Film Connections #9 (Fairbanks to Brando and Back Again)

Time for another film connections post, in which I link films and cinema personalities together and tell a few interesting stories along the way. This week, I hope to connect Douglas Fairbanks to Marlon Brando — and maybe even back again.

During Hollywood’s silent‑film era, Douglas Fairbanks was arguably its greatest star. In 1922 he released his lavish version of Robin Hood, the first film ever to have a Hollywood premiere, held at Grauman’s Egyptian Theatre. The production featured enormous sets, including a castle and an entire town built at Fairbanks’ studio on Santa Monica Boulevard, expanded on screen with hanging models and matte paintings.

Fairbanks, who performed many of his own stunts, famously rode down a huge curtain at Nottingham Castle, made slightly easier by a concealed slide. The film was directed by Allan Dwan, one of early cinema’s great pioneers.

Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Chaplin and DW Griffiths who together created United Artists.

Among the cast was Alan Hale as Little John, a role he reprised years later in the 1938 Technicolor version starring Errol Flynn.

Flynn’s The Adventures of Robin Hood featured Olivia de Havilland as Maid Marian and Basil Rathbone as Guy of Gisborne, who serves as the film’s main villain. The Sheriff of Nottingham, the traditional arch enemy of Robin is portrayed in this film as more of a comic figure. Much of the film was shot in California’s Bidwell Park, standing in for Sherwood Forest, with additional scenes filmed at the Warner Ranch in Calabasas.

The film began under director William Keighley, but producer Hal B. Wallis later brought in Michael Curtiz, who had previously made several films with Flynn, including Captain Blood, the film that made Flynn a star.

The highlight of The Adventures of Robin Hood is the climactic duel between Robin and Sir Guy, culminating in the famous moment when their shadows dance along the castle walls.

Olivia de Havilland and Errol Flynn later admitted they were in love during filming, but Olivia declined to pursue a relationship as Flynn was married to actress Lili Damita. Olivia’s relationship with her sister Joan Fontaine was far less affectionate. Their childhood rivalry carried on into adulthood: when Joan won an Oscar for Suspicion, she rejected Olivia’s congratulations, and when Olivia later won her own Oscar, she returned the favour. They reconciled in later years, only to fall out again over their mother’s medical treatment.

My favourite of Joan’s films, and perhaps her most well‑known, is Rebecca, directed by Alfred Hitchcock.

Released in 1940, Rebecca was Hitchcock’s first Hollywood film. In Monte Carlo, a shy young woman (played by Fontaine) meets the English gentleman Maxim de Winter and believes he is about to jump off a cliff. They later fall in love and marry, but the new Mrs de Winter (her name is never revealed) feels overshadowed by Maxim’s late wife, Rebecca. Olivier apparently wanted his own wife, Vivien Leigh, for the role, but Hitchcock chose Fontaine.

In 1956 Laurence Olivier announced he would direct a film version of Terence Rattigan’s The Sleeping Prince, retitled The Prince and the Showgirl. That same year Marilyn Monroe, newly married to Arthur Miller, arrived in England to make the film. Her production company, Marilyn Monroe Productions, had purchased the rights to Rattigan’s play, and she and Olivier would co‑produce.

Just as in Rebecca, Olivier wanted Vivien Leigh for Marilyn’s part, and tensions arose early. Marilyn looked to her acting coach, Paula Strasberg, after every take rather than to Olivier. He banned Strasberg from the set but soon had to readmit her. Marilyn was nervous and frequently late while Olivier and the rest of the cast were punctual. It was not a smooth shoot.

The fundamental clash was their acting styles. Olivier was classically trained and dismissive of the Method, the technique Marilyn had embraced. Yet in the finished film which I watched recently, Marilyn comes across far better than Olivier.

Marilyn studied the Method at the Actors Studio in New York under Lee Strasberg. The technique, rooted in the work of Konstantin Stanislavski, encourages actors to draw on their own emotional experiences to inhabit their characters fully.

Another famous Method actor (perhaps the most famous Method actor ever) was James Dean. His breakthrough came in 1955 with East of Eden, directed by Elia Kazan. Dean had also studied at the Actors Studio and, after theatre work and television roles, was cast in East of Eden while performing in the play See the Jaguar.

Kazan had previously directed Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire and On the Waterfront. Streetcar, based on Tennessee Williams’ play, was set in the Deep South. Kazan had directed the Broadway production and used the same cast for the film, with one exception: Vivien Leigh, who had played Blanche DuBois in the London stage version, was brought in for the film because of her star status.

In the story, Blanche, a former Southern belle, moves in with her sister Stella and Stella’s husband, Stanley Kowalski, after losing her home to creditors. Blanche finds Stanley loud and rough, and at one point he explodes in a drunken rage. Blanche and Stella hide from him, only for Stella to return to Stanley’s arms after his famous calls of “Stella!”

Brando was one of the great screen actors, but like Richard Burton, he sometimes questioned whether acting was a suitable profession for a man. Burton nevertheless gave his all to every role, knew his lines, and delivered superb performances. Brando, especially later in life, often did not. He refused to learn his lines and relied on “idiot boards” placed just out of shot.

When The Godfather was being cast, Warner Bros. refused to consider Brando, viewing him as too difficult. Director Francis Ford Coppola, however, was determined to have him as Don Corleone. The studio eventually agreed, but only if Brando accepted a reduced salary, posted a financial bond against potential misbehaviour, and completed a screen test.

Coppola filmed the test at Brando’s Mulholland Drive home. In the footage, which can be found online, Brando stuffed his cheeks with cotton wool, slicked back his hair, and muttered vague Italian‑sounding phrases. The studio was impressed, and Brando was cast.

Filming took place in and around New York in 1971, and the film was released in 1972. Brando won the Oscar for Best Actor but boycotted the ceremony, sending Sacheen Littlefeather to decline the award on behalf of Native Americans.

Earlier I wondered whether I could link back from Brando to Fairbanks. Here’s the admittedly thin connection.

In 1967 Brando starred with Sophia Loren in A Countess from Hong Kong, a romantic comedy written and directed by Charlie Chaplin. The film was a box‑office failure and turned out to be Chaplin’s last.

Chaplin had been heavily criticised after World War II for supposed communist leanings, and in 1952, when he left for a visit to England, the US Attorney General declined to renew his re‑entry permit. Chaplin did not appeal. Instead, he sent his new wife, Oona, to settle his affairs and moved permanently to Switzerland.

In 1972 Chaplin was invited back to Hollywood to receive a special Oscar for his contribution to cinema. It was an emotional return, and he was visibly moved as he accepted the award.

In the film Chaplin, directed by Richard Attenborough, we see Chaplin returning to the USA and taking a sentimental drive past his old studio lot, then the headquarters of A&M Records.

As he drove through Hollywood, I’m sure Chaplin might have thought for a moment about his best friend, Douglas Fairbanks, his partner in United Artists who, back in 1922, made his memorable version of the Robin Hood story.


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Charlie Chaplin: Autobiography versus Biography

Earlier this year again, Liz and I packed up the motor and headed off to France. One of the first things I did in preparation was to sort out my holiday book bag. I usually have a stack of unread books to take along but I always like to take along a banker, yes that’s a book I can bank on, rely on to be a good read, usually one I have read before.

I was sorely tempted to bring my favourite read of all time along, Dickens’ David Copperfield or another favourite holiday read ‘A year in Provence‘, that much maligned gentle read about an Englishman living in France, however, one book I chose was so interesting I re-read a great deal of it at home before I left so I didn’t bother to bring it. The book in question was My Autobiography by Charles Chaplin, Charlie, to you and me.

My Autobiography by Charles Chaplin.

Charlie was born in 1889 in Walworth, London and spent his early life in the London suburb of Kennington. His parents were both music hall performers but separated when Charlie was about two years old. His mother was poor and the small family, Charlie, his mother and older brother Sydney, were admitted to the workhouse on two separate occasions.

In 1903, Charlie’s mother was committed to Cane Hill mental asylum and Charlie lived on the streets alone until his brother Sydney, who had joined the navy, returned from sea.

With his father’s connections Charlie secured a place in a clog dancing troupe called the Eight Lancashire Lads and so began his career as a performer. After appearing in some minor roles in the theatre he developed a comic routine and, with help from Sydney, was signed by Fred Karno, the famous music hall impresario, for his comedy company in 1908.

Chaplin became one of Fred Karno’s top comedians and Karno sent him with a troupe of other comedians on a tour of vaudeville theatres in the USA. One of the others was Stan Laurel, later to find fame with the comedy duo Laurel and Hardy.

By  far the most interesting part of Charlie’s autobiography is where he talks about the beginning of his movie career. On a second tour of America in 1913, Chaplin was asked to join the Mack Sennett studios as a performer in silent films for the fee of $150 per week. He wasn’t initially keen but liked the idea of starting something new.

His first film for Sennett was called Making a Living, released in 1914. Chaplin himself wasn’t so keen on the film and for his second appearance selected a new costume. After searching through the costume department Chaplin chose a bowler hat, a jacket that was too small, baggy trousers, shoes that were too large and a cane. It almost seems as though the clothes made him become the character of the tramp which was to make him famous. The film was Mabel’s Strange Predicament although another tramp film made afterwards, Kid Auto races at Venice, was released to the public first.

Chaplin clashed frequently with his directors when his ideas or suggestions were dismissed but after exhibitors asked Sennett for more Chaplin films he was allowed to direct his own. When his contract expired in 1914 Chaplin asked for 1000 dollars per week. Mack Sennett complained that that figure was more than he was getting and refused. Another film company Essanay, offered him $1200 per week and a signing fee and Chaplin signed. He wasn’t initially happy with Essanay and didn’t like their studios in Chicago, preferring to work in California.

Chaplin was also unhappy after he finished his contract at Essaney because they continued to make lucrative Chaplin comedies by utilising his out-takes. Chaplin was however an astute businessman. In his new contracts the negative and film rights reverted to Chaplin after a certain amount of time. This was in the days when a movie had a life of months, if not weeks.

Chaplin seems strangely perturbed by his fame and fortune. He writes about an incident between contracts where he takes the train to meet his brother in, I think, New York but word has got out to the public he is travelling and everywhere the train stops, masses of people were waiting. Eventually it dawns on him that it is he they were waiting for. Many times the narrative describes meals and walks taken alone giving the impression of a solitary, lonely man.

The thing to remember about reading this book is that Chaplin tells the reader only what he wants them to know, nothing more. His various marriages are only skimmed over although when he is making the Kid, probably his most important picture, he explains how he thought the negative may have be taken by lawyers acting for his estranged wife so he takes the film and edits it while almost ‘on the run’ in various hideaways and hotel rooms.

Chaplin was known for being attracted to young girls and one of his conquests, a girl called Joan Barry was arrested twice for her obsessive behaviour after he ended their relationship. She became pregnant and claimed he was the father and began a paternity suit against him. J Edgar Hoover who believed Chaplin to be a communist, engineered negative publicity against him and public opinion began to turn against Charlie. He was ordered to pay child support to Barry’s baby despite blood test evidence which showed he could not be the father. The blood test evidence was ruled inadmissible.

The earlier part of the book is by far the most interesting but the later part, where Chaplin is famous the world over, it becomes an excuse for name dropping, despite there being a clear absence of any notable anecdotes involving the famous names. Even his best friend Douglas Fairbanks, makes few appearances within the pages.

A fascinating read none the less.

Charlie Chaplin by Peter Ackroyd.

Peter wrote an excellent book about one of my writing heroes, Charles Dickens and I felt that this book was going to be in the same sort of mould. Long, intense and full of detail. Actually it’s a pretty slim volume and not the intense scrutiny of Chaplin that I was expecting. However, on the credit side, it’s a thoughtful and detailed look at Chaplin, his movies and his personal life and a cracking read it is too.

One hundred years ago Chaplin was the most famous man in the world. I’m not sure who would qualify for that title today as despite global communications and the Internet age, the world is separated by many different languages and cultures. A hundred years ago there was no language barrier for Chaplin, and his silent films with their universal language of comedy, went all the way round the globe and he was as famous in countries such as Russia or Africa as he was in Europe or the USA.

Hollywood in the early part of the twentieth century must have been a fascinating place and this book is a great starting point to find out about Chaplin and his work and the beginning of the film industry. Definitely a book well worth reading.


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Laughter and Some Random Thoughts on Movie Comedians

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Chaplin with Jackie Coogan in ‘The Kid’ (1921)

Charlie Chaplin is one of my personal heroes and one of the greats of the silver screen, perhaps the very first movie genius ever, but here’s a flash; he never ever made me laugh. Smile, yes, but laugh, no. I look at his movies and recognise his story telling power, his movie making magic and much more but no, Charlie never really made me laugh. Laurel and Hardy on the other hand, two movie comedians who are not perhaps as lauded the world over as geniuses, but who are perhaps more universally loved, well, now they do make me laugh. Whenever some catastrophe befell Oliver Hardy, whenever he stood and looked straight at the camera after a cabinet landed on his head or a car accident befell him and he stood up straight amid the shambles of a house exploding around him and Stanley would go into his helpless ‘it wasn’t my fault’ act, that my friend, would not only crack me totally up but would leave me helpless with tears of laughter running down my face.

My Dad liked Laurel and Hardy and my Dad was the master of the silent laugh. I remember once, convulsing with merriment at the aforementioned duo and wondering why my Dad didn’t think it was so funny, then turning to see him also creased up with laughter, only this was a completely silent laughter, his shoulders shook and his face contorted with mirth but no sound would ever pass his lips.

chickadeeOne of the reasons that the above few lines came to me was because, through the power of e-bay and the internet, I came into the possession of a DVD starring another of my Dad’s favourite stars, WC Fields. Fields starred with Mae West in a movie called ‘My Little Chicadee’ and it’s good to think that this movie, produced some 75 years ago still has the power to bring laughter to people like me. I love the ending of the movie when the two stars use each other’s catchphrases, Fields saying to Mae West, ‘Why don’t you come up and see me some time?’ and West replying ‘I might do that, my little chickadee!’

Another favourite comedian of mine who only made a few movies was Tony Hancock. Hancock was a successful radio and TV comedian and his TV show was so popular in the late fifties and early sixties that pub landlords complained they were losing revenue because people stayed at home to watch Hancock. Tony Hancock was a troubled and insecure man though. He dropped Sid James from his show as he felt James was becoming too popular, and at times of stress had trouble learning his lines. If you take a close look at the classic ‘blood donor’ sketch it’s clear Hancock was reading his lines from cue cards. He ventured into movies only a few times but did make the wonderful movie ‘The Rebel’ written by his BBC TV writers Galton and Simpson. In later years Hancock and his writers had a parting of the ways and Hancock sadly committed suicide in Australia in 1968.

DSC_0287Peter Sellers was a master of impersonation and the funny voice and it was his voices and the inspired madness of writer Spike Milligan that made the Goon show such a hit. Sellars went on to make many a memorable comedy movies, including the Inspector Clouseau series but for his last movie, ‘Being There’, Sellers based his character, Chancey Gardner on Stan Laurel, whom he made friends with and spent time with when he lived in Hollywood. Sellars was a strange character and if you ever catch that wonderful TV documentary made by the BBC Arena team you can see Sellers as he saw himself through his own amateur film footage. Sellars seemed to think he had no personality of his own and cloned himself from the many characters he played. During the movie ‘Casino Royale’, a spoof version of the James Bond film, Peter had a disagreement with the director and vanished for three weeks. If you watch the finished film, which has its great moments as well as its bad ones, Sellars’ character seems to disappear from the movie towards the end; clearly that’s why.

Being a great comedy star is a difficult job and perhaps that’s why so many comics and comedians are difficult people. Today’s comedy stars really do nothing for me at all and ‘observational’ comedy which is at the centre of contemporary stand-up comedy leaves me cold.

Still, if I ever need cheering up I can always just reach for the DVD cabinet and take out some classic Laurel and Hardy!


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