Showing posts with label Mary Duncan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mary Duncan. Show all posts

Monday, 1 April 2013

Mary Duncan talks, then walks… Morning Glory (1933)

Mary Duncan - blonde ambition
My wife wandered into the living room and, taking one look sighed: “isn’t she beautiful?” whilst I was thinking “isn’t she clever?”.

We were watching Katherine Hepburn in Morning Glory, the Lowell Sherman comedy drama which was to earn her the first of her four Oscars… and pondering the nature of her appeal. Like Ingrid Bergman and others, Hepburn had the kind of aesthetic beauty which one acknowledges without necessarily being distracted by (ooh, hark at him!) , leaving room to focus on the remarkable acting ability on show.

Katherine Hepburn
Lazily, this may be something other women respond to more than men but the only thing I can be sure of is the reaction in our house and we were both knocked out by Hepburn’s ability and charm. Another one of those “what have I been missing?” moments for me – sometimes you can take the “greats” for granted.

But, whilst Katherine Hepburn took me by surprise I was interested in this film primarily to see Mary Duncan in a talkie.

Adolphe Menjou and Mary Duncan
The star of City Girl and The River was a very powerful silent film actress and she retired not too long after this film. Before having success in the silents, Duncan had been an adept stage actress and she shows it here as the over-reaching theatre star Rita Vernon: all haughty self importance and peroxide pride. She’s almost unrecognisable from the brunettes of those earlier films but…that is indeed acting and very fine too.

It’s Hepburn’s film though and it’s easy to be impressed with her uncanny precision in delivering a vast amount of dialogue and rapid shifts in emotional charge - unpredictable!

Katherine Hepburn
Hepburn plays Eva Lovelace, a naïve but determined young actress who has traveled to New York to make it on Broadway on her terms: in plays she feels worthy of her talent.

She lands in the office of impresario Louis Easton (Adolphe Menjou) who is busily casting for his new play alongside one of his writer s, Joseph Sheridan (Douglas Fairbanks Jnr). Sheridan’s a bit of an intellectual who’s about to start work on a worthy German play to be entitled The Golden Bough.

Rita Vernon sweeps in and is assured that she will land the plum role in this worthy drama only if her next play proves to be a hit. She flirts with Easton and they obviously go back aways…a business partnership flirting with disaster…

C. Aubrey Smith and Katherine Hepburn
Meanwhile, Eva befriends old hand Hedges (the wonderfully one-paced C. Aubrey Smith) whom she convinces to be her coach. Hepburn throws out dialogue like so much molten rock and barely pauses for breath to appreciate what she’s just said but it’s done with such energetic control and controlled force. You feel you’re watching one of the great technicians film has ever produced.

Douglas Fairbanks Jnr and Katherine Hepburn
Easton and Sheridan come out and encounter Eva who seems just like any other wannabe but there’s something more, not least her gently patronising letter from George Bernard Shaw… Sheridan in particular isn’t sure she’s a total whack-job.

Time passes and Vernon’s play is a smash. Hedges encounters Eva on her uppers in a run-down, Hopper-esque café. He takes her for some food and drink at Easton’s party where, indulging in rather too much of the latter, she lets rip with some impromptu Hamlet and Juliette… It’s impressive and embarrassing at the same time but you do wonder why it’s clearly going to take most of the film for the penny to drop – the kid can act!

To be or not to be...wherefore art thou...?
There’s some off-screen impropriety with Easton taking advantage of Eva… she’s still at his apartment the next morning when he enlists the help of a shell-shocked Sheridan to help “solve” the situation. Sheridan you see has developed feelings for the young woman who, remarkably, only has eyes for the older man… go figure.

Eva drops from view, still holding an unlikely candle for Easton as Sheridan prepares his great literary play for production. Rita has earned herself the right to star in the show even though Sheridan knows she’s not right.

Rita dictates her terms
But, having held off pushing her claims for a bigger contract, Rita tries to force the producers’ hand on the night of the first performance. Duncan is superb at this point, bullying the men with convincing ease… yet it doesn’t work. There’s a convenient under-study who is perfect for the role and just might prove herself up to the task!

This denouement is so obvious that the film spends little time on it, swiftly cutting from Eva’s dressing room doubts to her standing ovation. This much is taken for granted yet the film’s real point is about sustained success.

Reality bites...
Eva’s dresser is an ex-star who warns her against being a “morning glory”… Eva finishes the film fully aware of the pitfalls but swearing – like all the rest – that she won’t be afraid and will take her future as it comes.

It’s an uneven film with good performances over-coming a bumpy narrative. It doesn’t resolve the human aspects of career crash and burn with the clear assumption is that it’s better to be “in” success than out of it…Eve is defiant and yet the look on her dresser’s face suggests she hasn’t really headed her warning.

Mary Duncan hands over to Katherine Hepburn
In real life this was the start of Heburn’s long years of success and the end of Duncan’s moment as she married carpet tycoon (oh yes!) and polo player Stephen ("Laddie") Sanford. That’s show business, but we shouldn’t fret about Mary’s long life after film.

The future Mrs Sanford
She devoted herself to good causes and came to be described as the "Queen of Palm Beach society”… an epithet she disliked in deference to the many other ladies of prominence in the area such as Rose Kennedy and the Duchess of Windsor... You don't have to be in the movies to be a queen.


Morning Glory is available on reasonably-priced DVD all over the place. Buy it from Movie Mail where corporation tax is always paid.

Adolphe Menjou and Mary Duncan

Saturday, 23 March 2013

Mountain girl… The River (1929)


Before Murnau there was Borzage… uniting Mary Duncan and Charles Farrell in this tale of backwoods sensuality.

It’s remarkable how many cast and crew were shared by the two directors over the short, intense period when they were both at Fox. Duncan was in Murnau’s lost 4 Devils as well as City Girl whilst Farrell starred in that film as well as Borzage’s Seventh Heaven and Street Angel with Janet Gaynor who was also in Sunrise

Charles Farrell and Mary Duncan
The two directors shared expressionist techniques with the American heavily influenced by the German: pre-code and pre-crash these two helped set the high water mark of silent film creativity before the financial world took a tumble and Murnau met with his untimely ending.

That The River survives at all is a near miracle and, indeed, fair chunks of the recovered film were beyond saving including the beginning, three scenes and the whole of the climactic final reel. Yet, what does remain, is the very heart of a film often described as one of the most erotic of silent movies.

Allen John arrives at the camp
Much of this lies with the emotional honesty of the two leads, particularly Mary Duncan who proves again what a technically gifted actor she was. Playing an earthier character than in City Girl she transforms from predator to love-struck saviour as Charles Farrell’s innocent but ever-present sexuality wins her over.

Duncan is Rosalee, hard-bitten girlfriend of the local gangmaster Marsdon (Alfred Sabato) at a backwoods dam construction site. Bored with her bullying paramour she has an affair with one of the men but Masrdon kills him and his taken off to face justice.

Marsdon is arrested
Farrell plays Allen John a real backwoods-man who has built his own boat to explore up river. Unable to get past the dam he lands in time to prevent the dead man’s deaf mute friend Sam (Ivan Linow) from exacting revenge.

The men of the camp head off to the city for the winter and Rosalee is astonished to see a naked Allen John floating past the river’s leathal whirlpool and towards the shore. Just as he’s about to climb out of the water she surprises him leaving him to hide behind a rock… very much at the mercy of this confident and frankly quite forward woman. A lovely scene that sets the tone of their relationship.

Place inappropriate caption here...
Allen John soon becomes fascinated by Rosalee – one of the first woman he’s ever met beyond his mother. She teases him relentlessly not used to men of such clean living niavity. Allen John is forever missing his train and rocking up at Rosalee’s shack. She knows what he’s after but he – genuinely – doesn’t.

As Rosalee begins to warm to the big sap, she is prevented from taking action by the pet crow, Marsdon has left behind often seen looming in expressionistic shadows – there’s even a mement when Rosalee tries to move him away form the light only to leave him in a place where he creates an even bigger shadow… expressionist humour?


Winter looms and Allen John misses the last train till Spring. He buys provisions for Rosalee but she spurns his offer – she’s underestimated his good heart. She throws the food into the river but, together they rescue it.

The sexual tension rises and Duncan’s physicality is strikingly brought to the fore as she shows her longing for the young man. But then there’s that bird… she tries to kill it as it interrupts their flow once again but Allen John stops her. In her anger she stabs him with a blade which luckily breaks before it can penetrate his chest…

Spoilers:  Driven to frustration, Allen John goes out into the snow and starts manically chopping down trees – a metaphor to show how he can provide for her every bit as well as Marsdon.


He’s relentless and, failing to stop him Rosalee leaves him to it. He returns to his boat but fall unconscious as his fire goes out. He’s found the next morning by Sam who brings his friend to Rosalee’s – he is near death.

The two fight to revive him and as Rosalee sends Sam off to get help, she realises that the last chance is to use her own body heat… opening her coat she climbs into the bed and lies as close as she can to the man she now knows she loves.


It’s a wonderful scene and probably a quite shocking one for the time. Even if the film’s actual ending was extant, Allen John’s revival would still be the story’s pivotal moment… there were tears in our living room.

Possibly in recognition of this, the reconstruction fairly rushes through the final scenes which see Marsdon’s violent return and Rosalee’s plunge into the whirlpool. Whilst Sam drags off Marsdon to his fate, Allen John dives in and rescues her: the two are re-born.


I’ve written about other partial silent films but this one feels more balanced because of the remaining focus on the love story although it would have been good to see the whirlpool rescue! Farrell and Duncan have real chemistry which no doubt persuaded Murnau to cast them in City Girl.

I watched the Edition Filmuseum DVD which is replete with a booklet and extensive PDF extras. There’s a video essay from Janet Bergstrom on Murnau and Borzage at Fox and on a second disc, three short westerns from 1915 and 1916 starring a young Frank Borzage.

Available direct or from the BFI (not online though, you'll have to visit!) this will warm the cockles of anyone’s heart.

Friday, 7 December 2012

A symphony of wheat… City Girl (1930)

Charles Farrell and Mary Duncan


This is one of those late period silents that make you realise how technically adept the form had become and what little positive impact sound could have on the fluidity of the story-telling. City Girl was almost fatally compromised by the Fox studio’s drive towards sound as it struggled to compete with Warner Brothers squawky innovations.


Director FW Murnau’s penultimate film (before Tabu and his tragic early death) looks as fresh today as when it was made - crystal clear and full of his trademark visual invention. Yet he walked off the film as Fox insisted in imposing sound re-takes (to be directed by Broadway’s Buddy Erickson) and the truncated “talking” City Girl, was the one that did the rounds until the silent version was rediscovered in 1969. It had only previously been shown to the overseas markets that lagged behind in the sound revolution.

Interestingly, Sunrise had actually been the first film with a synchronised soundtrack – music and some sound effects and a few words - using Fox’s Movietone system. Murnau had assumed the same for this film and the lost 4 Devils, he also wanted it shot in massive 70mm “Grandeur Film”… but commercial forces came into play.



How much this compromised his vision is debatable but what’s on view is so consistent and strikingly realised that it certainly feels like something close to top quality Murnau. The silent version would have been completed by editor/writers HH Caldwell and Katherine Hilliker both of whom were regular collaborators with the German and were able to maintain his intentions. Debate rages over the ending but Murnau definitely filmed it and, overall, we are able to view something close to Murnau’s film.



There are so many lovely shots such as the young couple’s jubilant run through the wheat fields on Lem’s return to his home, which includes some jaw-dropping camera-tracking – I’ve no idea how they kept the camera straight over the bumps and surprises of a field. Then there’s the massive harvester cutting its way across the rolling fields and, back in the City, the way Lem and Kate move in and out of significance in two crowd scenes when they are agonising over whether to seek the other out… the perfect metaphor for uncertain young love and smartly done.



There’s not the same variety and scale of built locations as in Sunrise but the film-makers still had enough funds to buy a huge orchard and turn it into a wheat field… (they sold the wheat after production…) and to build large-scale cityscapes in-studio as well as replicas of the wheat fields containing fake-farms that move just a little too quickly alongside the mighty harvesters…

The story is deceptively simple and is based, in part, on the play The Mud Turtle by Elliot Lester (Richard Lester’s father), but whilst the play starts with the couple’s return, Murnau builds in a back story, showing how they met. He doesn’t show their wedding but their *decision*… and it’s a beautiful thing.



We start with Lem Tustine (Charles Farrell) heading into Chicago by train and under strict instructions to sell the family’s annual wheat crop at no less than $1.15 per bushel. Nervously he counts his money but he’s impervious to the charms of a blonde fellow-passenger who eye a free lunch – more likely oblivious.

Meanwhile we see Lem’s authoritarian father chastise his sister for playing with just a few strands of wheat: he is a man who lives by the letter of the Good Book and has seemingly squeezed all joy out of his life…
We cut to a busy down-town dinner where the employees are working their socks off from the cramped sweaty kitchen to the cramped sweaty men at the tables. There’s one waitress, Kate (Mary Duncan) who dreams of rural idyll: surely life would be simpler and nobler in the country?



She spies Lem praying before he eats and is fascinated by his gentle ways and later impressed by his resolve as he threatens another man who has impugned her honour. Here is a real, two-fisted, man from the country and, actually, she knows what she’s looking for…

Lem and Kate’s relationship overshadows his sale of the wheat at a less than optimal $1.13… a loss of almost $800… and they decide to wed and return together.

Kate confronts Tustine

Their jubilant run through the fields is quickly cut short when Lem’s father (David Torrence) discovers his failure in getting a good price. He ignores Kate and then, while they are alone, accuses her of being a gold-digger. Kate is made of stern stuff and fights back, aiming to “make a man of Lem” even if his father won’t. Bested in the verbal exchange, Old Man Tustine falls back on brute force and slaps Kate down.

He leaves and Lem returns but he won’t retaliate for Kate, he can’t hit his own father (watcher patience is running a tad thin at this point but bear with it…). The rift starts to build and, until Lem returns to the upstanding guy he was in the city, there can be no proper union with Kate.

The Reapers are impressed by Kate's arrival...
Now events really ramp up as the reapers arrive to help them harvest the wheat. They’ve heard of the marriage difficulties and rather graciously decide to help out by trying to encourage the city floozy away for themselves. Chief amongst Kate’s would be paramours is Mac, (Richard Alexander – later a baddy in Flash Gordon!) who makes a number of plays for Kate as Lem continues to hold himself back.
And all the while the screen is getting darker as the mood slips away from the light…

Kate "caught" with Mac
It is only when his father tells him that she is about to run away with Mac that Lem starts to stir… he doesn’t quite believe it but as usual on the farm, falls short of decisive action. Now the weather begins to turn and the wheat must be brought in over night but Mac and the men refuse as a way of leveraging Kate out of the house… but she’s already gone leaving a note for Lem… and you really should watch the film to find out the rest.

City Girl doesn’t quite match Sunrise but it’s another lovely visual experience from start to finish. Farrell is handsome as heck and well on the way to stardom (enabling this film’s belated release) whilst David Torrence is suitably intense as the bible-bashing dictator who cherishes crops above human feelings. Edith Yorke is superbly harassed as his loyal wife, still afraid more for him than of him….

Just look Lem ya great lump!
But it’s Duncan who excels. Kate is the most rounded character in the film and is the heart of the story. She’s consistent throughout and even whilst she thinks “living on a farm must be wonderful”… she is actually remarkably free of rose tints saying later that “bein’ here’s alright…I don’t think much of the company.” It’s the behaviour of the men which is disappointing and not the location or the way of life.

Kate is a strong character disappointed with life so far who clings onto Lem as she knows their love is genuine and it’s The Chance. Duncan gives such a clever performance… on the two occasions when Kate almost loses Lem she collapses back into him more in exhausted relief than joy: real love and not pantomime! She knows what she wants all the way through and is so true to her self that she pulls all of the male characters around her: truly one of the strongest women characters in film.



French critic Jean George Auriol was bowled over: “Mary Duncan is the most intelligent woman of the cinema; she has the gift of exceptional insight, intensified at times by troubled intuitions.”

There’s excellent support form a good number of, largely comedic specialists, in the café as well as the Reapers and City Girl is high on humour reminding you of its expressionist agenda.



Murnau had apparently given some thought to where the sound sections might fit in but this obviously didn’t go far enough for the studio who wanted more talk and less expression. Luckily we can see something like the full force of what Murnau intended and, whilst his visual focus was no longer fashionable, it would be a long time before any sound film director could match what he achieved in emotional narrative.

I watched the Eureka Master of Cinema Blu-ray/DVD double pack which has a ripping new score composed in 2008 by Christopher Caliendo. There’s an informative booklet as well as an excellent commentary from David Cabot which debates the impact of sound on Murnau and his – successful – collaborations in Hollywood. You can see it in all the all familiar places… it would make an ideal Christmas present for someone you really care alot about…