The passing of Kirk Douglas earlier this year affected me more than I ever thought it would. I guess it didn’t help that Spartacus gave up the ghost on the same day that the GOP sham trial gave up on democracy. Indeed, Douglas spent much of his recent life fighting back at the current administration. That’s because, Champion (the 1949 movie that made him a star) aside, Kirk was a fighter. This often came across with a vengeance in his many performances. Billy Wilder, with whom Kirk worked on the great Ace in the Hole, as usual, put it best. “Even before you shout ‘Action,’ his chest is heaving.”
Truth be told, prior to Champion, Kirk Douglas seemed relegated to playing weaklings and oily mob kingpins in film noir faves (The Strange Love of Martha Ivers, Out of the Past, I Walk Alone). The doors that opened with Champion, released the beast, so to speak, and furious – often freakish – turns followed in such hits as Detective Story, the aforementioned Wilder flick, Man without a Star, and others.
Douglas worked with a number of celebrated directors, but the one he is probably most closely associated with is Vincente Minnelli. No, Kirk didn’t sing and dance on a Paris backlot or across a fake meadow in Brigadoon. He was part of Minnelli’s alternate universe: the stark and frequently disturbing dramas that (along with the brilliant musicals) propelled the director into the top pantheon of greats.
The Minnelli-Douglas collaboration that likely comes immediately to mind is the exquisite 1956 biopic Lust for Life. Weirdly enough, this title has yet to arrive on Blu-Ray; even more bizarre are the pair of pre-Once Upon a Time in Hollywood epics the two made, 1952’s THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL and TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN (a sorta followup-reunion, filmed a decade later), that have. One is a bona fide classic; the other a much-maligned, underrated work that ironically defines “studio tampering,” a theme that plays through both pics. Each is now available in beautifully restored Blu-Ray transfers from The Warner Archive Collection. Okay, Kirk, start heaving.
It was, not surprisingly, the stinging dagger-sharp wit and skewering expertise of Billy Wilder who unleashed the “Hollywood-is-a-Hellhole” genre, a definite cinematic relative to film noir. 1950’s Sunset Boulevard was a critical and financial hit, thus opening up the floodgates for copycats. Indies, for instance, like UA’s The Big Knife carried on the poison baton; even the “Bs” got into the act with Hollywood Story. But, unquestionably the best of the Fifties post-Boulevard horror shows came from the who’d-a-thunk-it lofty gates of MGM, and, even more astoundingly, the director of Meet Me in St. Louis. Yep, 1952’s THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL is one of the most uncompromising, and brutal attacks on the picture industry ever made. BatB is also a brilliant movie, deservedly lauded for its superb direction, acting (from an all-star Grand Hotel-esque cast), writing, production values, cinematography and music.
It’s also frighteningly honest.
Charles Schnee’s vicious screenplay thinly disguises real-life victims and ruthless players, making it one of Tinsel Town’s sinfully irresistible “name that goon” parlor games. Non-Hollywood denizens, particularly the ardent picture-goers, picked up on it, too. The fact that many of these folks were still alive and active was the acid in the cocktail.
Jonathan Shields pays mourners to attend his ex-mogul father’s funeral; no one would actually show up, as they’ve either forgotten him or hated his guts. In regard to the latter (“he wasn’t a heel, he was the heel!”), Jonathan fully intends to follow in daddy’s footsteps; that way they’ll never forget him (“I’m gonna ram the name of ‘Shields’ down their throats!”) Meeting up with aspiring writer-director Fred Amiel, Shields becomes an extended part of the Amiel familia, gets a job alongside his new BFF in a “B” unit, and soon finagles himself and buddy Fred into producing, then directing Poverty Row quickies for tightwad production head Harry Pebbel. An awful horror pic (Doom of the Cat Men) is re-imagined by the inventive pair who transform it into a sleeper-hit. As is Shields’ wont, he then ditches Amiel, and steals his pal’s ideas and pet script – moving up the Hollywood social and food chain ladder. He does the same sexually to gorgeous, self-abusing drunk/nymphomaniac Georgia Lorrison, living in the shadow of her famous father, another alcoholic. Jonathan remolds Georgia into a superstar, then tosses her vulnerable lovesick self into his dustbin, and again moves on. Shields’ next victim is professor-turned-novelist James Lee Barlow, who lives in a small college town with his adoring Southern belle/movie fanatic wife Rosemary. Much to the writer’s chagrin (“I’m flattered you want me, and bitter you got me”), he brings Barlow out to the coast to adapt the author’s bestseller into a screenplay, but is hobbled by Rosemary’s irritating and constant curiosity and interruptions. Shields “arranges” for the woman to be seduced by top screen attraction “Gaucho,” with horrific results.
The thing about Jonathan Shields is that he’s not intentionally evil; true, he’s a virulent sociopath, but his love for the Movies outweighs any human feelings he might have for those who trusted and/or were abandoned/destroyed by him. This isn’t an easy thing to pull off, and Kirk Douglas really wallops every note perfectly. Many in the Biz thought Shields’s creation was a Frankensteinian revenge ploy, as he was a composite of several folks. Mostly, Jonathan Shields is an evocation of David O. Selznick. Selznick’s father, Lewis J. Selznick, was a pioneering producer in the silent days, ruined by his contemporary moguls. David (and brother Myron, who became the Industry’s first super-agent, sticking it to the suits where it hurt most) vowed to wreak vengeance, and certainly did for a long time. An ancillary part of Shields’ persona is also that of Val Lewton (who began as Selznick’s story editor). Lewton is the genius who helped turn RKO’s lame horror Grade-Z plot, Cat People into a blockbuster genre game-changer. The Georgia Lorrison character is based on John Barrymore’s troubled daughter Diana; while she never did become the star Lorrison does, she did her level best to equal Daddy’s rep in the drinking and whoring departments. It’s a terrific Lana Turner performance, one of her finest. Other stellar names in the large and outstanding cast include Barry Sullivan (as Amiel), Walter Pidgeon (as Pebbel), Dick Powell (as Barlow), Gloria Grahame (as Rosemary), Gilbert Roland (as “Gaucho”), and Leo G. Carroll, Vanessa Brown, Paul Stewart, Elaine Stewart, Ivan Triesault, Ned Glass, Jay Adler, Barbara Billingsley, Madge Blake, Steve Forrest, Dabbs Greer, Kurt Kasznar, Kathleen Freeman, Kaaren Verne and former silent screen stars May McAvoy, Franklyn Farnum, Pat O’Malley, Stuart Holmes, and Francis X. Bushman. The Barrymore-esque voice of Georgia’s father (heard on a phonograph record) is Louis Calhern’s.
Minnelli’s direction is unflinching in its visualization of Schnee’s razor-sharp script (from a story by George Bradshaw). His ability to seemingly glide the camera effortlessly between the real and the fake makes every dramatic target a triumph of spacial composition (directed as if each climactic scene moment were the crescendo of one of his sensational musical numbers; ya gotta see it to get my point). We truly believe there is a real-life vastness beyond the close-ups and master shots; credit the marvelous d.p. Robert Surtees for helping to make this technique possible. The production values are MGM-top-line, thanks to the tasteful work of producer John Houseman (yeah, that “we earn it!” dude). Finally, the score by David Raksin is, in my opinion, one of the best post-war compositions of the 1950’s. That main theme will be replaying in your head long after the fade-out.
The new Warner Archive Blu-Ray of THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL is every bit up to its subject matter. It looks stunning in crystal-clear 1080p. There are also some enticing extras, including original scoring sessions audio and the acclaimed TCM documentary on top-billed lead Lana Turner: A Daughter’s Memoir.
A fantastic movie on every level, THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL Blu-Ray deserves a spot on every classic collector’s shelf.
Exactly ten years later, Minnelli, Douglas, producer Houseman, writer Schnee and composer Raksin reteamed at MGM to tell yet another nasty tale of The Biz. A lot had happened in the Industry since BatB. MGM, the studio known for spectacular musicals could no longer afford to make them (no one really could); it was controlled by corporate suits who thought that the sure way to a fat bank account was to follow the lead of their 1959 blockbuster Ben-Hur, and simply remake everything in sight. Like their contemporary Hollywood dream factories, much of their production was divided between small-screen capitulation to television and big-screen re-location to Europe, where filming was cheaper and the lure of the wildly successful foreign market (personified by scantily attired Euro starlets/actresses) could keep the books in the black. Sordid, thick bestsellers of the Harold Robbins type were grabbed up by moguls as censorship became more lax. Thus was the case with TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN, based on a salacious (“you can’t film this HERE”) novel by Irwin Shaw. While BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL comprised an acclaimed, revered near-perfect hunk of celluloid, TWO WEEKS was a flawed, thoroughly dissed reunion. Like BatB, however, TWO WEEKS tells many truths about the changes in the business; for example, the secondary European producers, who had already made their investment back before one frame turned in the camera (and therefore couldn’t care less if the pic was any good or not), are honestly depicted in this movie for the flesh-peddling bastards they were. The mirror image of their deeds in regard to what actually happened to TWO WEEKS in post also cannot be lost upon astute viewers. Succinctly put, TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN is flawed because it was tampered with. Seriously. The novel seemed to explode with perversion of every sort on each page. MGM execs had an apoplexy when they viewed the rough cut. Even what remained as the release print was enough to put a “Suggested for Mature Audiences” disclaimer in the ads. And many “mature audiences” gave it a chance before word-of-mouth about the uneven “makes no sense” balance of the 107-minute duration snuffed it out. Since I love “sick spawn” cinema of major directors, I championed this movie early-on. I’ve never given up hope that a complete, restored version might be lying in wait at some point in the future. Yet, I can revel in the fact that this current new Blu-Ray 1080p edition looks splendid, and will suffice if and when TWO WEEKS‘ resurrection ever occurs.
The movie wastes no time, burning rubber from the fade-in. Jack Andrus (Douglas) is a former A-list star, confined to a mental institution after several attempted suicides. Now, with years of therapy behind him, he is considered reasonably healthy to resume a “normal” life (whatever that is). An additional carrot comes in the form of an acting offer from his mentor, legendary director Maurice Kruger, now resigned to making pictures in Europe. This is the cure and this is the curse. Andrus loves two people: Kruger (professionally) and sultry super-gorgeous ex-wife Carlotta (carnally). The fact that what sent him off the rails was Kruger’s and Carlotta’s having an affair is the litmus test for Andrus’s ability to function. Carlotta, BTW, is also an S&M nymphomaniac, which rarely defines “connubial bliss.”
The production in Italy (where a good portion of TWO WEEKS was actually lensed) is a disaster. Turns out Kruger doesn’t want Andrus to act, but to supervise the English post-dubbing (since he’s been denied access once filming has stopped). Kruger, who’s a ferocious sociopath (reportedly his character was based in part on Fritz Lang, who, indeed did leave to U.S. after 1956 to work in Europe) is a demon who can’t be trusted. His wife, Clara (possibly Lang’s last companion Lily Latte), another lunatic, is the director’s perfect match. They violently battle and yet, despite Kruger’s serial cheating (including getting a handy in plain view at the couple’s anniversary bash) are addictively devoted to one another.
Andrus’s fragile grasp on sanity is salved by his meeting beautiful hanger-on Veronica, a ravishing young woman who hates the movies (a plus); she is the squeeze of imported American self-destructive “bad boy” Davie Drew, an antagonistic loser, impossible to work with and hooked on drugs and booze (the former is obvious, but never addressed, suggesting that scenes with Drew’s substance abuse were tossed out after the first cut). Two incidents see-saw what’s left of Andrus’s increasing difficulty to cope: Kruger having a massive heart-attack (forcing his one-time star to be convinced to take over direction) and the arrival of ex, Carlotta, now married to an Onassis-type millionaire, who’s “jones” is watching his wife have sex with other men.
All of the above culminates in a wild orgy that will either kill or cure what remains of the former superstar player.
You can see from my synopsis that, in 1962, TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN was going to be a hard sell for Main Street America. MGM’s decision was to yank the picture away from Minnelli and remove sizable chunks of footage (from all reports as much as a half-hour ended up on the cutting room floor). The “orgy” which sets Jack Andrus off again, remains a tame, virtually boring soiree, highlighted only by Leslie Uggams (in her debut) providing live singing entertainment. Supposedly, shocking sequences, including those of Carlotta having multiple partners during the festivities were removed with the subtlety of a chainsaw. There also seems to be some material between Kruger, Clara and Andrus that is missing, as their reactions and judgments to what currently exists doesn’t justify their severe responses.
Nonetheless, there is a veritas and dedication to peerless moviemaking that makes TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN a must-have Sixties platter. Douglas is excellent, as is the international cast (Rosanna Schiaffino, George Hamilton, George Macready, Vito Scotti, Joanna Roos, James Gregory, Mino Doro, Stefan Schnabel, Steve Peck, and Erich von Stroheim, Jr., who definitely knew something about movies being tampered with, and additionally functioned as the pic’s assistant director). Edward G. Robinson as Kruger and Claire Trevor as his venomous spouse, coupling up again after Key Largo, are terrific and thoroughly despicable. Daliah Lavi, in possibly her loveliest performance, is genuinely sincere and sweet as Andrus’s romantic savior (the Israeli actress “passed” for Euro in a number of Italian pics, most notably Bava’s Whip and the Body; she did eventually arrive on U.S. shores sporting a formidable beehive that could pummel you into unconsciousness).
Minnelli’s direction is quite startling (an in-joke has the Europeans viewing a past Kruger masterpiece starring Andrus; it’s a clip from THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL); his brandishing a dynamic mastery of CinemaScope (Milton Krasner as d.p.) is fully evident in a quite crazed sequence of an out-of-control Andrus driving his car through the nighttime Italian countryside – perhaps the most hellish and surreal use of rear-screen ever! Cyd Charisse is amazingly and uncharacteristically slutty (although it’s a shame that her role has been pared down to what is essentially an extended cameo).
As indicated earlier, the Warner Archive Blu-Ray looks wonderful, with restored “warm” MetroColor hues and tones now popping with vibrance. The mono track sounds great, and contains another dandy main theme from maestro Raksin.
TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN is an ideal movie to show friends on a “Sixties Night,” as it’s one they probably have never heard of. Of course, it’s also a natural companion to BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL. So, what cha waiting for? AZIONE!
THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL. Black and white; full frame [1.37:1; 1080p High Definition]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. CAT # 1000750097.
TWO WEEKS IN ANOTHER TOWN. Color. Widescreen [2.35:1; 1080p High Definition]; 2.0 DTS-HD MA. CAT # 1000714252.
$21.99@ SRP.
Available from the Warner Archive Collection: http://www.wbshop.com/warnerarchive or online retailers where DVDs and Blu-rays® are sold.
supervistaramacolorscope 