How the West Was Won

James Stewart and Carroll Baker.

The words “epic” and “”sprawling” are typically used to describe MGM’s 164-minute, 1962 all-star Western. At the risk of sounding mundane, that’s still an apt description. Filmed in the widescreen process Cinerama, How the West Was Won explores the settling of the Old West through the eyes of the Prescott family. A key theme is the evolution of transportation from the rivers to the wagon trains to the railroad.

Debbie Reynolds and Thelma Ritter.

The story is divided into five segments that cover two generations of Prescotts. The opening tale focuses on young Eve Prescott (Carroll Baker), who falls in love with a beaver trapper (James Stewart) and eventually settles in Ohio. The second segment takes place several years later with Eve’s sister Lilith (Debbie Reynolds) traveling via wagon train to California to claim a gold mine. The remaining stories revolve around Eve’s oldest son Zeb and his experiences in the Civil War, working for a railroad, and serving as a federal marshal. His last segment features an elderly Lilith, who has now retired to a ranch in Arizona. 

The most fully developed segment is the first, in which Stewart’s grizzled trapper finds himself smitten with Eve—although he can’t fathom the idea of settling down. Both characters are appealing, with their age difference of 23 years being realistic given the era. This segment also includes an exciting encounter with river pirates and a thrilling raft ride through treacherous rapids. It sets a high mark that the remainder of the film can’t match. 

Young and older George Peppard.

A recurring problem is that the other stories aren’t long enough. Each features a handful of dialogue scenes coupled with a large-scale action sequence. Certainly, those set pieces are impressive, especially a train robbery filled with amazing stunts and crashes. However, the end result is a disjointed film and the superfluous narration by Spencer Tracy doesn’t help connect the pieces. Surprisingly, James R. Webb’s screenplay won an Oscar.

On the plus side, How the West Was Won is a visually enthralling experience. Directors Henry Hathaway (who did three segments), John Ford, and George Marshall clearly understand the Western genre and incorporate the landscapes seamlessly into the drama. The film was one of only a handful of dramas shot in Cinerama, a widescreen process that incorporated three cameras to create a slightly-curved image. When How the West Was Won was later shown in non-Cinerama theaters and on television, the three images had to be “stitched” together. If you look closely at the sky in some scenes, you can see the two “seams,” which appeared as light columns.

The standouts in the all-star cast are Carroll Baker and James Stewart. Debbie Reynolds gets to perform some lively musical numbers and does a very creditable job of capturing her character as a young woman and an elderly widow. George Peppard isn't as effective in repeating that trick, though he still delivers a capable performance. Some of the stars, such as John Wayne and Henry Fonda, have what amount to cameo appearances.

The decision to focus on one family inadvertently omits the contributions of Native Americans in the taming of the Old West. In the wagon train segment, an Indian attack is played strictly for thrills. However, the railroad company's broken agreement with the Arapaho tribe gets a storyline later in the film (although one could argue the subplot is more about George Peppard's character).

Considering its length of almost three hours, How the West Was Won moves along at a nice pace. Yet, as previously mentioned, some of the stories are abbreviated. It might have worked better as a two-part film (which was not a practice in the 1960s) or a television miniseries (also not a format at the time). Ironically, a made-for-TV movie and subsequent TV series based on the movie aired in the late 1970s. They starred James Arness and Eva Marie Saint as members of the Macahan family.

Debbie Reynolds as The Singing Nun

Debbie Reynolds in the title role.

In 1963, a Belgian nun named Sœur Sourire--also known as The Singing Nun--had a worldwide hit record with the song "Dominque." Even though the lyrics were in French, the song went to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the U.S. It's no surprise that this amazing feat attracted the attention of Hollywood filmmakers. Thus, in 1966, MGM released The Singing Nun, which starred Debbie Reynolds as a young nun very loosely based on Sœur Sourire.

The film opens with Sister Ann (Reynolds) arriving at Samaritan House, which is located in a struggling community in Brussels. Sister Ann composes and sings music, accompanying herself on guitar. Her talents immediately attract the attention of Father Clementi (Ricardo Montalban), who believes her faith-inspired music can bring comfort to millions. With the church's approval, he convinces a record executive (Chad Everett) to make an album with Sister Ann. (It turns out that the executive studied music with Sister Ann prior to her conversion.)

Katharine Ross.

Meanwhile, Sister Ann has become involved with a motherless little boy whose unemployed father is an alcoholic and whose older sister (Katharine Ross) makes money by posing for risque photos. As her music fame grows, Sister Ann struggles with her own success--especially when a tragedy strikes close to her heart.

It's a flimsy plot for a 97-minute movie and The Singing Nun relies on Debbie Reynolds' charm and musical talents to carry the day. There are some good tunes, especially an English-language version of "Dominque" as well as a boisterous rendition of "Brother John" (which was written by Randy Sparks, founder of The New Christy Minstrels). However, the subplot about the little boy and his family lacks interest, likely because it feels manufactured solely to tug at the heart strings.

Ricardo Montalban.

The Singing Nun boasts an impressive supporting cast, but none of them have much to do except for Ricardo Montalban. That includes Greer Garson as the Mother Prioress and Agnes Moorehead and Juanita Moore as two of Sister Ann's fellow nuns. On the plus side, Ed Sullivan appears as himself in one of the film's better scenes in which Sister Ann records a song for his popular show.

The real-life story of Sœur Sourire would have made a far more interesting film--though not the family film that MGM wanted. As Jeannine Deckers, she left the convent and continued to record music, although her former music company would not allow her to use the names Sœur Sourire or The Singing Nun. She found little success, eventually recording a disco version of "Dominique" in 1982. Jeannine Deckers and a close friend committed suicide in 1985; she was 51.

As for The Singing Nun, it was a modest hit, finishing #23 at the boxoffice in 1966. Director Henry Koster has said that the production wasn't a pleasant one with star Debbie Reynolds and producer John Beck clashing frequently. It turned out to be Koster's last film, following an impressive career that included The Bishop's Wife, Harvey, and Come to the Stable.

Here's a clip of Debbie Reynolds singing "Brother John," courtesy of our YouTube Channel:

Jane Powell and Howard Keel (But No Seven Brothers)

Jane Powell and Vic Damone.

Big, splashy Broadway-style musicals had peaked in popularity when MGM released Hit the Deck in 1955. So, kudos to the studio for putting together an incredibly talented cast headlined by Jane Powell, Debbie Reynolds, and Ann Miller. Their male co-stars, though not as well as known on the silver screen, were famous in their right. Crooners Tony Martin and Vic Damone produced records that sold millions and Russ Tamblyn had a key role in the previous year's Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

Debbie Reynolds and Russ Tamblyn.

Martin, Damone, and Tamblyn play three sailors on leave for two days in San Francisco. Martin hopes to reunite with his fiancée, showgirl Ann Miller. She gives him the cold shoulder, though, after a six-year engagement with no marriage proposal in sight. Meanwhile, Tamblyn learns that his sister (Jane Powell) is involved with a womanizing musical star. He and his chums "rescue" her, but then face disciplinary actions for unacceptable conduct. They spend most of the movie trying to avoid capture by the Navy's shore patrol.

Ann Miller.

Loosely based on a 1927 stage musical with the same title, Hit the Deck is a thinly-plotted excuse for some great musical numbers. Ann Miller dances up a storm in "Keepin' Myself for You" and in the reprise of "Hallelujah" in the finale. Jane Powell warbles the funny "Lucky Bird" to a toy penguin. The three male leads harmonize nicely on "Why, Oh Why?" (my favorite song in the score) and later the ladies reprise it. Finally, Tamblyn and Debbie Reynolds perform some nifty acrobatic feats in an elaborate funhouse sequence.

With its colorful costumes, bright sets, and catchy tunes, Hit the Deck is a pleasant diversion for those who enjoy Broadway musicals. It will also make you wonder why Ann Miller didn't become a bigger film star.

Along with Tamblyn, Jane Powell also appeared in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, which brings us to their Brides co-star Howard Keel. We recently watched him in Callaway Went Thataway (1951), a non-musical comedy that spoofs the popularity of Hopalong Cassidy in the early 1950s.

Dorothy McGuire and Fred MacMurray.

Fred MacMurray and Dorothy McGuire star as Mike and Debbie, a pair of marketing executives who get caught in a bind when cowboy star Smoky Calloway suddenly becomes popular with the nation's kiddies. A food company wants to launch a cereal (Calla-Cracklys) and invest $10 million in a new series of Smoky television films. That's a big problem because Calloway's "B" Westerns were made ten years earlier and Smoky was "a washed-up, beat-up drunk" when last seen--and no one knows where he is now.

Not long after Mike and Debbie launch a desperate search for Smoky, they receive a letter from Stretch Barnes (Howard Keel), a real-life cowboy who is mighty tired of people mistaking him for Smoky Calloway. Sure enough, Stretch is the splitting image of the cowboy star and it's not long before Mike and Debbie convince him to "become" Smoky. Their plan seems to going pretty well when--you guessed it--the real Smoky Calloway is found.

The writing team of Melvin Frank and Norman Panama was responsible for some of the funniest films of the 1940s and 1950s (e.g., The Court Jester, Road to Utopia, White Christmas, etc.). Callaway Went Thataway doesn't rank with their best work, but it's still a reasonably amusing farce with some pointed jabs at corporate America. My favorite is when the "host" of Smoky's films reminds his young audience: "Have your Mom stock up on crispy, crunchy, Crackly Corkies." (Actually, it reminded me of a similar scene in Disney's 101 Dalmatians in which the puppies are watching TV.)

Howard Keel and Howard Keel.

Despite the presence of bigger stars, Howard Keel steals the film with his dual performance as the sincere, naive Stretch and the hard-drinking disreputable Smoky. Esther Williams, Clark Gable, and Elizabeth Taylor have cameos as themselves. Plus, look quickly and you'll see Hugh Beaumont pass Fred MacMurray in a hotel hallway. By 1960, they would be two of the best-known fathers on American television.

The Paramount Vault: "Appointment with Death" and "My Six Loves"

I suspect that many of you have already discovered the Paramount Vault channel on YouTube. It's a great way to watch full-length movies for free on your computer, tablet, or TV (assuming your set can connect to the Internet). There are dozens of movies available (including 32 categorized as "classic") and the image quality is very good. Granted, Amazon Prime members will recognize many of the available titles in the Paramount Vault, but there are also exclusive films. I recently watched an Agatha Christie mystery and a Debbie Reynolds comedy.

Ustinov as the Belgian sleuth.

Appointment with Death (1988). Peter Ustinov's sixth and final appearance as Hercule Poirot lacks the high production values and all-star casts of earlier big screen Agatha Christie adaptations. Actually, it followed Ustinov's three made-for-TV Poirot movies, the last one being 1986's Dead Man's Folly. Still, Appointment with Death boasts a handful of familiar stars (e.g., Lauren Bacall, Piper Laurie) and on-location shooting in Israel gives the film a glossy look.

In the opening scene, widow Emily Boynton (Laurie) destroys her husband's most recent will which divided his fortune between his children and their stepmother. With control of the family finances, she takes the family on a trip to Israel. Along the way, they encounter another wealthy widow (Lauren Bacall), her secretary (Hayley Mills), and a physician (Jenny Seagrove). They are also joined unexpectedly by the family's lawyer (David Soul), who knows about the real will. During an outing to an excavation, Emily dies from what appears to be heart failure--but you and I know it's murder!

Sweet Jenny Seagrove as a suspect?

Appointment with Death employs one of Agatha Christie's favorite plot devices: a character misinterprets what she sees or hears. (For another use of this same device, watch any adaptation of A Caribbean Mystery with Miss Marple.) Still, for those unfamiliar with Dame Agatha's literary works, the identity of the culprit may come as a surprise.

Overall, Appointment with Death is a passable Poirot mystery--assuming that you don't watch it expecting to see another Death on the Nile or Evil Under the Sun (my personal fave of Ustinov's films).

The poster focuses on the star.

My Six Loves (1963). After collapsing from exhaustion, Broadway star Janice Courtney (Debbie Reynolds) retreats to her small-town Connecticut home for some rest and relaxation. That doesn't last long--especially after Janice discovers six abandoned children living on her property. Fortunately, the handsome local pastor (Cliff Robertson) is willing to help Janice with the unruly kids.

Cliff and a blonde Debbie.

From this plot summary, I am sure you can surmise the rest of My Six Loves and you would be right about everything. It is indeed a formula comedy from start to finish. There's a youth who has to learn how to trust adults again. There's the adorable youngest child. There the cute song ("It's a Darn Good Thing") that Debbie sings to the youngsters. And there's even the cynical friend on hand (Eileen Heckert) to try to keep things from becoming too treacly.

I have friends that adore My Six Loves. Most of them are Debbie Reynolds fans, but I also suspect that this is a "comfort movie" for other viewers. There's nothing wrong with that--sometimes, it's just reassuring to watch a 1960s formula comedy set in that nostalgic world that only exists in our imaginations.

So, while My Six Loves may not be my cup of tea, you may want drink the whole pot. Just be careful about adding more sugar...

The Pleasure of Fred Astaire's Company

The importance of casting cannot be overestimated. To substantiate this remark, I offer as evidence the 1961 comedy The Pleasure of His Company.

Fred Astaire stars as Biddeford “Pogo” Ford, a globetrotting playboy who has returned to San Francisco to attend his daughter Jessica’s wedding. The catch is that Pogo has only seen Jessica (Debbie Reynolds) three times in the last 15 years and not since she became a young woman. That hasn't dissuaded Jessica from asking her father to give her away at the wedding. Indeed, she is thrilled to see her father—although nobody else is.

As for Pogo, he has a hidden agenda and that’s to whisk away his daughter prior to the nuptials. He charms Jessica while skillfully humiliating her cattle rancher fiancé (Tab Hunter). In fact, he can scarcely hide his satisfaction when he causes a heated argument between the young couple.

Fred dances a little...with Lilli Palmer.

When not interfering in his daughter’s life, Pogo works hard to woo back his ex-wife Kate (Lilli Palmer) and irritate her husband Jim (Gary Merrill). He moves into Jim’s study and rearranges the furniture. He tries to fill Kate’s head with wonderful—but made-up—memories of their married life. He steals a portrait of Jessica. He changes the champagne order for the wedding. In short, Pogo is a self-centered nuisance who wants whatever he doesn't have. He is not a nice person, which is why the casting of Fred Astaire works so wonderfully.

He effortlessly displays Pogo’s irresistible charm. There’s a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes even as Pogo tries to destroy his daughter’s future happiness. He portrays the rascally playboy as a kid who knows he’s being bad, but can’t seem to help it. And because it’s Fred Astaire, the audience tends to cut Pogo some slack, too.

Debbie Reynolds (and Fred's hands).

Of course, the script often works in Pogo’s favor. Jessica’s fiancé may be a nice guy, but he is incredibly boring and the couple hardly seems compatible. Likewise, Jim comes across as an affable but dull spouse, though—after experiencing “a common case of Pogo Poole”—Kate seems content with her life with Jim. She is also the one who knows Pogo best, telling her daughter that her father “needs to have someone to give him substance.”

Lovely Lilli Palmer.

Indeed, one of the film’s greatest assets is Lilli Palmer’s performance as Kate. Looking radiant at age 47, she makes it easy to see why Pogo questions why he divorced her. The elegant German actress was married to Rex Harrison from 1943 to 1957. After starring in Hollywood productions such as Body and Soul and Cloak and Dagger, she moved back to Europe where she worked steadily until her death at age 71 in 1986.

The Pleasure of His Company was adapted from Samuel Taylor’s 1958 Broadway play that starred Cyril Ritchard as Pogo, Dolores Hart (Where the Boys Are) as Jessica, and a young George Peppard as Jessica’s fiancé. The only actor to appear in both play and film was Charles Ruggles as Kate’s father. He won a Tony for his stage performance, although he sadly gets little screen time in the film version.

Cinematographer Robert Burks (a Hitchcock favorite) lovingly captures the sights and sounds of San Francisco. Unfortunately, the dialogue-driven plot takes place mostly indoors. The result is that The Pleasure of His Company becomes a talky affair and, despite delightful performances from the cast (particularly Astaire and Palmer), it wears out its welcome. Just like Pogo Poole.