Wise Gals

It’s funny how things have changed so much over the years, but at the same time, human beings seem to have changed so little. Single men complain about women, while single women complain about men just as much... something discussed quite frequently in the romantic dramedy Three Wise Girls (1932), directed by William Beaudine and based upon Wilson Collison’s novel “Blonde Baby”. Cassie Barnes (Jean Harlow) is a small town soda jerk... and with her shapely body and platinum blonde locks, she attracts all the wrong kinds of men. Having had enough of the lecherous men back home, she makes the move to New York City, quickly finding work (and a whole new crop of creeps) while working the ice cream and soft drink game.

A Pre-Code romantic crime drama from Columbia Pictures, 1932's Virtue, directed by Edward Buzzell, got off to a bit of a bumpy start... for when star Carole Lombard (on loan from Paramount) met studio president Harry Cohn (known to be blunt, opinionated, and rather colourful with his language), he told her that her hair was too white – making her look like ‘a whore’. Lombard, no shrinking violet, promptly responded with: “if anyone would know a whore it would be you”. Though the two would soon earn each other’s respect (something that would last for the rest of their lives), this really is a perfect story that exemplifies the edgy themes and style found in these Pre-Code movies. Opening with a black screen that hides the visuals of a criminal sentence, a Judge rather kindly orders several prostitutes to vacate the city, but if they return, they shall be punished to the full extent of the law.

Like a reflective revery, Steven Spielberg looks back at his own life with the 2022 Academy Award nominated (seven selections, including Best Picture) feature film The Fabelmans. Co-written (along with Tony Kushner) and directed by Spielberg, he creates a throwback style picture, something along the lines of the moving I Remember Mama (1948)... a sweeping retrospective of love and death, bullying and forgiveness, familial unity and division, over several decades. The Spielberg name becomes Fabelman, with Sammy replacing the name Steven (Gabriel LaBelle; as a younger child, Mateo Zoryan). We open with his parents, the weak tech genius Burt (Paul Dano) and artsy centre of attention Mitzi (Michelle Williams – in an Oscar nominated role) taking him to his first movie – 1952's The Greatest Show on Earth.

Back in the late 1970s, then first time co-writer/co-director Kathryn Bigelow, along with Monty Montgomery, were fortunate enough to have spotted one Willem Dafoe on the stage – a member of the Wooster Group experimental theater company. Asking him to be a part of their movie, it would also become the actor’s first credited role. That film would eventually be called The Loveless (1981)... prior to that, it was known as US 17 and Breakdown. Set in the 1950s and infused with a post-punk flair, the narrative follows Vance (Dafoe), an enigmatic nihilist with an intoxicating allure. A quiet biker wearing black leather and equally as dark Brylcreem’d back hair, he oozes an indifferent quality of danger and sexuality. Living on the edge of life (or perhaps more accurately, a knife), he’s the type of conundrum that stops to help a lady with a flat tire, only to nab a controversial kiss and then take the money from her wallet for payment as he departs... leaving her all shook up in more ways than one.

It’s intriguing to think how time tends to shrink an actors or directors filmography. . . the passing years seeming to erase movies (be them lesser, unrelatable to present viewpoints, simply lost to time, or so on). For instance, Lionel Barrymore – once one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, a two time Academy Award nominee (and one time winner), is mostly known for his cantankerous and utterly realistic portrayal of villainy as Mr. Potter in the Frank Capra Christmas classic It’s a Wonderful Life. In actuality, he has an impressive 217 acting credits to his name, while many may not even know that he was also a director. . . today’s film his fourteenth and final credited effort – Ten Cents a Dance (1931). A title pulled from a popular 1930 song of the same name (written by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Lorenz Hart, originally sung by Ruth Etting), the playful, jazzy romp sways over both the opening credits as well as when the screen turns black at the end of the film. A tune lamenting the work of a taxi dancer, that is, a girl hired to shimmy with libidinous men at a happening nightclub for ten cents a dance, poor Barbara O’Neill (Barbara Stanwyck) is our titular character.