Ghost Story--The Film Adaptation Dilemma

Fred Astaire as a Chowder
Society member.

When I watch a film adaptation, I try to evaluate it on its own merits--as opposed to comparing the movie to its literary source. I am struggling with that, though, as I write this review of Ghost Story (1981), a simplified version of Peter Straub's engrossing 1979 bestseller. With its framing device and stories woven into a larger narrative, Ghost Story might have fared better as a miniseries. This 110-minute adaptation plays like a "greatest hits" version of the book. 

Fred Astaire, John Houseman, Melvyn Douglas, and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. portray the four elderly friends who comprise the Chowder Society, a secret club of sorts in the rural upper-New York town of Milburn. The Society's members meet regularly to tell each other creepy stories, which may or may not be true. Things haven't been the same since a fifth member died suddenly a year earlier and the surviving friends began to experience vivid nightmares.

Craig Wasson as Don.

Tragedy strikes again when one of the four, Edward Wanderley (Fairbanks, Jr.), learns that his son David (Craig Wasson) has fallen to his death from his high-rise New York apartment. His other son, Don (Wasson again), returns home for the funeral, but the two struggle to comfort one another. One snowy morning, Edward, believing he has seen his dead son, wanders into the bitter cold and is found dead. Soon after, Don confronts the Chowder Society, revealing that he shares a dark secret with them.

Director John Irvin creates an unsettling ambience in the opening scenes. The isolated town, covered in a white sheet of snow and dark clouds, seems like the perfect breeding place for evil. And one couldn't ask for a more impressive quartet of actors to embody the Chowder Society. Indeed, Ghost Story appears set up to succeed--until it doesn't. When Don tells his story to the group, the narrative goes off-course with an expanded flashback set in sunny Florida. It sucks the wind out of the movie and robs it of its most promising characters.

Later, there's yet another long flashback in which we learn what happened to the Chowder Society members when they were younger. Their horrible secret turns out to be underwhelming after the build-up (though generally faithful to the novel). The casting of the younger Chowder Society members is interesting--I never would have thought Ken Olin (thirtysomething) would turn into John Houseman as he grew older! 

A major problem is that the movie's length cannot support the novel's structure. We don't spend enough time with any of the characters to get to know them. It helps that many roles are played by well-known actors in familiar roles (e.g., Houseman is blustery, Astaire is likable). However, I never really cared what happened to these people.

Even worse, the film's ending totally deviates from the novel. I'll avoid plot spoilers, but suffice to say that the novel involved a nasty supernatural creature that did not go easily into the night. In contrast, the film version of Ghost Story features nothing more than a vengeful ghost.

I was afraid of this. I've spent most of this review comparing book and movie. That's unfair to the cinematic Ghost Story, but I still stand by my assessment is that's no more than an adequate motion picture. There's still a good Ghost Story miniseries just waiting to be made.

(You can currently stream Ghost Story for free by clicking here.)

The Notorious Landlady Wastes a Sterling Cast

Kim Novak as the title character.

With such a prestigious pedigree, I expected more from The Notorious Landlady (1962). Here's a British comedy headlined by Kim Novak, Jack Lemmon, and Fred Astaire with a screenplay penned by the writers who were responsible for The Pink Panther movies (Blake Edwards) and the M*A*S*H TV series (Larry Gelbert). We're talking about some talented people! But, making movies is a joint endeavor in which all the pieces need to be carefully shaped to fit together--and that doesn't happen in The Notorious Landlady.

Lemmon plays Bill Gridley, a U.S. diplomat recently assigned to London and in need of an apartment close to the embassy. He thinks he has found the ideal location, but the flat's housekeeper (Kim Novak) works very hard to dissuade him from taking it. She turns out to be the owner, who was posing as a housekeeper solely to screen potential renters.

Jack Lemmon looks worrried.

Gridley insists on moving in partially because of the proximity to the embassy, but mostly because he is smitten with his new landlady. It's not until later that he learns she is suspected of murdering her husband--whose body has never been found. Believing her incapable of such a crime, Bill sets out to prove her innocence.

It's shaky plot for a movie that runs a full two hours. However, the film's biggest problem is it doesn't know whether it is a sophisticated comedy, a light mystery, or a farce. At times, it could fit into any of those categories. The climax, which involves Lemmon chasing an wheelchair-bound woman shoved down a rocky path, is a manic, farcical scene (obviously written by Edwards). It doesn't belong in the same movie with sweet, flirtatious scenes between Lemmon and Novak.

Fred looks concerned!

The actors try their best, though we've seen Lemmon and Novak in these kinds of roles before. Fred Astaire comes off best as Lemmon's boss, who is deeply troubled about his employee's involvement with a potential murderess--until he meets her and also succumbs to her charms.

Sadly, Astaire wouldn't appear in another movie for six years until he was convinced to appear in Finian's Rainbow (although he appeared several times on television in the mid-1960s). Jack Lemmon and Kim Novak remained in demand, though Lemmon had a much longer silver screen career ahead of him. Larry Gelbert and Blake Edwards survived The Notorious Landlady to experience their biggest career successes.

The Notorious Landlady isn't a dreadful film, but neither is it a good one. And it should have been a great movie with all the talent that was involved!


Here's a clip, courtesy of the Cafe's YouTube channel, in which Jack and Kim flirt over dinner. The stranger who wants to talk with Kim in the fog is played by Henry Daniell, who played some great villains earlier in his career.

The Five Biggest Stars of the 1930s

In earlier posts, we listed our picks for the five biggest stars of the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s. The stars of the 1930s faced a decade of transition as the movie industry moved from silent films to almost exclusively talkies. The big change didn't matter for a handful of stars (e.g., Greta Garbo), but for others it may have contributed to their decline. As always, new stars emerged and they dominate our list below. As with our other Biggest Stars posts, our criteria focused on boxoffice power, critical acclaim, and enduring popularity.

1. Greta Garbo - In 1930, at the age of 25, Garbo was already a huge boxoffice attraction. Her first talking film Anna Christie was the highest grossing film of 1930. Her popular and critical successes continued throughout the decade with Mata Hari (1931), Grand Hotel (1932), Anna Karenina (1935), Camille (1936), and Ninotchka (1939). She earned four Oscar nominations during the decade, but never won. At the height of her popularity, she was earning $300,000 per film.

2. Clark Gable - Starting in 1932, the International Motion Picture Almanac ranked the top ten stars at the boxoffice annually. Clark Gable made the Top 10 every year of the 1930s and was the runner-up to Shirley Temple for the top spot three times. He also received his only Oscar nominations for It Happened One Night (which he won as Best Actor), Mutiny on the Bounty, and Gone With the Wind. Yes, Mr. Gable had a very good decade.

3. Bette Davis - She arrived in Hollywood in 1930 and had appeared in over 20 films before garnering critical acclaim for Of Human Bondage (1934). Who forget how she spewed out her classic line to Leslie Howard: "And after you kissed me, I always used to wipe my mouth! Wipe my mouth!"  Her performance earned Bette Davis her first Academy Award nomination. By the time the decade ended, she has won Oscars for Dangerous (1935) and Jezebel (1938). She also appeared in popular films such as The Petrified Forest (1936), Dark Victory (1939), and The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939).

4. Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers - They made their debut as a team in supporting roles in 1932's Flying Down to Rio. By the end of the decade, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were the most famous dancing duo in the history of film. Nine of their ten collaborations were made in the 1930s, including Top Hat, Swing Time, and Shall We Dance. Their popularity was so great that Astaire earned a percentage of the profits on some of their movies--a rare practice in Hollywood at the time. Alas, Rogers made considerably less than her co-star, but she also branched out to serious roles and earned an Oscar in 1940 for Kitty Foyle.

5. Shirley Temple - In retrospect, it's hard to appreciate Shirley Temple's immense popularity in the 1930s. But she was the biggest draw in the U.S. for four years in a row (1935-38) and ranked in the Top 10 for another two years (1934 and 1939). But the movie-going public can be fickle and, following the commercial failure of The Blue Bird in 1940, Shirley Temple's career was never the same. She had peaked at age 12!

Honorable Mentions: Katharine Hepburn, Luise Rainer, Paul Muni, Myrna Loy, and Errol Flynn.

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.

Swing Time with Fred and Ginger...and that Awesome Dress

If you don’t think Top Hat is the best Fred and Ginger film ever, then chances are you think that honor belongs to Swing Time. To many it is a toss up. I, of course, prefer Top Hat, but there are many who say Swing Time is better. In regards to political correctness, Top Hat is the one that stands the test of time, as Astaire performs in blackface in Swing Time. So, let the debate begin…once I give this film the once over, of course.

Based on the Elwin Gelsey story “Portrait of John Garnett” (screenplay adaptation by Howard Lindsay and Allen Scott), the film was directed by George Stevens (he needed a break—he’d just finished working with Katharine Hepburn). The charming dance numbers are the beneficiary of an excellent soundtrack by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields. “The Way You Look Tonight” took home the 1936 Oscar for Best Song and Hermes Pan was nominated for Best Dance Direction for “Bojangles of Harlem”. Besides these two great routines, there is also “A Fine Romance”, “Pick Yourself Up”, “Waltz in Swing Time”, and “Never Gonna Dance”.

The plot is very thin, but thankfully Fred and Ginger’s dancing make you forget this. Astaire plays John “Lucky” Garnett, a vaudeville “hoofer” who wants to be a professional gambler. He also wants to marry his rich girlfriend Margaret (Betty Furness), but he and his wedding trousers are sidetracked by his dancing partners who don’t want him to quit the business. He arrives hours late to the wedding and is informed by Margaret’s father, Judge Watson (director George Stevens’ father Landers Stevens) that there isn’t going to be a wedding. Lucky and the judge then come to an agreement: if Lucky goes to New York City and makes $25,000 then the judge will reconsider.

So, off to the big city goes a broke Lucky, his lucky quarter, and his best pal, Pop (Victor Moore). Once in New York they soon meet Penny Carol (Rogers), who promptly tries to have them arrested for theft. Lucky is still in his wedding clothes, so the officer doesn’t believe her. Miffed, Penny strides off to her job at the Gordon’s Dancing Academy with Lucky in hot pursuit. Upon entering the studio Lucky encounters receptionist Mabel (Helen Broderick), who offers him a free dance lesson in hopes that he’ll enroll in a $45 course. Seeing Penny’s picture on the wall, he asks to take his free lesson with her. An infuriated Penny must endure his faked ineptitude, which leads to the film’s first musical number, “Pick Yourself Up”. Many critics have said this song was a nod to people trying to endure the Depression. With lyrics like: “Don't lose your confidence if you slip/Be grateful for a pleasant trip/And pick yourself up/Dust yourself off/ Start all over again” it is easy to see where they may have gotten that idea. When Penny is fired by the dance studio’s owner, Mr. Gordon (Eric Blore), for insulting him, Lucky steps in and shows off what he’s “learned” from Penny. In a fluid shot, Stevens captures the duo as they do their famous swinging twirl and leap over the dance railings. Mr. Gordon is so impressed that he decides to send the duo to his friend Simpson’s (Pierre Watkin) Silver Sandal club for an audition. To get a dinner jacket for the audition, Lucky tries to gamble but ends up losing his pants in the process. No audition and Penny is yet again angry with him.

Fast forward a bit and you find Lucky and Pop picketing outside Penny’s room. With the help of Mabel, Lucky finds his way into her room and tries to convince her to give him (and their dance partnership) another shot. And what’s the best way to convince an angry woman to reconsider slicing your heart open with her stiletto? You serenade her with “The Way You Look Tonight”. Penny, soapy hair and all, forgives him and agrees to a new audition. Too bad Ricardo (George Mataxa), the band leader at the Silver Sandal, is in love with Penny and won’t play for the duo because he’s jealous of Lucky and because his contract now belongs to Dice Raymond (John Harrington), another night club (and casino) owner. So, Lucky gambles Dice Raymond for Ricardo’s contract—and wins. The first musical piece he conducts for his new boss is “Waltz in Swing Time”. This waltz is definitely in “swing time”, as it is lightening fast with Astaire and Rogers doing some very nimble foot work and interesting gliding back kicks, amongst their usual twirls. It is a breathtaking dance, both figuratively and literally.

Later in the film the duo travel with Pop and Mabel (an odd couple if there ever was one) to a rundown lodge. It is the middle of a snowy winter and they are driving in an open convertible—really? Of course, by this point in the film Penny and Lucky are in love, but he’s giving her advances the brush-off because of his engagement to Margaret. Having all of her romantic advances rebuffed is too much for Penny and she begins singing “A Fine Romance”. The song is very sarcastic and well, cute: she wants them to be hot tomatoes and he wants them to be cold potatoes. Eventually, Pop lets her in on the fact that Lucky is engaged—just as Lucky decides to give in to his feelings.

Back in the city they begin performing at the Silver Sandal and continue their flirtation. It is at this point in the film that today’s viewer may become a bit uncomfortable, as Astaire performs in blackface in "Bojangles of Harlem". What today’s viewer doesn’t know is Astaire did this as a tribute to the African American tap dancer Bill Robinson. It is an excellent solo number for Astaire and the set design was inspired. Tap dancing amongst twenty four singing chorus girls dressed in half black and half white, Astaire showcases his wonderful tap work. Later in the number, Astaire performs a shadow dance amongst three screen projected shadows and outduels (or better yet, out-taps) them all. This is the only time he ever did a blackface number in a film. Anyway, at the end of the number Lucky notices that Margaret is in the audience. Uh-oh.

In a very quick amount of time a lot happens. Lucky loses Ricardo’s contract to Dice and Penny is introduced to Margaret. Both of these events convince Penny that she should marry Ricardo and finally be done with the gambling (and engaged) Lucky. When Lucky learns that Penny is going to marry Ricardo he convinces her to have one last dance with him when he starts singing “Never Gonna Dance”. This is perhaps the most “emotional” dance the duo ever performed together. As long as they continue this dance their romance can go on, but if the dance ends so does the romance. And, so this is one of the longest numbers the duo ever performed together. All of their earlier dance routines are intermingled with this one. It is awesome to watch this, as well as when they spin their way up a curved staircase and end the number in what can only described as an explosion of twirls. At the end, she runs away from him. It is rather devastating to watch…but then you remember it’s Fred and Ginger: I know there’s a happy ending somewhere! Okay, but we still must talk about Ginger’s dress in this number. Ten trillion times better than the Ostrich number from Top Hat, this low-cut, white satin gown was designed by Bernard Newman and it is one of the all-time greatest film gowns EVER! With cross-your-heart pleats and a cut to die for, not to mention a startling cape that was connected by a rhinestone choker, this is the ultimate “I’m just too damn sexy” dress.

But back to the story, in the end Margaret tells Lucky she doesn’t want to marry him, which frees him up to steal Ricardo’s pants before his wedding to Penny. In a rather quirky, but very sweet, ending, the two end up serenading one another with the other’s song, he sings her “A Fine Romance” and she sings his “The Way You Look Tonight”.

This is my second favorite Fred and Ginger picture. It is a lot like Top Hat, especially with the art deco set designs and the usual plot devices. I don’t know if I can make a definitive statement as to which number, “Cheek to Cheek” or “Never Gonna Dance”, is the greatest. Both are spectacular, but Ginger does wear that itchy ostrich dress in “Cheek to Cheek”. Oh, well, I’d like to hear what you think on this subject…and anything else you might have to add.

Dancing Cheek to Cheek? Top Hat Required

When considering the Fred and Ginger phenomenon, one need only remember what Katharine Hepburn said about the duo: “She gave him sex, and he gave her class." Alone, he was far from sexy and she wasn’t close to genteel. Yet, when you put them together, all of that fell away and you saw a beautiful, sophisticated couple. All told, they made 10 films together—most of which were quite good. Their chemistry, both dancing and romantic, is undeniable and has stood the test of time. That is why today they are still regarded as THE greatest dance team ever.

Director Mark Sandrich obviously worked well with the duo, as he directed five of their films. Working from a witty screenplay penned by Allan Scott and Dwight Taylor, based on the Alexander Farago and Aladar Laszlo play The Girl Who Dared, Sandrich’s deft directorial decisions about how the film should be shot made Top Hat the duo’s biggest box office success, as well as their most critically acclaimed film. It was nominated for four Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Interior Decoration, Best Song, and Best Dance Direction), but won none.

Astaire and Hermes Pan choreographed the film to five wonderful Irving Berlin songs: “Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails,” Cheek to Cheek,” “No Strings,” “Isn’t This a Lovely Day To Be Caught in the Rain,” and “The Piccolino.” All the musical numbers seem to seamlessly meld in with the progression of the story—which I find to be a huge plus.

The plot revolves around a simple case of mistaken identity, which complicates a budding romance born out of an accidental meeting. Doesn’t sound too simple to you, eh? Trust me, it’s Fred and Ginger, so it’s definitely simple.

In the beginning, we meet Broadway star Jerry Travers (Astaire) as he’s hanging out in a VERY British gentlemen’s club waiting for producer Horace Hardwick (the always funny Edward Everett Horton). After the two meet up and go to Horace’s hotel, Jerry learns that Horace’s wife Madge (Helen Broderick) wants him to come to Italy and meet a woman she’s picked for him. Jerry’s not interested in this, as he has a strong aversion to “strings.” Thus, Astaire starts singing “No Strings” and does a bit of noisy tap dancing. This awakens the lady sleeping in the room below, Dale Tremont (Rogers). Thus, Jerry and Dale meet when she angrily knocks on the door to complain. She thinks he’s a flake, he thinks she’s wonderful and rethinks the whole “strings” aversion.

The next day we find Jerry buying flowers (from Lucille Ball nonetheless) and being rebuffed by Dale when he offers to take her to a riding club. Not deterred, he decides to pretend to be the hansom cab driver. She recognizes him by his tapping feet, but isn’t that angry. Later, as she’s riding a storm breaks out and she seeks cover. Jerry attempts to come to the rescue, but she gives him the cold shoulder. That is, until a loud clap of thunder sends her into his arms. Once she recovers herself, her icy nature is even worse. To pass the time and make her loathe him a tad less, he sings "Isn't This a Lovely Day”. Once finished with the warm-up number, he begins whistling and trying to get her to dance with him. Eventually she gives in and they perform a sort of shadow dance, mimicking the other’s moves. This number just goes to show that Rogers was just as good a dancer as Astaire, which many people seem to overlook. There is a quote I heard somewhere about how Rogers may have even been better because she danced backwards and in high heels. Anyway, by the end of the scene they are on friendly terms.

Back at the hotel Dale gets a telegram from Mrs. Hardwick suggesting she look up her husband at the hotel. After much confusion, Dale begins to think that Jerry is Mr. Hardwick—oh, no you didn’t! Slap! Not given the courtesy of knowing why he’s been slapped, Jerry is flabbergasted. Still, not deterred, when he learns that Dale is headed to Venice, he demands Horace take him there right after the next number: “Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails.” Of course, top hat and tails were Astaire’s trademark look, so this is one of his quintessential numbers. Backed up by an entire male chorus wearing top hats and tails, Astaire tap dances (cane in hand) in front of a Parisian backdrop (Eiffel Tower included). It’s interesting to watch Astaire wield his cane as a weapon and the dancing sequence is spectacular.

With a quick dissolve, we find ourselves looking at an interesting Art Deco set of what RKO thought Venice should look like. Evidently everything there is a glowing white color. Anyway, after arriving in Venice Dale informs Madge about her husband and the two cook up a plan to teach him a lesson. Of course, Dale still thinks Jerry is Horace and what ensues is a comical game of cat and mouse. At one point, Madge pushes the two to dance together and Jerry finds himself “in heaven”; and, thus starts the spontaneous “Cheek to Cheek” duet. And so the ostrich feathers start to fly! Yes, I know this dress is legendary (for many reasons), but I just hate it! It does work very well in the dance, but it looks itchy and I can’t watch this great number without wanting to scratch. It is a seductive dance that is symbolic of the courtship and eventual consummation of a romance. A mixture of classic ballroom dancing and innovative modern (for that time) dance, it is the signature Fred and Ginger performance. At the end of the dance, Dale is crestfallen when she realizes she’s in love with a married man—one who proposes to her. Oh, no you didn’t! Slap—again.

To escape her conundrum, Dale decides to marry her designer, Alberto Beddini (Erik Rhodes). After learning that the woman he loves has married another man because she mistook him for Horace, Jerry decides he must rescue Dale before she can consummate her marriage. His rescue plan: to dance as loud as possible above the bridal suite. This angers Beddini, a master fencer, and he goes to challenge Jerry to a duel. This give Jerry the opportunity to kidnap Dale in a gondola and for the rest of the cast to pursue them in a motorboat low on petrol. So, while everybody else is out to sea, Dale and Jerry return to the hotel to watch a group of dancers perform “The Piccolino”—they eventually join in on the number. With a nod toward Busby Berkeley, Sandrich uses overhead camera shots to capture the dancers forming patterned images. They will reprise this number at the end of the film, after it is revealed that Dale and Beddini aren’t actually married. Happy ending!

Overall, the musical numbers are top notch. The standout number is, of course, “Cheek to Cheek”, but the other numbers are of a high caliber as well. Irving Berlin combined with Astaire and Pan’s choreography is pure magic.

The Art Deco sets are elegant and quite interesting to observe. In addition, the clothes (especially the evening gowns) are chic and expertly designed. When you combine the wardrobe and set design, you have one very sleek, sophisticated looking film.

Funny Face..."let's give 'em the old pizzazz!"

Pizzazz! The very word only came into being with Funny Face in 1957.

Vividly colorful and stylish, Funny Face is a full-blown extravaganza, a collaboration extraordinaire of some of the greatest talents of the era. Producer Roger Edens and director Stanley Donen worked with writer Leonard Gershe, cinematographer Ray June, costumer Edith Head, couture designer Hubert de Givenchy, photographer Richard Avedon and the film's incomparable stars Audrey Hepburn, Fred Astaire and Kay Thompson. Abetted by several great Gershwin tunes, this is a movie with considerable pizzazz...

Funny Face had been a work in progress for years, but the vital element that finally brought the project together was Audrey Hepburn. Then under contract with Paramount, Hepburn was the hottest star in the business and any picture with her name attached had a great shot at getting made. She loved both the script and the chance to dance with Fred Astaire and signed on.

Astaire, then pushing 60, was coming to the end of his career in musical films. Funny Face and Silk Stockings were released within months of each other in 1957 and were his last great musical successes on film.

Though its title was taken from a '20s Gershwin musical in which Astaire had starred, that and a few tunes were all the film had in common with the Broadway show. The film's story came from "Wedding Day," Leonard Gershe's musical about the fashion world based on 'the aura' (rather than the life) of legend-to-be photographer Richard Avedon and his wife. Doe Avedon, a great beauty of the time, was a reluctant muse; it was her husband who turned her into a model and guided her career.

Kay Thompson, ace vocal coach, arranger and cabaret star, had worked with Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Lena Horne and many others while working for MGM's music department. Gershe had her in mind from the start for the role of Maggie Prescott, a character closely modeled on powerhouse fashion editor and style doyenne Diana Vreeland. According to Leonard Gershe, it was Vreeland who coined the word 'bizzazz' that morphed into 'pizzazz.' Thompson as Prescott is an invigorating presence and she steals just about every scene she's in; early on, her "Think Pink!" number kicks Funny Face into high gear.

Funny Face is a Cinderella tale, the kind of story that was Audrey Hepburn's specialty. The film begins in the offices of "Quality" magazine, where editor Maggie Prescott decrees that the world of fashion shall think and wear pink! Soon after, she and photographer Dick Avery (Astaire) venture into bohemian Greenwich Village on a shoot...where bookstore clerk Jo Stockton (Hepburn), an ugly duckling with swan potential, is unearthed. The plot takes off from there. Cut to Paris where newly made-over model Jo wears exquisite Givenchy haute couture and is gorgeously photographed by Dick everywhere in the City of Light. Songs are sung. Dances are danced. Love blooms. A fairytale ending eventually comes.

The plot is nothing new, but watching Hepburn, Astaire and Thompson cavort through this high fashion romp is so easy on the eyes and ears that in so many ways...'s wonderful.

Then there's the 'beatnik' interlude, most noteworthy for Audrey's dance routine in a subterranean Parisian club dressed in black clothes and white socks. Though Hepburn battled Donen over the color of her socks, he won and the result was memorable.

Director Stanley Donen, who was never nominated for an Academy Award, made some of the best and most popular musicals in movie history - including Singin' in the Rain and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. He also made several successful non-musicals, films like Charade and Two for the Road. In 1998, the Academy honored him with a Lifetime Achievement Award. In his acceptance speech, he both sang and danced to Cole Porter's "Cheek to Cheek"...he knew how to "give 'em the old pizzazz!"

(YouTube has a clip of Donen receiving and accepting his award from Martin Scorsese)

This Week's Poll: What's Your Favorite Dance Number About Love?

This week's poll may be a challenge.  This is the season of love, and I thought it might be fun to choose your favorite dance number about love.  Here are your choices:

"Let's Face the Music and Dance" -- Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (from Follow the Fleet)

"Slaughter on 10th Avenue" -- Gene Kelly and Vera-Ellen (from Words and Music)

"Dancing in the Dark" -- Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse (from The Bandwagon)

"An American in Paris Ballet" -- Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron

"Cheek to Cheek" -- Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (from Top Hat)

I realize that "Slaughter on 10th Avenue" doesn't exactly sound like a love dance, but if you have seen it, you know that it is.  I'll be very interested to see which of these fabulous numbers is the favorite.

Coffee Time!

Though Vincente Minnelli's 1945 musical Yolanda and the Thief was and is one of Minnelli's, not to mention Fred Astaire's, least popular films, it contains a gem of a musical number that has garnered raves from day one...Coffee Time...

In 1945 no less than Bosley Crowther of The New York Times was impressed: "...a rhythm dance, done to the melody of Mr. Freed's Coffee-Time, puts movement and color to such uses as you seldom behold on screen." More recently, Stuart Klawans, film critic for The Nation, was equally enthusiastic: "Minnelli puts Astaire and Lucille Bremer into the midst of a mad pulsation of dancers in mocha and cafe au lait costumes, accented in yellow and periwinkle blue. The chorus swirls; the camera swirls; the gringo-Latin rhythms shift giddily, as Astaire and Bremer swing in and out of one of the most eccentric visions ever put on screen...Coffee Time is heaven itself, and a warm-up for the 18-minute ballet that Minnelli and Gene Kelly would create in An American in Paris."

The song Coffee Time was a reworking of an earlier tune by composer Harry Warren called Java Junction. His collaborator, producer/songwriter Arthur Freed, then created new lyrics for the updated melody. In the film, the routine begins as a fascinating contrast in rhythms with the orchestra playing in 4/4 time while the dancers dance in 5/4, and evolves into a spellbinding dance number featuring Astaire and Bremer.

The Coffee Time sequence is a visual carnival. Costumer Irene Sharaff developed its stylized combination of costumes and decor. She created coffee-colored outfits for the extras and, to set off the costumes, devised a pattern of rolling black and white lines on the dance floor that formed an optical illusion. With Fred Astaire, choreographer Eugene Loring devised a dance based on slow jazz rhythms. Minnelli's lighting and camera work added the finishing touches. The number goes through various incarnations and ends up a full-blown swing routine.

Watch Coffee Time here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zj4_jxy7zKU