Bombshell

Jean Harlow and Lee Tracy

Victor Fleming's Bombshell, released by MGM in 1933, is a lively comedy, part Hollywood satire, part antic screwball. Michael Sragow's excellent biography of Fleming gives a good précis of its genesis. Bombshell was based on a play about an actress beset by the perils of stardom that ends with a tragic suicide. Thankfully, Fleming and producer Hunt Stromberg wanted to shift the material's tone and concoct a vehicle for Jean Harlow who had collaborated with Fleming on Red Dust, a hit the previous year. What emerged was a boisterous comedy with the ratatat dialogue of The Front Page. Jules Furthman wrote a first draft, then frequent Fleming collaborator John Lee Mahin, a protege of Ben Hecht's, took a whack at it. When Lee Tracy replaced John Gilbert (thankfully) in the co-lead role of a wisecracking press agent, Norma Krasna was brought into beef up his part.

Tracy had played the part of Walter Burns in the smash Broadway production of The Front Page and is a perfect fit for the cynical flak monikered Space Hanlon. In general, Bombshell succeeds because it was concocted expressly for its crack cast. Mahin, who was Fleming's closest friend, knew of Clara Bow's romance with Fleming and used that for fodder. However, Bombshell is even more about Harlow and her persona. The opening montage presents Harlow under the guise of Lola Burns as a product of the star making machinery of her studio which makes her a target to be brought down by the tabloids. This was as true for Harlow as it was for Bow. Both women were perpetually linked with scandal once they attained fame. Both starlets also had family members who leeched from them along with the usual Hollywood hangers-on who inflict themselves on film icons to this day; like the Church of Scientology. These weasels bear the brunt of the satire in Bombshell including an underused Una Merkel as Lola's Gal Friday, Ted Healy as her degenerate gambler brother, and Frank Morgan as a pixillated papa. They are all excellent and superbly cast, but the amount of unrepentant drunkards (Morgan, Tracy, and Mahin were all eminent tankard-men) on this flick is startling.

Pat O'Brien, the onscreen Walter Burns of 1931, plays a director named Jim Brogan who is a virtual stand-in for Fleming. Brogan and Lola have a romantic past, just like Fleming and Bow, and are giving each other the eye through the picture. Fleming even has O'Brien and Harlow recreate the bath in a barrel sequence from Red Dust for old time's sake. How post-modern! Lola always has a bevy of potential lovers hounding her during the course of the picture including Brogan, Ivan Lebedeff as a foreign aristocrat of dubious provenance (Hollywood had a lot of those in its early days), and Franchot Tone as a preppy scion. Nobody in Bombshell, however, is who they seem. The biggest four flusher of them all is Space, Lola's true twin and nemesis. Whenever Lola is about to have a tryst or a meeting with a respectable personage, like a reporter from the Women's Home Companion or some biddies from an adoption league, Space sabotages her plans by calling in favors from the police or the press or both. All heck breaks loose in the foyer and Temperance League members brush shoulders with tipplers and other oddballs. Humanity in all its screwball glory is unleashed.

Some have cited Bombshell as the first screwball comedy, but this is not so. There are plenty of other films from this period (like Three-Cornered Moon) and even earlier, like The Coconuts, that equally fit that rubric. Certainly, the anarchic antics of the Marx brothers and other vaudevillians brought a new energy to the American sound film. I think the genre really got its start with Oscar Wilde whose work poked fun and eventually upended the conventions of the drawing room comedy. This cocking a snoot at convention and the screwball's embrace of the common man made it very audience friendly to a beleagured American in the Depression.

Every little character role in Bombshell is perfectly cast and delivered. Of those I haven't mentioned, there are plum bits by Louise Beavers, Isabel Jewell, Leonard Carey, and C. Aubrey Smith. Fleming gives the action flow, it moves but not haphazardly. A flood of innocent merriment is always threatening to burst. It is this feel of fluid spontaneity that help Harlow and Tracy give their best film performances. The picture is also greatly helped by the expert editing of Margaret Booth. She emulates the frisky rhythms Fleming finds in his choral scenes giving the film a burbling and winning perkiness. I find the last reel of the film a bit mechanical, but the self-mocking tone of the dialogue is a continuous delight. Franchot Tone manages to keep a straight face while telling Harlow, "Your heart is like a gardenia open to the sun." Harlow intones "You might get leprosy or something" with just the right amount of emphasis on the last two words. A fun flick.
  

Vie privee

Jodie Foster

Rebecca Zlotowski's Vie privée (Private Life) is a passable mystery from the French director. Jodie Foster, a Francophile since she was a tot, stars as a psychiatrist named Lillian Steiner. Dr. Steiner has a chichi psychoanalytic practice in Paris. She strikes us immediately as buttoned down and cerebral, catnip for an actor like Ms. Foster. Steiner's life unravels after the death of a beloved patient named Paula (Virginie Efira) who has committed suicide by overdosing on medication Steiner prescribed. Naturally, Paula's husband, Simon (Mathieu Amalric) resents Lillian, but his and Paula's daughter Valérie (Luàna Bajrami) convinces Lillian that there is more to her mother's death than meets the eye. Simon and Valérie both seem like slippery suspects. Lillian enlists her ex-husband Gabriel (Daniel Auteuil) for emotional and physical support as they attempt to unravel the past.

The mystery aspect of Vie privée is one of its weaker points. This is especially so because Zlotowski has Lillian's mentor (Frederik Wiseman, what a mensch) spell out the answer to the mystery about halfway through the picture. In essence: "Physician heal thyself." There is never a sense of thanatos in the film, it is a lightweight bourgeoise mystery like Agatha Christie, Only Murders in the Building, and certain Woody Allen films. The comparison to Allen is illustrative because Zlotowski sets the film firmly in the world of the Jewish intelligentsia of Paris. Unfortunately, Ms. Foster seems like a total shiksa.

The other intersection with Woody Allen is the use of a magically realistic plot device to get a strict Freudian to loosen up and live a little. In Allen's film this usually comes in the form of a ditzy but lovable shiksa, a fortune teller, or a deus ex mama. In Vie privée, it is an "Eriksonian Hypnotherapist" who helps Lillian find a portal in her unconscious. The accoutrements of her unconscious are hoary and trite cliches: stairs leading down to doors. As if the unconscious were an episode of Let's Make A Deal. Once Lillian opens a door we view a past life in which she and Paula were lovers. Sigh. The unconscious is never a mirror of existence. At best, it is a view through a glass, darkly.

What redeemed the film for me was Zlotowski's elegant framing, superb use of music, and ease with her talented cast. This is one of the most distinguished French casts I've ever seen and all the players listed above are superb. I also enjoyed the contributions of Vincent Lacoste, Noam Morgensztern, Sophie Guillemin, and Irene Jacob. The highlight of the film for me was the warm and tender rapport between Foster and Auteuil. Watching them share cigarettes in an auto while giving a post-mortem of their marriage showed me yet again what a team player Foster is as an actress. Whether she is paired with Auteuil, Anthony Hopkins or Kristin Stewart, Foster never grandstands, but engages in a true give and take that helps her partners shine. 

The Best of Sam Neill

1947-2026

    

                                               I was christened 'Nigel'. It set me back years.        

1).    Reilly, Ace of Spies                           Martin Campbell, etc               1983

2).    Peaky Blinders                                     Steven Knight                2013-2014  

3).    The Piano                                              Jane Campion                     1993 

4).    Possession                                           Andrzej Zulawski                 1981 

5).    In the Mouth of Madness                   John Carpenter                     1994

6).    Sleeping Dogs                                      Roger Donaldson               1977

7).    My Brilliant Career                            Gillian Armstrong                  1979

8).    Dead Calm                                            Philip Noyce                       1989

9).    Hunt for the Wilderpeople                   Taika Waititi                        2016 

10).  The Hunter                                          Daniel Nettheim                    2011

The versatile Kiwi had a range that extended from subtle charm to cold eyed villainy. His best role displayed his ease with both. He was one of the most self-deprecating major actors of his generation and one of the most generous. He raved about working with directors as disparate as John Carpenter and Taika Waiti. His self-abnegation came in handy when playing second fiddle to some of the leading ladies of his day. Davis, Adjani, Streep, and Hunter won the lion's share of the plaudits, so Neill's willingness to defer to his co-stars in sturdy support went unnoticed. He did work constantly, but seemed to prefer to do that in Australia or New Zealand no matter how many times Hollywood came calling. The fact that Neill never received an Oscar nomination is nothing short of scandalous.

I also appreciated Neill's efforts in The Final Conflict, Plenty, A Cry in the Dark, The Hunt for Red October, Until the End of the World, Jurassic Park, Sirens, Restoration, Children of the Revolution, Merlin, The Tudors, Old School, and Cinema Quarantino.