Fred MacMurray and Jane Wyman Say Bon Voyage!

Fred MacMurray playing another Dad.

Fred MacMurray made seven films for Walt Disney Productions, starting with The Shaggy Dog (1959) and ending with Charley and the Angel (1973). There were big hits (The Absent-Minded Professor) and big flops (The Happiest Millionaire). One of Fred’s least successful Disney outings was Bon Voyage! (1962), a well-intentioned family comedy that will test the patience of even Fred’s most fervent fans.

The veteran actor stars as Harry Willard, a plumbing contractor from Terre Haute who finally makes good on his promise to take wife Katie (Jane Wyman) to France. Of course, it’s taken 20 years to make the trip a reality and the couple now have three kids: teenagers Amy (Deborah Walley) and Elliott (Tommy Kirk) and youngster Skipper (Kevin Corcoran).

Deborah Walley as Amy.

Amy finds romance almost immediately with a handsome, brooding would-be architect named Nick (Michael Callan). Elliott pouts over his girlfriend back home--for about five minutes--then tries to reinvent himself as a suave playboy. Katie finds herself wooed by a Hungarian lothario. And Harry...he just attempts to make sense of everything going on around him.

Bon Voyage! was based on a novel co-written by Joseph Hayes, who penned The Desperate Hours--a very different family drama. Esther Williams and James Cagney were attached to Bon Voyage! at various times during its development. But the cast changed significantly when Walt Disney acquired the rights.

Fred MacMurray and Tommy Kirk had already appeared together in two Disney pictures: The Shaggy Dog and The Absent-Minded Professor. Kevin Corcoran co-starred with them in the former film. Deborah Walley and Michael Callan had also teamed up in the previous year's Gidget Goes Hawaiian.

Yet, despite such built-in chemistry, Bon Voyage! comes across as no more than an overlong, episodic travelogue that makes one pine for Rome Adventure (also 1962). It's difficult to fathom why director James Neilson didn't trim the length by at least 30 minutes. The current running time of 132 minutes seems interminable.

As Nick, poor Michael Callen is saddled with a character that borders on psychotic. In one scene, Nick is wooing Walley with aplomb. In another, he is launching into rants about marriage, career choices, and the meaning of life. Simply put, Nick may be the most bizarre character to grace a Disney live action family film.

Jane Wyman as Katie.

As expected, Fred MacMurray shoulders most of the movie, although it's too bad he and Wyman don't get a subplot together until late in the proceedings. By then, I was already looking at my watch every five minutes.

As much as I like the actors, I can't recommend Bon Voyage!. Save two hours of your life! However,  you may want to watch the opening credits. The title song by Disney veteran composers Richard and Robert Sherman is pretty catchy.

Walt Disney's Pollyanna

Hayley Mills as Pollyanna.

Impeccably produced and exceedingly well cast, Pollyanna ranks as Walt Disney's finest live-action children's film. Set in 1913, it tells the story of 12-old-year Pollyanna Whittier, an eternally-optimistic orphan who comes to live with her stern aunt in the picturesque small town of Harrington.

Pollyanna's Aunt Polly is a wealthy spinster who pretty much runs the town (which was named after her family). Polly even provides notes and Bible quotations to the local minister, whose fiery sermons leave the local residents with sour stomachs every Sunday. The town is in need of some cheer and that's what young Pollyanna provides. She finds something to be thankful for even in the bleakest situations. When folks complain that the Sunday sermon ruins their fried chicken dinner, Pollyanna quickly notes that they can be glad it's six days until the next Sunday!

Agnes Moorehead as Mrs. Snow.

She also looks for the best in people, a trait that eventually endears her to an elderly recluse (Adolphe Menjou), a cantankerous hypochondriac (Agnes Moorehead), and even the minister (Karl Malden) who has lost his congregation. Pollyanna's "gladness" spreads throughout Harrington and results in the townsfolk defying Aunt Polly by holding a bazaar to raise money for a new orphanage. Polly appears to be the lone hold-out, but a climatic tragedy changes her outlook on life as well.

Based on Eleanor H. Porter's 1913 novel, Pollyanna could have been a sticky-sweet maudlin mess. Instead, it's a bright, energetic film that seems much shorter than than its 134-minute running time. Over 360 young actresses were considered for the title role before British newcomer Hayley Mills was chosen. Walt Disney's wife Lilly was partly responsible for Mills' casting, having seen Hayley in her film debut Tiger Bay (1959).

Jane Wyman as Aunt Polly.

Disney surrounded Mills with an exceptional cast, pairing her with Jane Wyman and some of Hollywood's best supporting performers (e.g., Malden, Menjou, Moorehead, and Donald Crisp). He then added promising newcomer James Drury (The Virginian), the always reliable Nancy Olson, and another Disney child star, Kevin Corcoran (who had earlier appeared in Old Yeller). As if that's not enough, TV fans can rejoice in the presence of familiar faces such as Edward Platt (Get Smart), Reta Shaw (The Ghost and Mrs. Muir), and Mary Grace Canfield (Green Acres).

The central performance, though, is what holds Pollyanna together and Hayley Mills shoulders the responsibility with ease. I'm hard-pressed to think of another child star who seemed as natural on the screen. Mills' acting earned her a BAFTA nomination (the "British Oscar") and she was awarded a special Academy Award in 1961 for "most outstanding juvenile performance."

Hayley Mills and Karl Malden.

Her best scene in Pollyanna is also my favorite in the film: Pollyanna encounters Reverend Ford (Malden) in a field where he is practicing one of his stern sermons.  She recounts how her father, a missionary, struggled to reach his congregation until he focused on finding the good in people. It's a simple point made with childhood innocence, but it strikes home with the minister. It's a lovely scene and reminded me once again that Karl Malden was one of the great actors of his generation.

I was surprised to read recently that Pollyanna was not a boxoffice success. Walt Disney blamed the film's title, which he thought may not have appealed to boys. That may be true, but Pollyanna is truly a film for all ages. In fact, I didn't realize just how good it was until I watched it as an adult.  I have seen Pollyanna many times over the years now and it never fails to entertain and deliver its message of good cheer and faith in one another.

Jane Wyman Romances Charlton Heston and Natalie Wood Befriends a Miracle Dog

Compared to Jane Wyman's other "women's pictures" of the 1950s, Lucy Gallant is neither as good as All That Heaven Allows nor as bad as Magnificent Obsession. It also wasn't made by Douglas Sirk, though director Robert Parrish clearly intended to imitate Sirk's glossy melodramas.

Wyman stars as the title character, a plucky young woman who finds herself stuck in White Sage Junction, Texas, when her train is delayed. She quickly realizes that the town is undergoing rapid growth as its citizens gain wealth from oil fields. When Lucy sees the female residents admiring her New York fashions, she decides to sell all her clothes (we later learn this was her trousseau from a wedding that never happened). With a tidy profit in hand, she borrows enough money from the bank to open an upscale ladies' fashion store called Gallant's.

Meanwhile, she becomes attracted to Casey Cole (Charlton Heston), a rugged rancher who returns her affections. Unfortunately, Casey's old-fashioned values about marriage conflict with Lucy's business ambitions. It quickly becomes clear that one of them will have to bend if these two lovers are going to find happiness.

The opening scenes of Lucy Gallant are captivating, with Wyman creating a sassy, appealing heroine who knows what she wants and how to get it--from a business perspective. Alas, Lucy doesn't know what she wants when it comes to love. She obviously cares for Casey, but he's a boot-wearing outdoorsman and she's a stylish socialite. It's the Green Acres conundrum...except that Casey stops short of forcing Lucy into a life on the ranch.

Eventually, it becomes tedious watching this couple trying to find a compromise as the years roll by. A good supporting cast--which includes Thelma Ritter, Claire Trevor (shown at right), and William Demarest--maintains viewer interest (though one wishes they had more to do, especially the spunky Trevor). There's also a high-end runway show introduced by none other than Edith Head! That almost makes up for the film's ending, which I personally found unsatisfying and a little depressing.

Natalie Wood and collie.

Just like Lucy Gallant, Jenny Hollingsworth--the young protagonist of Driftwood--finds herself in a strange town when she wanders from her home after the death of her grandfather. Fortunately, Jenny (Natalie Wood) meets an apparently stray collie that becomes her protector. En route to the town of Panbucket, she and the dog are befriended by a kind small town doctor. Steve Webster (Dean Jagger) is not a country practitioner, though; he's conducting research on Rocky Mountain spotted fever. And while he treats Jenny affectionately, neither Steve nor his older friend Murph (Walter Brennan) intend for Jenny to spend longer than a single night in their house.

Driftwood, a Republic Pictures "B" movie, was made the same year as Miracle on 34th Street. While it lacks the magic of that Natalie Wood film, Driftwood remains a pleasant family drama. Yes, there's never any doubt how Driftwood will end. Each plot turn is telegraphed well ahead of time (hmm...will someone get Rocky Mountain spotted fever? Just where did that collie come from?). I didn't mind that, though, principally because it was played so well by the cast.

Natalie Wood was a natural on the screen--a gift she displayed as a child and later an adult actress. In films such as 34th Street, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, and in Driftwood, the young Natalie charms subtly and realistically without overplaying cuteness.

Ruth Warrick and Dean Jagger.

Of course, it helps when a youthful star is surrounded by screen veterans. Indeed, the best part of Driftwood may be watching its exceptional cast, most of whom carved out successful careers as performers known for their supporting roles in bigger films and on television. In addition to Brennan and Jagger, the cast includes Ruth Warrick (Phoebe on All My Children), Margaret Hamilton, Alan Napier (Alfred on TV's Batman), James Bell (The Leopard Man), H.B. Warner, and Charlotte Greenwood (Aunt Eller in Oklahoma).

Bad Movie Theatre: Magnificent Obsession (1954)

I'm afraid I can't agree with the trailer.

Let me begin by stating that I hold big screen soaps in great affection (I'm always game to revisit A Summer Place). And while I favor director Delmer Daves over Douglas Sirk in this genre, I admire Sirk's classy Imitation of Life  (1959) and his quintessential sudser All That Heaven Allows (1955). So, it's with heavy heart that--after recently rewatching Magnificent Obsession--I must pronounce it a dreadful way to spend 108 minutes.

The film's promotional spots highlighted
Douglas's novel (and Jane's hand).

The plot owes more to the 1935 film version than to Lloyd C. Douglas' best-selling 1929 novel. Rock Hudson, in his first starring role in an "A" picture, portrays irresponsible, millionaire playboy Robert Merrick. Following a reckless boating accident, Merrick is revived with the hospital's only resuscitator. Without that critical piece of medical equipment, philanthropist Dr. Phillips dies from a heart attack. Merrick tries to purge his guilt by writing a $25,000 check to Phillips' widow, Helen (Jane Wyman)--but she refuses the money.

Merrick (Hudson) begins to get serious.

After a drunken Merrick crashes his car, he meets Edward Randolph (Otto Kruger), a close friend of Phillips, who shares a common "pay it forward" philosophy. Inspired by Randolph, Merrick tries to make amends with Helen, but inadvertently causes her to be struck by a car...and lose her sight.

One day, Merrick encounters Helen by the lake and the two begin talking. He calls himself Robinson (Robby for short) to avoid revealing his identity. As love begins to grow, Merrick starts pursuing his medical studies again and vows to do all that he can to restore Helen's sight.

Lana Turner in the superior
Imitation of Life.

It's easy to see why a Magnificent Obsession remake appealed to Douglas Sirk. The novel and the earlier film adaptation were character-driven dramas that focused on changing the course of one's life for the better. That's a theme that Sirk explores in later (better ) films. In Imitation of Life, Lora (Lana Turner) progresses from a low-income single parent to a Broadway star--with the help of African American best friend Annie (Juanita Moore). In All That Heaven Allows, affluent widow Cary (Jane Wyman) eventually realizes that true happiness lies with the simple life espoused by Ron, her young, handsome gardener (Rock Hudson). Incidentally, both these films also tackled the challenges of being a social outcast: Ron is rejected by Cary's friends and family; in Imitation of Life, Annie's daughter tries to pass herself off as white.

Alas, while Magnificent Obsession has good intentions, it never comes close to becoming a good film. The screenplay condenses Lloyd C. Douglas' philosophical underpinnings to a ten-minute conversation that sounds like a paid ad for a self-help book. The banal dialogue doesn't help, with my favorite line being Merrick's response to a comment about painting: "As far as I'm concerned, art is just a guy's name." But the script's biggest problem is that nothing much happens after Helen reveals she has known Robby's identity for a long time. There's no conflict in the film's final 40 minutes as it lumbers toward its obvious conclusion.

Hudson and Wyman share an embrace.

Jane Wyman (who was Oscar-nominated) does what she can with her character, but Rock Hudson struggles to get a handle on the playboy-turned-surgeon. I also think he was still honing his skills as an actor, especially given some of his wooden line readings. Magnificent Obsession catapulted Hudson to bigger and better parts (he made Giant two years later)--although I believe his success with this film had more to do with his good looks and earnestness than to his performance.

From a production standpoint, Magnificent Obsession is a blotch on Sirk's otherwise stellar career as a celluloid craftsman. While the color scheme is interesting, the use of painted backdrops and rear screens give the film a cheap look (that said, there are some stunning outdoor shots at the beginning of the film). However, the biggest distraction is the overly melodramatic score by Frank Skinner, which opts for sweeping violins and a chorus of "ah"'s at the tiniest whiff of emotion.

Magnificent Obsession has its share of admirers...and you may be one. (Heck, it was even released in a deluxe edition by Criterion). If you're among its fans, I encourage you to leave a dissenting comment. However, I was obsessed to write this review and state how magnificently lame I found it to be.

Stage Fright: Hitchcock, Lovely Ducks, and a Controversial Flashback

Spoiler Alert:  The following review reveals the film's ending.

As the film that preceded Hitchcock's "comeback" classic Strangers on a Train, Stage Fright (1950) is typically glossed over in the famed director's filmography. While it's true that it doesn't rank with his masterpieces (e.g., Vertigo, Rear Window), Stage Fright has much to offer: a clever opening, a playful homage to acting, a pair of delightfully quirky supporting performances, and--of course--that infamous flashback.

The proceedings get off to a fast start when two people in a convertible exchange the following dialogue as the car whisks through the streets of London:

EVE: Any sign of the the police?

JONNY (looking over his shoulder): It looks like we're getting away with it.

EVE: Good.

Jonny enters the apartment--the start of
a memorable, single-take tracking shot.

It quickly becomes apparent that Jonny (Richard Todd) is in trouble and has turned to Eve (Jane Wyman) for help. When probed by Eve, he explains that his lover Charlotte Inwood (Marlene Dietrich), a famous stage actress, came to him after murdering her husband following a quarrel. Charlotte needs Jonny to destroy her bloodstained dress and fetch a new one from her flat. Jonny does more than that--he restages the crime scene but is spotted by a maid and transitions from accomplice to suspected murderer.

Eve, who believes she's in love with Jonny, deposits the wanted man with her oddball father (Alastair Sim). She also becomes determined to prove Jonny's innocence. After a chance meeting with Charlotte's dresser, Eve hatches a risky scheme to go undercover and collect the evidence that will clear Jonny.

The twist in Stage Fright is that Jonny is not Hitchcock's typical innocent-man-on-the-run. Indeed, Jonny murdered Charlotte's husband and everything he told Eve at the start of the film--shown to the viewer via a flashback--was a lie. This revelation slips out as Eve and Jonny hide from the police in an opulent theatre at the film's climax. In a matter of seconds, Jonny evolves from hero to villain.

Jonny reveals the truth in
the theater.

Much has been written about the "lying flashback," chiefly that it doesn't play fair with the audience--a view postulated by Francois Truffaut in his book of Hitchcock interviews. However, this contention assumes that everything we see in a film is the "truth" as presented by the filmmakers. Hitchcock makes it clear that we are hearing and seeing Jonny's version of the events. It's not dissimilar from the various versions of the truth recounted (also in flashback) by the different characters in Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon. The key difference is that Jonny is an actor and he casts himself in the role of the framed innocent man--a part he plays not only in the flashback, but also in his post-murder dealings with Eve.

Alastair Sim, as Eve's father, paying
off blackmailer Kay Walsh.

Acting and the theater are a recurring motif in many Hitchcock films:  Judy played the role of Madeleine in Vertigo; Uncle Charlie was just a character masking a serial murderer in Shadow of a Doubt; and the mini-plays in Rear Windows were framed by windows, an analogy to the confines of a theatrical stage. However, Stage Fright trumps them all in the number of characters playing parts. In addition to Jonny playing the innocent man, Eve assumes the roles of newspaper reporter and Charlotte's dresser. Since deception is acting, too, Eve's father gets in the act by lying about Jonny to Eve's mother. The theater motif is emphasized too strongly perhaps, with opening credits against a stage curtain and a backdrop that crushes Jonny at the climax.

One imagines that Hitchcock was drawn to the source material because it stands one of his favorite themes on its head. Quick, how many Hitchcock films can you name about men wrongly accused of a crime who set out to prove their innocence and/or stop the bad guys with the aid of a strong woman? It's dominated his career from Young and Innocent to The 39 Steps to Saboteur, North By Northwest, and others. But in Stage Fright, the innocent man really is a killer--a point that must have amused Hitchcock.

Marlene singing: "My poor heart is
aching to bring home the bacon..."

In Truffaut's interview with Hitchcock, the Master of Suspense maintains that the two great flaws in Stage Fright are that the villain is weak and the characters are never in any tangible danger. I disagree with the villain being weak--when Jonny finally reveals his true self to Eve, he becomes an acceptable villain. I maintain that the problems are that: (1) Jonny is a minor character who disappears from the film for long stretches; (2) since Jonny is role-playing a good guy, there is no villain until the climax. And, as a standard mystery, Stage Fright puts forth few legitimate suspects: Charlotte, Jonny, Charlotte's manager, or the dresser Nellie (with the latter two in very little of the picture).

Joan Grenfell promoting the chance to
to shoot "lovely ducks."

While the principals in Stage Fright carry the load admirably (especially a charming Michael Wilding), two marvelous character actors almost steal it. Alastair Sim injects the film with some much-needed dry humor ("What sort of father are you?" asks a police inspector. The reply: "Unique.") Yet, even he is upstaged in a delightful scene with Joyce Grenfell manning a fund-raising booth for an orphanage at a garden party ("Half a crown to shoot a lovely duck!)". These two veteran British comedians play off each other brilliantly, providing the perfect levity for the classic Hitchcock scene that follows them: a young child carrying a bloodied doll through the crowd as Charlotte performs on a stage.

While the entertainment value is high in most Hitchcock films, I have a soft spot for the lighthearted ones that seem to show the director in a playful mood (this one, To Catch a Thief, and I'm slowly turning the corner on The Trouble With Harry). That's one of the reasons why I find Stage Fright methodically moving up my list of favorite Hitchcock films with each viewing.