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melissaryanconner

Best Picture Movie Marathon, Part 82

Part 82: 1959


MOVIES:

  • Gigi (winner)

  • Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (hidden gem)

  • Auntie Mame

  • The Defiant Ones

  • Separate Tables


Gigi

Director: Vincente Minnelli

Starring: Leslie Caron, Maurice Chevalier, Louis Jourdan, Hermione Gingold, Eva Gabor, Jacques Bergerac, Isabel Jeans, John Abbott, Marie-Helene Arnaud

Oscar Wins: Best Film Editing, Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay), Best Music (Scoring of a Musical Picture), Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Music (Song) ("Gigi"), Best Cinematography (Color), Best Director, Best Picture

Other Nominations: No other nominations.

 

Here’s how clueless I am. I watched the entirety of Gigi, all 115 minutes of it, without realizing it was about a young girl training to be a courtesan (I just thought it was a rip-off of My Fair Lady!). If you’re not familiar with the term, allow me to elaborate…

 

In the early 1900s, particularly in Paris, it was commonplace for well-to-do men (married or not) to have a financial relationship with a courtesan. Essentially, these men were given free rein to these women in exchange for a place to live and a stipend (films like Poor Things and Moulin Rouge! are recent examples of courtesan life).

When Gigi was adapted from a book to a Broadway play in 1951, it starred a then-unknown Audrey Hepburn in the lead. Hollywood megaproducer Arthur Freed had the idea to turn it into a musical, recruiting the duo of Alan Lerner and Frederick Loewe (who also wrote the music for My Fair Lady) to write the songs and compose the musical score.

 

Naturally the Hollywood team was concerned about the idea of bringing a story about an underage courtesan-in-training to the screen amidst the Hays Code era. They instead made very vague references to “conducting business” or “making an arrangement”. I honestly thought they were training her to be a high-ranking member of society. OOPS! Needless to say, as soon as I realized this movie was about grooming an underage girl, everything suddenly made sense…and not in a good way.

Gigi (Leslie Caron) is a bit of a tomboy. It’s turn-of-the-century Paris, and she just doesn’t understand the French obsession with love. She just wants to hang with her friends, drink wine, and eat Bon-Bons (did those exist back then?). Girl, same.

 

Gigi is also the granddaughter of Mamita Alvarez (Hermione Gingold), who has arranged for her sister, Alicia (Isabel Jeans), to train Gigi in the ways of being a courtesan. Both Mamita and Alicia were once great courtesans, gaining remarkable wealth and comfort. But Gigi is a rambunctious free spirit, and she resists her lessons on how to eat, drink, sit, and converse properly. Instead, she gulps wine when she should be sipping and cares little for clothes or ladylike behavior.

This story runs in parallel to that of Gaston (Louis Jourdan), a notorious Parisian playboy who has grown immensely bored with life among the wealthy. He’s only able to find enjoyment when hanging out with Mamita and Gigi. Though the two have a large age gap, Gigi and Gaston enjoy a sibling-like relationship, eating candy together and playing cards...that is until Gaston sees Gigi in an elegant gown. Suddenly this loaf realizes Gigi is not only a woman, but a desirable woman…and he wants her.

 

The possibility of Gigi becoming Gaston’s mistress delights both Mamita and Alicia, but it doesn’t excite Gigi. She wants adventure in the great, wide somewhere. She wants to be more than someone’s bed partner, no matter how lofty that position may be.

Also at play here is Gaston’s uncle, Honore Lachaille (Maurice Chevalier), another Casanova who hasn’t let his advancing age interfere with his exuberance of young women – as he reminds us in his song, “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” (the lyrics, of which, are kind of creepy – as you can imagine). Honore and Mamita were once involved but have since gone their separate ways. Honore is not only a character in the plot, he also acts as the film’s narrator, offering colorful commentary about everything from how girls just exist to keep young boys entertained to how honorable it is for a man when a woman threatens to kill herself because of him. Oh, the 50s!

 

But what is a musical without music, right? Weirdly, Gigi is filled with forgettable showtunes, most of which I’ve never heard before. Besides “Thank Heaven…”, the only other song I knew was “I Remember It Well”, which is easily one of the best songs in the film. It’s a duet Chevalier shares with Hermione Gingold as they reminisce about their affair. Set against a setting sun, this conversational song talks about regret and nostalgia, warmly reflecting on the road not taken.

“I’m Glad I’m Not Young Anymore” was also kinda fun, celebrating old age and the rewards one earns for dealing with all the bullshit of life that is simply not as important as we once thought.

 

As for the rest of the songs…meh. None of them invoked emotion. None of them told a story. Hell, none of them even had any dancing! Ironically, the three best songs (“Thank Heaven for Little Girls”, “I Remember It Well”, and “I’m Glad I’m Not Young Anymore”) are all given to Maurice Chevalier, as none of the other cast could even sing. Leslie Caron, a gifted dancer who had played Gigi in a stage production, was dubbed. Louis Jourdan, another terrible singer, resorted to Rex Harrison’s “talk singing”, which made him even MORE boring. Characters just sat down and sang to each other or the camera, which made the musical moments extra long and only worked to drag down the pacing.

 

All in all, Gigi is an example of a movie where the parts are better than the whole. There’s no solid foundation here. The whole thing is a swirl of scenes that play well by themselves but kind of pile up awkwardly when viewed all together. While it certainly was a hit in its day (it was nominated for 9 Oscars and won every single one – a record that wouldn’t be topped until LOTR: The Return of the King), it’s also very much a product of its time. Like courtesans, grooming young women, and men named Gaston, perhaps this is one of those films best left to the past.

 

Cat on the Hot Tin Roof

Director: Richard Brooks

Starring: Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, Burl Ives, Jack Carson, Judith Anderson, Madeleine Sherwood, Larry Gates, Vaughn Taylor

Oscar Wins: No wins.

Other Nominations: Best Actress (Elizabeth Taylor), Best Actor (Paul Newman), Best Director, Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay), Best Cinematography (Color), Best Picture

 

I don’t know what the thermostat was set at during the filming of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, but it must have reached sweltering numbers. This movie is hot, hot, hot. The location is hot. The actors are hot. The tempers are hot. Hell, even the movie poster is hot.

Starring Paul Newman and Elizabeth Taylor (I honestly didn’t think it was possible for these two people to occupy the same room without it erupting into flames), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is a film about dishonesty. Besides “Big Daddy”, “mendacity” is probably the word used most often in the script. These characters lie to each other. They lie to themselves. They lie to win, they lie to protect, they lie to hide the truth. Everyone hides behind nicknames like Brick, Gooper, Big Daddy, and Sister Woman…they don’t even go by their ACTUAL names. Like all the best dysfunctional families (to say this is basically Succession wouldn’t be far from the truth), this Southern clan has pushed so much under the rug that it’s bound to be a tripping hazard for everyone involved.

 

The main action happens at the family’s estate in Mississippi. Everyone has gathered there to celebrate Big Daddy’s 65th birthday. Big Daddy (Burl Ives), the patriarch of the family, has a lot to celebrate. Not only is he welcoming in a new year, but he’s also just received news from his doctor that he’s cancer-free and feels like he has a new lease on life.

Not all the family shares his happiness, though. Big Daddy’s son Brick (Newman) is in some state of depression, nursing an injured foot and an alcohol addiction, all while pining over the loss of his best friend, Skipper. Brick’s wife, “Maggie the Cat” (Taylor) is sexually frustrated. Their marriage is one of convenience, not love. She desires him, but he refuses her advances. “We aren’t living,” she says, “just occupying the same cage.”

 

Also in attendance at the party are Big Mama (Judith Anderson), the matriarch; Gooper (Jack Carson), the eldest son; Gooper’s wife, Mae “Sister Woman” (Madeleine Sherwood); and their brood of annoying, bratty children.

 

The first deception comes pretty early on, when the family doctor reveals to Gooper and Brick that Big Daddy does indeed have cancer…not only that, he’ll probably be dead within the year. This revelation causes much in-fighting between Gooper, Mae, and Maggie in regard to what will happen with Big Daddy’s fortune once he dies. Maggie urges Brick to make nice with Big Daddy and participate in the birthday festivities, but Brick is too busy drinking away his sorrows to care.

Gooper and Mae are as calculating and vicious as they come, though Mae is all sunshine and rainbows on the outside. Big Daddy can’t stand either one of them, or their five “no-neck monster” children, but that doesn’t stop them from trying to get their fair share of Big Daddy’s financial assets.

 

As the party winds down, Big Daddy meets with Brick in his room and reveals that he’s fed up with his son’s behavior. This interaction becomes the crux of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. It’s here where we learn that Maggie and Brick have not had a sexual relationship for some time and Brick’s alcoholism is mainly due to his repressed homosexual feelings toward his friend, Skipper. It’s not a blatant statement, thanks to the Hays Code, but if you can read between the lines, you’ll see it. The film tries to cover it up with an affair between Maggie and Skipper, but Paul Newman’s eyes don’t lie! Looking at him in this film, you can’t help but picture actors like Rock Hudson or Montgomery Clift – men who lived out a Brick-like career in the closet.

The final scenes reveal everyone for who they truly are – lying, conniving, and selfish. But one final deception awaits, though…a lie gifted to Big Daddy on his birthday that will change the lives of Brick and Maggie the Cat forever.

 

Brimming with southern personality, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is as mesmerizing today as it was more than 60 years ago. Though some of the edge is missing from the stage production, it still proudly shows its theatrical roots. Almost everything about this film works in its favor, from the cast to the costumes, the set design to the script. The only detriment is how they diminished the homosexual plotline, but such was Hollywood in the 1950s. I’d certainly take a remake or adaptation of this any day!

Is there any good that can come from lying? Are there little white lies that actually do more help than harm? Is lying about a health condition or a mental problem or your sexuality wrong or safe? These are the types of questions we’re left with at the end of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. For many of these characters, the idea of embracing the truth about their health or their mental state or their sexuality is a fate worse than death. Ignorance is bliss, right? But what happens when we have no choice but to embrace our truth? That is the true test of our character.

 

Auntie Mame

Director: Morton DaCosta

Starring: Rosalind Russell, Forrest Tucker, Coral Browne, Fred Clark, Roger Smith, Patric Knowles, Peggy Cass, Jan Handzlik, Joanna Barnes, Pippa Scott, Lee Patrick, Willard Waterman, Robin Hughes, Connie Gilchrist, Yuki Shimoda, Brook Byron, Carol Vaezie, Henry Brandon

Oscar Wins: No wins.

Other Nominations: Best Supporting Actress (Peggy Cass), Best Actress (Rosalind Russell), Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography (Color), Best Film Editing, Best Picture

 

A madcap liberal hippie gets revenge on snobby bigots. Inject it into my veins.

 

Auntie Mame is a unique piece of art. It’s more than just a film. It’s a wonderful character study, a celebration of eccentricity and love of life. Mame Dennis (Rosalind Russell) is a true bon vivant, a woman who is so in love with life that it sometimes gets her into trouble. She’s also terribly affectionate, maternal and caring, traits that are seemingly the opposite of what she stands for, but ones that strangely fit her character. Though Mame does get married, romance doesn’t drive the plot. Instead, Auntie Mame centers around loving life and celebrating all that it has to offer.

It’s slightly ironic, then, that Auntie Mame begins with a death. Conservative Chicago businessman Edwin Dennis has died, leaving all his worldly possessions to his young son, Patrick (Jan Handzlik). Now orphaned, Patrick is sent off to live with Edwin’s eccentric sister, Mame Dennis in New York.

 

Of course, Edwin’s considerable wealth is supposed to ensure that his off-the-wall relative doesn’t impart too much of her nuttiness on Patrick while he’s under her supervision. He’s covered all his bases, appointing trustee Dwight Babcock (Fred Clark) to make sure Mame doesn’t “…do anything too goddamned eccentric!” Apparently, he didn’t know his sister that well…

When Patrick arrives at the door of 3 Beekman Place in Manhattan, he finds his aunt is hosting quite the party. Mame’s friends are a gallery of characters. There are drunk actresses, book publishers, even a guy who runs a nudist school. Elitists of the time would have called them “beatniks” or “bohemians”. Nowadays, people might call them “hippies” or “granola-munchers”. Auntie Mame just calls them friends.

 

Though she forgot about Patrick’s arrival, she welcomes him with open arms and immediately takes him under her wing as her surrogate son. Mame’s bohemian household is something of a constant carnival (13 cocktail parties in 2 weeks!), and it’s clear Patrick is having the time of his life. She encourages Patrick to mingle around and write down the words he doesn’t understand (“Libido”, “Inferiority Complex”, “Free Love”, “Bathtub Gin”, “Karl Marx [‘is that one of the Marx Brothers?’ he asks]”, and “Heterosexual” are just some of the great ones!). She also makes a point to send Patrick to a self-love class of sorts, which Babcock decries as a “combination nudist camp/opium den”. These early scenes of Patrick and Mame bonding are some of the best in the movie, often laugh-out-loud hilarious and enduring in many ways.

Though Mame and Babcock don’t agree on how to raise Patrick, Babcock ultimately gets the upper hand. He sends Patrick to an elite, snobbish private school, turning him into one of the snobs that Mame detests.

 

While Patrick is away, Mame is bankrupted by the 1929 stock market crash, forcing her to take a series of jobs which all end disastrously. During one job as a salesgirl, she meets Southern oil baron Beauregard Jackson Pickett Burnside (Forrest Tucker). Both are smitten and eventually marry, but Beauregard tragically dies soon after, forcing Mame to return home.

 

Now grown, Patrick has also returned home to see Mame…and he’s not alone. At school he falls in love with Gloria Upson (Joanna Barnes), an empty-headed, vapid, anti-Sematic country club girl. Mame obviously objects to Patrick’s desire to marry her – but instead of telling him that outright, she hosts a family dinner for the girl’s conservative parents in which she lets her eccentricity out in full force (The Birdcage was obviously inspired by this scene). Deeply offended, Gloria and her family leave in a fit of anger, opening Patrick’s eyes to the fact that she never approved of him or the way he was raised. With Gloria out of his life, Patrick can finally revert to being the loving nephew of his loving Auntie Mame.

And, despite everything else these characters go through, this is the only relationship we care about – Mame and Patrick. It was love at first sight for these two – as a completely non-maternal, cocktail-swinging bohemian suddenly becomes a mother – and a good one at that. Besides offering Patrick a place to stay, she also imparts on him the heart-felt lessons of how to remain open-minded, to be kind, to truly love life, enjoy experiences, and be tolerant of all types of people. She instills in him a sense of wonder, a sense of joy, encouraging him to make the most of life, and to embrace everything life may throw at you.

 

Played to perfection by Rosiland Russel, Auntie Mame is a character we either wish we had in our lives or wish we were. Wouldn’t it be terrific to “Live! Live! Live!” as she declares. “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!” she says. What a great line. She’s the type of woman we need to see more of in movies, a strong female character who teaches us how to be outspoken, caring, loyal, and accepting without losing ourselves in the process. The depth she gives to this screwball comedy is masterful. She’s not just madcap. She champions diversity, equality, family love and the fine arts – all while wearing the most fabulous clothes. We should all be so lucky to have someone like this in our lives.

 

The Defiant Ones

Director: Stanley Kramer

Starring: Sidney Poitier, Tony Curtis, Theodore Bikel, Charles McGraw, Lon Chaney, Jr., King Donovan, Claude Akins, Lawrence Dobkin, Whit Bissell, Carl Switzer, Kevin Coughlin, Cara Williams

Oscar Wins: Best Writing (Original Story and Screenplay), Best Cinematography (Black and White)

Other Nominations: Best Actor (Sidney Poitier), Best Actor (Tony Curtis), Best Supporting Actor (Theodore Bikel), Best Supporting Actress (Cara Williams), Best Film Editing, Best Director, Best Picture

 

Stanley Kramer was a man known for his “message movies”. These films often addressed a vareity of social and poiltical issues, speaking on topics often thought taboo at the time. Mental health (The Caine Mutiny), Communism (High Noon), social classes (Ship of Fools), interracial marriage (Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner), and the Nazi trials (Judgment at Nuremberg) were just some of the driving forces behind some of his best projects.

 

In The Defiant Ones, Kramer takes a candid look at racism through the eyes of two criminals: one white, one black. The film opens with a prison transport truck driving through a torrential downpour. When the driver of the truck becomes distracted, he loses control of the wheel, causing the truck to roll into the ditch. Under the coat of a heavy rainstorm, two jail-bound men stumble out of the prison truck and take off running. They put a good deal of ground between them and the wreck before the bloodhounds are called in…but their flight from authorities can only succeed if they work together towards their common goal – not just because they’re both convicts, but because the two men are shackled together at the wrists by a heavy chain.

“How come they chained a white man to a black?” one deputy asks. “The warden’s got a sense of humor,” Sherrif Max Muller (Theodore Bikel) responds. Sherrif Muller isn’t too concerned about apprehending the escapees…after all, with their obvious dislike of one another, they’ll probably end up killing each other before they can make it five miles, he says. This is the American south, after all.

 

Unsurprisingly, the drive to survive is strong with John “Joker” Jackson (Tony Curtis) and Noah Cullen (Sidney Poitier). Despite horrible weather, rough turrain, and a horde of state troopers, bloodhounds and dobermans on their tail, these two must tolerate teamwork despite their differences…or die together in the process.

Of course, it should come as no surprise that the lesson here is that these two men really aren’t that different at all. Each is the victim of cruel oppressions, each has hopes and dreams for their future, each – as a consequence of frustration – has commited a crime. As they learn more about each other, rescue each other, heal each other, a bond begins to form…and self-perservation ultimately gives way to friendship.

 

Eventually Joker and Cullen find harbor with a widow and her small son. Within the safety of her home, they’re finally able to sever the chain bounding them to each other. The widow (who is never named) offers them a warm meal and a place to sleep…and then, the predictable happens…she and Joker fall in love…or lust…or something. The two make love, then wake up early and resolve to take her car and run off without Cullen and the woman’s young son (!).

Cullen, having overheard the conversation, decides to go off on his own. The woman gives Cullen fake directions to the railroad tracks, hoping he’ll be swallowed up in the bog and not reveal her and Cullen’s plans to run away; however, Joker discovers her ruse and is enraged. The emotional bond that has grown between him and Cullen dictates his moral decision to try and save Cullen’s life.

 

Joker and Cullen do their best to catch the approaching train, but circumstances, once again, get in the way. Cullen, who has made it on the train, extends his hand to Joker, who is running to catch up. The camera shot of Joker’s white hand desperately reaching for Cullen’s black one is certainly meaningful. The attempted (intentional) linkage of the hands has now replaced the chains that once physically bound them.

Yet, Cullen tumbles off the train – and it’s impossible to know whether he was pulled off by Joker, lost his footing, or sacrificed his one shot at freedom to stand by his friend. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter because no resentment passes between them. This tender moment makes its point not by what we see and hear but by what we don’t see and hear – gone are the scowls and hurtful jabs that passed between them earlier in the film. Instead, they hold each other – awaiting whatever fate comes their way. And as the train leaves them both behind, it echoes as a metaphor for the moral distance these two souls have traveled in the course of the film.

 

The main message of The Defiant Ones may be heavy-handed at times, but it’s still almost always engaging. Joker and Cullen aren’t hardened criminals, they’re nuanced and sympathetic. They’re both stubborn, but they both have room to grow – and they do.

 

Besides its obvious themes, The Defiant Ones also examines the notions of effective communication, solitude, and the inherited fears that drive narrow-mindedness and distrust. It’s safe in a lot of ways, but groundbreaking in others. And even today, more than 65 years later, still stands as a great conversation piece for kids and adults of all ages, races, colors, and breeds.

 

Separate Tables

Director: Delbert Mann

Starring: Rita Hayworth, Deborah Kerr, David Niven, Burt Lancaster, Wendy Hiller, Gladys Cooper, Cathleen Nesbitt, Felix Aylmer, Rod Taylor, Audrey Dalton, May Hallatt, Priscilla Morgan

Oscar Wins: Best Actor (David Niven), Best Supporting Actress (Wendy Hiller)

Other Nominations: Best Actress (Deborah Kerr), Best Cinematography (Black and White), Best Music (Music Score of a Dramatic or Comedy Picture), Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay), Best Picture

 

The Hotel Beauregard, located on the south coast of England, is known for two things: fine cuisine and separate tables. The idea that a hotel would be known for having separate tables may seem foreign today – but back when live-in hotels were more in vogue, the notion that guests could dine privately rather than at a big group table was certainly more appealing.

But the promise of independent dining doesn’t stop everyone from being all up in each other’s business. The tables may be separate, but the gossip is shared…and secrets are paramount to the guests residing at the Beauregard.

 

Separate Tables is a film that makes good use of its ensemble. It’s a film without a lead – instead shifting perspective from one person to the next – as we learn more about their public persona and their inner nature, which is often concealed for a reason.

 

The long-term tenants include a host of interesting characters. There’s the mousy, high-strung maiden, Sibyl (Deborah Kerr), who seems to have an unstable mind – no thanks to her overbearing, judgmental mother, Mrs. Railton-Bell (Gladys Cooper). Sibyl’s platonic friend, Major David Angus Pollock (David Niven) is another resident who’s hiding a dark secret behind a gentlemanly façade.

Also among the guests are John Malcolm (Burt Lancaster) and his ex-wife, Anne Shankland (Rita Hayworth), whose arrival at the hotel is an unwelcome surprise to John – as well as the hotel’s manager, Pat Cooper (Wendy Hiller), who also happens to be John’s lover. It’s all very messy.

 

Like the Major, John also has his fair share of secrets, including jail time related to a domestic violence charge. He and Anne have history – and Anne is more than willing to expose it in order to get John back.

 

Separate Tables mainly functions as a movie about alienation. There are easily a dozen different characters woven into the story, but the theme of loneliness is persistent throughout. We never go far from the Beauregard, and the exterior shots that point the camera inside the building remind us of the loneliness and solitude that such displaced people suffer. They are as separate from society at large as they are from each other.

Though the themes of isolation and loneliness are certainly more relatable today than ever, the majority of Separate Tables is stuck in the past. Famously the shortest performance to win a Best Actor Oscar, David Niven makes the most of the 23 minutes given to his character. The Major is probably the closest thing we have to a lead, as he appears in key scenes at the beginning, middle and end of the film – and is the topic of much discussion while off-screen. However, his character is nothing short of problematic – especially in today’s “woke” era.

 

Without giving too much away, the Major tends to get himself in trouble with the ladies. When his secret is revealed, a discussion is led, aimed at ejecting the Major from the building. Unfortunately, Separate Tables doesn’t treat the Major with the same animosity these characters do. Boys will be boys, the film says.

John and Anne also have a violent, tumultuous relationship fueled by anger, jealousy and passion. Fistfights turn into make-out sessions as their tit-for-tat gameplay only adds fuel to the fire.

 

The rest of the characters are honestly quite forgettable. Kerr’s performance as Sibyl is so obnoxious that you almost have to question how she got another role after this. With no one worth liking, Separate Tables slogs to a finish that feels safe, forced, and fake. It’s a film that tries to present us with a sort of microcosm but ultimately the Hotel Beauregard feels more like an isolated refuge for those who are simply too weird to live in the real world.

 


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