A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Halloween from A-Z

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Arsenic and Old Lace 1944

Directed by Frank Capra and adapted for the screen by Julius and Philip Epstein from Joseph Kesselring’s play, Arsenic and Old Lace is a whirlwind farce set in a cozy Brooklyn home. The home’s occupants are two charmingly batty elderly ladies, portrayed by Josephine Hull and Jean Adair, who have an unusual hobby: they poison lonely old men with elderberry wine, believing death to be a preferable fate for them. These deceased individuals are then discreetly interred in the basement with the assistance of their harmless and offbeat nephew, who envisions himself burying yellow fever victims in the Panama Canal.

The plot takes a humorous twist when the sisters’ less-than-amiable nephew, Jonathan, played by Raymond Massey, arrives on the scene with a few deceased individuals of his own. To complicate matters further, Massey’s character bears an uncanny resemblance to Boris Karloff, after having plastic surgeon Peter Lorre give him his new face. Karloff originally portrayed Jonathan in the Broadway play but was unavailable for the film. The script cleverly alludes to this likeness, provoking intense anger in Massey’s character whenever it’s remarked upon by the other characters.

Cary Grant assumes the role of Mortimer Brewster, the film’s romantic lead, who is attempting to enjoy his honeymoon with Priscilla Lane’s character, Elaine. The film also boasts the talents of Edward Everett Horton and Jack Carson in supporting roles.

Arsenic and Old Lace” is celebrated for its witty and chaotic humor and has secured its status as a classic in the realm of dark comedies, renowned for its unforgettable performances and enduring popularity.

The Amazing Colossal Man 1957

Directed by Bert I. Gordon, The Amazing Colossal Man 1957 is a story that revolves around Colonel Glenn Manning, a military officer who becomes the victim of a tragic accident involving a plutonium explosion during a test flight. As a result of the explosion, Manning begins to grow uncontrollably in size, becoming a colossal giant.

This transformation not only poses a threat to Manning’s own well-being but also becomes a matter of national security as the military tries to contain and study this astonishing phenomenon. As Manning’s condition worsens, he grapples with the physical and emotional toll of his transformation, while the military races against time to find a way to stop his relentless growth.

“The Amazing Colossal Man” is a beloved classic of 1950s science fiction cinema that ushers in the giant consequences of unchecked science that threatens man’s existence and his shoe size.

Attack of the Giant Leeches 1959

ATTACK OF THE GIANT LEECHES, (aka THE GIANT LEECHES), poster art, 1959.

Directed by Bernard L. Kowalski, Attack of the Giant Leeches 1959 is set in a remote swampland community that finds itself terrorized by enormous, monstrous blood-sucking leeches. The townspeople become victims of these grotesque creatures, while the police don’t believe the stories behind the disappearances of the locals. Ken Clark as game warden Steve Benton must investigate the strange occurrences in the swampland by himself and Jan Shepard as Nan Greyson gets caught up in the deadly threat of the leech-infested swamp. The film stars scream queen Yvette Vickers as Liz Walker, Bruno VeSota’s unfaithful wife, and also co-stars Michael Emmett and Gene Roth as Sheriff Kovis. The giant leech suits are hilarious and the atmosphere is suffocatingly schlocky considering Daniel Haller (The Dunwich Horror 1970, Die, Monster, Die! 1965) was the art director of the film.

Atom Age Vampire 1960

Atom Age Vampire aka Seddok 1961 is a vintage Italian horror film directed by Anton Giulio Majano. The movie tells the story of a lovesick, obsessed doctor who is determined to restore the beauty of a disfigured exotic dancer who was maimed in a car accident. In his desperate pursuit, the doctor resorts to a macabre method, extracting blood from dead women in an attempt to rejuvenate the object of his obsession. However, his gruesome experiments spiral out of control. The film stars Alberto Lupo as Prof. Alberto Levin and Suzanne Loret plays Jeanette Moreneau his beautiful fixation.

The Awful Dr. Orlof 1962

The Awful Dr. Orlof is a 1962 horror film directed by Jesús Franco, it marked the beginning of his prolific and distinctive career in the genre. The movie follows the chilling exploits of the enigmatic Dr. Orlof, a mad scientist who kidnaps and murders young women in order to harvest their skin for his disfigured and paralyzed sister, Melissa. Dr. Orlof’s sinister activities attract the attention of the police, and Inspector Tanner is determined to bring the mysterious doctor to justice.

As the investigation unfolds, it becomes apparent that Dr. Orlof is not acting alone. He has a henchman, the pop-eyed Morpho looking like a psychotic mannequin who helps him carry out his gruesome crimes. The film delves into themes of obsession, sadism, and the blurred lines between science and madness.

The Awful Dr. Orlof is known for its gothic atmosphere, eerie cinematography, and a memorable performance by Howard Vernon as Dr. Orlof whose portrayal of the mad scientist is chilling and charismatic. The film is considered a classic of Spanish horror cinema and has influenced subsequent horror films with its macabre, atmospheric, and visually captivating storytelling. It’s Gothic atmosphere creates a dark shadowy cobweb-filled landscape with a haunting score and creepy elements that contribute to the macabre tone of Franco’s signature style. Orlof explores disturbing themes of sadism, obsession, and dehumanization of female victims as Dr. Orlof seeks to restore his sister’s beauty.

The film’s approach to horror characterized by its psychological terror and the blurred line between science and madness, has left a lasting impact on the genre. It foreshadowed the emergence of early Spanish horror films and European horror cinema in the 1960s and 1970s, influencing directors like Jean Rollin and Dario Argento.

Jesús Franco’s direction and experimental filmmaking for The Awful Dr. Orlof illustrates his early penchant for innovative camera work and editing techniques that were considered unconventional for its time. Franco’s willingness to take risks and push boundaries and the film’s distinctive psychological horror and Gothic aesthetics continue to focus on Dr. Orlof as a compelling example of Gothic European/Spanish horror cinema, with both a hauntingly dark atmosphere and disturbing elements, making it a seminal work in the genre and its influence on subsequent horror cinema.

The Asphyx 1972

The Asphyx is a 1972 British horror film starring Robert Stephens and Robert Powell. The story is set in the Victorian era and centers around Sir Hugo Cunningham, played by Robert Stephens, a scientist who becomes obsessed with a mysterious and deadly force called the “Asphyx.” Sir Hugo discovers that the Asphyx is a supernatural entity that appears at the moment of death and can be trapped in a photograph or film, and placed in a contraption- effectively granting immortality to the person in the image.

As Sir Hugo becomes increasingly obsessed with the Asphyx and its power, he conducts a series of unethical experiments in an attempt to capture and control it. His actions lead to tragic consequences for himself and his family, including his adopted son, Giles, portrayed by Robert Powell. It also stars Jane Lapotaire, Alex Scott, and Ralph Arliss. I saw this upon its theatrical release and remember it causing more than a few shivers.

Asylum 1972

Read my Barbara Parkins tribute here:

Directed by Roy Ward Baker and written by horror master Robert Bloch (Psycho) Asylum 1972 is one of the most unusual horror portmanteaus – a chilling and immersive horror anthology that takes viewers on a spine-tingling journey through the dark corridors of the nightmarish horror trope of the long-abandoned asylum. Set in the year 1972, the film weaves together five distinct and haunting tales, each exploring the themes of madness, supernatural terror, and the thin line between reality and the macabre. The film stars Barbara Parkins, Richard Todd, and Sylvia Syms in Frozen Fear, Peter Cushing in The Weird Tailor, Charlotte Rampling, Britt Ekland and Megs Jenkins in Lucy’s Come to Stay, and Patrick Magee and Herbert Lom in Mannikins of Horror. Asylum also stars Robert Powell as Dr. Martin.

Asylum 1972 combines atmospheric cinematography, haunting soundscapes, and a talented ensemble cast to create a cheeky yet truly terrifying and unforgettable early 70s horror experience.

Alabama’s Ghost 1973

Alabama’s Ghost is a 1973 psychedelic horror film directed by Fredric Hobbs.

The nightclub janitor (Christopher Brooks) discovers a secret room, finds an old magician’s belongings, tries on the costumes, and becomes Alabama, King of the Cosmos. The film features a bizarre assortment of characters, including credits for ‘groupies, Carter’s Ghost, Marilyn Midnight, Dr. Caligula, Granny, and Mama Bama.

Alabama’s Ghost is a campy and offbeat film known for its low-budget, cult appeal among fans of unconventional cinema.

Axe 1977

Axe 1977 also known as “Lisa, Lisa,” is a cult classic thriller that tells the harrowing story of Lisa, a young woman who becomes the target of a sadistic killer’s obsession. Set in the eerie and remote countryside, the film is a suspenseful and psychologically disturbing journey as Leslie Lee is assaulted by three criminals on a murder spree after they arrive at her farmhouse, where she lives with her paralyzed grandfather.

As Lisa fights for her survival, the film takes audiences on a suspenseful rollercoaster ride, filled with tension, brutality, and psychological terror. Axe is a relentless thriller that explores themes of brutality and vulnerability, and an unflinching portrayal of isolation and terror, which has led to its cult status in the realm of exploitation cinema.

This is your EverLovin’ Joey sayin’ I’ll BE back with the letter B! So bring me an apple, without a razor blade in it, please!

 

Chapter 1: Queers and Dykes in the Dark: Classic, Noir & Horror Cinema’s Coded Gay Characters:

“I wish to join the Legion of Decency, which condemns vile and unwholesome moving pictures. I unite with all who protest against them as a grave menace to youth, to home life, to country and to religion. I condemn absolutely those salacious motion pictures which, with other degrading agencies, are corrupting public morals and promoting a sex mania in our land… Considering these evils, I hereby promise to remain away from all motion pictures except those which do not offend decency and Christian morality.”

—Catholic Legion of Decency pledge

And now here at The Last Drive In, the subject of “The Third Sex in the Shadows of Cinema.”

Clifton Webb as Hardy Cathcart in The Dark Corner 1946 directed by Henry Hathaway. Waldo Lydecker: “I’m not kind, I’m vicious. It’s the secret of my charm.”

“Oh, it’s sad, believe me, Missy, when you’re born to be a sissy without the vim and voive…” -Bert Lahr as the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz (1939)

Growing up as a gay woman, though gender and sexuality are fluid, there was not a well spring of characters in film or television that I could grab onto as a buoy for my burgeoning self-awareness – I was ‘different than the others.’ Though there are the obvious icons who became heroes and heroines to many of us because of their peerless image. And while films could not overtly represent ‘queerness’ directly, they could posit mixed messages and a whole generation of us could understand the subtext, unsheltered from an array of homophobic language.

We still had Barbara Stanwyck, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Marlene Dietrich, and Greta Garbo, who gave us immortal androgyny– there was no one who could shatter the silence, and ceremoniously ring the bells out in the open. There were no ‘obvious’ gay role models. We had to create that worship ourselves through iconography and a variety of sublime, convention-smashing signals. For those of us who knew how to look in the dark corners, right under your nose, corners, or should I say coded corners.

There’s one thing I want to be very clear about. I am not asserting that the actors themselves were gay in their personal lives, but that what was coded was merely the particular characters they played in the film. Or that the narrative might seemingly be ‘queer’. Which I will go on to explain. Particular actors or directors’ private lives are not up for conversation unless they were clearly open about themselves and their influences on their artistic work.

For instance, I am not saying that I suspect Doris Day is a lesbian, just that the character of Calamity Jane is throwing out messages for those of us ‘in the life,’ to feel a special affinity. Using comforting symbology gives us a place in the universe, especially when the story is presented by the stars we most admire. Not all coded gay characters are portrayed by gay actors, and not all coded comedy, jokes, or situations denotes that the character themselves are gay, just that the humor is cannily made to be queer at the moment. It can be an off-the-center remark that speeds by almost unnoticed except for the sake of the hurried laugh or two. Sometimes it’s all subjective and at times it’s pretty obvious which way the deliberate wind blows.

(Stacey) categorizes her range of material into several kinds of identification broadly dividing them into two categories. “Cinematic identifcatory fantasies” —devotion, worship transcendence, inspiration are proper to the act of spectatorship and appear to be based primarily on difference from the star ideal and “extra-cinematic identifactory practices” —imitation and consumption —attempt to close the gap between subject and star even as they take place outside cinema.

The worship of Doris Day is not surprising, she was one of the top box office draws of the 1950s. Day performs a cross-dressing role in the biopic of a legendary lesbian. Indeed, Day and Calamity Jane in particular in which the star sings both “Secret Love” and a duet with another, feminine character called “ a woman’s touch” are regularly cited by lesbians as crucial cinematic texts. (Jackie Stacey’s Star Gazing)

There was a period when Peter Lorre, George Sanders (and his equally effete brother Tom Conway), Anne Revere, Judith Anderson, and Agnes Moorehead played movie villains, fanatics, or oddballs. Each of these actors suggested queerness in their androgynous personas. Each became an iconic character actor of classic cinema.

Characters like Ernest Thesiger as Dr. Pretorius, Clifton Webb’s Waldo Lydecker in Laura (1944), Judith Anderson in Rebecca (1940), or Gloria Holden as Countess Zaleska in Dracula’s Daughter (1936), stood out to us, though they were despicable and unwelcoming characters. Although I see Gloria Holden’s character as strangely sympathetic. Usually, queerness that was veiled behind a coded role, exhibited a disturbed or desperate personality. They might be a person who is ambiguous in their maleness or femininity. And at times, they were full-on, deadly.

However, there was so little for those of us who are part of the ‘hidden audience’, we needed to catch sight of something familiar. That meant grabbing onto whatever little crumbs were thrown to us. So whether those characters were inherently insensate evil had nothing to do with our empathy or revulsion. The real power lay in the ability to identify with the essence of ‘otherness’ and more to do with familiarity and belonging. I longed to find that ‘something‘ that signified a relative identification of their sexuality. To see that subtle finger motioning, come closer, you’re in the right place kiddo, you’re one of us. Andrea Weiss writes: “[In the 1930s] for a people who were striving toward self-knowledge, Hollywood stars became important models in the foundation of gay identity.”

The films I have uncovered throughout my endeavor to write this immense blog post, either commonly fall within the queer canon or can be liberally dissected and/or challenged. We can read into any film if we so choose. I am merely putting it out to you that these films do seem to meet the criteria for coded queer paradigms. I also began this piece thinking that in order to understand the evolution of coded characters, you first have to look at the origin of the queer presence in silent and Pre-Code films, and how the Code influenced and constructed the way being queer had to be hidden in plain sight.

I echo Susie Bright, in her feelings that we (the queer community) would hang on to anything close to a hint of gayness, and it would change the whole world of the motion picture, just to see that famously analyzed moment when Marlene Dietrich plants that sensuous kiss on a woman’s lips in Josef von Sternberg’s Morocco 1930. Or the first cinematic lesbian romance when vamp Louise Brooks slinks on the dance floor with her androgynous female admirer Alice Roberts as Countess Anna Geschwitz in director GW Pabst’s Pandora’s Box (1929).

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The boldly androgynous Marlene showcased another masculine appearance when she ascends the throne at the end of The Scarlet Empress (1934).

Greta Garbo portrays the Swedish monarch who declares herself not an “old maid” but “a bachelor” in Queen Christina (1933)

Because of the social relationship between non-normative gender and sexuality and the symbology of fashion and the role of work, women only had to dress like their male counterparts and be employed in a man’s job to seem queer. In the movie directed by George Cukor, What Price Hollywood? (1932), the very drunk filmmaker notices a woman having lunch at a fashionable Hollywood restaurant. The drunks inquiry goes like this, “I beg your pardon, old man… who’s your tailor?

In Victor Fleming’s Red Dust (1932), Jean Harlow is adorable as Vantine as she handles the heat and hands out the jibes.

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Other members of the lesbian parade inhabit spaces that, as with the men, connote queerness. Consider the lesbian couples in the Greenwich Village dive in Call Her Savage (1932), seated alongside male same-sex couples while pansy entertainers, dressed as maids, perform for their amusement. Mannishly garbed women barflies, sometimes wielding cigars, often pal around with men, or sometimes confuse and emasculate them, in Lawyer Man (1932), Grand Slam (1933), and Blood Money (1933). (Lugowski)

Blood Money (1933) Rowland Brown’s atmospheric jaunt that embraces the gritty underworld, includes racy subjects like sadomasochism, empowered women, and fluid sexuality. Kathlyn Williams credited as the “Nightclub Woman Wearing Monocle”, is a beautiful androgynous off-cut in the film. In one notable scene George Bancroft as Bill Bailey enters Ruby Darling’s (Judith Anderson) nightclub and comes across a young woman at the bar, dressed in a man’s tuxedo and sporting a monocle. Baily offers her a cigar. She smells it and nonchalantly mocks the husky guy, “Why, you big sissy!” and hands it back to him. The nature of this adventurous passage into a subversive world generated a lot of sexual tension. With Blood Money, the subject of homosexuality is a non-issue, belonging to a subculture that invites those who are outsiders.

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In Blood Money and Call Her Savage, 
homosexuality is just another pocket of an underworld that exists outside the law. When George Bancroft warns a timid taxi driver not to betray his destination to the police, he threatens, “Lissen fag” -and is rebuked by Judith Anderson for “scaring the little fellow half to death.”

Keeping along the lines of the connection between women working at men’s jobs, within a wide range of social status, you can see this example in Heat Lightning (1934) starring interestingly handsome actress Aline MacMahon when she, covered in grease, working on cars in her desert garage/gas station wearing a filthy jumpsuit and hair wrapped in a bandana. She sheds her desire to be desired by men, and exudes a solitary quality, as if she has given up on, performing femininity for men. She seems independent and strong and in her ‘male’ attire, you can see her projecting a queer attitude, though the film deposits a past love interest with bad boy Preston Foster as a distraction. The attraction is doomed from the start.

Olga (MacMahon) balances the duality of loving Preston Foster, donning her ‘womanly’ dress when she decides to submit to a heterosexual liaison which goes wrong. Then she shuns the idea of her femininity, re-asserting her hyper-masculine posture in greasy mechanics overalls and once again hiding her ravenous hair under her bandana, to protect herself from performing as a straight woman again.

To be clear it is not my belief that she’s not “all woman,” even using these props to represent masculinity. She is not truly changing her gender but for the purposes of the narrative, in the movie’s time period, it suggests a superficial interpretation of gender for our spectatorship.

In Jame’s Whales’ The Kiss Before the Mirror (1933) there is a sophisticated female lawyer Hilda Frey (Jean Dixon) who is stern and stiff-backed, and is dressed in severe clothing, a “new kind of woman” which allows for an undercurrent of lesbianism.

In The Kiss Before the Mirror (1933), Nancy Carroll as Maria Held is a career-oriented lawyer, who wears men’s suits and considers herself a “new woman.” There are tinges of heterosexuality, which serve to shield her character from scrutiny. But, she does appraise heterosexuality in vaguely cynical terms. She talks to another woman about a case where the husband has murdered his wife, “At least no one will ever murder me.” She also responds to, “What are you? A lawyer, or a new kind of woman?” by saying, “By day, I’m a lawyer. At night, well, you might be surprised.” Either it went undetected by the SRC (Studio Relations Committee) or they felt that the connotations of her lesbianism were ambiguous enough to slip by an unsophisticated audience.

We learn to watch out for signs that there are ‘others’ out there on the screen – those we can relate to. A young person exposed to old films, as I grew older and dove head first into classic film with a critical eye, I could read those sign posts and cues that led me to become consciously aware of the invisible affinity laid out in plain site for me, and those of us who knew the secret whispers behind the storyline.

Women wearing men’s apparel, like Dietrich’s wonderful drag performance, kissing a woman in Morocco in 1930. Or Clifton Webb’s often effete superiority as with his character, Waldo Lydecker in Otto Preminger’s Laura 1944, or his role as Hardy Cathcart’s with a pathological objectification of his wife Mari’s aesthetic beauty in Henry Hathaway’s The Dark Corner. Greta Garbo in Queen Christina 1933 “I shall die a bachelor!” Gloria Holden’s vampiric desire to embrace the necks of beautiful young female models in Dracula’s Daughter 1936.

Nan Gray and Gloria Holden in Lambert Hillyer’s Dracula’s Daughter (1936)

The Production Code Administration (PCA) saw the obvious connection between vampirism and lesbian sexual desire in Dracula’s Daughter (1936) They only gave two warnings concerning the ‘queerness’ of Countess Zaleska and her thirst for young female victims. Universal, even hyped the idea that women were not safe from unnatural desire using this publicity catchphrase, “Save the women of London from Dracula’s Daughter!”

Throughout these films coded lesbian characters, scattered their rose petals of longing for their dead lost loves or the nymphs just out of their reach. There was tragedy within the tragedy of the horror story! As long as these queer women monsters also became victims, the PCA could negotiate its release, being comfortable with the narrative in that form.

The most overt representation of lesbians was her stylized look, a severely tailored suit, monocle, slicked back or bobbed short hair, or staunch, with a strait backed, severely repressive temperament. The coded dyke is typically less seen on screen than the pansy who enjoyed more of a character actor’s trademark in popular films. However, it could be said that covert lesbians are more subtle in their presence than their queer male counterparts – the sissy.

Major female stars could be seen as having indirect lesbian undertones, though their ambiguous sexuality might be camouflaged by their independent streak, their strong spirit or shaded by their exotic, mysterious nature. Thus we find some of our lesbian icons like Marlene Dietrich, Joan Crawford, Katharine Hepburn, Clara Bow, Greta Garbo, and Barbara Stanwyck. Lesbian vibes can often be signaled by a playful tomboyishness. And what we have is a diametrically opposed result, the pansy is perceived as failed manhood, but conversely the lesbian performing manhood is perceived as a threat.

And if they weren’t tomboys they could be man-less shrews, castrating viragos, or in need of a man, who can make her come to her senses, and give up her career and her disruptive way of life. The threat of strong women is still equal to the threat. The gay man elicits a laugh.

Thus, discourses about queer sexuality in this period are never purely homophobic against men. To a sizable extent, they have their basis in sexism against women, for it is the power of femininity, the “feminization” of 1930s culture mentioned, and the threat of working women “wearing the pants” that are being policed.

The metaphorical nature of the pants-wearing, money-earning woman attaining independence from men connoted lesbianism as a complete break from the interwoven financial and sexual economies of patriarchy. Thus, if “clothes make the man,” the wearing of pants in and of itself suggested a link to lesbianism that films of the time simultaneously offered as spectacle and punishment. (Lugowski)

In particular classical horror and science fiction films spoke to the sense of “otherness” installed in my psyche. That does not mean that I viewed things through a dark lens, but classical horror and science fiction are effusive metaphors and inherently philosophical. When some of us, like Frankenstein’s monster were figuratively chased with flaming torches, horror, and sci-fi movies afforded us shelter from the angry mob. Their use of mythic undertones and symbolic context provided for so many of us, psychic release and catharsis.

It’s also why I love and identify with the monster in classical horror films. The iconic or tragically fated monster has always been portrayed as the ‘other’. Gay people understand what it means to be an outsider. And filmmakers encoded that sui generis into our beloved classical horror genre. It worked like waving that meaningful finger at the audience, saying, you found us, we’re here.

WHAT IS A CODED GAY CHARACTER?

CODED–verb [with object] 1 convert (the words of a message) into a particular code in order to convey a secret meaning: • express the meaning of (a statement or communication) in an indirect or euphemistic way: (as adjective coded)

films allude to homosexual meanings in more of less coded ways. From today’s perspective, one can view these films as excellent examples of the very discourse of the closet-they employ connotative and symbolic meanings to signify homosexuality for those ‘in the know’ while ostensibly being about something else. Such connotative meanings were the way homosexuality could be signified under the dictates of the Hollywood Production Code.

Although it was continually challenged throughout the 1950s (by films such as The Moon is Blue 1953 and Baby Doll 1956) The Production Code still exerted a profound effect on the content on Hollywood film, especially in relations to homosexual themes. The Production Code Administration (PCA) edited queer backstories and subtexts of the film adaptations of Tennessee William’s plays A Street Car Named Desire (1951) , Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958) and Vincente Minnelli’s film of the Broadway hit Tea and Sympathy… (Jeffrey Sconce)

 

Continue reading “Chapter 1: Queers and Dykes in the Dark: Classic, Noir & Horror Cinema’s Coded Gay Characters:”

Quote of the Day! Design for Living (1933) A banana peel under the feet of truth!

It GIVES WOMEN NEW IDEAS in LOVE!

Miriam Hopkins got the part of free-spirited Gilda in Ernst Lubitsch’s Design for Living 1933. A Pre-Code romantic comedy with suggestive dialogue and superb comedic timing. Based on Noël Coward’s play that breaks social moral standards and flirts with sexual taboos, sexually empowered women and features a Ménage à Trois between the three Bohemian lovebirds in Paris of the decadent thirties. The film stars Gary Cooper as artist George Cooper, and Fredric March as screenwriter Tom Chambers. The liberated Gilda becomes the girl both men fall in love with.

Ben Hecht’s screenplay and Ernst Lubitsch known for his sophisticated style, directed memorably witty interactions between all four players. Edward Everett Horton as Max Plunkett plays Miriam’s bland suitor, the soon-to-be husband. Horton is, as usual, a whimsical idiosyncratic delight to watch.

Max Plunkett: “I’ve come here to speak to you man to man.”

Tom Chambers: “My favorite type of conversation.”

Max Plunkett: “I wish to broach a rather delicate subject.”

Tom Chambers: “Oh, now don’t let’s be delicate, Mr. Plunkett. Let’s be crude and objectionable, both of us. One of the greatest handicaps of civilization, and I may say to progress, is the fact that people speak with ribbons on their tongues. Delicacy, as the philosophers point out, is the banana peel under the feet of truth.”

Gilda Farrell: “A thing happened to me that usually happens to men. You see, a man can meet two, three, or four women and fall in love with all of them, and then, by a process of interesting elimination, he is able to decide which he prefers. But a woman must decide purely on instinct, guesswork, if she wants to be considered nice. Oh, it’s quite all right for her to try on a hundred hats before she picks on out.

Tom Chambers: “Very fine. But, which chapeau do you want, Madam?”

Gilda Farrell: “Both.”

Gilda Farrell: Max, have you ever been in love?

Max Plunkett: This is no time to answer that.

Gilda: Have you ever felt your brain catch fire? And a curious grateful thing goes through your body? Down, down to your very toes, and leave you with your ears ringing?

Max: “That’s abnormal”

Gilda: Well, that’s how I felt just before you came in.

Max: Yeah? How’d you feel yesterday after your promenade with Tom?

Gilda: Just the opposite. It started in my toes, and came up, up, up very slowly till my brain caught fire. But the ringing in the ears was the same.

 

It’s a gay, gay month! 🧚‍♂️ 🏳️‍🌈

The Gay Divorcee (1934)

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Queen Christina (1933)

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The Wizard of Oz (1939)

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Morocco (1930)

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Rebecca (1940)

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This is your everlovin’ Joey saying Be Gay, Be Happy, Be Safe!!!!!! 🌸