The Oscar thing has deteriorated into a sickening mess

This summer I saw My Fair Lady (1964) on the big screen for the first time which was an absolute joy. Rewatching the film, however, I still found it hard to believe that Audrey Hepburn wasn't even nominated for an Oscar for her delightful portrayal of Eliza Doolittle. The snub is one of the biggest nomination snubs of all time and I can imagine how devastated Audrey must have been.

Someone who was outraged by the Academy's failure to nominate Audrey was Deborah Kerr. Deborah was a friend of Audrey's and, according to Audrey biographer Barry Paris, one of the very few friends Audrey had in the film industry. Both women lived in Switzerland, not very far from each other. About her friendship with Audrey, Deborah said in later years: "To the world it may not have seemed that constant or deep an association, but we became very close even though we didn't see each other much. I couldn't say, 'She was my best friend in my whole life'. Yet in a way, perhaps she was." 

When Deborah learned about Audrey not being nominated for My Fair Lady, she wrote Audrey the following letter expressing her shock and anger at the injustice of the Oscar snub. Calling the Oscars a "sham", "hypocritical" and a "sickening mess", I'm sure Deborah conveyed the feelings of many of Audrey's colleagues and friends. In her letter Deborah also mentions Patricia Neal who had just suffered three strokes while pregnant; Audrey would replace Patricia as one of the presenters at the Oscar ceremony to be held a month later (read more about that here). 

Source: Christie's

Transcript:

Friday March 5th [1965]

My darling Aud-

Our life was such a hectic and horrible rush before leaving Klosters a week ago, that I did not have time to write and tell you how positively stunned amazed and shocked and disgusted and 'you name it', we* both were at your not being nominated. If I started to go into all that I feel - all the resentment and boiling anger I entertain for the whole sham - hypocritical - sickening mess the Oscar thing has deteriorated into in these last years, I would take pages, and bore the hell out of you as well!! It is enough to say darling that we feel for you so very much, because however philosophical one is, however one says one doesn't really care, ONE DOES!! And it hurts. But then one starts to think of that tragic Pat Neal, and all her children + her poor husband [Roald Dahl], and one knows that the Oscar is an eye-drop in this world of pain and madness.

Darling one - we send very very much love, and Pedro Amarillo Sucio is no longer Amarillo but still Sucio!

Fondly + affectionately

Deborah

* "We" undoubtedly refers to writer Peter Viertel whom Deborah married in July 1960 and with whom she lived in Klosters, Switzerland.

Above: Audrey and Deborah with Deborah's husband Peter Viertel, ca. 1965. Below: Audrey and Deborah were jointly voted "Best Actress of the Broadway Season 1953-1954" in a poll of the New York Drama Critics, i.e. Audrey for her role in Ondine and Deborah for Tea and Sympathy; here Deborah visits Audrey backstage during the run of Ondine.

Censoring "The Great Gatsby" (1926)

In 1922, following the public outcry against immorality in Hollywood films and the scandals involving some of Hollywood's biggest stars, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA) was founded. The main goal of this new trade organisation, with former Postmaster General Will Hays at the helm, was to clean up the film industry's bad image. Also, the industry was worried about the increase of city and state censorship boards, fearing that federal censorship was not far away. In order to avoid outside meddling, the MPPDA eventually set up its own censorship guidelines in 1929 -- i.e. the Motion Picture Production Code, to be rigidly enforced from mid-1934 on.

Before Hollywood started censoring its own films, state and local censorship boards decided whether films were fit for screening or not. In 1907, the city of Chicago created the first censorship board in the U.S. and other city boards soon followed. State governments also began to follow suit, with the state of Virginia being the last of seven U.S. states to create its own censorship board in 1922. Because of their different censorship rules, these boards were a major headache to Hollywood -- what was acceptable in one city/state could be unacceptable in another, meaning that studios often had to issue multiple versions of the same film (costs being paid by the studios). 

The man responsible for collecting the complaints of the various censorship boards was Will Hays. It was Hays' task to contact the producers of the films involved and to inform them of the changes that needed to be made. On 15 November 1926, Hays wrote to Jesse Lasky of Famous Players-Lasky Corporation (later Paramount), communicating the views of the Virginia Censor Board regarding Herbert Brenon's The Great Gatsby, the only silent film adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's novel. The Virginia Board demanded several cuts, including the elimination of certain subtitles, e.g. the suggestive "There are things between Daisy and me which you will never know".

Incidentally, it is known that Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda went to see the film but, being New Yorkers, the version they saw may have been different from the one released in Virginia. In any case, the film was not to their liking and they reportedly walked out on it, with Zelda later describing it as "rotten", "awful" and "terrible". 

The 1926 The Great Gatsby is considered a lost film, only the trailer still exists.

Source: Heritage Auctions

Transcript: 

November 15, 1926

Mr. Jesse L. Lasky

Famous Players-Lasky Corpn.,

485 Fifth Avenue

New York City, N.Y. 

Dear Mr. Lasky:

The word from the Virginia censor board as to cuts in "The Great Gatsby" follows: 

"Eliminate close-up view of girls' legs, grouped around small table set for cocktails; eliminate close-up view of man and woman in bathing suits in suggestive postures on raft; eliminate the two close-up scenes where Jerry and Daisy are shown with skirts so blown by the wind as unduly to expose their legs. Of the several successive scenes showing man lying with his head in lap of Myrtle's sister, eliminate all but one - a four foot flash to carry the sub-title; eliminate that scene in which Myrtle's sister in quickly rising from the couch makes suggestive exposure of underwear. Eliminate scene at close of lovemaking between Myrtle and Tom Buchanan showing him lying on sofa by her. Eliminate sub-title 'There are things between Daisy and me which you will never know'; also sub-title 'Things neither of us can ever forget.' (These sub-titles are suggestive of connubial relations)" 

With kindest personal regards, I am

Sincerely yours,

signed" Will H Hays" 

Above: l-r: Lois Wilson as Daisy Buchanan, Warner Baxter as Jay Gatsby, Hale Hamilton as Tom Buchanan and Neil Hamilton as Nick Carraway in the 1926 silent The Great Gatsby. Below: First chairman of the MPPDA, Will Hays.

You are one of the truly great young actors

In 1940, Laird Cregar portrayed Oscar Wilde on the stage to great acclaim, attracting the attention of 20th Century-Fox who signed him to a contract. Someone who was also enthusiastic about Cregar's stage performance was John Barrymore, an actor who had been Cregar's idol since childhood. In the fall of 1941, Cregar starred in another play, The Man Who Came to Dinner, and again Barrymore was excited about his performance. Barrymore was so impressed with the acting abilities of the young actor that he wrote Cregar a fan letter, calling him one of the most talented actors the stage had produced in years.

When Cregar received Barrymore's letter, he was over the moon to get such praise from the actor he had always admired and idolised. Cregar treasured the letter and even had the studio photograph it and add it to his portfolio. Proud and thankful for Barrymore's praise, Cregar decided to host a dinner party in honour of his idol. According to Gregory William Mank's biography Laird Cregar: A Hollywood Tragedy (2017), what should have been a joyous occasion turned into a nightmare. The guest of honour showed up very late and very drunk, insulting both Cregar and his mother. Cregar was devastated and the next day at the studio, still upset, he was heard sobbing in his dressing room. (Of course I was curious to know what had happened next -- did they meet again, did Barrymore apologise? -- but searching the web, alas I found nothing.)

Seen below is the letter Barrymore wrote to Cregar, lauding him as one of the greatest upcoming new actors. Sadly, Cregar would have a short career, starring in a few plays and 16 films (among them I Wake Up Screaming (1941), This Gun for Hire (1942), The Lodger (1944) and Hangover Square (1945)). In order to lose weight for what was to be his last role in Hangover Square (the only time he had first billing), Cregar had followed a crash diet which caused serious abdominal problems. He underwent surgery but then suffered a massive heart attack a few days later. Cregar died on 9 December 1944, only 31 years old. 

Source: Greenbriar Picture Shows

Transcript:

Laird- my Boy-

I've said it to the Masquers, and there is no possible reason why I shouldn't repeat it to you. I may jest about the absurdities of life, but Acting is a sacred subject to me and I say this in deadly earnestness:

You are one of the truly great young actors our stage has produced in the last ten years.

I have watched with vast enjoyment your work in "Oscar Wilde" and "The Man who came to Dinner" and saw with delight and humility - the quality that makes great actors. 

Believe me

most sincerely 

John Barrymore

Above: Laird Cregar in (from left to right) I Wake Up Screaming, This Gun for Hire and The Lodger. Below: Cregar in his final film Hangover Square with Linda Darnell; the film was released in February 1945, two months after Cregar's death.

80 Years of "Dark Victory": Spencer Tracy was born to play this part

Edmund Goulding's successful weepie Dark Victory is one of the many great films from 1939 celebrating its 80th anniversary this year. In a nutshell, the film is about a young, spoiled socialite who is terminally ill and falls in love with her doctor. Bette Davis stars as the socialite Judith Traherne, a role originally played by Tallulah Bankhead on the stage. (The original play Dark Victory, written by George Brewer Jr. and Bertram Bloch, only had a short run on Broadway in 1934.)

Before Bette's studio Warner Bros. purchased the movie rights, the rights were owned by producer David O. Selznick who had bought Dark Victory as a vehicle for Greta Garbo in 1935. Garbo, however, chose to do Anna Karenina (1935) instead and the next few years Selznick tried unsuccessfully to cast his picture while also facing problems with the script. Warners eventually bought the property from Selznick in the spring of 1938. Studio boss Jack Warner was at first uninterested in the story -- a film about a heroine dying of brain cancer surely couldn't be good for business -- but he was eventually persuaded by associate producer David Lewis and screenwriter Casey Robinson to take the film off Selznick's hands. 

Dark Victory was initially acquired by Warner Bros. as a vehicle for Kay Francis. Due to her row with the studio, however, Francis was demoted to doing Comet over Broadway (1938), which Bette had rejected, and Bette got to play the coveted role of Judith Traherne, a role she would later call her personal favourite among the many roles she had played.

As her leading man, Bette wanted her former co-star Spencer Tracy with whom she had played in 20,000 Years in Sing Sing (1932). She had enjoyed their collaboration immensely and longed to work with Tracy again, hoping that Dark Victory would be their next film together. Not only Bette but also screenwriter Casey Robinson wanted Tracy who was under contract to MGM. Robinson thought the success of the film depended on the proper casting of Dr. Frederick Steele, feeling that Tracy was the perfect man to play him. In a letter to producer Hal Wallis dated August 1938 (as seen below) Robinson urged Wallis to do everything he could to land Tracy for the role. In the end, however, Tracy was loaned to 20th Century-Fox to do Stanley and Livingstone (1940) and was thus unavailable. Bette never made a film with Tracy again. She did say in later years that he was the finest actor she had ever worked with. 

The man who was eventually cast as Dr. Steele was George Brent, with whom Bette had played many times before. Dark Victory was their eighth film together and during production the two began an affair which lasted well after shooting had finished. In the end, the two made a total of 11 films together. Bette reportedly said that of all her leading men Brent was her favourite.

While Bette didn't get to play with Spencer Tracy in the film version of Dark Victory, they did perform together in an adaptation of the film for the Lux Radio Theatre, which aired in August 1940 before a live audience. It's really great to hear this version with Tracy in Brent's role and to imagine how he would have played it on screen. I'm sure that Tracy would have handled some of the dramatic material better than Brent. Still, I love Brent and while he has his usual wooden moments, his overall performance in Dark Victory is fine. What I especially love is his natural and playful chemistry with Bette, in particular during their Vermont scenes (that they were real life lovers probably helped). In case you're interested in how Tracy handled the role on the radio, just go here.

TO: Hal Wallis 

FROM: Casey Robinson 

DATE: August 19, 1938 

SUBJECT: "Dark Victory" 

Dear Hal:

I note that at M.G.M. they have postponed Northwest Passage, leaving Spencer Tracy without an assignment. They are trying to put him into the Joan Crawford picture, but he is refusing the part [The Shining Hour]. That seems to leave him open for borrowing, and I plead with you to make every possible effort to land him. 

Please forgive my pushing my nose into casting which, strictly speaking, is not my concern, but you know that you and I have nurtured Dark Victory along for three years and I am concerned about it as I have never been concerned about any other picture. It is, above all things, a tender love story between a Long Island glamor girl and a simple, idealistic, more-or-less inarticulate New England doctor. If we don't capture this feeling in the proper casting of Doctor Steele, I know we will wind up with a tragic flop instead of a truly great picture. 

I don't know if you've found time yet to read the entire script, but if you have I'm sure you will agree with me that Tracy was born to play this part -- and of course I don't need to tell you what the combination of the names of Bette Davis and Spencer Tracy on the marquee would do to the box-office. 

Sincerely, 

Casey 

Source: Inside Warner Bros. (1935-1951) (1985), selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Note
In April 1938, well before Bette Davis and George Brent played Judith Traherne and Dr. Steele, Barbara Stanwyck and Melvyn Douglas performed the roles on the radio, also for the Lux Radio Theatre. It's quite interesting to listen to this version as well, not only for Douglas in the role of the doctor (and to compare him with Brent and Tracy), but especially to get a sense of what Barbara would have done with the role had she been allowed to play it on screen. Barbara really wanted to star in the movie and was furious when Warner Bros. gave the role to Bette, one of Warners' own contract players. (Incidentally, this radio version is an adaptation of the play while the second radio version is an adaptation of the film.)

The Classic Movie Blog Association is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. To celebrate this milestone, the CMBA is holding The Anniversary Blogathon and this post is my contribution to it. For all the entries of my fellow CMBA-ers, just click here.

Book Review: Letters from Hollywood

Letters from Hollywood: Inside the Private World of Classic American Moviemaking is a gem of a book. Compiled and edited by author/producer Rocky Lang and film historian/archivist Barbara Hall, this beautiful-looking hardcover volume contains 137 pieces of classic Hollywood correspondence (letters, notes and telegrams), spanning five decades from the early 1920s through the 1970s. The correspondence not only comes from famous Hollywood stars like Bette Davis, Humphrey Bogart, Greta Garbo or Joan Crawford, but also from people less known to the general public yet important to Hollywood history, e.g. Irving Thalberg, Will Hays and Joseph Breen. (And there are also letter writers and recipients I had never heard of, among them screenwriters and agents.) Introducing the letters, authors Lang and Hall provide ample background information so the reader understands the context in which they were written.

Below: Rocky Lang grew up in the film business having agent-turned-producer Jennings Lang and singer/actress Monica Lewis as parents (here they are photographed in 1968). When a letter from his father to agent H.N. Swanson was discovered, Rocky got the idea for Letters from Hollywood and also included his father's letter in the book.

For three years, Lang and Hall worked on the project, first searching archives and libraries for interesting correspondence and then trying to track down the copyright owners, which proved to be more difficult than they thought. Their hard work eventually resulted in a book that is beautifully designed (lovely book cover, great lay-out and beautiful hi-res images of the original correspondence), with the letters providing chronological snippets of Hollywood history as well as fascinating peeks into the private thoughts of some of Hollywood's biggest stars, directors, producers etc.. Perhaps not surprisingly, I am very excited about this book -- it's basically what I do on the web, but then presented in glorious book form -- feeling it's a must-have for classic Hollywood fans and a great addition to any film book collection.

Some of the letters in the book I was already familiar with, having posted them earlier on this blog. However, most of the correspondence was unknown to me as it was obtained from archives, libraries and private collections and thus hidden from the general public - until now. Not all the letters are equally interesting of course, but there are a lot of gems and to give you an idea, below are excerpts from some of my personal faves.

________

Ronald Colman to studio executive Abe Lehr about the transition to the talkies (August 1928):

With reference to the additional clause to the contract, - I would rather not sign this, at any rate just at present. Except as a scientific achievement, I am not sympathetic to this "sound" business. I feel, as so many do, that it is a mechanical resource, that it is a retrogressive and temporary digression in so far as it affects the art of motion picture acting, - in short that it does not properly belong to my particular work (of which naturally I must be the best judge).

Tallulah Bankhead to David Selznick about the Scarlett O'Hara role in Gone with the Wind (December 1936):

I want you to believe me when I say this letter is not written in any spirit of hurt, arrogance, or bad temper, and if these elements should creep in, it is only because I haven't a sufficient gift of words to express myself clearly. [...] As I see it, your wire to me means one thing- that if no one better comes along, I'll do. Well, that would be all well and good if I were a beginner at my job. It would be a wonderful thing to hope and wait for, but as this is not the case, I cannot see it that way, and I feel it only fair to tell you that I will not make any more tests, either silent or dialogue, for Scarlett O'Hara, on probation.

Hedda Hopper to friend Aileen Pringle about Citizen Kane (January 1941):

I've seen the picture, and it's foul. It doesn't leave Mr. Hearst with one redeeming feature. Nobody but Orson would have dared do a thing like that, and I personally hope it will never be shown on the screen, although they're going right ahead making plans for its release in February. 

Robert Sherwood to Samuel Goldwyn about writing the script for Glory for Me, later renamed The Best Years of Our Lives (August 1945):

I have been thinking a great deal about "Glory for Me" and have come to the conclusion that, in all fairness, I should recommend to you that we drop it. This is entirely due to the conviction that, by next Spring or next Fall, this subject will be terribly out of date. [...] I do not believe that more than a small minority of these men will still be afflicted with the war neuroses which are essential parts of all of the three characters in "Glory for Me", and I, therefore, think that this picture would arouse considerable resentment by suggesting that these three characters are designed to be typical of all returned servicemen.

Gilbert Roland to Clara Bow to whom he was once engaged (December 1949):

How is your Dad? I would like to see him. I always had a warm spot in my heart for him, even though many years ago he refused to let me marry you because I was making seventy-five dollars a week, and you three hundred -- and when I made three hundred, you made a Thousand, and when I made a thousand you made more. ad finitum, and so it goes, and that's the way it is...

Joan Crawford to friend Jane Kesner Ardmore about her meeting Queen Elizabeth and Princess Margaret in the company of Marilyn Monroe and Anita Ekberg (October 1956):

It was one of the most exciting moments I have ever had. Of course, I was not too happy about being presented with that group of people representing the Motion Picture Industry, such as Marilyn you-know-who, and Anita Ekberg. Incidentally, Marilyn and Anita were howled at because of their tight dresses - they could not walk off the stage. It was most embarrassing.

Paul Newman to William Wyler & Ray Stark after having been offered the male lead in Funny Girl (May 1967):

I am grateful for the offer and the interest, and I hope it doesn't seem like an act of arrogance to turn all that affection down, but the truth of the matter is that I can't sing a note, and as for that monster, the dance, suffice it to say that I have no flexibility below the ass at all -- I even have difficulty proving the paternity of my six children.

If you would like to read the entire letters and many more (in their original form) -- you can order a copy of Letters from Hollywood here or here.

Note

Rocky Lang contacted me in January 2018, asking if I knew of any letters that he and Barbara Hall might be able to use for their project. I made several suggestions and some of it ended up in the book. While my input is quite small, I am proud to have contributed to this great, unique book -- and seeing my name in the Acknowledgment section is pretty cool! 

The hottest tip I've got is a damn cold one

When filming on location, weather conditions are not always favourable. Anthony Mann's El Cid (1961) -- an epic film about the Spanish hero Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, aka El Cid, who freed Spain from the Moors in the 11th Century -- was almost entirely filmed on location in Spain. Charlton Heston, who played the titular role, found the weather in the Spanish mountains unbearably cold and complained about it in a letter to Mike Connolly, journalist for the Hollywood Reporter (seen below). Heston said he was not the only one suffering from the cold; his leading lady Sophia Loren suffered as well as did the horses and two extras even passed out due to the cold. Fortunately for Heston and the others, their next shooting location would be the Comunidad Valenciana where the weather was considerably warmer.

Incidentally, the mountain scenes were shot in the Guadarrama Mountains in the autonomous region of Castilla y León, which borders Extremadura where the ice cold weather supposedly came from. Several other locations in Castilla y León were also used, as well as locations in other regions such as Comunidad Valenciana, Castilla-La Mancha and Madrid. Studio scenes were filmed in the city of Madrid and Rome.

Above and below: Charlton Heston, Sophia Loren and director Anthony Mann on the set of El Cid.

Source: Icollector

Transcript:

January 9, 1961

Mr. Mike Connolly

Hollywood Reporter

6715 Sunset Blvd.

Hollywood 28, Calif.

Dear Mike:

It was  nice to hear from you, and don't worry about a correction. It's just that we all get paid more than we deserve in this end of the acting profession anyway; I hate to see it even further exaggerated. Probably my guilt-ridden conscience at work.

As for a scoop: the hottest tip I've got is a damn cold one: the weather. I now realize the rains in Spain stay mainly in that plain because they'd be solid ice in the mountains, where we've been shooting. The last time Sophia worked on location (she has very little to do there, fortunately) was one of the coldest days I've ever seen, and I come from Michigan! Especially at seven in the morning, when we lined up the dawn shot that started the day's work. A wind sharper than a Toledo blade knifed across the snow fields from Extremadura and really liked to kill us all; it's the first time I've ever seen horses buck in protest against working in the cold. My white stud, Babieca, was in a terrible temper, and Sophia was honestly unable to finish the day. Two extras, not quite so well-blanketed between takes as my horse and my leading lady, actually passed out from exposure, toppling off their horses with a tinkle of icy chain mail. The province where that weather came from was well named.. "Extremely tough" is right! No wonder all the conquistadores came from there; they just wanted to get away from home!! After Extremadura, the Peruvian Andes, the Panamanian jungle, and the Arizona desert must have seemed like so many summer resorts.

Otherwise, we progress. At the end of the month we go to the east coast south (ahhh, south!) of Barcelona, to finish off Sophia and then beseige [sic] Valencia. Wanna come kill a Moor or two? I can get you at least a  esquire's commission.

Is there any truth to the announcement that Hal [Wallis] is starring Elvis Presley in an all-colour, all-talkie remake of BROADWAY MELODY OF 1936??

As ever,

Signed "Chuck"

Charlton Heston

Darling Merle

Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon couldn't stand each other while making William Wyler's Wuthering Heights (1939). Although they had gotten along during production of the comedy The Divorce of Lady X (1938), their working relationship on Wuthering Heights was far from pleasant. Olivier had lobbied to get his then-lover and wife-to-be Vivien Leigh cast in the role of Cathy but producer Samuel Goldwyn wanted Oberon. (The supporting role of Isabella was offered to Leigh but she refused.) Olivier was unimpressed with Oberon's acting abilities and is said to have called her "an amateur", feeling that Leigh would have made a much better Cathy. Oberon, in turn, wasn't happy with Olivier either. During a kissing scene she accused him of spitting on her. When Olivier retorted "What's a little spit for Chrissake between actors? You bloody little idiot, how dare you speak to me...", Oberon fled the set crying and director Wyler made Olivier apologise to her.

Above: Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon as Heathcliff and Cathy in Wuthering Heights. Below: Vivien Leigh visits Olivier and Oberon on the set of Wuthering Heights.

In 1959, twenty years after Wuthering Heights, Merle Oberon contacted Olivier with regards to Shakespeare's Macbeth. As actor-director Olivier had done three successful Shakespeare film adaptations, Henry V (1944), Hamlet (1948) and Richard III (1955), and he desperately wanted to film Macbeth as well. However, his attempts to picturise the play had failed, mainly due to financial problems, and the project was shelved in 1958. When Olivier received Oberon's letter asking if he was interested in re-embarking on Macbeth, he was "touched and grateful" that she had thought of him, as he told her in his reply on 22 August 1959. Olivier didn't have time to do Macbeth, however, and wouldn't resume the project at a later date either. (While Olivier never made a film version of Macbeth, in 1955 he had starred in a much-praised stage production with himself in the title role and Vivien Leigh as Lady Macbeth.)

In his letter Olivier is quite affectionate towards Oberon. The hatchet between them had apparently been buried. 

Source: Bonhams

Transcript:

Stratford-on-Avon.

August 22nd. 1959.

Darling Merle,

Thank you so very much for your so sweet letter. I am deeply, deeply touched by your thinking of me and wishing to help in this way- and enormously grateful.

The trouble now is that I have got myself heavily booked up with other things. If the picture changes and it seems that I might be free for long enough to re-embark on "Macbeth", I will let you know, but right now it would not make sense to enter into discussions about it. So could we leave it like that for the time being?

Do please forgive this being in type, but things are hectic as always.

(added handwritten) I am so deeply touched and grateful for your infinite kindness, darling.

Ever your loving

L.

Miss Merle Oberon.

I must face the fact that you are married to Clark ...

Clark Gable was no fan of David Selznick -- to put it mildly. Ever since they had worked together on Night Flight (1933), Gable did not like nor trusted Selznick and hated the producer's relentless perfectionism. (Due to Selznick's constant changes, production of Night Flight had run weeks over schedule causing Gable to miss one of his beloved fishing trips.) Although Gable wasn't eager to work with Selznick again after Night Flight, they made three more films together, i.e. Dancing Lady (1933), Manhattan Melodrama (1934) and of course the epic Gone With the Wind (1939).

While Gable disliked Selznick, Selznick found Gable "a very nice fellow", but at the same time "a very suspicious one", a man who "very quickly and not infrequently [got] the notion in his head that people [were] taking advantage of him" (said Selznick in a 1939 memo). Selznick did his best to please Gable, especially during production of Gone With the Wind. For instance, when Gable complained about his ill-fitting costumes, Selznick commissioned Gable's favourite tailor Eddie Schmidt to provide Gable with a whole new wardrobe. Also, after George Cukor had been fired as director of GWTW, Gable's preferred director Victor Fleming (his longtime buddy) was hired to replace Cukor. But despite Selznick's actions to keep his star happy, Gable's hostility towards Selznick remained.

It was because of Gable that Selznick was reluctant to work again with Carole Lombard, Gable's wife from 1939 until her death in 1942. Lombard had a contract with Selznick for one more film following their collaboration on Nothing Sacred (1937) and Made for Each Other (1939). Seeing how Gable felt about him, however, Selznick wondered if another film with Gable's wife would be such a good idea. In a letter dated 22 January 1940, Selznick expressed his doubts to Lombard and, understanding the awkward position she was in, relieved her of the obligation to do another picture for him. While he mentioned a possible collaboration in the future, Selznick never worked with Lombard again. (Two years later Lombard was tragically killed in a plane crash.)

Above: Carole Lombard, Clark Gable and David Selznick-- also pictured below with Victor Fleming and Vivien Leigh.

January 22, 1940  

PERSONAL 

Dear Carole:   

I have received your messages through Myron [Selznick], and am anxious to get together on the [writer Norma] Krasna idea as soon as possible....  

Before we proceed, there is something I would like to discuss with you very frankly. Are you sure, Carole, that we should make another picture together? I know from countless sources how highly you think of me, both as a person and as a producer, and this is a source of great gratification to me. And I shall always look back on our past associations as among the most pleasant of my career. Certainly I have always held you up as the shining example of what a joy it can be to work with a star when that star appreciates a producer's problems and cooperates in their solution. But I must face the fact that you are married to Clark, and that Clark obviously feels quite differently about me.

I had hoped that my dealings with Clark on Gone With the Wind would once and for all disabuse him of any notions he had about me. I cannot think of any particular in which I could have gone further to make him happy in anything ranging from such details as his costumes to such important factors as the script and direction. I even cost myself a very substantial amount of money through keeping him idle, and paying his salary, in order to accommodate him on the schedule as he desired. All through the picture he was frank in expressing his suspicions that I intended to do him in, and I kept pleading with him to wait until the picture was finished and then tell me his opinion. I was under the impression that he was delighted with the final result, but he apparently disassociates me from this final result, if I am to judge from what has been reported back to me, and from items in the press. I regret all this more than I can say, because there has been nothing whatsoever on my side against Clark; and because, as I have repeatedly told him, he contributed in my opinion a really great performance to the effort that meant so much to me.

But if I couldn't and didn't satisfy Clark about myself, as person or producer, on Gone With the Wind, it is not likely that anything I could ever do with him or with his wife would change his opinion. On the contrary, it is much more likely that anything we did together would be regarded with suspicion by him; that you would forever have to be in the position of defending me and my moves to him; that if everything turned out all right, it would still not obviate any embarrassment you may be under through working with me, any more than Gone With the Wind did; and that, if, as can happen to everyone, things turned badly, he would have confirmation of his opinions and suspicions to point to.... Neither of us is used to such strained and peculiar situations as that on the night of the local opening of Gone With the Wind, when I like to believe we should have been in each other's arms. I certainly recognize the awkward position you are in, and cannot expect to come out on the right side when your loyalties are divided. And perhaps some day in the future, attitudes may change, as they do in this business, and it will again be possible for you to do a picture for me with the wholehearted pleasure that we once both knew in our endeavors.

The decision, however, is entirely yours. You would suffer much more from the repercussions in your personal life than would I; and I can stand it if you can. My principal thought in writing this letter is to tell you that freely, and with my blessings and steadfast affection, I will relieve you of your obligation to do a picture for me, provided only that I know in sufficient time to avoid making any commitments for it... And believe me, whichever way you decide, Carole Lombard can have no more earnest fan, personally or as an actress, than

Yours, affectionately and sincerely,

Source: Memo from David O. Selznick (1972); selected and edited by Rudy Behlmer.

Carole Lombard, director John Cromwell and David Selznick on the set of Made for Each Other (1939).

From the WWII battlefield to Donna Reed

During World War II, while being miles away from home, many American soldiers sent letters to their favourite actresses, asking them for pin-up photos and telling them about life on the war front. (It was during WWII that the term "pin-up" was coined, with soldiers literally pinning up photos on lockers and walls of barracks.) For the soldiers the pin-up actresses were a symbol of home, a reminder of what they were fighting for. For the actresses who posed for pin-up photos or wrote letters to lonely soldiers, it was a way to contribute to the war effort. The pin-ups were a huge morale booster for the troops, so it's no surprise that the creation and distribution of photos, magazines and calendars was encouraged by the US Army.

Probably the most famous pin-up actress during WWII was Betty Grable. Her now iconic photo (see left) was distributed to the troops in large numbers, five million copies having been provided by Grable's studio 20th Century-Fox. Other famous, sexy pin-up girls included Rita Hayworth, Lana Turner, Hedy Lamarr and Jane Russell. For a lot of soldiers, however, their favourite pin-up was not the sexy, sultry type but the type they'd most like to come home to. A farm girl from Iowa, Donna Reed belonged to the latter type. She was the girl next door who, according to biographer Jay Fultz, "probably came closer than any other actress to being the archetypal sweetheart, wife and mother".

Donna Reed's wholesome, ordinary girl image prompted many a soldier to write to her and confide in her, as if they were writing to a girl back home. After Reed's death in 1986, it came to light that she had kept about 350 letters from soldiers, secretly hidden in a shoebox. Reed's daughter Mary Owen, who made the letters public, said that her mother had never mentioned them. Still, they must have made an impact on young Donna, who was only 20 years old when America entered the war, about the same age as the majority of the soldiers.

One of the letters Donna Reed had kept in her shoebox was from Lieutenant Norman Klinker (as shown below). In April 1943, 24-year-old Klinker wrote to Reed after he had received a reply from her to an earlier letter. Stationed in North Africa, Klinker commented on his life on the front lines ("One thing I promise you - life on the battlefield is a wee bit different from the "movie" version"). The letter is especially poignant knowing that Klinker did not survive the war. He was killed in action in Italy on 6 January 1944.

Source: The New York Times

Transcript:

MISS DONNA REED
2304 S. BEVERLY GLEN
LOS ANGELES
CALIFORNIA

LT. N.P. KLINKER
91ST ARMO. F.A. BN.
APO 251, c/o PM, NYC
April 12th, I think

Dear Donna,

Have just received your letter from the eight of December. And believe me or no, it was the first piece of mail I have received in the past two months. By the sound of your tale, life in the old U.S. is not quite as fine as it used to be. But I honestly feel that it is better than eating the same 3 meals out of the same 3 C-Ration cans for a month or three.

We have been in action for some time here in North Africa, you see. Quite an interesting and a heartless life at one and the same time. One thing I promise you - life on the battlefield is a wee bit different from the "movie" version. Tough and bloody and dirty as it is at times. There is none of that grim and worried feeling so rampant in war pictures. It's a matter-of-fact life we live and talk here. And here for the first time no one has the "jitters." 

I hear you have done your part and done got married. Congratulations and good luck! See you in your next "pic."

Sincerely,

Norman Klinker

P.S. Can hardly wait for four years tho - no "pics" here.

This post is my contribution to THE WORLD WAR II BLOGATHON, hosted by MADDY LOVES HER CLASSIC FILMS and CINEMA ESSENTIALS. Click HERE and HERE to read all the entries!