TCMFF 2016 – Wednesday 27th April: Pre-festival Hollywood Hijinks

I wake up on Wednesday 27th April. It takes me a moment to process everything. I am in Hollywood. HOLLYWOOD. Usually I’m the one sitting at home, scrolling through my friends’ Twitter feeds and wishing that I had joined them for some Hollywood Hijinks. Last year I vowed that 2016 would be the year that I finally made it over for the festival. Here I am. It’s real.

2015 was a bumpy ride and after after three years of living in London and I returned to Birmingham in November. Things needed shifting in my life. I needed a break – to “shake the waters” – and what better way to achieve this than to travel across the country (my first long-haul flight) to a country that I had never previously visited? And to travel solo. The thought thrilled me. In all honesty, from the moment I bought my TCMFF pass in November the thought of being in Hollywood in a few months time was everything I needed. I wished I had booked for longer.

I had arrived in Hollywood the previous afternoon (Tuesday 27th April) after a twenty hour day – an airport, an airplane and a minivan. This could be why my head hit the pillow at 7pm local time and, apart from a couple of interruptions, I did not wake-up until 6am the following morning. Jet-lag? Pah! I look outside into the obligatory hotel carpark and rested my eyes upon this glory. It’s a nice sight.

I step out of the hotel after breakfast  and there she is, waiting for me right outside on the walk of fame: one of my favourite Hollywood icons, the “Ice-Cream Blonde” herself, comedic actress Thelma Todd. Todd’s tragic and mysterious death in 1935 is constantly debated – theories range from foul play to accident – but no conspiracy can undermine her talent or the exuberance she brought to the screen in films opposite the Marx Brothers, Laurel and Hardy or as part of a double act with Zazu Pitts.

I spend the morning leisurely walking around and after lunch head over to Warner Bros. in Burbank for a tour by Warner Archive’s very own Matt Patterson (@mrmattpatterson). As a festival newbie, this would be the first time I’d meet everyone after years of online chat (not always about film) and exchanging Christmas cards. I bounded over to Nora (aka The Nitrate Diva) and Coleen (aka @MiddParent) and much hugging ensued.  Matt greeted us and we were soon joined by new friends Melanie, and later Emily, to wander around lot, marvel at the buildings, peer around corners and just generally gawp at the overwhelming familiarity of what is directly in front of us.

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Then it was back to the hotel, quick change and on to The Formosa where Ms Marya Gates (@oldfilmsflicker) had organised a Pre-TCMFF ‘Cocktail Extravaganza!’ Events would would officially start the following afternoon but this was a perfect way to kick things off with an evening of hugs, drinks and laughter. I cannot explain how much of a joy it was to finally sit across/next to those people who, despite never having ‘met’ in the traditional sense, are so dear to me and such a big part of my life (More names will appear in these posts. Don’t worry – I have not left you out!) We were a large crowd and I talked – or shouted over the noise – until I was hoarse. It was a happy night and for the first since in what felt like forever I felt relaxed, at home, and among friends.

Barbara Payton: I Am Not Ashamed

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Envious kids used to ask me in those days, “How do you become a star? Is it talent? Pretty face? Is it body? Is it who you know? Who you sleep with?” well, it’s a little of each and don’t let anyone tell you differently.

Barbara Payton was, to put it mildly, a hot mess. The once beautiful twenty year-old – who acted opposite  James Cagney and Gregory Peck – saw her star value not so much plummet but shatter. Her final years were spent destitute, drunk and turning tricks in seedy apartment, surrounded by rats and empty wine bottles. Payton did it all, saw it all, and lost it all.

In 1963 Payton’s perfectly titled memoir “I Am Not Ashamed” (ghost written by Leo Guild) was released.  The book is perfect Hollywood memoir – hugely more satisfying than any number of gossip columns that flood the Internet and fill today’s newspaper shelves. Early on when she brazenly declares, “I was the queen bee, the nuts and boiling hot, you know this is going to be a treat.

Simply put, Payton was a bombshell, she knew she was a bombshell and she lived her live according to these rules. She did everything and I mean everything! She went from the glamour-puss ‘iced in diamonds’ at film premieres to turning tricks in her seedy apartment where she was knifed in the stomach by a client. Her affair with the actor Tom Neal – while she was married to the French star Franchot Tone – resulted in a fight between the two men and Franchot’s hospitalisation. She was even arrested for stealing liquor on Sunset Boulevard.

Yet she did not suffer fools gladly and knew how to hustle with the best of them. In some instances we see her assume the role of the fairy Godmother for younger co-stars, calling out inappropriate male behaviour and protecting girls as no one had done to her. She wanted to help out those on their way up, only too aware of an industry that would gobble you up and spit you as soon as looks fade or they grew bored of you. If only she had taken her own advice….

The inevitable happened: she got older and weight gain was part of her problem. No doubt this was aggravated by her bottle-of-wine-a-day habit. She failed to care for herself as she had cared for others. Instead, she plunged into a Rosé wine addiction that only added to – and addled – her downfall.

Despite her numerous mistakes you cannot help but want her to succeed; to have made the comeback she talks about and instead of falling into the tragic Hollywood trap of addiction and sleaze. You wanted her to be guided, as she wanted to guide others, and to stage that epic comeback that she talked about instead of dying of heart and liver failure at the tragically young age of thirty-nine.

“I Am Not Ashamed” is a fascinated read that exposes Hollywood in all of its sordid glory. Payton’s memoir could be a blueprint for all future young female stars: don’t let them suffer and follow in her footsteps.

 

“I Am Not Ashamed” is available now from spurleditions.com

 

A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon (William Richert, 1988)

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Jimmy Reardon (River Phoenix) is a dreamer. All he wants to do is write poetry, fly to Hawaii with his girlfriend and get his best friend Fred (a pre-Chandler, yet Chadler-esque, Matthew Perry) laid. It is a premise done countless times by so many coming-of age films (especially set in the eighties). Jimmy’s dilemma is also familiar: what should you do – and who do you want to be – after high-school?

There are two paths: either attend his father’s old business school (paid for by his parents) or to leave Chicago and make it on his own financially. Jimmy’s parents want him to have stability. He wants to leave and forge his own way on his terms with the money he has saved. However, when Jimmy is he is conned out of his savings by an ex-girlfriend the evening takes becomes a series of argument, sex, reconcilliations, sex and the realisation that life is not all idle dreaming and poetic fantasies.

Jimmy Reardon is a relatively overlooked film that never quite reached the success of John Hughes’ coming of age tales. Director William Richert, who wrote and directed the film, based his screenplay on his book Aren’t You Even Gonna Kiss Me Goodbye? Not having read the book myself, I cannot say which angle of the material Richert chose to focus on or even if anything was reworked for film audiences.

While this is not the greatest coming of age film there is no denying how engaging and immensely talented Phoenix was an an actor and you cannot help wondering where this talent would have taken him if he was still around.

 

 

 

 

Arabella (Mauro Bolognini, 1967)

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It starts as it means to go on: a party of beautiful people ecstatically dancing the Charleston to a frivolous Ennio Morricone score. This is Arabella (1967), a fun, farcical film with whose flimsy plotline is compensated by glamorous costumes, beautiful scenery and humorously exaggerated cultural stereotypes.

Part of its appeal is due to Virna Lisi. As the eponymous socialite, she is on a mission to pay back the obscene amount of back-taxes that her Grandmother (Margaret Rutherford) owes. Despite a business engagement to the wealthy Filiberto (Antonio Casagrande) – a casual arrangement preceding an open marriage – she attempts to raise the money by seducing and conning various men (Terry-Thomas in multiple roles) out of the money.

What the film lacks in plot it makes up for in details. Lisi parades around in a collection of costumes where each is more beautiful than the last. Her gowns (orange, purple, black, sheer, feathered) and her accessories (a collection of wigs, long cigarette holders, turbans, diamond brooches and smoky cats eyes) are part of the film’s charm. She seduces with her clothes as much as her sex appeal.

However, the film’s scene stealing moment comes in the form Giancarlo Giannini as Saverio, the camp son of Thomas’ English duke. Here the cultural stereotypes come to the fore, with the flouncing, effeminate Roman waving a rose around – his arms filled with gold bracelets – and recoiling in horror at the sight of the maid’s exposed cleavage. Riffing on the Valentino-Latin lover stereotype is by no means the most original idea, yet it is extremely entertaining.

Arabella it is not a meaty film by any means but the intricate details make it irresistible.

 

 

Book Review: ‘What Happened, Miss Simone?’ by Alan Light

 

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Nina Simone was a fascinating woman whose life and music continues to intrigue and captivate. I have always loved her voice, marvelled at her piano skills, and admired how she used lyrics to seduce in one song and damn in the next. Yet, appallingly, my knowledge of Simone’s life and character remained appallingly limited.

I unsurprisingly lapped up Liz Garbus’ Oscar-nominated, Netflix produced What Happened, Miss Simone? (2015) on its release. The warts-and-all film shows Simone’s undeniable talent – a musical genius whose audiences would be spellbound in her presence – yet whose personal life was extremely troubled and unsettled (loneliness, physical and chemical abuse, illness). She made mistakes. She was a difficult character. Yet she was a transcendental performer whose talent shines brightly on the screen. Would a written biography be able to capture her musical talent in quite the same way?

Nina Simone, born Eunice Waymon and raised in Tryon, North Carolina, was a musical prodigy who dreamed of becoming the world’s first black classical pianist. Playing the piano at her preacher mother’s sermons brought her to the attention of congregation member Muriel Mazzanovich – aka “Miss Mazzy” – her first piano teacher who co-founded a fund for Eunice’s musical education. This fund supported her move to New York to attend New York’s Juilliard School. As the fund dwindled she tried, and was rejected, for a scholarship at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. Although she never fully recovered from this unfortunate incident, we can pinpoint this event as changing the course of the young woman’s life, initiating her evolution from Eunice Waymon to Nina Simone.

Alan Light’s biography of the singer, also titled ‘What Happened, Miss Simone?,” is an engrossing companion piece. Due to Simone’s electrifying performances, some individuals may find themselves preferring the faster paced, snappier, musically charged film to the written version. However, the book is richer in detail and includes periods of Simone’s life which Garbus, due to time restraints, naturally omitted. Light utilises additional first hand accounts by those closest to Simone – her musicians, ex-husband Andy Stroud, and her daughter Lisa Simone Kelly – providing a full yet stark account of this flawed but extraordinary artist whose life included numerous love affairs, struggle with sexuality, activism in the fight for civil rights, and career highs and lows. Fundamentally, Light paints Simone as a woman who never recovered from the lack of attention and affection her mother showed her in childhood, setting a precedent that would greatly influence Simone’s relationships with lovers, with her musicians, with her audience, and most significantly, with her daughter.

‘What Happened, Miss Simone?’ is a richly personal biography and a fitting companion to an enthralling film. Simone was a tormented genius – a mass of contradictions – who, underneath all of the drama and problems remained Eunice Waymon: the little girl from South Carolina whose biggest regret was that she never became the world’s first black classical pianist.

* ‘What Happened, Miss Simone’ by Alan Light is published by Cannongate Books
ISBN: 9781782118732

Do As Nora Charles

 

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Don’t be embarrassed.

We have all experienced a moment, a point in time, of tripping and falling flat on our face. The fall can be physical – a moment of clumsiness or brought on by wearing the wrong shoes – or, most often, the fall is emotional. This is a tricky one because dented pride and emotional scars run deep. It happens to all of us. We make mistakes, we stumble, fail and we experience major wrongs when nothing appears to be going as planned. The most integral thing is not the fall: it’s the recovery.

This occurred to me the other night while re-watching The Thin Man (1934), the unparalleled film series about the sleuthing adventures of Nick and Nora Charles (the divine Williams Powell and Myrna Loy). Nora’s entrance is classic screwball farce. While Nick is dapper and demonstrating the art of how to shake a perfect Martini at the bar, the beautiful and impeccably tailored Nora is dragged in by Asta, the couple’s wire haired terrier. With arms filled with Christmas shopping she looses her footing to take one of the most elegant prat falls in memory, perfectly splaying herself on the floor before being helped up by those around her. Nick does not help as much as watch on with an amused, yet loving, smile.

Yet, as she stands up, she is still perfect with not a hair out of place. She could dwell on her fall but instead the couple launch into their witty repartee for which the show is so adored. So what that she has fallen? She is not embarrassed- why should she be? Instead she points to her husband’s martini and asks “how many drinks have you had?”. When he replies, “this will make six Martinis,” she casually asks the waiter “will you bring me five more Martinis, Leo? Line them right up here”. She carries on as if nothing had happened.

If you fall – for whatever reason – so what? Don’t slink off with your tail between your legs. Remember the mantra: DO AS NORA CHARLES. Her pride is not sore (although her head certainly is the morning after). Don’t fret and wallow on the ground, pick yourself off, stand up straight and down six martinis.

Nora’s entrance

Peggy Guggenheim: Art Addict (Lisa Immordino Vreeland, 2015)

 

la-et-cam-peggy-guggenheim-art-addict-20151111From championing of a young artist named Jackson Pollack to the International galleries bearing her name, Peggy Guggenheim’s name is synonymous with art. Despite no formal training she possessed an artistic sixth sense when it came to greatness and an ability to seek out the marvellous. In Peggy Guggenheim: Art Addict, Lisa Immordino Vreeland weaves archive and audio recordings, film footage, and photographs with input from historians, curators and authors to produce an incredibly absorbing documentary on a remarkable woman.

Vreeland divides the film into chapters – decades and places that bookmarked a specific point in Guggenheims’s life. It’s quite a life. Born into a well-known, if rather eccentric New York family (her Uncle Solomon Guggenheim founded the New York Museum and her father Benjamin Guggenheim went down with the Titanic), she left her abusive marriage and job in New York bookstore for the Bohemian lights of Paris. She mixed with the great and good of the literary and art worlds – Dali, Ezra Pound, Picasso, Cocteau, Kandinsky – including Duchamp who she called her “great, great teacher”. Taking Duchamp’s advice to “go where the art was,” she travelled and opened numerous galleries across the world, including London’s Guggenheim Jeune Gallery, where the Surrealists held their infamous 1937 London exhibition and Dalí appeared in a deep sea diver’s suit.

Guggenheim’s life was filled with art, sex and adventure but was very low on personal satisfaction. Her marriage to Max Ernst ended when he had a affair with Leonora Carrington (he later married Dorothea Tanning), and she appears incredible lonely. This is why the film works so well: it is not a piece of hagiography but an intimate portrait of a woman whose life was less than perfect. She had a reputation for being ‘difficult’, she had affairs, she lacked confidence in her appearance  – further elevated when she endured a botched nose job that was never corrected – and even developed a nervous ‘tick’.

Guggenheim once said, “it’s horrible to get old. It’s one of the worst things that can happen to you”. Maybe she thought her name would be forgotten? Some may say she was lucky – and, yes, in many ways art was her protective shield and emotional crutch – yet there is no denying that she was very astute woman with a canny business sensibility who brought avant-garde to the masses. Vreeland’s documentary is paramount to her legacy; a beautifully executed artwork of a woman who deserves to be noticed.

*Peggy Guggenheim: Art Addict is released on DVD and VOD 22 February 2016