When director George Stevens decided to film Shane in the early fifties, it was a momentous decision on a number of levels.

Born in 1904, he was the product of a family of actors, and grew up in San Francisco helping his parents learn lines, doing backstage work, and even acting when the occasion demanded. “I was fascinated by all of it,” Stevens said. “The sounds of the theater and the audience, their rapture when a play took over and moved them and held them quietly. . . When the audience was truly moved, it was absolutely quiet. They were in a communion because they were learning the truth about themselves.”

In 1921 his parents moved the family to Los Angeles to find work in the silent movie industry, and for Stevens it was a wonderful change. He leveraged a job his cousin had at Hal Roach studios to begin visiting the lot.

“I was really a kid at the time,” Stevens said, “and I had been interested in photography as a kid, as a hobby. . . I was on a picture for four or five days, had an opportunity to be on a set, and the assistant cameraman kept showing me things. One day I climbed the fence, knowing they needed an assistant cameraman. A couple of days later I was one. The first day or two it was pretty disastrous, but I knew something about photography, and I caught on quick.” (more…)

In 1964, little-known actor Michael Caine was being evicted — again — and needed a place to stay — again. His friend Sean Connery, starting out in similar circumstances, had reached the pinnacle of the acting world as James Bond. But here Caine was, unable to pay the rent.

In desperation, he temporarily moved in with his pal John Barry, the music composer for the Bond series. Barry was a regular patron of London’s tony clubs and discotheques, and so Caine fully expected to have some good times while staying over as a guest. What he got instead was being kept up night after night by a strange tune Barry was tinkering with: two blaring notes in the key of F major, followed by a trailing melody in D flat, repeated over and over like a villainous echo:

YouTube -- click here to watch in full-screen

Decades later, music critic Terry Walstrom would marvel at how this famous introduction “arrests the attention and stuns the ear,” with the unorthodox key transition being akin to “opening a carton of fat-free milk and pouring out a glass of vodka. Entirely without precedent.”

Unknowingly just a few months away from his own stardom courtesy of 1964’s Zulu (another film scored by Barry), Michael Caine lay in the dark listening to the haunting melody of “Goldfinger,” little guessing that the song would one day be judged one of the finest of the last fifty years, with its young composer becoming the greatest British purveyor of movie music in the twentieth century.

John Barry Prendergast was the great-grandson of famous bare-knuckled boxing champ Jack Sullivan, but no hint of “the sweet science” filtered down through the family tree to him. Born in 1933, his father owned a chain of cinemas and his mother was a concert pianist. Barry took piano lessons from the age of nine (with one teacher whacking his fingers with a ruler whenever he missed a key), and fell in love with movies while working in the projection booths of his Dad’s theaters. Soon he had every intention of becoming a classically trained film composer. (more…)

Holiday Inn isn’t just one of the all-time great Christmas films, it’s also one of the all-time great movie musicals. With an astonishingly good score, even for Irving Berlin, and the perfect star combination of the affable Bing Crosby and perfectionist Fred Astaire, Holiday Inn conjures up the simplest of concepts to craft a compulsively watchable holiday delight.  

The plot sets up with head-whipping speed when Jim Hardy (Bing) breaks the bad news to his friend and partner Ted Hanover (Fred) that he’s breaking up their successful act so he can marry part three of their song and dance trio, Lila Dixon (a superbly caustic Virginia Dale). Jim’s plan is to whisk Lila away from the grind of the show-biz rat race and retire to Connecticut where life as a leisurely and lazy gentleman farmer awaits.

As he does with most everything in life, Jim takes the news rather well when Lila changes her mind. More in love with show business than any man, Lila announces that she’s fallen for Ted … and so with little more than a “Sorry, old man. No hard feelings,” Jim flicks his wrist, forgives them both, and heads off to the country where another harsh dose of reality awaits.

Using a very funny montage, veteran musical director Mark Sandrich (he directed five of the ten immortal Astaire-Rogers musicals) crushes every naive notion Jim had that farming’s anything other than damn hard work, which leaves the retired singer in quite the pickle: he owns a farm with an overdue mortgage, but he’s too lazy to work it.  (more…)

–

“You’re a little flat too…”  Brother, they don’t make ‘em like Crosby anymore.

So many big name stars, singers and sports legends have visited Washington over the years, the city is often referred to as “Hollywood on the Potomac.”  So, that’s the title of my new book (available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Borders) featuring over 200 photographs and stories that detail the fascination between Hollywood stars and Washington power-players — from Presidents Truman through Obama. 

Here’s an excerpt: (more…)

7pm PST - You’ll Never Get Rich (1941) A Broadway dancing team splits up when the male dancer is drafted. Cast: Fred Astaire, Rita Hayworth, Robert Benchley, John Hubbard Dir: Sidney Lanfield BW-89 mins, TV-G

Those 63 seconds say more about this charming film than any number of words ever could. Astaire and Hayworth were giants because in a simple scene with simple choreography, simple costumes, a simple setting and simple dialogue they still somehow managed to completely win you over. The way Hayworth looks at Astaire for those first few seconds is absolutely priceless. You can’t write chemistry and you can only barely direct it. What you need are movie stars, and Fred and Rita are immortals.

5pm PST - Stage Door (1937) – Women at a theatrical boarding house try to make their big break happen. Cast: Katharine Hepburn, Ginger Rogers, Adolphe Menjou, Gail Patrick Dir: Gregory LaCava BW-92 mins, TV-G

Because it conflicts with Big Hollywood’s live-blogging of the Academy Awards, under penalty of our disapproval and no small amount of pouting, you’ll have to set the DVR for this classic gem containing more bona fide female stars than you’re likely to see during all nine hours of tomorrow night’s Oscar telecast. (more…)