Sprocket_Man

>I do know quite a lot about David Selznick and his affair with Jennifer Jones. If you know about it, then you know it was a courtship and marriage that lasted until Selznick's death in 1965 (some may remember that a few months ago someone posted links to some home movies on YouTube depicting a series of Malibu beach parties. Among the show business figures in attendance was Selznick; as the date of that particular party was noted at the beginning of the film, it was impossible to ignore that he was twenty-three days away from that death: http://forums.tcm.com/thread.jspa?messageID=8557699 As for the Goldwyn Scoring Stage, it did have the best acoustics of any large recording in Hollywood. Unfortunately, it was converted into a shooting stage years ago. Even if the studio's owners wanted to return to recording music in it, those superb acoustics probably could not be re-created.

Yep, I never called DUEL IN THE SUN ill-fated (I was quoting MovieProfessor), but that's exactly what the film was. So concerned was David Selznick that his tombstone would one day read "Here Lies the Producer of 'Gone with the Wind" -- meaning that his crowning achievement was attained at the age of 37, and his career was in a downward spiral after that -- he set out to out-'GWTW' 'GWTW' by making (to use Rhett's description of the ring he plans to buy Scralett) the biggest, most vulgar movie anyone had ever seen...and that vehicle was DUEL IN THE SUN. Variations of this motivation are, unfortunately, all too common in Hollywood: the making of a film to prove some point (that's usually lost on most observers, casual or otherwise), or because one merely wishes to make that kind of movie (science fiction, Western, love story -- take your pick), rather than for the only reason that really matters and works in favor of making a good movie, and not against it: having a great, compelling story that's crying to be told (and certainly does not describe DUEL IN THE SUN). As for Tiomkin and HOW THE WEST WAS WON, thank heaven he didn't score it. As you note, Alfred Newman did, and produced a masterpiece (freed of his executive duties at 20th Century-Fox, and blessed with a producer, Bernard Smith, who didn't think he knew more about music than his composer -- meaning he never sought to meddle in musical matters and dictate to Newman what he thought did, and did not belong in his movie -- Newman -- who loved to conduct and hated composing -- later described his work on the MGM HTWWW as the most pleasant film-scoring experience of his long, long career...though he disliked the acoustics and miking of the MGM scoring stage and thought the orchestra there inferior to the one he painstakingly assembled at Fox). PS: Bernard Herrmann's friends called him "Bennie," not "Bernie."

*...WRITERS WERE JUST 'SCHMUCKS WITH UNDERWOODS'...* >Another book you would probably enjoy reading (if you can find a copy) is The Making Of The Wizard Of Oz by Aljean Harmetz (1977). Amazing how many "major" script changes and number of writers this movie had. Not amazing at all; putting a boatload of writers on a picture was standard operating procedure back then, especially at MGM. After all, they were all under contract, being paid whether they wrote or not, and all the studio chiefs hated paying anyone for doing nothing (legend has it that Jack Warner would stroll through his studio's writer's building just to hear the clackety-clack of typewriters to reassure himself that he was getting his money's worth, and screenwriters were generally forced to turn in a quota of pages every Thursday). PS: Harmetz's books are rife with errors.

>...when [Tiomkin|http://forums.tcm.com/] embarked on what was his first attempt at a big western score was composed under an intense atmosphere. This was all brought on by producer David O. Selznick, during the making of his now ill fated western epic of 1947, "Duel In The Sun." Tiomkin won the commission to score DUEL IN THE SUN more or less by default. Selznick decided that he wanted to "audition" composers for the film, each composer writing music for one scene. They were paid for their work, though the eventual "winner" would have the fee for that one cue deducted from the fee paid for the whole score. Miklos Rozsa, who'd just won an Oscar for scoring Selznick's SPELLBOUND, was deeply offended by what he felt was the producer's high-handed and callous treatment of the composers and abuse of the creative process, and told Selznick where he could stick his money and movie. It's difficult for me to imagine that, had Selznick "cast" his composer using the usual method that Tiomkin would have been engaged to write the music, especially since it was well known around Hollywood that his score for William Wyler's 1940 THE WESTERNER was largely replaced by one written by Alfred Newman (though still credited to Tiomkin). I will stick with my previous chracterization of Tiomkin's music; it's difficult to muster any enthusiasm for music that typically bounces from pillar to post, with little valid, or even discernible underlying thematic material, and often has no real relevance to what's going on on screen.

> I believe by far the best is the Basil Rathbone Tyrone Power duel in the Mark of Zorro (1940). It is relatively short, but it is the only one I've found where it looks as if they are really trying to kill each other. Having done a little fencing, it is very true in technique. I've watched it in slo-mo on DVR and the speed and complexity of the moves are amazing. As a connoisseur of the swashbuckler (I think I may have mentioned on these pages that I own the sword Errol Flynn used when he played Robin Hood), I tend to agree. Don Diego's final skewering of Esteban Pascual (Rathbone; in case you're wondering, the character's name is misspelled in the film's end credits) is particularly effective, with the stain from his fatal wound explanding across his chest like the Nile turning to blood in THE TEN COMMANDMENTS. The swordfight in ZORRO, like that in THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD, THE PRISONER OF ZENDA, THE SEA HAWK and practically all films from the 1930s and '40s that featured swordplay were choreographed by one man: Belgian fencing master Fred Cavens, who also coached the actors and stuntmen in techniques that not only would look good on camera, but also keep them safe (mostly aluminum blades the swords may have had, but one still doesn't want to be poked in the eye or cracked in the skull by one because one thrusted when the approved choreography demanded that one parry). In spite of Cavens's expertise, the final product is largely dependent on the skill of the director to maximize the visual potential and pacing of the fight (as an example, David O. Selznick was dissatisfied with director John Cromwell's coverage of the swordfight scenes in THE PRISONER OF ZENDA (1937), prompting Selznick to borrow director Woody van Dyke from MGM to re-shoot them (uncredited). It was a particular talent of Michael Curtiz and, with THE MARK OF ZORRO, obviously one of Rouben Mamoulian, too -- not surpring when one considers that both men were among the great visual stylists of Hollywood. >One of the best sword fight scenes ever, Danny Kaye and Basil Rathbone in "The Court Jester" Yours is actually a very interesting comment, as it brings to mind an old adage that the World's Greatest Swordsman isn't afraid of the World's Second-greatest Swordsman. The one he fears is actually the fool who's never before picked up a sword in his life and won't do any of what an experienced fencer's expected to do. That would be Danny Kaye's Hubert Hawkins (snapped out of Griselda's spell), who flails away with his sword like a man desperate to swat a swarm of flies. Though the fight was, of course, meticulously choreographed, it must have presented a great challenge for Basil Rathbone, who'd been probably the best-fencing actor in Hollywood since he caught the fencing bug while working on CAPTAIN BLOOD in 1935.

A: The seventeeen-year-old Goldsmith was inspired by his first hearing of Rozsa's Spellbound score to seek a career in film music. While Goldsmith did study composition under Rozsa at the University of Southern California, it was a brief association, and hardly a mentorship. Goldsmith's true mentor was Alex North, whose music had a profound influence on Jerry's (one can often hear echoes of North's compositional style and orchestration in Goldsmith's music). B: Tiomkin was certainly no hack, but was, and is, also vastly overrated. His real talent was for self-promotion, which made him seem more successful (and a better musician) than he really was. C: I wish a certain few people would stop using various online forums as marketing tools for their sometimes questionable writing endeavors (see "self-promotion" in B, above).

Unless you're a real Hawai'ian surfer, in which case it's Waikikipedia.

At that moment God is actually going to be talking to everybody on the radio...

> Michael Medved Yes, of course, Jakie, you'd like Medved, who filters his reviews through a Fascist lens of self-righteous indignation. The truth of the matter is that most film "critics" have hung out shingles that they, themselves, carved in their own backroom workshops; few, if any, of them are qualified to write on the subject, so ignorant are they of even the most basic aspects of drama or movie-making. When one of them actually does write (or say on TV) something even remotely valid, it's almost certainly an accident as significant as a broken clock's displaying the right time two minutes a day.

No, I think what it is, simply, is that Bogart's screen persona distills what most like to think of as the quintessential Urban Male. If one charts the rise of his career, and the near deification of that persona (mainly after his death, when such deifications tend to occur), it coincides with the rise of Urban America, when the economic, cultural and artistic center of the nation gravitated to its big cities, most specifically and importantly New York (of which Bogart was, not so coincidentally, a native). It's not all that ucommon, really: Jean Gabin filled the same basic mold for the French (who have always also been second to none in their appreciation of Bogart), and each actor, in his not-too-different way, became the epitome of that "cool" urbanism -- tough and unflappable, yet aware of the need to protect the innocent. The real question is whether Bogart ever acknowledged any of this and consciously tried to cultivate it, or if it was, instead, a purely cultural shift that saw a gradual swing away from the rural cowboys, Latin lovers and exuberant swashbucklers of the silent era. I think it's important to note that Bogart's place in the American zeitgeist wasn't apparent during the period in which he was doing a half-dozen films a year for Warner's, including his transition to leading (and eventually, romantic leading) man with such films as HIGH SIERRA, THE MALTESE FALCON and CASABLANCA, but in the years immediately following World War II, when the nation's sensibilties were evolving and maturing along with Bogart's screen image. Until the war's toll could be fully tallied, America wasn't ready to put its longing trust in the hands of an avowed cynic; afterward, that cynicism would be seen as the only reliable barometer of that society's view of itself and the insitutions it had held dear.

There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling transmission. If we wish to make it louder, we will bring up the volume. If we wish to make it softer, we will tune it to a whisper. We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical. We can roll the image; make it flutter. We can change the focus to a soft blur, or sharpen it to crystal clarity. For the next hour, sit quietly and we will control all that you see and hear. We repeat: there is nothing wrong with your television set. You are about to participate in a great adventure. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to the Outer Limits...

> It was an interesting mix of British character actors (Hobbes, Harvey, Clive) with Americans (Travers, Brennan, Carradine). How often has this happened? It was SOP in Hollywood. One need only look as far as, say, THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD: British: Claude Rains Basil Rathbone (born in South Africa) Patric Knowles Ian Hunter (born in South Africa) Melville Cooper Herbert Mundin Una O'Connor (born in Belfast, now Northern Ireland) Montagu Love Americans (as British): Alan Hale Eugene Pallette Olivia deHavilland (born a British subject -- in Tokyo -- but raised in Northern California) Harry Cording Robert Warwick

>Doesn't the library burn down? Only after Oskar Werner shows up with the kerosine (Ray Bradbury knew).

In ascending order: 3. THE AFRICAN QUEEN 2. CASABLANCA 1. SAHARA

>"They Were Expandable" That's a bit of a stretch for any favorites list, Fred.

> TCM`s Morals seem to be slipping a bit. Whatever films TCM may be showing, it has nothing to do with "morals." The problem with this thread, as it is with the national dialogue, is that there are those who cannot resist equating that which they find distasteful with morality, as though their gut is the ultimate arbiter of right and wrong. For the record, if you and I were to compile lists of what each of us finds distasteful, we'd probably find a considerable degree of overlap; the difference is that the vast majority of what I disapprove of has no direct bearing on my life, and I don't believe that it has any impact on society's perceptions or definitions of right and wrong. Frankly, I firmly believe that tolerating that of which one disapproves is ennobling: it makes us better than we would otherwise be (it's actually the moral -- there's that word again -- behind the tale of Jesus's words to the mob who were about to stone Mary Magdalene to death for being an adulteress: "Who among you is without sin, let him cast the first stone"). Unlike those self-appointed guardians of morality, I believe I can still improve myself as a human being. It's kind of like the debate over abortion: if you don't like the procedure, fine, don't have one...but you have no right to forbid anyone else from having one.

>Yeah, this reminds me of that famous conversation Laurence Olivier was said to have had with Dustin Hoffman during the filming of *Marathon Man*. Supposedly Hoffman purposely stayed up all night and didn't alow himself any sleep for a scene to be shot the next day where he was to have a haggard appearance due to Olivier's character torturing him for hours. When Hoffman told Olivier why he had done this, Olivier reportedly replied, "Why not try acting, dear boy...it's much easier." It had far less to do with Hoffman's appearance than with his voice, which needed to be raw and raspy for the scene he was to play that day. To prepare, Hoffman had spent hours the night before screaming at the top of his lungs to achieve what he believed to be the desired effect. Olivier was the antithesis of the Method Actor that Hoffman was. The older man was, by his own admission, a techinician: get the character's outside right via make-up, posture, etc., then adjust the voice and mannerisms to conform to that appearance. He had a very low regard for the internalized, inside-out school represented by the Method. Even if Hoffman hadn't run around bellowing, Olivier may very well have said what he did to him, just to register his disdain.

> Made in 1934 and Bing still had his ears pinned back. At what point did he stop doing this? Name the movie and year. Probably around the same time that he and the studio realized he was also going to need a hairpiece, and tailored clothes to hide his growing paunch.

You risk permanent disqualification for even asking.

> On face, Hopper Day seems a mistake. Yeah, I'm sure the programmers at TCM meant to show EASY RIDER, SPEED and BLUE VELVET, but accidentally scheduled these films, instead.

> This wonderful movie is being shown again at 4:45 PM EST today. CAMELOT is an awful movie and, as though its being overblown, badly cast and horribly directed aren't enough, its second-worst worst sin was Josh Logan's turning it from being Guinevere's story to Arthur's with absolutely no dramatic justification. What's its worst sin, then? That the only chance Hollywood will ever have to film such a wonderful show (face it: this kind of musical will never, ever be made again) was blown so royally, regally, and com-plete-ally.

Brynner certainly was bald but, like most bald men, he had a fringe of hair on the sides and back. He was prevailed upon to shave his head for the original Broadway production of The King and I to emphasize the exotic nature of Mongkut, King of Siam, and, of course, it became Brynner's trademark in an era when shaved heads were few and far between (especially onscreen). There were numerous film roles afterward that required that he grow out that fringe and wear a hairpiece on top, including THE BUCCANEER, SOLOMON AND SHEBA and THE SOUND AND THE FURY, but Brynner's screen persona and magnetism were so indelible that, shaved head or no, he always would have been one of filmdom's great stars.

>According to Joseph Lewis, Cornell Wilde went ballistic when he saw that scene between Conte and Mrs. Wilde and Lewis claimed it had to be trimmed a few frames. One can only wonder what Wilde might've thought of the telecast, then, as it seemed time-compressed. Everyone sounded as though he or she had been sucking helium, and were jumping around like Keystone Kops. Not that it mattered, really, as it's got to be one of the most predictable movies I've ever seen.

>For some reason, Huston's character didn't seem like a "Howard" to me. The name "Howard" conjures up certain images for me, and a grizzled gold prospector isn't one of them. You're right; upon hearing the name Howard, who could think of anything other than Moe, Curly and Shemp?

> The initial poster never said the movie was in color. Nor did the poster dsay he/she was sure it was Edna May Oliver. I mentioned MOHAWK's being in color only so that if the remembered clip was in color, identification would be automatic. If it's not Oliver at all, then identification of a single, un-memorable line becomes extremely difficult.