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Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Johnny Eager: Robert Taylor's Filmic Redemption

Johnny Eager (played by Robert Taylor) earns his living as a cab driver by day but, on a closer look, he’s a gangster by night who talks to everyone (mostly to dames) with a vaguely disdainful chivalry, even to his parole officer Verne. Two sociology students, Lisbeth Bard (played by a sumptuous Lana Turner) and her friend visit Verne researching for a sociology study and Lisbeth gets especially interested in the “rehabilitated” ex-con Johnny Eager. At first sight, she’s surprised by Johnny’s elegant demeanor and good looks. Sadly, Lisbeth’s father turns out to be District Attorney John Benson Farrell (Edward Arnold), the same man who sent Johnny to jail a few months ago.

As the film advertising claimed “T'N'T burn up the screen in a sizzling romance”, an actual attraction is lit between Johnny & Lisbeth and between Taylor and Turner in real life (the mere sound of Lana’s voice saying “good morning” made Taylor “melt”). Lisbeth is oblivious to the fact Johnny’s leaving a double life and is involved in an operation to reopen the Algonquin dog track – which Lisbeth’s father has threatened with closure. Johnny and Lisbeth continue their clandestine affair behind her fiancé’s back while Farrell insists on unmasking the evil nature percolating beneath Eager’s suave façade.

As if there were not enough shady characters in town who would like to give Eager a .38 lead dose, a rival gang manages to enlist Eager's henchman Lew Rankin in a twist of betrayal. During the early ’40s, the United States had experienced a series of social changes that reflected on the noir subgenre, invoking a more pessimistic portrait than the previous nostalgic gangster pictures from 1930s. Johnny Eager‘s director Mervyn LeRoy (who had filmed top-notch crime dramas as 'Little Caesar', 'Five Star Final', 'Three on a Match'. or 'Hard to Handle') achieves a superior tale of redemption enhanced by Harold Rosson’s shimmering lighting.

Robert Taylor on the set of "Johnny Eager" with director Mervyn LeRoy, 1941

Robert Taylor specifically asked to play the cold-blooded hood in the title role, since he was very impressed by the script, based on a short story by James Edward Grant and John Lee Mahin’s screenplay. Van Heflin plays Johnny’s only real friend, an alcoholic writer who spouts philosophical ramblings, comparing Lisbeth with Cyrano de Bergerac’s Roxane. Although Van Heflin won the Academy Award as Best Supporting Actor for his poignant performance as Jeff Hartnett, a tormented drunkard who has established a suspiciously intimate bond with Johnny, Robert Taylor’s biographer Charles Tranberg contends ‘this is Taylor’s picture.’

One of the reasons Taylor impacts so deeply on the viewer is the irresistible blend Johnny’s character projects of a misogynist emotional naïvety (showed in his scenes with moll Garnet, played by Patricia Dane) and paradoxically a harrowing need to decipher the meaning of true love (exposed in his revealing interaction with prior girlfriend Mae Blythe).  Mae (Glenda Farrell) asks him a favor for old times’ sake, that is Johnny use his influences to relocate her husband -policeman Joe Aganovsky- back to his old precinct. Then Johnny remembers when Mae was his sweetheart in Miami and she was the only dame he’d slug a man over. Seconds later, Johnny’s heart seems to stop in cold blood and he denies her help, in realising Aganovsky is the Agent 711 (a honest cop who was transferred because he would not accept any bribe from the rackets).

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about”, are Mae’s heartbreaking last words to Johnny, when he sardonically needles her about love and old times. These interludes infuse the film’s tone with a relentless pace until the moment we'll end up wondering about Johnny’s doomed destiny. Also, Mae's scene will eventually manifest its value of justice poetic at the last minute.

Precisely, despite of the melodramatic resonance of Taylor’s scenes shared with Turner and Van Heflin, I consider Johnny’s rencounter with Glenda Farrell (Mae Blythe) the best act in the film. Robert Taylor and Glenda Farrell were habitués in Mervyn LeRoy's films: Glenda, beside having played the female lead in 'Little Caesar', had appeared in 'I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang', 'Heat Lightning', 'Hi Nellie!' and 'Three on a Match'. Robert Taylor, in addition to 'Johnny Eager', would work with LeRoy in 'Escape', 'Waterloo Bridge', and 'Quo Vadis'.

On December 8, 1941 United States declared war upon Japan in response to the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. 'Johnny Eager' was released in theatres on 9 December 1941. As Charles Tranberg remarks in his biography, Robert Taylor made a contribution to the war effort by donating his monoplane, which was given to the Los Angeles Sheriffs Air Squadron in 1942. The war accelerated the longstanding trend in social stigma of illicit romances, they were nonetheless validated on-screen.

Robert Taylor (despite of having being labeled in his early career as a matinée idol) proves in 'Johnny Eager' he could play perfectly an obscure racketeer, an outlaw who continues to pull off tricks even against his own integrity, and whose aspirations weren’t too different from his film audience’s. The film, a romantic MGM noir thankfully free of the ambigous morality through which modern cinema tries to justify or condemn a defiant character, flows in a cynical (at times sentimental) fashion, and in the end we just want Johnny redeemed in the dark yet relucent streets although his individuality suffers definitively for it.

Article first published as Movie Review: ‘Johnny Eager’: Robert Taylor’s Filmic Redemption on Blogcritics

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Robert Taylor & Lana Turner: Electric Chemistry in Johnny Eager

“If this were serious drama one might complain that what makes Johnny Eager tick remains a mystery, that lovely students of sociology aren’t apt to embark on discussion with a parolee on Cyrano de Bergerac’s apostrophe to a kiss. But as pure melodrama Johnny Eager moves at a turbulent tempo. Mr. Taylor and Miss Turner strike sparks in their distraught love affair. Van Heflin provides a sardonic portrait of Johnny’s Boswell, full of long words and fancy quotations.” -Theodore Strauss, New York Times (1942)









Johnny Eager (1941) directed by Mervyn LeRoy - Full Movie -

Lisbeth, tortured by guilt over her "murderous" act, is on the edge of a nervous breakdown when Johnny finally comes to see her, and when he realizes what she's prepared to sacrifice because she loves him, something finally clicks inside of him. He confesses to her that the murder was a fake -- the gun was loaded with blanks, she didn't kill anyone, the man she shot is fine and walking around as if nothing happened. But she thinks he's just trying to ease her conscience, so he sets out to prove it to her.

Despite the hurried feeling of the last ten minutes or so, this is a well-crafted story with some very nice plot touches along the way. There is a recurring motif with an honest cop, Badge No. 711, who is troublesome to Johnny's gambling rackets. Lisbeth's reference to Cyrano early on in the film serves as a kind of thematic backdrop -- just as Cyrano denied his love to spare Roxanne, Johnny pushes Lisbeth away because he knows he's no good for her. Performances are all top-notch, from the leads on down to Connie Gilchrist and Robin Raymond in one brief scene as Johnny's aunt and young cousin. The only weak link might be Robert Sterling as the hapless cuckolded fiancé, but his role doesn't give him much to do but stand around and look like a martyr.

Lana Turner is breathtaking to look at, and her acting ability never fails to catch me off-guard. Robert Taylor is a commanding presence as Johnny and Edward Arnold does his typical rich-white-conservative guy -- if you've seen him in any other movie, you've probably seen him play the same role. But it's Van Heflin who marches off with the acting honors (and the Academy statuette) as the tortured, philosophical lush.

Director Mervyn LeRoy draws on his experience with gritty crime dramas such as Little Caesar and I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang, and infuses it with typical MGM gloss. It's a cleaner, less dangerous-looking underworld, but what it loses in violent realism, it makes up for in an intellectual bent that Warner Bros. couldn't match. Source: www.milkplus.blogspot.com

Robert Taylor: Lana Turner and Robert Taylor starred together in “Johnny Eager” (1941) and Cheryl Crane (Lana's daughter) said their chemistry was electric: “these two beautiful people got carried away during the filming.” This was one of the few times Lana ever got involved with a co-star, Crane said. However, Taylor was married to Barbara Stanwyck at this time so Lana tried to resist, but they “fell into a heavy flirtation.” Stanwyck heard about it and headed down to the set to tell Lana hands off. Taylor told Lana he was going to leave Stanwyck for her and Lana backed off completely after that, Crane said. Source: cometooverhollywood.com

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Robert Taylor (Love is Here) video


A video featuring stills and photos of Robert Taylor, his co-stars: Eleanor Powell & June Knight ("Broadway Melody of 1936"), Vivien Leigh ("A Yank at Oxford", "Waterloo Bridge"), Lana Turner ("Johnny Eager), Greer Garson ("Remember?"), Audrey Totter ("High Wall), Ava Gardner ("The Bribe", "Ride Vaquero", "Knights of the Round Table"), Deborah Kerr ("Quo Vadis), Eleanor Parker ("Above and Beyond", "Many Rivers to Cross"), Elizabeth Taylor ("Conspirator", "Ivanhoe"), Cyd Charisse ("Party Girl"), Nicole Maurey & Linda Christian ("The House of the Seven Hawks"), Tina Louise ("The Hangman"), Dana Wynter ("D-Day The Sixth of June"), Jean Harlow ("Personal Property"), Hedy Lamarr ("Lady of the Tropics"), Maureen O'Sullivan ("The Crowd Roars", "A Yank at Oxford"), Dorothy Malone ("Tip on a Dead Jockey"), Esther Williams ("A Guy Named Joe"), Janet Leigh ("Rogue Cop"), Marilyn Maxwell ("Stand by for Action"), Virginia Bruce ("Times Square Lady"), Arlene Dahl ("Ambush"), Katharine Hepburn ("Undercurrent"), Florence Rice ("Stand Up and Fight"), Glenda Farrell & Patricia Dane ("Johnny Eager"), Janet Gaynor ("Small Town Girl"), Joan Crawford ("The Gorgeous Hussy"), Myrna Loy ("Lucky Night"), Norma Shearer ("Escape"), Irene Dunne ("Magnificent Obsession"), Barbara Stanwyck ("My Brother's Wife", "This is My Affair"), Denise Darcel ("Westward the Women"), Loretta Young ("Private Number"), Greta Garbo ("Camille"), Margaret Sullavan ("Three Comrades"), Ann Blyth ("All the Brothers Were Valiant"), Helen Twelvetrees ("Times Square Lady"), Julie London ("Saddle the Wind"), etc. Also pictures of Ursula Thiess (Robert Taylor's second wife), son Terry Taylor and daughter Tessa Taylor.


Soundtrack: "In The Mood" by Glenn Miller & Orchestra, "Love Is Here" by Artie Shaw & Helen Forrest, "Paradise" by by Gordon Clifford & Helen Forrest, "You're the Reason" by Hank Snow, "Smooth'n'Easy" by Artie Shaw & Orchestra.

Thursday, November 09, 2017

Marilyn Monroe & The Kennedys


With the recent release of the long sought-after JFK documents, there’s been a renewed interest in all things related to the 35th president. Few things of the Kennedy era are more recognizable than the dress Marilyn Monroe wore when she serenaded him with her sultry “Happy Birthday, Mr. President.” The dress has remained out of the public’s view for most of the time since that night in 1962. That all changed last year when Orlando-based Ripley’s Entertainment purchased the dress and other items from the birthday gala. The dress sold for a whopping $4.8 million – with the auction fees, it clocked in at over $5 million, making it the most expensive dress ever sold. The Jean Louis-designed, champagne-colored dress has over 2,500 crystals and 6,000 rhinestones hand-sewn on it. “This is the most famous item of clothing in 20th-century culture,” says Ripley's VP of Exhibits and Archives, Edward Meyer, who is responsible for acquiring items for Ripley’s for nearly four decades, including the dress. “It has the significance of Marilyn, of JFK, and of American politics.” Ripley’s Orlando Odditorium will also screen Marilyn Monroe films on select Saturdays throughout December. The exhibit is scheduled to remain in Orlando through the end of the year. Source: www.orlandoweekly.com

“One of the bright spots in Ladies of Chorus (1948) is Miss Monroe’s singing,” wrote critic Tibor Krekes. “She is pretty and, with her pleasing voice and style, she shows promise”—hardly a rave, but nevertheless a gratifying first review that did not alter Harry Cohn’s decision. His major star was Rita Hayworth, just as Fox had Betty Grable and MGM had Lana Turner; none of them was listening to Harry Lipton or Lucille Ryman when they spoke of a potentially sensational new movie star named Marilyn Monroe with unusual qualities. “Under Marilyn’s baby-doll, kitten exterior, she was tough and shrewd and calculating,” was Lucille’s assessment. ‘Hollywood will never forgive me—not for leaving, not for fighting the system—but for winning, which I’m going to do,’ Marilyn told Susan Strasberg. 

At a New Year’s Eve party given by producer Sam Spiegel, in 1948, Marilyn had been introduced to Johnny Hyde, executive vice-president of the William Morris Agency and one of Hollywood’s most powerful representatives. Hyde was besotted and prevailed on Marilyn to accompany him on a short vacation to Palm Springs, where he spoke of her career prospects. Johnny Hyde was desperately in love. Despite Johnny Hyde’s strong recommendation of her to MGM, production chief Dore Schary did not offer a deal for more work. His excuse was that the studio had Lana Turner under contract and therefore no need of a rival blonde; to colleagues like Lucille Ryman Carroll, he expressed a quaint moral outrage at the Hyde-Monroe affair. Ladies of the Chorus was already a forgotten second feature, and The Asphalt Jungle, despite some critical acclaim, was too bleak to win much popular favor.

When not studying with her drama coach Natasha Lytess, Marilyn posed for pinups in evening gowns or swimsuits, scoured the trade dailies and was seen in the movie colony’s dinner-party circuit with Johnny, with whom life became increasingly difficult as his health became ever more fragile. Despite this, he refused to limit himself, escorting Marilyn to an endless round of social and corporate events, presenting her proudly as valuable and available talent. More poignantly, Johnny also wanted Marilyn known around town as his fiancée, the desirable young woman he still hoped to marry. Fearful of displeasing or alienating her, Johnny acted the nervous, benighted lover, taking action perilous in his condition: he was often breathless and in pain after trying to satisfy what he presumed were her sexual needs. Johnny Hyde had no opportunity to resolve with Marilyn the tension that underlay his unrequited love, and she had no chance to express her gratitude. “I don’t know that any man ever loved me so much,” she said in 1955. “Every guy I’d known seemed to want only one thing from me. Johnny wanted to marry me, but I just couldn’t do it. Even when he was angry with me for refusing, I knew he never stopped loving me, never stopped working for me.”

A passionate love affair between Marilyn Monroe and John F. Kennedy has been assumed for so long that it has achieved as solid a place in public awareness as almost any other event in the man’s presidency. All that can be known for certain is that on four occasions between October 1961 and August 1962, the president and the actress met, and that during one of those meetings they telephoned one of Marilyn’s friends from a bedroom; soon after, Marilyn confided this one sexual encounter to her closest confidants, making clear that it was the extent of their involvement. In October 1961, after a photography session for a magazine, Marilyn asked Allan Snyder to deliver her to a party at Patricia and Peter Lawford’s Santa Monica beach house. The occasion was a dinner party honoring President Kennedy, and among the other guests were several blond movie stars—Kim Novak, Janet Leigh and Angie Dickinson, for all of whom the president had a keen appreciation. All contrary allegations notwithstanding, this was the first meeting between Marilyn Monroe and John Kennedy; hearsay about any earlier introduction simply cannot be substantiated. The schedules of Monroe and Kennedy since his January 1961 inauguration reveal wide geographic distances between them. That October night, Marilyn was driven back to her apartment by one of the Lawfords’ staff.

The second encounter occurred during February 1962, when Marilyn was again invited to a dinner party for the president, this time at the Manhattan home of Fifi Fell, the wealthy socialite widow of a famous industrialist. She was escorted to the Fell residence by Milton Ebbins. The third meeting occurred on Saturday, March 24, 1962, when both the president and Marilyn were houseguests of Bing Crosby in Palm Springs. On that occasion, she telephoned Ralph Roberts from the bedroom she was sharing with Kennedy. “She asked me about the solus muscle,” according to Roberts, “which she knew something about from the book The Thinking Body, and she had obviously been talking about this with the president, who was known to have all sorts of ailments, muscle and back trouble.” That night in March was the only time of her “affair” with JFK. “A great many people thought, after that weekend, that there was more to it. But Marilyn gave me the impression that it was not a major event for either of them: it happened once, that weekend, and that was that,” said Roberts. Accounts of a more enduring affair with John Kennedy, stretching anywhere from a year to a decade, owe to fanciful supermarket journalists and tales told by those eager for quick cash or quicker notoriety: those who fail to check the facts of history and are thus easily dispatched as reliable sources.

“Marilyn liked [President Kennedy] the man as well as the office,” according to Sidney Skolsky, among the first friends to be informed of the March tryst; he added that she also enjoyed the fantasy that this experience carried—“the little orphan waif indulging in free love with the leader of the free world.” And as she soon after told Earl Wilson, Rupert Allan and Ralph Roberts, she found John Kennedy amusing, pleasant, interesting and enjoyable company, not to say immensely flattering. As for Mrs. Kennedy, as Skolsky added, “Marilyn did not regard her with envy or animosity.”  The posthumous revelations of Kennedy’s philandering revealed the impossibility, for obvious reasons, of pursuing any serious romance with one woman. The exaggeration of his “affair” with Marilyn is part of the myth of King Arthur’s Camelot. There was a need to believe in the tradition of courtly intrigues and infidelities—Lancelot and Guinevere, Charles II and Nell Gwynn, Edward VII and Lily Langtry. But in this case there was but one rendezvous between the attractive, princely president and the reigning movie queen; to follow the Arthurian simile: the mists of Avalon are easily dispersed by shining reality’s clear light onto the scene. It is important to establish definitively the truth of this matter not only for the sake of historical accuracy but also because of a far more damaging rumor that began after Marilyn Monroe’s death. 

The unfounded and scurrilous accounts of a concomitant or subsequent sexual affair with Robert F. Kennedy, has been even more persistent than that of the presidential liaison. It has also led to the completely groundless assertion of a link between Robert Kennedy and Marilyn’s death—a connection so outrageous as to be hilarious were it not also injurious to the man’s reputation. The rumors of an affair with Robert Kennedy are based on the simple fact that he met Marilyn Monroe four times, as their schedules during 1961 and 1962 reveal, complementing the testimony of Edwin Guthman, Kennedy’s closest associate during this time. But Robert Kennedy probably never shared a bed with Marilyn Monroe. Guthman, a Pulitzer Prize–winning investigative reporter and journalist, was Special Assistant for Public Information in the Kennedy administration as well as senior press officer for the Justice Department. The travel logs of the attorney general’s schedule for 1961–62 (preserved in the John F. Kennedy Library and in the National Archives) support the detailed accounts provided by Guthman. These, collectively, attest to the fact that Robert Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe enjoyed a socially polite relationship—four meetings and several phone calls over a period of less than ten months. But their respective whereabouts during this time made anything else impossible—even had they both been inclined to a dalliance, which is itself far from the truth on both counts.

Marilyn’s first meeting with Robert Kennedy occurred several weeks before her introduction to the president. “On either October 2 or 3, 1961,” said Guthman: “Kennedy and I were attending a series of meetings with United States attorneys and members of the FBI in Albuquerque, Phoenix, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and Seattle. The attorney general and I attended a dinner party at the Lawfords, and around midnight Marilyn decided to go home. But she had drunk too much champagne, and we were worried for her. Bobby and I would not let her drive her car, and we did so together, delivering her safely to her door.” The second meeting between the attorney general and Marilyn occurred on Wednesday evening, February 1, 1962, when he and his entourage dined at the Lawfords en route from Washington to the Far East on a diplomatic journey. “That evening,” according to Guthman, “Marilyn was quite sober—a terrifically nice person, really—fun to talk with, warm and interested in serious issues.” Pat Newcomb, also present at the dinner, remembered that Marilyn really cared about learning. The day before [the dinner party], Marilyn told me, “I want to be in touch, Pat—I want to really know what’s going on in the country. She was especially concerned about civil rights. She had a list of questions prepared. When the press reported that Bobby was talking to her more than anyone else, that’s what they meant. I saw the questions and I knew what they were talking about. She identified with all the people who were denied civil rights.” —Marilyn Monroe: The Biography (ekindle, 2014) by Donald Spoto

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Carole Landis, a tragic life in Hollywood

"Don't make sarcastic and catty remarks. Kindness is the secret to true femininity". -Carole Landis

Some of the Radio Appearances of actor John Garfield were on April 14, 1941 at Lux Radio Theatre (CBS) "Dust Be My Destiny" with Claire Trevor, and on May 10, 1943 at Lady Esther Screen Guild Players, (CBS) "Johnny Eager" with Carole Landis.

Carole who was known as "The Chest" thanks to her 36DD rack, had been earlier been dubbed "The Sweater Girl" and "The Pin-Up Girl" names years later conferred on Lana Turner and Betty Grable.

Carole Landis circa 1943

Overdosed with Seconal, Carole's body was discovered by actor Rex Harrison, with whom she was having an affair and with whom she dined the previous night after a 4th of the July (1948) party. She was buried wearing her favorite blue dress and gold cross pendant. Hundreds of people attended Landis’ funeral service at the Church of the Recessional at Forest Lawn in Glendale, including Rex Harrison and his wife Lilli Palmer. Landis’ family wanted a Catholic burial, but the church refused, insisting her death was a suicide. Carole’s mother and sister never believed that Landis committed suicide and tried for years to connect Harrison with the death. They never succeeded.

Deanna Durbin celebrating the completion of her film "I'll Be Yours", with Rex Harrison and Lilli Palmer (1947)

At the time, Harrison was married to actress Lilli Palmer. On the Official Carole Landis website, run by her great-niece, the Landis family is convinced that Rex Harrison murdered her to avoid scandal surrounding the affair they’d been having.

In the spring of 1947, Palmer was working on "Body & Soul" with John Garfield while Harrison shot "The Foxes of Harrow". Harrison was a chronic liar and womanizer widely disliked in Hollywood.

"Pride and sadness, pride in her extraordinary beauty, sadness in knowing that to live on this beauty is to degrade it. Carole Landis' extraordinary efforts for USO during WWII were the product of the generosity and graciousness witnessed by all who knew her. One Hollywood cliché is that Landis was "Marilyn before Marilyn", but the effect of her suicide was rather to avoid becoming "Marilyn", the postwar tease whose self-caricaturing sensuality was cheesecake of the mind. Landis' dignity would have been more consonant with the honestly assertive sexuality of today's post-feminist age". Source: www.anthropoetics.ucla.edu

"Before she was a glamorous actress, before she was a war-time pin-up star, even before she was Carole Landis, she was Frances Lillian Ridste, an insecure young girl from Wisconsin. She was strikingly beautiful, talented, and on her way to becoming a movie star, yet she spent her entire life searching for love. Though she appeared in more than 60 films during her short career, Landis was better known for her extraordinary beauty and many romantic relationships than for her acting or comedic timing in such films as Topper Returns (1940) and My Gal Sal (1942) over the course of her 11-year career. -"Carole Landis: A Tragic Life in Hollywood" (2005) by E.J. Fleming

"Despite appearing in twenty-eight movies in little over a decade, Carole Landis (1919-1948) never quite became the major Hollywood star her onscreen presence should have afforded her. Although she acted in such enduring films as 'A Scandal in Paris' and 'Moon over Miami', she was most often relegated to supporting roles. This biography traces Landis's life, chronicling her beginnings as a dance hall entertainer in San Francisco, her career in Hollywood and abroad, her USO performances.

Betty Grable, Victor Mature and Carole Landis in "I Wake Up Screaming" (1941) directed by H. Bruce Humberstone


A scene from "I Wake Up Screaming" 1941 starring Betty Grable, Victor Mature and Carole Landis directed by H. Bruce Humberstone

Promoter Frankie Christopher, being grilled by police in the murder of model Vicky Lynn, recalls in flashback: First meeting her as a waitress, Frankie decides to parlay her beauty into social acceptance and a lucrative career. He succeeds only too well: she’s on the eve of deserting him for Hollywood…when someone kills her. Now Frankie gets the feeling that Inspector Ed Cornell is determined to pin the killing on him and only him. He’s right. And the only one he can turn to for help is Jill, the victim’s sister.

As a radio actress she reprised her her own performance in "I Wake Up Screaming" on April 10, 1942;
she took over Lana Turner's role in "Johnny Eager" with John Garfield in that of Robert Taylor". -"Carole Landis: A Most Beautiful Girl" (2008) by Eric Lawrence Gans

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Story of Robert Taylor & Barbara Stanwyck

Robert Taylor (1911-1969), born in Filley, Nebraska (birth name Spangler Arlington Brugh). Nicknames: "The Man with the Perfect Profile" and "The New King".

Private Number (1936) was briskly directed by Roy Del Ruth and has a fastpaced 75-minute running time. It was premiered at Radio City Music Hall in New York City on June 11, 1936, and became another huge hit for Bob. The New York Times critic was astonished by the caliber of acting. “Believe it or not, the picture is well acted throughout,” he wrote. “Mr. Rathbone is as hateful as Miss Young is charming, and Mr. Taylor is manly to a fault.”

Greta Garbo and Robert Taylor in "Camille" (1936) directed by George Cukor

Garbo dismissed most of her leading men to author Antoni Gronowicz. Of Gable she said, “He knew his shortcomings, which I had spotted right away, including a stiffness that was close to the quality of wood.” Robert Montgomery “showed more enthusiasm than talent.” Garbo, on the other hand, seemed to have a soft spot for Bob. “He was a very well brought up young man, a bit shy perhaps,” Garbo recalled. “I was often actually rather ill during filming. He used to have a gramophone with him that he would play because he knew I liked music. It helped distract me.”

“Robert Taylor was most attentive, trying without success to make me respond to his love,” recalled Garbo years later. “I noticed his ardor, and I became especially patient with him in explaining how he must act, since he was young and inexperienced. But I never spent any time with him in the evening after work.” When she heard, more than thirty years later, that Bob had died, at only fifty-seven, Garbo broke down and cried.

Robert Taylor and Jean Harlow in "Personal Property" (1937) directed by W.S. Van Dyke

Following completion of Personal Property Bob and Harlow left almost immediately by train with other stars to attend President Roosevelt’s annual Birthday Ball on behalf of the March of Dimes held in Washington, D.C. on February 12, 1937. At the time Mrs. Roosevelt was quoted as saying that the president didn’t mind playing second fiddle to Robert Taylor. “In fact,” she said, “he admitted romantic appeal is more persuasive than statesmanship. He likes his movies and is a big fan. He told me they do the world just as much good as any politician in the long run.”

Having completed Personal Property, and embarked on this fast-paced trip, both Harlow and Bob returned exhausted and ill. According to Bob’s grandmother, writing to a friend in Nebraska, Bob was, “pretty well tired out. He does not enjoy these trips to the larger cities. They wear him out.” The fatigue Harlow had for so long never faded as she went into her final decline. Years after she died, a book came out on Harlow which portrayed her as an alcoholic slut. Bob was one of several Hollywood stars who knew the real Jean Harlow to come forward and denounce the book as “trash.” Bob further said that she was “not at all the monster some writers have made of her.”

Barbara Stanwyck and Robert Taylor in "This is My Affair" (1937) directed by William A. Seiter

Bob’s arrival in New York on August 19, 1937, in preparation for his leaving for Europe, was met by screaming fans and a sneering press corp. They tried again with, “Would you rather be brainy or beautiful?” in which he replied, “I haven’t much choice in the matter.” He then did something he would do throughout his career: downplay his own talent. “You know I’m really lucky to be where I am. All I play is straight stuff—I’m not much of an actor, you know.” And (as usual) he was asked about Barbara. “She calls me Bob —and I call her Boobs. That’s all I can say about it now.” By the time he returned to the United States in mid-December he was ready to come home. He and other cast members departed on the Queen Mary. When the ship arrived in New York, he met the press wearing candy-striped pajamas and a stubble. One reporter got a little tough. “Come on, Taylor, Let’s get this thing settled. Did you or did you not say you were beautiful?” Bob handled that with aplomb. “I’ll ask you one. Would a man say that about himself? Would you?” Lionel Barrymore, also on board, came to Bob’s defense. “Bob is a fine lad. He has no vanity at all.”

Bob Taylor was in training for The Crowd Roars, an exposé of the fight game, in which he was to play a prizefighter who rises up from the slums, a choir singer who sells his soul to a racketeer to become a contender for the light heavyweight title. It was a story indirectly inspired by Clifford Odets’s hit play Golden Boy, which had opened the Group Theatre’s seventh season in November 1937 and was running on Broadway with Luther Adler, Frances Farmer, Morris Carnovsky, Jules Garfield, Elia Kazan, Lee J. Cobb, and Robert Lewis.

For the part of the young boxer in The Crowd Roars, Bob didn’t want to just go through the motions of being a fighter, the old left right. He wanted to know something about the tricks of being a boxer. Metro arranged for him to be coached by the former fighter Johnny Indrisano. Indrisano had never been a champ, but he’d beaten champions in nontitle matches. Bob was training from nine to six, fourteen days in a row, punching bags, doing roadwork, jumping rope, shadowboxing, and learning to duck, weave, watch his footwork, lead with his left, and take the offensive. He was also training with Patsy Perroni and Mickey McAvoy.

Bob still feared financial insecurity, despite his success with Metro. His new home, which he called a gentleman’s ranch, in the San Fernando Valley near Barbara’s Marwyck, was set up so that ten of the thirty acres were for his house, lawn, and paddocks with the other twenty being used to grow and sell alfalfa. Once Barbara and Bob were married, the plan was to have Bob and his horses move to Marwyck. Bob was selling his eight-room cottage made from rock and his twentyeight-acre ranch, and he was hoping to buy a 160-acre ranch near Chatsworth.

Barbara came to love Bob. He did the things she wanted to do. If she wanted to go to the racetrack, Bob went to the track. If she wanted to go to the newsreel theater, they went to the newsreels. On the rare occasions when she wanted to join friends for a night out at one of the nightclubs, he was willing to go. Barbara enjoyed being on Bob’s arm at Hollywood functions. She took pleasure when Bob got a role and asked her opinion about it and wanted to be coached by her.

Maureen O'Sullivan and Robert Taylor in "The Crowd Roars" (1938) directed by Richard Thorpe

The summer months of 1938 came to a close with Hollywood being targeted by Washington for political fodder, with Bob, among others, at the center of the controversy. Robert Taylor was anything but a Communist supporter, socialist, liberal, or Democrat. A former member of the Boy Scouts of America and the Order of DeMolay, Taylor, foursquare Republican and patriot, like Barbara, was anti-Roosevelt and anti–New Deal, raised a Nebraska heartland Methodist from a long line of Methodists and German Baptists and, like his mother, didn’t trust Catholics, Jews, or Italians. (from "A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel-True 1907-1940" by Victoria Wilson)

Robert Taylor's father was a German-American doctor. His mother Anglo-American was a beautiful woman with dark hair. Bob had inherited the elegance of his father and his mother’s eyes.

Robert Taylor got married Barbara Stanwyck on May 14, 1939. Bob was said to be nervous while Barbara was the picture of serenity. The wedding ring that Bob gave Barbara was Gold with rubies around it and matched a bracelet that he had given to her the previous Christmas. As a wedding gift Bob gave Barbara a Gold St. Christopher Medal that was inscribed "God Protect Her Because I Love Her". Shortly thereafter, the wedding party returned to Los Angeles and the newlyweds to Barbara’s ranch to spend the rest of the night before going to a midday press reception at the Beverly Hills Café.

At the reception Bob drew laughs when he told the assembled reporters, “Here I am married today and tomorrow I’ve got to be back at work making love to another woman.” For the longest time MGM had opposed Bob getting married. They believed that it would damage his romantic quality. Bob couldn’t care less; he didn’t care for the screaming fans tearing at his clothes. In some ways he felt that if he did get married it might bring an end to the mob scenes he encountered anytime he stepped outside.

Bob would come to consider Waterloo Bridge his favorite film. He later said that the characters were “real, three-dimensional people— something which by no means always happens on the screen. It was one of those subtle situations in which everything clicks.” He would also say that he “felt surer of myself in scenes with Vivien Leigh in Waterloo Bridge than I have in any dramatic role that I have played.”

Robert Taylor in "Billy The Kid" (1941) directed by David Miller and Frank Borzage

Bob told reporters that he had wanted to make a Western ever since he began working in films. “In fact, if I had my choice I’d never have done anything else. Bill Hart and Tom Mix were my earliest film idols. When I was a kid I would see their films over and over again. One day I took my lunch to the movie theatre and stayed through nine showings of a Mix picture.” He also was so taken with Arizona that he said he is considering buying a ranch there. “I want a practical cattle ranch and the more acreage the better.”

Mervyn LeRoy directed Bob for the third time in two years with Johnny Eager (1941). In it, LeRoy, who also produced, teamed Bob with one of his sexiest leading ladies, Lana Turner. Bob specifically asked to do this film; it was another tough guy role. Taylor’s Johnny Eager is a no-account ruthless bastard— and Bob plays him with gusto. It is one of his finest pre-war screen performances. Turner, too, excels in a part which allowed her to prove she was an actress as well as a sex goddess.

Heflin gives a fine performance and won the Academy Award as Best Supporting Actor for his work, but this is Taylor’s picture all the way —and, unfortunately, the Academy decided to overlook him when they made their nominations for Best Actor. Off screen there was TNT too between Taylor and Turner.

Three years into his marriage to Barbara it became increasingly apparent to Bob that while he respected Barbara enormously and felt a kind of love for her, it wasn’t a deep-seated, passionate kind of love. He was also feeling increasingly smothered by her. On screen he and MGM had been taking pains to develop a more masculine screen image while in his private life he often felt overwhelmed by his wife.

Needless to say, Bob found Turner’s fresh sexiness quite alluring. He later admitted that during the filming of Johnny Eager he “couldn’t take my eyes off her... there were times I thought I’d explode.” He found her coquettish. “Lana Turner wasn’t very career-minded, and preferred men and jewelry over anything else.” Just the sound of her voice saying “good morning” made Taylor “melt.” He admitted that he never really went after blondes, but, “Lana was the exception.” He summed up his feelings for Lana crudely, but with perfect honesty: “She was the type of woman for whom a guy would risk five years in jail for rape.”

Turner, in her autobiography, would admit that Bob had the kind of looks “I could fall for,” and that they engaged in a romantic flirtation. Lana didn’t want to be cast as the “other woman” who stole Taylor from Stanwyck. Bob told Lana that he was unhappy at home with Barbara and had fallen in love with her. Furthermore, he was going to tell Barbara about his love for her and wanted a divorce so he could presumably marry Lana. Barbara, feeling betrayed and hurt, left him for several days, staying at the house of her maid, Harriet Coray. From that point forward Turner contends she cooled it with Bob, until he finally understood that they would not have a future together.

Barbara began to assault Bob’s masculinity. Arlene Dahl recalls that the first time she met Bob was at a party shortly before she was to begin filming a movie with him, the Western Ambush. “Barbara would embarrass him and attack his masculinity in front of all of these people,” Miss Dahl recalls. “She would loudly say to him that he was ‘too pretty’ and that his ‘leading ladies couldn’t stand it.’ Bob would just stand quietly by; he never stood up to her. She told him he should grow a beard for the film, so that he looked like a real man—like Joel McCrea.”

If Bob was depressed about his marriage he was equally distressed over his career prospects since coming home from the war. It was as if MGM didn’t know what to do with him. Bob made thirty-six motion pictures in the nine years from 1934–1943, when he joined the Navy.

Audrey Totter and Bob work very well together in The High Wall. In the role of the psychiatrist, Audrey Totter equals Bob in giving a superb performance. One day filming of The High Wall went well into the night, Bob and Totter were famished and went looking for food at the studio commissary, but found it had already closed for the night. They then went looking for a restaurant but found them so crowded that it would take a great deal of time to both get seated and eat their food. Finally, Bob told Totter, “Let me take you to the best restaurant in town.” He took her home where Barbara made them bacon and eggs, “and it was great,” recalled Totter. The High Wall premiered in New York on Christmas Day, 1947, which prompted Bosley Crowther of the New York Times to joke in the opening paragraph of his review, “It simply wouldn’t have been Christmas on the local movie scene without at least one good psychoneurotic spreading comfort and joy..." The High Wall returned a profit, but a meager one.

Actor Robert Taylor on the witness stand as he testified before the House Un-American Activities Committee, on 22 Oct 1947

Bob’s testimony in October is remembered primarily today because he “named names” of people who he suspected might be Communists. What is forgotten about his testimony is that it differed somewhat from his testimony in Los Angeles the previous May in one important respect. He softened the assertion that he had been pressured to make Song of Russia. Was Bob saying that Howard Da Silva was a Communist? No, he clearly states that he is somebody who "always seems to have something to say at the wrong time."

The bottom line is that Bob did publicly name three people: Howard Da Silva, Karen Morley and Lester Cole. But he didn’t explicitly call them Communists. He clearly says each time that he had no knowledge, but clearly the committee expected names and he provided them—without really knowing for sure if they were or were not Communists. In essence, Bob was just confirming rumors and the Committee clearly wanted him to do so. This is why many people in Hollywood still hold Robert Taylor in contempt for what he did on October 22, 1947. Marsha Hunt had been one of several actors blacklisted (or graylisted) during the Communist witch hunts of the late forties thru mid-fifties. In 1960 she was invited to appear on The Detectives, Bob’s television show. Miss Hunt recalls Bob as being especially gracious and welcoming toward her and she suspects that in a small and very human way he was trying to make amends for what happened on October 22, 1947.”

Bob thought that The Bribe (1949) was nothing special, just a potboiler and he isn’t far from the truth. He told Gardner that he thought that the film was one of the worst films he ever made. Bob and Gardner got along very well during the filming and, as often happened on movie sets, the two indulged in a love affair. According to Gardner, the affair spanned at most about four months, but was very passionate while it lasted. Gardner would refer to it as a “magical little interlude.” Gardner, of course, knew that Bob was married to Barbara Stanwyck, “but the marriage had been on the rocks for a long time.”

Prior to her affair with Bob, Gardner had been seeing movie tough guy Howard Duff, but that had ended just prior to filming on The Bribe. “I was available,” she later recalled. Gardner recalled Bob as a “warm, generous, intelligent human being. “ Bob and Ava couldn’t hold a clandestine affair behind closed dressing room doors at the studio alone, so they had to find somewhere to meet that would be out of the way and where nobody would recognize them —a tall order. Taylor ultimately came up with Ruth’s house. Ruth (Bob's mother) allowed this because she never really took to Barbara, but she still wasn’t happy about it. One night Ava would recall Bob having words with Ruth. “Mother, would you rather I go to a cheap hotel?” The affair ran its course, but Gardner had happy memories of it and Bob.

On December 15, 1950, the bombshell hit the press when Bob and Barbara issued a joint statement announcing that they were separating and that a divorce would soon follow. The press release said that they had come to this decision, “reluctantly and unhappily,” and that the reason was due to the long separations they have endured “professionally” during their eleven-year marriage. "Our sincere and continual efforts to maintain our marriage have failed. We are deeply disappointed that we could not solve our problems." Anthony Quinn asked Bob, over drinks, why he and Stanwyck had divorced. “Ah, Tony,” he said. “That woman, she always wants to run the fuck.” In short, Bob had grown up and no longer required a mother figure looking out for him. For the rest of her life Barbara would receive fifteen percent of all of Bob’s gross earnings until his death or her remarriage.-"Robert Taylor: A Biography" (2011) by Charles Tranberg