Bette Davis

  • Jezebel (1938)

    Jezebel (1938)

    (On Cable TV, January 2020) It took me a while to get interested in Jezebel—the film does itself no favour with an extended setup that doesn’t get to the topic at hand. Still, it does have Bette Davis as a manipulative Louisiana belle and Peter Fonda as her fiancé… until he has enough of her antics and storms away back to the northeast. There should everyone remain, except for the Yellow Fever to strike 1852 New Orleans, bringing Fonda’s character back into her life and giving her one last chance at redemption. The recreation of New Orleans is sumptuous enough within the limits of 1930s filmmaking, and the portrait of a time when duels were seen as perfectly acceptable is alien enough. By the end of the film, however, it all clicks together even if it ends on a strikingly inconclusive note. There is at the very least Davis (who’s always at her best when she’s playing morally ambiguous characters) and Fonda, as stalwart as ever. Costumes and sets are fine enough to send us back in time, and that’s about the best that the film could aim for.  I do wish Jezebel’s first half had been more gripping—I had to start the film three times before getting into it. But now that I’ve seen it, I’m happy I did.

  • Now, Voyager (1942)

    Now, Voyager (1942)

    (On Cable TV, June 2019) One of the disadvantages of looking at a past movie star’s body of work is that the later evolution of their screen persona can unfairly prejudice some of their earlier work. When I think about Bette Davis, for instance, I’m picturing a tart-tongued anti-heroine with panache. In Now, Voyager, however, we’re asked to believe her as a timid spinster who blooms as she travels around the world and falls for a sophisticated man. I am, in other words, not entirely convinced by Davis as a romantic ingenue (although she does look cute in round glasses), and the film’s opening sequences are a wild ride as the film crams an entire film’s worth of character development in a few minutes. Still, it clears the air for more complex romantic drama in an old-school sense, with some emphasis on mental health issues. The story is not quite as happy as you’d expect from a Golden-age Hollywood movie. While Now, Voyager may not be the film you’d expect, it does get better as it goes on and builds to a wistful romantic climax with classic imagery and dialogue (“Oh, Jerry, don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”)  No wonder it’s fondly remembered even today.

  • Hollywood Canteen (1944)

    Hollywood Canteen (1944)

    (On Cable TV, May 2019) Here’s what you need to know about Hollywood Canteen: During WW2, Hollywood celebrities got together and paid for a club in Los Angeles exclusively reserved for servicemen on leave where they could get free drinks and meals. Adding to the appeal, glamorous movie stars donated their time by actually bartending and waitressing for patrons of the place. This is all true—although accounts of the place usually underplay the considerable Pro-Hollywood publicity value in this arrangement. Further adding to the mystique is this film, not a great one but a fascinating time capsule of propagandist wish fulfillment that shows WW2 soldiers enjoying a few days in Los Angeles and spending time at the Hollywood Canteen where they get a chance to rub shoulders with movie stars. (Lost to twenty-first century audiences is the idea that when this film was shown to servicemen overseas, they could have been these guys.)  The film itself, once past the bare-bones setup, is a series of performances by Hollywood then-stars at the Canteen, effectively turning the film is a series of variety show sketches while the film’s protagonists kiss Hollywood starlets, empty sandwich trays or watch the acts with mouth agape. If some scenes make you somewhat queasy at the way the actresses are offered to soldiers for kisses, then you do have a good grasp at the hierarchy of values presented here, elevating the fighting soldier on a special pedestal. Hollywood Canteen remains both a wartime propaganda film, and a revue of who was who in Hollywood at the time—some of them featured in the movie, others referenced through dialogue. Many of the jokes are obscure now that the stars are gone—Jack Benny gets a laugh from the characters just by showing up, for instance, leaving twenty-first century audiences puzzled for a few moments. It’s fun to see some Hollywood stars in a far more relaxed environment, though—especially Bette Davis in a more comic role. The Canteen acts as a pretext, as the characters have adventures around town, our protagonist gets to romance a movie star and we tour the Warner Bros studios of the time. It’s actually quite a fun movie even with the propaganda material … but it works far better as a reminder of a bygone era.

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, February 2021) I first saw Hollywood Canteen barely two years ago, but since I’ve spent much of the intervening time deepening my knowledge of classic Hollywood, revisiting it felt like a different experience. This is true of most films if you’re interested in the vast meta-narrative of Hollywood, but it’s particularly relevant in discussing Hollywood Canteen, as it’s a film that relies a lot on celebrity cameos for effect. The plot of the film remains the same from a first viewing to a second: it’s a fictionalized homage to the real “Hollywood Canteen” that, during WW2, offered free meals, refreshments and entertainment to servicemen on leave in the Los Angeles area. Thanks to the effort of notables such as Bette Davis, Hollywood studios pooled their resources and stars for the upkeep of the place, and it wasn’t rare to see a screen legend serving tables at the Canteen. The result was a propaganda victory for Hollywood, and fuel for fantasies involving soldiers and starlets. Alas, this aspect makes it intact in the film, as there’s a truly uncomfortable amount of time and attention lavished on named stars granting kisses and weekend getaways to the film’s fictional soldier characters, each of them over the moon to get some personal attention from their screen favourites. The film is at its worst when focusing on Joan Leslie playing “Joan Leslie,” an object of lust for many but luckily snagged by our protagonist as the millionth G.I. to enter the Canteen. Blech. But plot is the least of Hollywood Canteen’s worries when there’s a stream of musical numbers and comic cameos to act as a revue musical. That’s when a second viewing comes in: Cameos can be more mystifying than satisfying if you’re not familiar with the actors making a winking walk-on appearance, but they pay off the more you’re familiar with the comic point being made. 1944 audiences had no trouble catching the various jokes, allusions and parodies in Hollywood Canteen, but modern audiences will be tested on their knowledge of early-1940s pop culture — and specifically the Warner Brothers roster of stars. Having brushed up on my classic Hollywood in two years, I now knew who was Joe E. Brown and now could appreciate the donut gag as intended. The more you know about the character actors at the time, the more you can appreciate the bit with S. Z. Sakall and his cheeks, or Sydney Greenstreet hamming it up menacingly with Peter Lorre. My growing appreciation of Ida Lupino went up with every word of French she spoke (a gag made even funnier by Victor Francen’s follow-up), and so did my slow-burn liking of Bette Davis as she came onstage to explain the genesis of the Canteen. I’m not as up to speed when it comes to musical stars, but even I could appreciate the Andrew Sisters, Roy Rogers and his horse Trigger, the rather funny “You Can Always Tell a Yank” (which eerily sounds like a Disney song for reasons I can’t quite figure out), duelling violins and the background music by Jimmy Dorsey and his orchestra. Even the second time around, I maintain that Hollywood Canteen is somewhat distasteful as a narrative, but I grew much fonder of the remaining three-quarter of the film, as a comic musical revue.

  • Watch on the Rhine (1943)

    Watch on the Rhine (1943)

    (On Cable TV, April 2019) I have some fondness for a very specific kind of film—the cozy global thriller, in which issues of world-shattering importance are somehow brought down to a humble little set, in which conversations and a moderate amount of action end up doing the heavy lifting. Watch on the Rhine certainly shows its theatrical origins in its focused presentation, essentially becoming a living-room spy thriller in which our hero and heroine (Paul Lukas and Bette Davis, both quite good) must deal with a Nazi threat right in their house. It’s a gentle story of treason and duplicity in Washington, DC, featuring an anti-fascist protagonist facing off with a Nazi-affiliated operative. Lukas is commanding in the lead role, with some assistance from Davis. At 114 minutes, Watch on the Rhine definitely exceeds its welcome toward the end, but it remains a pretty good watch. It definitely reflected the times, though, and a Best Picture Academy Award nomination (along with a Best Actor Oscar for Lukas) reflects that the high-class approach definitely had its fans in Hollywood.

  • All This, and Heaven Too (1940)

    All This, and Heaven Too (1940)

    (On Cable TV, February 2019) There is, in many ways, something comforting in the kind of domestic costume melodrama that is All This, and Heaven Too: As the story of a French governess who ends up being at the centre of a rollicking story of lust and murder, it’s clearly meant to thrill audiences. It would have been significantly better if it had been shorter—there isn’t that much plot here, and the film clocks in at a punishing 141 minutes with plenty of repetition along the way. I’m also not entirely convinced about Bette Davis as a young innocent romantic heroine—she’s a terrific actress, but her uncanny ability to play evil characters is wasted here in a role meant to be almost angelic. The framing device isn’t too bad in allowing a Paris-based story to be literally told to an American audience, although it does add even more length to a film already overstuffed with tangents. (Including a gothic Halloween interlude that’s actually not too bad.) Even today, the expensive nature of All This, and Heaven Too’s production is obvious: the lavish sets, costumes and re-creation of late-Nineteenth century Paris is quite successful. Modern viewers will still have something to watch in between the increasingly lurid story, and Bette Davis in a strong (even if miscast) performance.

  • All about Eve (1950)

    All about Eve (1950)

    (On Cable TV, March 2018) There’s a deliciously impish quality to All about Eve that becomes apparent only a few moments in the movie, and remains the film’s best quality throughout. It’s a cynical look at showbusiness, triangulated between actors, writers and critics. Writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz can use rich material in his exploration of the dirty side of theatrical showbusiness, and his actors, in-between Bette Davis, Anne Baxter and George Sanders, are all up to the challenges of his vision. (Plus, a small role for Marilyn Monroe.)  All about Eve has a lot to say about fame, acting, age and even a touch of closeted homosexuality. It does so with considerable wit—the film is good throughout, but it improves sharply whenever George Sanders shows up as a waspy critic acting as an impish narrator. The film still plays exceptionally well today: showbusiness hasn’t changed much, and much of the film doesn’t deal in easily dated artifacts … although some of the social conventions have thankfully moved on. A bit like contemporary Sunset Blvd, All about Eve is a film built on wit and a great script, so it’s no surprise that it would stay so engaging sixty-five years later.

  • What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

    What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

    (On Cable TV, February 2018) I enjoy reading Wikipedia pages of films I’ve just seen, and from What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? I learn about the delightful expression “psycho-biddy,” a forgotten subgenre of horror thrillers featuring older women spawned by the success of this film. I also learned about the ongoing feud between co-stars Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, which does add quite a dimension to the end result as two sisters come to possibly fatal conflict in a film presented as hard-edged thriller. Saddled with two useless prologues, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? really gets going fifteen minutes in, as the situation becomes clear: A disabled former actress, practically held hostage by her sister, a bitter and resentful former child star who escalates the horrible actions required to keep control over the situation. Joan Crawford has the likable role, but it’s Bette Davis who sticks in mind as the psychotic Baby Jane, layers of caked makeup not concealing a complete breakdown. The black-and-white cinematography is pretty good, although the ending is one or two whiskers away from satisfaction. The film feels a bit too long and scattered with half-hearted subplots, but it still has an impact—Fifty-five years later, aged actresses seldom get roles as interesting as those in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, and the plot is still nasty enough to resonate even today.