NBC's Saturday Night at the Movies

In regard to showing theatrical films, the television landscape has changed mightily over the last 50 years. Back in 1960, there was no streaming video, no DVRs, and no DVDs. Either you saw a theatrical film when it was released, caught it at a revival house, or waited for years for it to pop up on your local TV station. Indeed, most stations were still showing vintage films from the 1930s and 1940s. That changed when NBC ushered in Saturday Night at the Movies on September 23, 1961.

NBC's concept was to broadcast a "world television premiere" of a major motion picture each week. It focused on "recent" post-1950 films, many of which were in color (which was still a big deal since most programming was in black and white). NBC wasn't the first network to launch a movie series, but it was the one that worked. Its debut offering, 1953's How to Marry a Millionaire, garnered strong ratings and Saturday Night at the Movies became a staple on NBC's schedule for the next 16 years. That first year featured The Day the Earth Stood Still, Garden of Evil, People Will Talk, The Black Rose, It Happens Every Spring, and 25 other motion pictures.

The films ran in a two-hour time slot from 9:00 to 11:00, though occasionally longer films (e.g., There's No Business Like Show Business) shifted the local news by fifteen to thirty minutes. If a movie ended early, then NBC would often show a "making of" featurette about an upcoming movie to fill out the time slot.

There was no letter-boxing back then, so wide-screen films were adapted for the smaller television screen ratio using a technique called "pan and scan." Thus, if there were two people talking on opposite sides of the screen, only one of them would be shown when the movie appeared on television. Sometimes, creative framing caused insurmountable problems. I once watched a pan-and-scan version of American Graffiti in which it looked like two noses were having a conversation.

The network also edited movies for time and objectionable content.The latter was not a major concern with the films of the 1950s, but became more prevalent as movies expanded the boundaries of censorship. Sometimes, it was just easier not to show a "racy movie" like Otto Preminger's The Moon Is Blue--which didn't premiere on network TV until 1973--twenty years after its theatrical release.

Kiss of the Vampire before re-editing.

However, some films were so heavily edited that new footage had to be shot to fill out the running time. One example was the excellent 1963 Hammer film Kiss of the Vampire. The film's plot was altered extensively through editing and additional scenes were filmed with other actors. Fortunately, the altered film was retitled Kiss of Evil--which has helped horror film enthusiasts distinguish it from the original Kiss of the Vampire.

The success of Saturday Night at the Movies prompted CBS and ABC to add movie nights. That scheduling tactic became so popular that, during the 1968-69 season, a network movie aired in prime time on each day of the week: NBC showed movies on Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday; ABC did on Sunday and Wednesday; and CBS did on Thursday and Friday.

Clu Gulager and Lee Marvin as The Killers.

The increase in movie nights, the desire to show current films, and rising costs led to the development of made-for-TV movies. These inexpensive films didn't feature big screen stars and frequently doubled as pilots for new TV series (which saved additional money!). The 1964 adaptation of Ernest Hemingway's The Killers, starring Lee Marvin and Ronald Reagan, was made for Saturday Night at the Movies. However, NBC determined that it was too violent and so The Killers was released theatrically. Therefore, most TV historians consider See How They Run to be the first made-for-TV movie. It starred John Forsyte and Senta Berger in a tale about killers pursuing three orphans who unknowingly possess valuable evidence against a cartel.

By the mid-1970s, spurred by the popularity of ABC's Movie of the Week, telefilms began to outnumber theatrical films shown on network TV. A decade later, cable channels and videotape distributors overtook the television networks as the first option for a post-theatrical movie release. The network's familiar "world premiere" claim was modified to "broadcast television premiere." It was the beginning of the end, although the networks still had sporadic successes. When NBC showed Gone With the Wind in 1976, it became the most-watched broadcast in U.S. television history at that time.

Speaking to Scarlett O’Hara

Why, Ms. Scarlett (Vivien Leigh), I do declare that you are one of the greatest female characters, both in film and prose, in American history.  You might be calculating but oddly still stupid at times, but I still like you and your 18 inch waist (pre Bonnie, rest her dear soul). Perhaps I often found myself hoping that Ms. Melly (Olivia de Havilland) would slap you or that a Yankee soldier would defile you—both to teach you a lesson—but I still hoped beyond hope that you would triumph in the end.  Alas, your god and creator, Margaret Mitchell, got it right in the end—let the reader/viewer decide how  your tomorrow turned out.  Of course, had Mitchell known that her money-grubbing descendants would allow Alexandra Ripley to write a trashy sequel (I won’t name the title, but the title is the most creative thing about it…and that’s all you need to know, Ms. Scarlett), perhaps she would have relented about writing the end of your story.  So, what makes you and your film merit a four-star rating, Ms. Scarlett? 

Star one: your theme music.  Dramatic and memorable—just like you Ms. Scarlett. Whenever I hear it I immediately think of the lush green gardens of Tara (and the burning of Atlanta, too—damn those Yankess, Miss Scarlett, damn them!),  Ah, and just like you were robbed by those damn Yankees, composer Max Steiner was robbed by the Academy when he lost the Oscar to some silly guy named The Wizard of Oz—now you know that’s not a decent, Southern gentleman’s name, Ms. Scarlett. Of course, it only makes sense that you would have one of the most memorable film scores ever, Ms. Scarlett, as you are the most memorable female film character in history.  Every badass needs a badass theme song, Ms. Scarlett, and rest assured, when your overpriced barouche is cruising the streets of Charleston (or Savannah, Atlanta, etc.) people know what badass is coming. 

Star two: your clothes.  With a figure like yours, Ms. Scarlett, you would look good in anything.  While I don’t know how wise it is to wear a green and white dress to a BBQ, I still think you make it work—and that green ribbon that attaches your hat to the rest of you could be used as a napkin if need be. What I’m saying is, you know how to make any dress work.  Take for example the white ruffle dress—some people would look like a roll of toilet paper gone wrong, but somehow it looks flouncy on you.  Another example is the red garnet gown that you look ultra-fierce in.  Some people just couldn’t work those feathers and the gauze-veil thingy, but you rock it. And, who but you could make a dress out of green velvet drapes seem stylish (sort of)?  Granted, it was because of those damn Yankees that you had to rip those curtains down and wear the tassels as an accessory belt, but we can’t blame the dress for the circumstances into which it was born. 

Star three: your crew. Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) may have left you in the end, but while he was with you he was the man in charge.  Your scenes together alone could have burned down Atlanta—damn Yankees.  I have to admit, I just couldn’t understand why you were always after that loser Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard) when you had a man like Rhett around. Was it that he rejected you, Ms. Scarlett?  You were just too much woman for that weak man!  He needed a calm woman like your cousin Ms. Melly, so he could continue the cycle of inbreeding. Melly, now there was a woman who knew how to endure, Ms. Scarlett.  Just think of all the insufferable things Aunt Pittypat (Laura Hope Crews) said over the years to that poor girl!  And you thought listening to Prissy (Butterfly McQueen) and Mammy (Hattie McDaniel) all the time was almost too much to bare.

Star four: your attitude.  There’s one thing that makes a person memorable, and that’s their attitude.  Sometimes things don’t go the way you want, but that doesn’t mean you give up. And, Lord knows, Ms. Scarlett you never give up.  Ashley married Melanie, so you married Charles (he was better looking anyway, plus he died and left you some worthless Confederate money—damn Yankees!). When you didn’t have the money to pay the taxes on Tara you and your drape dress found Frank Kennedy.  When the damn Yankees came calling you shot one dead. To me, this is a can-do attitude.  Plus, you always know you are the most interesting woman in the room.  Of course, you do have a touch of willfullness and a rather nasty temper, but Irish blood runs hot!  Now, if I had to make one constructive suggestion to you it would be this: get over your procrastination issue. Tomorrow might be another day, but sometimes that day can turn out to be really crummy. Still, I like the can-do attitude about getting your man back. 

And, that, Ms. Scarlett, is why you and your film are so memorable.