My Gal Sal

 

We often think of Golden Age movie stars living a life of ease, making movies during the day and then going to nightclubs like Ciro's or The Brown Derby in the evening. But Golden Age movie stardom was hard work. When not making the actual movies, actors and actresses spent their days in endless publicity photo poses or learned new skills such as horseback riding, fencing or dancing the minuet for an upcoming movie. Such skills didn't come overnight and often required endless hours of rehearsal for a scene that may only last a minute or two on-screen.

That occurred to me while watching MY GAL SAL (1942), an above average entry in the period musical genre so favored by 20^th Century Fox.

In one scene, Victor Mature plays two pianos at the same time during a medicine show. He swivels on his stool and continues to play the pianos behind him while facing the audience. I'm no expert on piano techniques, but Mature's fingering looks pretty spot-on to me. I don't know if Mature was musically inclined in real life, but if not, I can only imagine the hours of rehearsal he went through to make it look so convincing.

Fox had a penchant for celebrating obscure songwriters of the nineteenth and early 20^th centuries, such as Fred Fisher in OH YOU BEAUTIFUL DOLL (1949), Joe Howard in I WONDER WHO'S KISSING HER NOW (1947) and Ernest Ball in IRISH EYES ARE SMILING (1944).

In MY GAL SAL, it's Paul Dresser's turn. Dresser's most famous song is probably “On the Banks of the Wabash, Far Away”, written in 1897 and, according to Wikipedia, it became the second best-selling song – in sheet music sales – in the nineteenth century. Hoosiers liked it enough to make it the official state song of Indiana in 1913.

Much of what we know about Dresser comes courtesy of his brother, novelist Theodore Dreiser, author of “An American Tragedy”, which was made into a movie of the same name in 1931 with Sylvia Sidney and most famously in A PLACE IN THE SUN (1951). MY GAL SAL was adopted from his story “My Brother Paul.”(Paul Dreiser changed his name to Dresser when he was 20 years old).

Still, even blessed with a novelist's imagination, I doubt Theodore would recognize elements of Paul Dresser's life in the wildly imaginative MY GAL SAL. But that's OK- truth belongs to documentaries, and MY GAL SAL is a most entertaining, Technicolor-drenched show.

An indelible part of the film's appeal is Rita Hayworth, who plays the film's title role. She's Sally Elliott, big theatrical star, who earns Dresser's enmity when she and some friends laugh at Dresser's music act at a medicine show. When he sees her perform, Dresser realizes that he's only been slumming in the medicine shows and is determined to make it to the big time.

Rita Hayworth and Technicolor are made for each other, with her red hair and peaches and cream complexion beautifully captured by the Technicolor cameras.
If MY GAL SAL is not the equal of the musicals she made with Astaire or Kelly, it's still very enjoyable, though admittedly formulaic.

As is typical of these films, the two leads fall in love, fall out of love, and there's a misunderstanding or two until all is resolved. In the meantime we are treated to a series of musical numbers, some songs courtesy the pen of Dresser with others from the songwriting team of Leo Robin and Ralph Rainger.

(I've always been amused by the number of composer biographies that include new song numbers penned by studio songwriters.)

The interpolated songs are good ones, especially “Oh, the Pity of It All” charmingly sung by Mature (dubbed by Ben Gage, later Esther Williams' husband) and Hayworth (dubbed by Nan Wynn). I also liked “Me and My Fella and a Big Umbrella”, a charming number with Rita wearing a most fetching 1890s-style bathing suit.

The new ballad, “Here You Are” is a nice song but sounds exactly like it was written in 1942. It doesn't sound like anything from the 1890's. But I don't think Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck concerned himself very much with such matters.

Speaking of Zanuck, he could be very petty with actresses who didn't bend to his will. The Sally Elliott role was first offered to Carole Landis, but she refused to dye her blond hair red. Rita Hayworth was borrowed from Columbia for the role and Landis was given a nothing role as the gal in the medicine show who nurses Dresser back to health after he is tarred and feathered by an angry mob after the medicine show's elixir proves to be not so healthy. It's a demeaning role for one of Fox's most promising ladies, and proof one did not get on Zanuck's bad side.

I like Mature a lot in this too. His Dresser is brash, not particularly classy and a braggart. He sees a party thrown in Sally's honor as a party for him celebrating his first song hit. (Hayworth's reaction to this is priceless). But he brings some real vigor to the role and despite his coarseness, I couldn't help rooting for him. Rita and Victor dated in the early 1940s and their chemistry together is undeniable.

 

The film's choreographer Hermes Pan shows up as Rita's dance partner in “On the Gay White Way”, a terrific number that showcases Rita at her dancing best. The supporting cast can't be beat. Any movie with James Gleason and Frank Orth is worth cherishing.

Director is Irving Cummings, an old hand at material like this. He also directed one of Betty Grable's best period musicals, SWEET ROSIE O'GRADY (1943). If there's nothing particularly distinguished about these films, they at least move and are entertaining.

I've always liked Victor Mature. In the 1950s, my mom worked at a company and her boss served with him in World War II in the Coast Guard. He said he was a great guy who didn't take himself too seriously.

My favorite Victor Mature anecdote has to do with THE ROBE (1953). I don't want a horde of Richard Burton or Jean Simmons fans descending on me, but I think Mature gives the best performance in the film. Burton agreed and thought that he (Burton) gave a terrible performance. Burton liked telling the story of watching the scene where he is being bewitched by the power of The Robe, screaming, grimacing and making facial contortions, while Mature, in the background, has a beatific look on his face as he gazes heavenward.

Burton told him there he is on the screen making a complete idiot of himself while Mature stole the whole scene from him by standing there with that exalted look on his face. He asked Mature what he was thinking when they were doing that scene.

Mature told him, “ I was thinking of all the money Fox was paying me to stand here and look up at the ceiling.”

How can you not like that guy?

Tonight and Every Night

“Tonight and Every Night” (1945) might be Rita Hayworth’s most underrated film and arguably her best musical. This is not a slight against the two marvelous films she made with Fred Astaire, or “Cover Girl” (1944) with Gene Kelly. I love them all.

But the urgent wartime setting of “Tonight and Every Night” trumps the previous films. Their plots are standard musicals with comedy and conventional love stories. In “Tonight and Every Night” the characters are responsible for a city’s morale, and the love story may not last beyond the next evening.

Filmed in beautiful Technicolor, “Tonight and Every Night” is set during World War II at the Music Box Theater in London. Despite nearly nightly bombing raids, the theater never closed its doors or missed a performance. The Music Box here is inspired on the real-life Windmill Theater. More about that later.

 

Rita Hayworth plays an American showgirl from St. Louis named Rosalind Bruce, a wise move since no English accent was required. Her best friend is fellow showgirl Judy Kane (Janet Blair) and it’s very refreshing to a see a genuine friendship in a movie like this, and a rarity in the Hayworth canon. Rosalind and Judy are supportive of each other through the whole movie, so there are no tiresome scenes of them fighting over the same man or angling for more solo numbers onstage at the expense of the other.

 

One night an RAF squadron leader named Paul Lundy (Lee Bowman) comes to the Music Box and sees Rosalind perform the film’s best number, the sultry, intoxicating “You Excite Me.” This could be Rita’s best solo musical number on film. I know, I’m not forgetting the immortal “Put the Blame on Mame” from “Gilda” (1946), but “You Excite Me” is a genuine pleasure, with Rita and dancers backed by those sensuous rumba rhythms and evocative lighting. The underrated Jack Cole was the choreographer for the film and I think this is one of the best numbers Rita ever did.(I did try to upload the You Tube clip, but couldn't figure out how to do it. Where's a 10-year-old when you need one? But if you want to see it, it's available on You Tube in all its Technicolor glory).

During an air raid alert, he spies her in an underground tunnel and begins his wooing. He’s pretty brash, but he has to be. Death could come at any minute either from the sky or on a mission. On one date, he brings her back to his apartment only to find it destroyed in an air raid.

While London burns, the troupe at the Windmill continues on. To keep the show going, the girls move into the theater’s basement. The lights remain on as a grateful city pours into the theater to see the show.

The film is loaded with terrific numbers, and a good song score by Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn. Both toiled for years writing songs for “B” musicals at Columbia and Republic. Here, they got the plum assignment of writing for one of the biggest stars of the era, and they turned in a wonderful score. The lovely ballad “Always” was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Song but lost to Rodgers and Hammerstein for “It Might as Well Be Spring” from “State Fair.” Marlin Skiles and Morris Stoloff were nominated for their Musical Direction duties, but lost to Georgie Stoll for “Anchors Aweigh.”

You may think you don’t know “Always” but if you’ve seen any Columbia movies from the 1940s and 1950s you’ll recognize it as it was used as source music for radios and nightclub scenes in dozens of movies, including “Gilda.”

All the songs are performed onstage, which makes sense, though there is a brief scene where the cleaning women and a stagehand sing the film’s title song as they are working. I thought it was a mistake for director Victor Saville to include this short scene, as it (slightly) takes us out of the movie. Because so far it’s not a traditional musical (characters breaking out into song) it seemed a little incongruous.

 

"Tonight and Every Night” gave us the film debut of dancer Marc Platt. Looking like Ross Alexander’s younger brother, Platt should have had a much bigger career than he did. He has a terrific scene where he auditions for the troupe by performing a series of impromptu dance routines to what is on the radio, even dancing to one of Hitler’s speeches.  

 

Rita was at the peak of her beauty when she made “Tonight and Every Night” and she positively glows in her musical numbers. A professional dancer since she was a little girl, she loved dancing and when she smiles it seems genuine. It looks like she’s having a blast.

If there’s one major fault in the film, it’s Rita’s wardrobe. For a simple showgirl in war-time London, she dresses off stage like a million bucks. In one scene when she comes in to the theater, she’s wearing a fur and jewel ensemble that looks like it cost the GDP of a small country.

Another fault is a pretty painful comedy routine by the xylophone playing Professor Lamberti, who plays The Great Waldo, a one time vaudeville star who now toils as a stagehand. Rather than postpone the show by a half hour The Great Waldo offers to do his old routine. It seems to go on for days. This was the good Professor’s only screen credit and it’s easy to see why.

(Speaking of sparse screen credits, Stephen Crane plays Leslie, one of Paul’s flight comrades. Yep, Lana Turner’s second husband appears in a few scenes here. He appeared in only three movies before going into the restaurant business).

The ending is a sad one, showing that war doesn’t spare even the most innocent. But the troupe carries on. They have a serious patriotic duty to perform, even if only to give a few hour’s relief to visiting servicemen and war-weary Londoners.

 

 As I said earlier, the Music Box is based on the real life Windmill Theater. Not only did the Windmill never close its doors, but was equally well known for its onstage nudity. Because London’s censorship boards didn’t object to nudity in statues, the Windmill’s owners had the girls perform nude as living statues (i.e. no movement). The story of the Windmill was told in “Mrs. Henderson Presents” (2005) starring Judi Dench and Bob Hoskins.

“Tonight and Every Night” is a genuine pleasure. It may not be as known today due to its lack of a leading man on the scale of an Astaire, Kelly or Glenn Ford, but it deserves to be better known. I’m happy to have the opportunity to champion it.  

 

Welcome to my corner

Greetings everyone. My name is Kevin Deany and I will be using this little corner of the Internet to write about my passion - the movies. Here you will find thoughts, observations, reviews and critiques of movies current and old (mostly old). I will be posting about movies I've watched, movie news, DVD news and reviews, etc.

When not watching movies, I am an account manager at the Chicago-based Figel Public Relations. I look forward to blogging and hope to use this opportunity to indulge in this unique and fun 21st Century method of communication.

So here we go on this great adventure, with my first post.

So anyway, after coming home from the E.L. Doctorow appearance in Willowbrook (don't worry, there won't be name dropping here) I got home about 9:00. With just about an hour to kill before the 10:00 news, I popped in the VCR a little programmer I had taped off TCM awhile back, "Homicide Bureau" a 1939 Columbia B crime drama with Bruce Cabot and Rita Hayworth. A quick 58 minutes long. I don't think this title had been shown on television in 40 years, so as a Rita fan it was a real treat to see. Unfortunately, it wasn't very good. It was nice to see her, but those Columbia B pics just didn't have the zest and vitality of their contemporaries at, say, RKO or Fox. Just compare the detective series at Fox (Charlie Chan, Mr. Moto and Michael Shayne) and RKO (with The Saint and The Falcon) with Columbia (Crime Doctor, The Lone Wolf, Ellery Queen and Boston Blackie) and you'll know what I'm talking about. The Columbia's are pretty turgid and rough going, though I have a soft spot in my heart for the Boston Blackies thanks to Chester Morris. TCM recently signed a contract with Sony so a whole slew of Columbia's are being screened for the first time in decades, and while I'm grateful to be getting acquainted with them, there have not been, so far, any real gems uncovered. But I remain hopeful .