Ann Blyth in Mildred Pierce (1945) - Supporting Actress Sunday

At long last...
My introduction to Ann Blyth came through what is possibly her 2nd-most legendary performance, as a 1970s-era spokesmodel for Hostess snack cakes. I remember, as a wee lil stinky, watching these commercials (in which the elegant Blyth serves Twinkies on the finest china) and just longing for my grandmother to fall under Ann Blyth's spell, to suddenly realize that "freshness never tasted so good" as when it came in plastic-wrapped single servings. But, alas, my grandmother never fell under Ann Blyth's sway in that way. I, however, did -- so much so that was appalled at my recurring, involuntary cravings for such Hostess goodness every time I, since December, screened (and rescreened) the most deservedly legendary performance by...

...Ann Blyth in Mildred Pierce (1945)
approximately 28 minutes and 50 seconds
30 scenes
roughly 26% of film's total running time

Ann Blyth plays Veda, the coddled daughter of the striving Mildred Pierce (Joan Crawford, delivering an indelible performance).
When we first meet her, Blyth's Veda is shocked and confused by the police's interest in her mother and, even as the police cart her off, Crawford's Mildred assures her daughter that everything will be fine. In this scene, Blyth delivers a compelling "first hit" of the character as a guileless innocent, as a sweet girl naïve to the world and concerned only for her mother's welfare. This scene -- in which Blyth's Veda stands as a vision of daughterly sympathy and concern -- provides the essential foundation for the deft characterization that is to follow.
In our next encounter with Blyth's Veda, it's several years prior, when the character's a precocious schoolgirl.
The film quickly establishes -- both through the character's actions and through what is said about her by others -- that Blyth's Veda is something of a bad seed, a cruelly demanding and manipulative little girl concerned with little beyond her own superficial gratifications.
What we learn about Veda -- her selfishness, her delight in humiliating her hardworking mother, her meanness -- stands in startling tension with our first encounter with her in that early scene.
Did this awful creature become nicer as she matured? Or is something else going on? I wonder... As Mildred's life hurtles forward (a child dies; a successful fried chicken franchise is established; multiple suitors are juggled; shoulderpads are worn), Mildred's every action is driven by her single-minded determination to make life better for Veda.
At the same time, Veda becomes ever more awful.
As scene upon scene depicting Veda's vile selfishness unfurls, this much becomes clear: Mildred may have spoiled Veda, but Veda became rotten all on her own.
When Blyth's Veda cruelly manipulates a naïve young man into falling in love with her, Crawford's Mildred is appalled at her daughter's selfish cynicism. In the confrontation that follows, Blyth impressively holds her own against Crawford's forceful screen charisma. (I'm not sure I'm ever convinced that Blyth could "take" Crawford, but I am certain that the match would prove an entertaining contest.) In this scene, as well as in those that follow (in which Blyth's rotten selfishness compels Veda, by turns, to get closer to her mother before once again forcing distance between them), Blyth is really fun to watch.
Yet, for me, the performance lacks reasoning and Blyth does little to illuminate an internal integrity or motive for Veda’s essential awfulness.
Don't get me wrong. I get it that Veda's petty, selfish, and immature brat who blames her mother for everything. That said, I submit that Blyth demonstrably relishes Veda's short-sighted cleverness as well. Unlike Crawford (who wafts through every scene playing the same basic motive: "I am mother; I am woman; oh the conflict!"), Blyth's performance is a little busier, with a touch more complexity in some ways but with markedly less clarity in more.
Blyth's performance is delightfully shaded and the actress is well cast in this role, especially opposite the likes of Crawford. Yet the performance remains for me more an elaborately ornamented bauble than a fully contoured performance. Blyth gives Veda excellent presence and panache but there's a vacuum where the character's animating passion might be.
Ann Blyth's work in the role of Veda is, for me, an utterly captivating but ultimately negligible concoction. Not unlike a Hostess snack cake, really. Absolutely delightful in its way but never quite as good as you want it to be.

It's All About Sex?, or Thought #3 of StinkyLulu's 5 Stinky Thoughts on West Side Story (2009)

This post is the second in my multi-part mini-treatise regarding the current Broadway production of West Side Story at The Palace Theatre in New York City. What I had hoped would be a quick overview of my reactions to the production soon morphed into something more substantial -- or, if not substantial, then too BIG for a single post. So, I've elected to spread my "5 Stinky Thoughts on West Side Story (2009)" across this week...


Thought #3: It's All about Sex?
One of the more striking features of the 2009 West Side Story is its relative sexual frankness. Indeed, librettist (and director of the current production) Arthur Laurents has been telling pretty much anyone who'll listen that West Side Story is "all about sex." (Exhibit A, B.) Not gangs, not racism, not love -- SEX. Now, I don't know that I disagree. It's always been a thrill to see The Jets and The Sharks be so athletic and so balletic and the fun of Anita derives in no small part from her sexual confidence ("You forget I'm in Ameríca!"). The original 1957 production was, by some accounts, something of a cult hit among gay men of the era, not because of the proto-pride anthem "Somewhere," but because of all the young (mostly gay) dancers wearing tight jeans. But in this production, the sexually exuberant Laurents amplifies the sexual currents within the show into something like an overall concept. In the 2009 version, there's little doubt that Tony and Maria are horny for each other. As Laurents himself notes, they can barely get through their balcony duet because they can't keep their hands off each other. Comparably, it's clear that Tony and Maria are having sex "during" the "Somewhere Ballet" and that their sexual connection is the foundation for their belief in a better world. Indeed, it seems to me that Laurents's frank and celebratory interest in sex marks this production's most notable departures from more conventional productions (even, I daresay, more than the addition of Spanish lyrics and incidental dialogue).
While I get it that the sexuality is absolutely essential in West Side Story, and while I get it that Laurents and Robbins landed at nearly opposite ends of the sexual liberation spectrum, I wonder if Laurents's exuberant amplification in this production is entirely effective. Please don't misunderstand: I agree that -- especially with regard to Tony/Maria -- the sexual frankness proves productive in clarifying the characters's motives. However, in this production, it's the other sex stuff that I found odd, discordant, even distracting. My biggest beef came in one of the production's most substantial dialogue changes: GladHand's speech introducing the "Get Together Dance," in which he endeavors -- with ostensibly comic incompetence -- to speak bilingually about the importance of abstinence to the assembled teens. The addition of this material seems to me to be part of Laurents's general intervention in this production, his oddly quaint insistence that teenagers have sex and its a bad idea to pretend that they don't. However, in the particular case of Glad Hand's "abstinence" speech, the changes feel like ahistorical editorializations. (Historically, the discourse of abstinence was not popularly applied to sex education efforts until well after such programs were introduced in the 1970s; the kind of "settlement house" extension work done by GladHand in the 1950s operated from a premise of "sexual hygiene" in which things like chaperoned dances encouraged "appropriate" social interaction. The idea was that, left to their own devices, kids would "get busy" so better to keep them busy with more appropriate activities.) As such, GladHand's abstinencia scene just felt off-kilter, both historically and conceptually. Comparably, I found it startling that the incidental dialogue added for this production included The Sharks's shouting of "maricón" -- as well as a handful of other obscenities en español -- without comparable trashtalk from The Jets. Where the 2009 Jets DID get their filth on was in the realm of wordless gestures -- crotch-grabbing mostly, though also including one especially strange wiener wagging moment and an incongruously trashy costume for Graziella. All of which felt tacky, like high schoolers pretending to be sexually "dangerous." Finally, I found it fascinating that what has long felt to me to be the queerest moment in the piece (the brief scene between A-rab and BabyJohn after the Rumble, in which the two young men find comfort with one another) is played with a near absence of genuine feeling (perhaps due to Kyle Coffman's twitchy performance as A-rab).
I could go on, and I might, especially about Laurents's reinterpretation of the "Somewhere" ballet as an earthtone idyll (I kept waiting for someone to start singing "I Believe That Children Are Our Future") and how Laurents's emphasis on sexuality mark the most substantial shifts in the production, not the addition of the bits of Spanish here and there. And, admittedly, I find it strange that I'm levying this charge ("Laurents put too much sex in West Side Story!"). But when I track the actual ways that this production is a "revisal" of the original, it seems to me that the sex changes are fundamental while the Spanish stuff is almost incidental and, quite possibly, the sex changes might choreograph the most significant of the production's accumulation of missteps.

A TIE?!?!

Oh, dear ones, it seems we have a TIE!

So, dear ones, I turn to you. Should we:

(A) conduct a run-off vote between 1959 and 1983 to determine April's month of supporting actressness?
(B) authorize StinkyLulu to be the tie breaker?
(C) do 1959 in April and hit 1983 in June (with 1992 in between for May)?

Offer your opinage in comments.

(And, Augie, if you and any other rabid Ann Blythians happen to be listening, be sure to tune in this Sunday for the Hostess Cupcake diva's long overdue appearance. As Rebecca Glasscock says, "You can't rush a queen.")

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?, or Thought #2 of StinkyLulu's 5 Stinky Thoughts on West Side Story (2009)

This post is the second in my multi-part mini-treatise regarding the current Broadway production of West Side Story at The Palace Theatre in New York City. What I had hoped would be a quick overview of my reactions to the production soon morphed into something more substantial -- or, if not substantial, then too BIG for a single post. So, I've elected to spread my "5 Stinky Thoughts on West Side Story (2009)" across this week...

Thought #2: How do you solve a problem like Maria?
The casting of the role of Maria (and, although to a lesser extent, Tony) has historically proven the musical's greatest challenge, both in terms of theatrical effectiveness and cultural authenticity. Maria must be young, pretty and able to sing really really high -- while also spanning an emotional arc that spans from delightful innocence to erotic abandon to devastating grief. The way I see it, the musical (especially in its stage variant) begins with The Jets as its collective protagonist but ends Maria as its primary tragic figure. Act I is about The Jets; Act 2 is about Maria -- dovetailing tragedies of love and belonging. In this production, Josephine Scaglione -- an Argentinan stage pro -- is utterly competent in the role, charismatic and endearing. Yet, in ways I found surprising, Scaglione's performance replicates one of the greatest flaws in Natalie Wood's generally underrated screen performance: Scaglione's Maria never seems to belong among the Shark girls. Yes, I know she's "fresh off the boat" and all that, but part of Maria's significance as a heroine is that everyone adores her...Anita, Bernardo, Chino and -- most fatefully -- Tony. In this production, Scaglione brings what I've long thought to be an "opera problem" to the role: she's animatedly "in" every scene with the Shark girls but she's never quite "of" the moment. I must confess, too, that I find it very strange that this "revisal" -- the animating "alibi" of which is the impulse toward a greater measure cultural "authenticity" regarding The Sharks -- also repeated what has been a critical problem in every major production: finding the "whitest" Maria possible. Put another way -- while her Act1 dress is supposed to be white, NOTHING in the script says Maria herself needs to be fair-skinned.

Yet in the role's four major interpretations, the role of Maria has been historically portrayed by lightskinned beauties (Carol Lawrence '57, Natalie Wood '61, Jossie De Guzman '80, and Josefina Scaglione '09). Indeed, Jossie De Guzman -- the only Puerto Rican performer to essay the role in a Broadway or Hollywood production -- was critiqued by some activists for being "too European" in appearance for the role. This production's Maria, Josefina Scaglione, is -- like Carol Lawrence (the 1957 Maria) -- of Italian heritage, and already I'm seeing the stirrings of U.S. Latino resentment against the casting of an actress from Argentina in the role (for a panoply of reasons too complex to cover here). Scaglione also is the only major Maria to have blue eyes, causing me to wonder if the oft-pilloried Natalie Wood might actually be the "darkest" of the major Marias.
The problem I see here is no fault in Scaglione's performance, but a residual inclination to cast Maria in a way that exempts her -- or makes her "different" from -- the rest of The Sharks, a predisposition inaugurated in the 1957 production and replicated in most major productions since. What's seems most unfortunate here is that the 2009 "revisal" of West Side Story seems to have been an ideal opportunity to "experiment" a little with the conventional casting protocols for the principal character of Maria, a chance to "officially" reinvent not only what these characters sound like but also what they might look like. Scaglione's fine in the role but it's difficult for me not to see her casting as confirmation of the production's simple-minded vision of latinidad. (And don't even get me started on that rose tapestry hanging as backdrop during "Siento Hermosa/I Feel Pretty.")

"Prologue" and "Siento Cansado", or The First 2 of StinkyLulu's 5 Stinky Thoughts on West Side Story (2009)

This post is the first in what appears to be emerging as a mini-treatise regarding the current Broadway production of West Side Story at The Palace Theatre in New York City. What I had hoped would be a quick overview of my reactions to the production soon morphed into something more substantial -- or, if not substantial, then too BIG for a single post. So, I've elected to spread my "5 Stinky Thoughts on West Side Story (2009)" over the next several days...


PROLOGUE: When You're a Fan...
For reasons that are not at all rational, I often feel that West Side Story, in all its variants, is "mine." The musical has occupied its own corner of obsession in my mind since I first screened it one summer afternoon when I was not quite 12 and visiting my grandmother's house (it was the afternoon movie). Moreover, I've spent much of the last decade researching both the original stage musical and its Oscar-winning film version, as well as the projects myriad productions, adaptations and revivals in the half-century since. My primary scholarly interest in West Side Story can be discerned from the working title of my work on it: "How the Sharks Became Puerto Rican." (In this work, I explicate how the almost accidental choice to make the rival gang Latino has become one of the musical's most significant cultural legacies.) Along the way, I've accumulated a pile of factoids, which I've done my best to cross check and verify, and which I've strung and restrung into various iterations of my understanding of how West Side Story came -- and continues to come -- into being. So, when it was announced that the musical's librettist Arthur Laurents would be directing a newly bilingual Broadway revival of the show, I knew it was necessary that I see the "revisal" of this show. Which I did, last week, in one of its final preview performances. What follows include some of my preliminary thoughts on the production, informed of course by my ongoing interest in the musical's peculiar formal, social and racial history.

Thought #1: Siento Cansado.
As the evening approached, everyone asked: are you excited? And with each query, I was somewhat surprised to notice that I wasn't. Perhaps I was tempering my expectations? Perhaps I was concerned by my early, underwhelming glimpses of the production? (Exhibit A) At the same time, I felt mostly very glad to finally have the opportunity to see this show in its Broadway habitat. (West Side Story has been on Broadway only twice before: for the several years of its original run in the late 1950s and for the several months of its first revival in the 1980s. I had also missed the restaging of most of the musical numbers as part of the 1989 anthology musical, Jerome Robbins' Broadway.) Only as curtain time approached, did I really begin to become giddy. Yet, once the show began, with the electrifying genius of "Prologue," I noted the aspect of the production that would come to define my experience of the evening: everything seemed oddly muffled. I first noticed this physically -- kinesthetically -- as the physical confrontations between The Jets and The Sharks seemed almost tamped down, squeezed and compressed. At first I thought it might have been because of the relatively small stage, that there wasn't a lot of room for the dancers to move but -- as more songs and scenes followed this opening dance -- I realized there was a consistency to the correction. At every turn, I noted the curious lack of a final punch. Extensions seemed oddly curtailed. Arms seemed rarely to extend to their full reach. Notes were swallowed. Lines tossed off. Scenic transitions lagged. Everything felt a little muffled. And I could almost always hear everyone (though, notably, I struggled to make sense of the unscripted incidental dialogue throughout the piece, whether they were spoken in Spanish or not.) But muffled, rather, in an emotional sense. My appreciation of this piece has long derived from its incredible sense of emotional immediacy. But, here, there was a kind of distance, a manner of remove that I found odd, even stultifying. The charismatic Karen Olivo (as Anita) felt glib, her dance work in both "Dance at the Gym" and "America" seeming a little wan and unrealized, like she was "marking" rather than performing each number. The exuberant athleticism of Cody Green (as Riff) felt oddly restrained, his capacity for great height, for great reach, seemingly held back. Matt Cavenaugh (as Tony) sang gloriously but almost always at a different tempo than the orchestra and Josephine Scaglione (as Maria) glowed, princess-like, in her own little bubble.
All told, I felt the production to be competent but curiously fuzzy, lacking an essentially energizing clarity and precision which ended up blunting the emotional intensity of the entire piece.

Come back on Monday for the 2nd installment of
StinkyLulu's 5 Stinky Thoughts on West Side Story (2009):
"How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?"

LIST: 83 Screen Comedies That Depict Theatrical &/or Other Performances in Compelling Ways

Last week, I asked and you answered. And here's the resulting, highly idiosyncratic but totally interesting list of "83 Screen Comedies That Depict Theatrical &/or Other Performances in Compelling Ways." (And there's no magic behind the number "83"; it's just the number of films I could squeeze onto one side of a single sheet of paper.)

Click image to enlarge and download/print.

It's Wednesday... I'm Wondering... What do you think...

...are the most interesting stage/screen
depictions of sexually slanderous kids?

I'm beginning work on a project that considers stage &/or screen narratives
centering around adolescent characters who "play" grown up games
(especially those involving sex, lies and miscellaneous depravity).
So, I turn to you, lovely reader:
What are your favorite depictions of sexually slanderous teens?

Monday Morning Meditation: Who's That Girl? - PUZZLE #031609

Who's That Girl #031609

Click here to be routed to puzzle.

Note your answer AND the time it took you to complete the puzzle in comments.

It's Wednesday... I'm Wondering... What do you think...

...are the most interesting screen comedies
depicting theatrical or other performances?

See, I'm working up a list of films that present "performance" in compelling, comedic ways and I'm wondering what I'm missing.
So, I turn to you, lovely reader:
What screen comedies "about" performance are among YOUR favorites?

REVOTE for April's Supporting Actress Sundays!

In the voting that began last week, early indicators suggested that 1992 would be y'all's selection for the upcoming month. At the same time, it seems that my selection of possible years gathered a good deal of interest on multiple fronts. Recently, however, I learned that Enchanted April -- long in vhs-only limbo -- is finally being released on DVD in early May (ironically enough, not April). As a result, by executive fiat, I've elected to postpone 1992 until MAY and reopen a new voting cycle for April. (For the record, I dropped 2001 from the roster of contenders only to get some historical diversity in there; I don't want to get to June having only considered films from the 1990s and 2000s.) So, knowing that we'll be looking at 1992 in May, I put it once again to you, lovely reader...

What year deserves the focus
for APRIL'S month of
Supporting Actress Sundays?

1937: Alice Brady in In Old Chicago, Andrea Leeds in Stage Door, Anne Shirley in Stella Dallas, Claire Trevor in Dead End, May Whitty in Night Must Fall.
1947: Ethel Barrymore in The Paradine Case, Gloria Grahame in Crossfire, Celeste Holm in Gentleman's Agreement, Marjorie Main in The Egg and I, Anne Revere in Gentleman's Agreement.
1959: Hermione Baddeley in Room at the Top, Susan Kohner in Imitation of Life, Juanita Moore in Imitation of Life, Thelma Ritter in Pillow Talk, Shelley Winters in The Diary of Anne Frank.
1968: Lynn Carlin in Faces, Ruth Gordon in Rosemary's Baby, Sondra Locke in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Kay Medford in Funny Girl, Estelle Parsons in Rachel, Rachel.
1977: Leslie Browne in The Turning Point, Quinn Cummings in The Goodbye Girl, Melinda Dillon in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Vanessa Redgrave in Julia, Tuesday Weld in Looking for Mr. Goodbar.
1983: Cher in Silkwood, Glenn Close in The Big Chill, Linda Hunt in The Year of Living Dangerously, Amy Irving in Yentl, Alfre Woodard in Cross Creek.

Let your voice be heard by casting your vote in the column at right...
or by clicking HERE.

Monday Morning Meditation: Who's That Girl? (PUZZLE)

Who's That Girl #030909

Click here to be routed to puzzle.

Note your answer AND the time it took you to complete the puzzle in comments.

VOTE for April's Supporting Actress Sundays

With regard to matters Supporting Actress, March tends to be -- as they say -- a month of rest. A time for me to do some "catch up" on overdue tasks (Ann Blyth - I'm looking at you) as well as some time for me to play a little. But that doesn't mean we can't take some time to look forward to next month's potential rosters of Supporting Actressness. Below you'll see a chronologically broad selection of rosters, each of which contains at least two movies (and, thus, performances) that I'm embarrassed never to have seen. So, take your pick, lovelies -- where should StinkyLulu look next?

What year deserves the focus
for APRIL'S month of
Supporting Actress Sundays?

1937: Alice Brady in In Old Chicago, Andrea Leeds in Stage Door, Anne Shirley in Stella Dallas, Claire Trevor in Dead End, May Whitty in Night Must Fall.
1947: Ethel Barrymore in The Paradine Case, Gloria Grahame in Crossfire, Celeste Holm in Gentleman's Agreement, Marjorie Main in The Egg and I, Anne Revere in Gentleman's Agreement.
1959: Hermione Baddeley in Room at the Top, Susan Kohner in Imitation of Life, Juanita Moore in Imitation of Life, Thelma Ritter in Pillow Talk, Shelley Winters in The Diary of Anne Frank.
1968: Lynn Carlin in Faces, Ruth Gordon in Rosemary's Baby, Sondra Locke in The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Kay Medford in Funny Girl, Estelle Parsons in Rachel, Rachel.
1977: Leslie Browne in The Turning Point, Quinn Cummings in The Goodbye Girl, Melinda Dillon in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Vanessa Redgrave in Julia, Tuesday Weld in Looking for Mr. Goodbar.
1983: Cher in Silkwood, Glenn Close in The Big Chill, Linda Hunt in The Year of Living Dangerously, Amy Irving in Yentl, Alfre Woodard in Cross Creek.
1992: Judy Davis in Husbands and Wives, Joan Plowright in Enchanted April, Vanessa Redgrave in Howards End, Miranda Richardson in Damage, Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny.
2001: Jennifer Connelly in A Beautiful Mind, Helen Mirren in Gosford Park, Maggie Smith in Gosford Park, Marisa Tomei in In the Bedroom, Kate Winslet in Iris.

Let your voice be heard by casting your vote in the column at right...
or by clicking HERE.

Oh, To Be A Fly On The... (Old Photo Soundtrack)

Nathaniel of The Film Experience
poses the following BLOG CHALLENGE:

Post a Hollywood candid or three you'd most
like to hear the accompanying audio track to.

To which, I say: Let's make this a caption contest.
Offer your hypothetical captions in comments.
Prizes may be awarded if things get good.

.........................

Exhibit A
What is Sophia thinking?

.........................

Exhibit B
What is Mae saying?

.........................

Exhibit C
What is Sal up to?