been fathered by David. 

Still with me, there?

While there are some excellent performances by the fantastically dapper David Niven (who is an excellent comedian in his own right) and Charles Coburn, it's clear that this is Ginger Rogers' movie.  This events that happen in this film are so unlikely, and yet because Rogers is so endearing, you believe all of it.  Rogers knew how to play realistic, street-smart working girls, but she always imbued them with class.   She's not only beautiful and charming in this film, but funny and intelligent. Ginger Rogers is at the top of her game here -- absolute perfection. 

The Memorable Quotes:

• "Hey, hey.  Take your finger out of your mouth.  You want your teeth to grow crooked?" - Polly.  To an infant.
• FREDDIE: (upon seeing the baby) Well, what did it do, crawl through the wall?
  POLLY: Oh, don't be silly.
  FREDDIE: Is it, uh, is it yours?
  POLLY: No, it's not mine!
  FREDDIE: Well, where'd it come from?
  POLLY: I got it for Christmas.
  FREDDIE: Well, this Christmas or last Christmas?
• "Goodbye, baby.  You certainly are cute!" - Polly
• "Ha-ha." - Polly
• DAVID: Well, how'd you like her?
  LOUISE: She's not bad for a fill-in.  Personally, I'd just as soon go stag.
  POLLY: You could, too, with those shoulders.

The Favorite Scenes:

•  The dance contest at The Pink Slipper.  It's always nice to see Ginger Rogers strutting her stuff, but the real treat here is watching David Niven cut a rug. 
• The scene where David tries to convince Polly to rub oatmeal into the baby's navel is COMEDY GOLD. 
• The New Year's Eve scene sparkles with razor-sharp wit.  Polly's "Swedish" is priceless.

The "Miscellaneous Other":

• Shout-out regarding the appearance of Dennie Moore in the role of Polly's co-worker at Merlin's.  1939 was good to Moore -- that year, she also played the role of Olga, the blabbering manicurist, in the film version of Clare Booth Luce's The Women.  
• Another shout-out to my homie Frank Albertson as Fred.  Albertson is best-known to audiences as Sam Wainwright in It's a Wonderful Life (1946) ... HEE-HAW!
• DONALD DUCK OVERLOAD.

We're goin' On The Town (1949)!

On the Town is one of the first musical films I latched on to when my obsession with classic movies began years ago.  This was likely due to the fact that I was convinced that Gene Kelly was actually my boyfriend (never mind that he was dead) and that Frank Sinatra was my beau on the side.  Jules Munshin -- I'm sorry.  There is apparently no romantic place for you in my heart.  This film also features a slew of beast females -- Vera-Ellen (who I first knew as Judy Haynes in White Christmas), Betty Garrett (who I first knew as Mrs. Babish from "Laverne & Shirley"), and Ann Miller, who I didn't know at the time, but became mildly obsessed with.  This is one of those lavish MGM musicals that came out of "the Freed unit" -- that is, a production under the dictatorship of the extraordinary Arthur Freed.  The script is by the fantastic Betty Comden and Adolph Green.  A scant few songs (by none other than Leonard Bernstein) from the original stage production have been allowed to remain, but the majority of the music for the film is new (and written by MGM composer/arranger mackdaddy, Roger Edens). I have a lot of thoughts about this movie and am not sure exactly how to organize them.  So bear with me.

 The Actors:

•  Gene Kelly: Kelly, having been at MGM for seven years by now, was a complete and total pro.  He co-directs with Stanley Donen, something he would do again three years later in Singin' in the Rain.  Gabey is typical of Kelly's characters -- brash and bold, but charming.  And let's face it: Gene Kelly was a beautiful man whose dancing was such a romantic extension of himself that I can't even handle talking about it. 
• Frank Sinatra: Ol' Blue Eyes is at his most adorable in MGM musicals of the 1940s.  He's so tiny and precious, and his slightly-naive Chip works well opposite his more worldly cronies.  Seriously, how do you not love a man who would apparently rather go sight-seeing than hit on dames?  He's just so innocent.  For the record, I love all of the movies that paired Sinatra with Kelly.  They have a great on-screen chemistry as buddies. 
• Jules Munshin: I'm pretty sure Jules Munshin (Ozzie) was cast in this film for three reasons.  1) He worked well opposite Kelly and Sinatra, as had already been evidenced in Take Me Out to the Ballgame (1949; also with Betty Garrett).  2) They needed a male who was taller than Ann Miller in heels.  Heck, they needed a male who was taller than Kelly and Sinatra.  3) His resemblance to the Cro-Magnon man really is uncanny.  But he does have the best lines of all the males in the film.  Well done, Mr. Munshin.
• Ann Miller: Poor Annie.  I have so much fun at her expense all the time, even though I openly adore her and give her props for being one of the greatest dancers of all-time (second only, in my opinion, to Eleanor Powell).  She's fantastic in this film as Claire; she's funny, she sparkles on screen, and she plays a strong female who apparently enjoys men. A lot.  I dig.
• Betty Garrett: Betty Garrett had already played opposite Frank Sinatra in Take Me Out to the Ballgame.  I suppose MGM loved them (as did I), because they paired them again.  And yet again, he was the mild-mannered innocent and she was the insanely-aggressive female. She makes a wonderful Hildy and is a shining example of what this film is secretly all-about: sassy, man-eating females. (Side note: pretty sure Betty Garrett was 50 for at least forty years.  She looked as old in 1949 as she did in 1979.)
• Vera-Ellen: VERA-ELLEN, WHEN SHE STILL ATE SANDWICHES!  She's so painstakingly thin in White Christmas due to her eating disorder and it's quite sad simply because you know some studio schmuck probably told her she was fat.  (I hate you, studio schmuck.)  In this film, however, she is quite shapely, her face slightly rounded and youthful (versus the more sophisticated, chiseled look she has in later films).  She makes a perfect Ivy Smith aka "Miss Turnstiles" and is a delightful dance partner for Kelly.  (Even though her acting continues to be kind of atrocious.  It's okay.  I love her so.)

The Memorable Quotes:

•  "Get him!  Mr. Particular.  Who you got waitin' for you in New York, Ava Gardner?!" - Ozzie to Gabey.  While Chip (Sinatra) stands right there in the middle of them.  Irony.
• CHIP: Hey!  Why do you have to run into girls all the time?!
  GABEY: I'll tell ya when your voice changes, Junior!
• GUY ON RADIO: Report to Museum of Anthropological History.  Investigate collapse of dinosaur. 
  COP: Collapse?  Why that's terrible!  She's my favorite singing star, that Dinah Shore.  
• CLAIRE: How'd you feel if someone broke your dinosaur?
  OZZIE: I never had one.  We were too poor. 
• HILDY: (after having practically forced her out of the apartment) Thanks, Lucy.  I'll do the same for you someday. 
  LUCY: When will you ever get the opportunity?
• CHIP: Goodbye, Miss Schmeeler.
  LUCY: Goodbye, Mr. Chips.  
• "BUT I DON'T WANNA BE LIKE MARGARET O'BRIEN!" - random Shirley Temple-esque child
• "Hildy can tell you I'm just a 'Streetcar Named Repulsive'!" - Lucy
• LUCY: (after being kissed by Gabey) Oh, you bad boy.  Now I won't wash my cheek for a year.

The Favorite Musical Numbers: 

• "Prehistoric Man."  This is Ann Miller's big chance to showcase her machine-gun taps and great gams and it's such a fun number.  It's slightly bizarre and probably mildly socially unacceptable with all of the stereotypical caveman moves and costumes, but that's also probably why I love it so much. 
• "Come Up to My Place." This song has such a great patter and is just so witty.  In real life, no one would say, "What stop for did you hey?" (except for, perhaps, Yoda) but in this song, it makes complete sense.  Watching Betty Garrett practically devour Frank Sinatra is thoroughly entertaining.  
• "You Can Count On Me."  Maybe it's the beautiful harmony, or maybe it's corny jokes ("As the adding machine once said ... you can count on me"), but everyone looks like they're having a blast during this number.  Particularly Gene Kelly while being seduced by Alice Pearce.  What a temptress. 

The Random Thoughts Swimming in My Head: 

• I am OBSESSED (do you hear me? -- OBSESSED!) with the fact that Bea Benaderet is a passenger on the subway.  BEA BENADERET, PEOPLE.  She may be Betty Rubble or Cousin Pearl to many, but she will always be Blanche Morton and Kate Bradley in my heart.  And I love her for it.  Kudos to whomever decided to stick her in this film.  Her five seconds are laugh-out-loud funny. 
  

  

  Bea Benaderet (L) in On the Town.
  

• So THIS is where Ann Miller got started with the blue eye shadow, red lipstick, and copious amounts of blush.  Jack Dawn, I have such a bone to pick with you ...
• Betty Garrett's roommate, Lucy Schmeeler (whatta name!), is Alice Pearce, better known as the first Gladys Kravitz on "Bewitched."  And, reprising a role she originated on Broadway, she is a hoot!  But I still can't get over the fact that it's Gladys Kravitz. 
• Mme. Dilyovska.  Drunk.  Drunk all da time.
• I'm going to start referring to people as "specimen." I'm also going to become a "Cooch Dancer."
• Betty Garrett ordered Frank Sinatra a beer.  That's what's up.
• The presence of Carol Haney.  For most people, this name means next to nothing, but if your love of classic movies runs parallel to a love for the theatre, you will know that Carol Haney originated the role of Gladys in The Pajama Game.  She was married to game show enthusiast Larry Blyden until her death in 1964 at age 39.  She was Fosse's precursor to Gwen Verdon and is a spectacular dancer in the ballet sequence at the end.  As a side note -- it's because of Haney that Shirley MacLaine became a star.  Hal B. Wallis was at The Pajama Game one night with the intent of seeing Haney.  Haney, who had a reputation for never being out, happened to be out that night and her understudy, Shirley MacLaine, had to go on.  Wallis took MacLaine to Hollywood and the rest, as they say, is history.  Carol Haney does the balletic work as Ann Miller's counterpart.
  

  

  Carol Haney (R) dances in On the Town.

• MGM, WHY MUST THERE ALWAYS BE A BALLET AT THE END?! 

An introduction.

Over the years, I have had a countless number of blogs that I have failed to keep up with.  This is a shame, although very typical of my personality.  I get the oddest inspirations at the oddest times and then fail to follow through with them.  As of late, however, I have realized that I have a lot of thoughts about classic movies.  A lot.  I always have, ever since I started really getting into this madness at the tender age of fourteen.  (We can all blame Oklahoma!, White Christmas, and Singin' in the Rain.) So why not write about them? I'm part of an awesome Twitter community called #TCMParty (@TCM_Party) which, incidentally, you should follow if you want to hear people make hilarious commentary about all of the old movies that are near and dear to your heart.  I follow several blogs of those folks, and have finally broken down to create my own.  My ultimate goals: to add fuel to the fire of your love for classic movies (no, seriously, I will brainwash you) and to make you laugh (think of me as the Carol Burnett of the classic film community ... whatever that means).  I hope you'll enjoy your browsing here and check back every so often.  Hopefully, there will at least be some pretty pictures for you to look at. 

Cheers!

Coming soon ... random thoughts about On the Town (1949).  Starting with the fact that I'm pretty sure Ann Miller dug that make-up look so much she kept it for the rest of her life.  Sugar Babies, anyone?