Seven Things to Know About Linda Cristal

1. Linda Cristal was born on February 23, 1931, in Rosario, Argentina, as Marta Victoria Moya Burges. In addition to her native language of Spanish, she became fluent in Italian, French, and English. She got her acting break in 1952 when she appeared as a school girl in the Mexican film When the Fog Lifts (Cuando Levanta la Niebla). It was then that she changed her name professionally to Linda Cristal.

2. She had made several Mexican films when she heard that United Artists wanted to cast a Latina female lead opposite Dana Andrews in Comanche (1956). She got the part and was billed in the opening credits as "And Miss Linda Cristal as Magarita."

3. Linda Cristal won a Golden Globe as Most Promising Newcomer in 1959 for her performance in the Tony Curtis-Janet Leigh comedy The Perfect Furlough. She plays a movie sex symbol--the Argentine Bombshell--who accompanies Tony's Army corporal on the "perfect furlough" to Paris.

4. Linda worked with John Ford in Two Rode Together and The Alamo (where he was the uncredited second unit director). She said in an interview: "It was such a wonderful thing to say that I worked under the direction of John Ford. If I never do anything else ever again, I'd die happy." In both films, she played the love interest of men much older than her: James Stewart (23 years her senior) in Two Rode Together and John Wayne (24 years older) in The Alamo.

Linda Cristal as Victoria Cannon.

5. Linda Cristal gained international recognition for her role as Victoria Cannon in the popular Western television series The High Chaparral, which aired on NBC from 1967 to 1971. In a 2015 interview, Cristal's High Chaparral co-star Henry Darrow told me: "The High Chaparral was the first time in a series that a Latino family was on an equal level with an Anglo family." For her performance as Victoria, Linda Cristal was nominated for two Prime Time Emmy Awards and won a Golden Globe in 1970 as Best Actress in a Drama Series.

6. After her 1966 divorce from actor-producer Yale Wexler, Linda Cristal dated celebrities such as Bobby Darin, Adam West, and Christopher George. One Hollywood gossip magazine even published an article about Linda coming between Bobby Darin and ex-wife Sandra Dee (whom fans hoped would reconcile).

Linda Cristal as Cleopatra.

7. Linda Cristal's autobiography A Life Unexpected: The Linda Cristal Story, co-written with her son Jordan Wexler, was published in 2019. Among her many acting credits in film and TV are two unusual ones: Legions of the Nile (1959) and Mr. Majestyk (1974). In the former, an Italian production also known as The Legions of Cleopatra, she plays the title role four years before Elizabeth Taylor. According to one source, 20th Century-Fox bought the rights to Cristal's film so as to limit its distribution in the U.S. prior to the release of Taylor's big-budgeted Cleopatra (1963). Mr. Majestyk, one of her last theatrical films, paired her with Charles Bronson as a migrant worker and union activist. It gave her an opportunity to show what she could do in an action picture. Today, Mr. Majestyk is recognized as one of Bronson's best-reviewed 1970s films.

Revisiting John Ford's The Searchers

John Wayne as Ethan.

A few months ago, I hosted a Classic Western Films Tournament on Twitter, in which The Searchers (in a series of close contests) was crowned champion. The outpouring of passionate support for John Ford's 1956 classic inspired me to revisit a movie I hadn't seen in several decades. Not surprisingly, my overall assessment of The Searchers hasn't changed, but I have gained a greater appreciation for a Western that--for me--works better in parts than as a whole.

John Wayne stars as Ethan Edwards, a former Confederate soldier who has returned to his brother Aaron's Texas home three years after the end of the American Civil War. Ethan is vague about a lot of things, especially the newly minted dollars that he gives his brother for room and board. He is also racist toward Indians, as indicated by his wary attitude toward Martin, Aaron's adopted son, who is 1/8 Cherokee.

When a neighbor's bull is killed by a band of Comanches, Ethan and Martin (Jeffrey Hunter) join a Texas Ranger-led party to pursue the Indians. However, the killing of the bull turns out to be a ruse to lure most of the men away from Aaron's ranch. By the time Ethan and Martin return home, the Comanches have killed Aaron and his wife Martha and burned the ranch. Ethan's nieces, teenage Lucy and eight-year-old Debbie, are missing and assumed to have been taken by the Comanches.

Jeffrey Hunter as Martin.

After the funerals, Ethan and Martin join a posse organized to search for Lucy and Debbie. They find the Comanches' camp, but a poorly-planned attack results in the posse being ambushed. Although it fends off the attack, one of the men dies and most of the others return to their homes. However, Ethan, Martin, and Lucy's fiancé Brad press on with their search. Tragedy strikes again when Ethan discovers Lucy's corpse and a grief-stricken Brad rides into a Comanche camp, essentially committing suicide. Yet, even that cannot dissuade Ethan and Martin from their single-minded mission to find Debbie.

The Searchers is many things, but it works best as a character study of Ethan. At the start of the film, he is a man without purpose who has ignored his only family. Since the end of the Civil War, he has apparently wondered aimlessly, fighting in the Franco-Mexican War and perhaps even turning to robbery. He clearly harbors secret feelings for Martha, his brother's wife, stealing glances at her when he comes to visit. He envies Aaron's life despite knowing that he would not be good at it. Still, it's an idealized existence that he feels compelled to pursue and his niece Debbie represents all of that: a loving wife, a family, a home, a legacy. To be sure, Ethan wants to rescue Debbie and Lucy at the beginning. But he is too much of a realist to truly believe that--as the years pass--he and Martin stand a chance of finding Debbie.

The key relationship in The Searchers is the one between Ethan and Martin. The latter represents a mirror to Ethan, allowing the older man to see his darker side. Martin expresses shock when the pragmatic Ethan shoots bad men in cold blood. Martin leaves the woman he loves because he says he's concerned what the racist Ethan might do if he finds Debbie has become a Comanche. It's not just Debbie's safety that concerns him; Martin fears for Ethan's soul. It's a credit to screenwriter Frank S. Nugent that the Ethan-Martin relationship avoids a father-son angle. Rather, Martin slowly earns Ethan's respect--which is not something the older man gives freely--and the two come to rely on one another.

Ford shows Ethan's isolation by framing
him in several scenes.

John Wayne gives one of his best performances as Ethan, capturing the character's loneliness, singlemindedness, and lack of patience with those who disagree with him. Wayne also embraces Ethan's unsavory traits, such as his hatred of Indians and his disregard for human life.

I think I might have liked The Searchers more if the film's structure embraced Ethan's focused pursuit. Unlike Ethan, The Searchers wanders away from its compelling character portrait and introduces a love story for Martin and peppers the plot with typically quirky John Ford characters: Lars Jorgensen, a Swedish immigrant; Samuel Clayton, a Texas Ranger and a traveling preacher; Mose Harper, an eccentric in search of a rocking chair by the fire, and the singing Charlie McCorry.

I'll diverge from the general critical and popular opinions that The Searchers is one of the greatest films ever made. It's an exceptionally well-made movie with some first-rate performances, but it could have benefitted from tighter story-telling and an ending that feels less rushed.

An Interview with Constance Towers

Born in Whitefish, Montana, Constance Towers became interested in show business in the first grade—when talent scouts visited her schools looking for young radio performers. She appeared in radio plays as a child and later studied music at the Juilliard School in New York City. Constance Towers made her film debut in the 1955 Blake Edwards comedy Bring Your Smile Along. She subsequently appeared in major motion pictures such as The Horse Soldiers (1959), Sergeant Rutledge (1960), The Naked Kiss (1964), and Fate Is the Hunter (1964). She has acted alongside actors such as John Wayne, William Holden, Glenn Ford, and Raymond Burr. Constance Towers also gained acclaim working on Broadway and on television. Her stage roles include a revival of The King and I with Yul Brynner. On television, she has won numerous awards for her performances in the daytime dramas Capitol, CBS Daytime 90, and General Hospital. Ms. Towers married actor and former U.S. ambassador to Mexico John Gavin in 1974; they remained together until his death in 2018. Constance Towers has been passionately involved in many charities, to include the Children’s Bureau of California, the National Health Foundation, and the Blue Ribbon of the Los Angeles Music Center.

Café:  You worked with two of the greatest auteurs of American cinema: John Ford and Samuel Fuller. How would you describe your experiences with each of them?

The Horse Soldiers with John Wayne.

Constance Towers:  The experiences were very different. Both were gentlemen, but John Ford was the epitome of being a gentleman until you really got to know him and then his sense of humor came through. He was bawdy in his own way. Sammy Fuller was totally uninhibited and so much fun because he communicated on a raw level. He really knew how to find the right words to help you find where you were trying to go emotionally as an actor. And because he was the writer, he knew the intent of the writing. Because he was the director, he knew what he wanted to bring out of the actor. He just understood the complete arc of what he had written. That was a treasure. As I said, he was totally uninhibited so he had a way of reaching those children in The Naked Kiss. He sat on the floor and just became a kid and worked with them. Both John Ford and Sammy were great directors in their own way. John Ford was a communicator on a different level. He certainly knew what he wanted from his actors and sometimes played a trick on an actor to get just the right emotion. There's the famous story of Victor McLaglen in The Informer, when he took him out and got him drunk the night before his big scene. The next morning, McLaglen sat down, found himself in front of the camera, and said: "Oh, my god." And then he gave an Academy Award performance. So, John Ford and Sammy Fuller were very different, but both were brilliant and great artists in their own way.

Café:  Our favorite of your movies is Samuel Fuller's The Naked Kiss and you recently discussed it at the Niagara Falls International Film Festival. What are some of your memories of starring in that cult classic?

In Samuel Fuller's The Naked Kiss.

Constance Towers:  Sam got truly honest performances out of the children, creating some of the most charming and touching moments in film. It was hard work. We did it in 21 days. It was a lot of filming and a lot of emotion to cover in that short time. I have great memories of working with Sam, because he was this wonderful director who communicated with you--and sometimes shocked you. If he felt he didn't have everyone's attention on the set, he shot off a gun he had. The bullets were blanks, of course, but can you imagine that today? Back then, you could do it without people leaving the studio and running back down the street. He had a way of communicating with everybody on a very human level, giving approval to you on what you were doing. It was a very enjoyable experience.

Café:  What was your reaction when you first read the script?

Constance Towers:  I sat and read the script with Sam and he explained every scene as we came to it. It was a different experience because I could discuss it with the director and the writer. As you envisioned each scene as an actor, he was there to help explain anything you didn't understand. I was concerned about the subject matter because child molestation was not a buzzword at that time. It was a whispered and dark secret that people were aware of, but unwilling to talk about it. Sam Fuller was very courageous. You've seen all of his movies and you know the subject matter of his films has a strong moral and message to it. Certainly, The Naked Kiss had a strong message. Today, child molestation and pedophilia are something that people readily talk about. It's on the front page of our papers practically every day, but it was not back then.

Café:  You guest-starred on Perry Mason five times. We’ve interviewed other actresses (e.g., Julie Adams, Jacqueline Scott, Ruta Lee) who enjoyed their time on that series and spoke highly of producer Gail Patrick. Was your experience similar?

With Raymond Burr in
"The Case of the Ugly Duckling."

Constance Towers:  I loved it. I had such fun on that show. Gail Patrick was a wonderful lady, such an intelligent woman. I'd have to go back and research to be sure, but I think she was one of the first female producers of successful TV series. Raymond Burr was intelligent and such a good actor.  Working with him was a handful, though, because he was so much fun. One of the stories about him is that he was having abdominal surgery around Christmas time. So, the nurses prepared him for the operation, which involved shaving the area. They got him all ready for the operation, sedated him, and sent him into the operating room. When they removed the sheet, printed across his stomach were the words: "Do not open until Christmas." He had this sense of humor that people weren't aware of because Perry Mason was very serious. Working with him was just a joy because he was such fun and was a brilliant actor.

Café:  How did you come to be cast in the 1977-78 Broadway revival of The King and I with Yul Brynner?

With Lillian Gish in Anya.

Constance Towers:  My career started in New York and I went back there after doing The Horse Soldiers, The Naked Kiss, and other films. I went there at the request of Edwin Lester, who was the director of the Civic Light Opera in Los Angeles. He thought I was right for the lead in the stage musical Anya, which was the play Anastasia set to the music of Rachmaninoff. I opened in it, but unfortunately there was a newspaper strike at the time and they were building the subway on Sixth Avenue near the Ziegfeld Theatre. So, we opened under a lot of problems at Christmas time. Frank Loesser, who was the producer of Anya, withdrew, so a golfing friend of George Abbott's--the great Mr. Abbott, the director--took over as producer. So, the show lacked a certain amount of support, even though Hal Prince was sitting there during rehearsals, helping Mr. Abbott. We were open for just three weeks, but I was fortunate that Richard Rodgers saw Anya and took me under his wing and cast me in his production of Show Boat at Lincoln Center in New York that summer. I just had one of those great experiences playing Julie, which was the Helen Morgan role. I sang the song "Bill" and had standing ovations every night, which was a great thrill. I continued to work for Richard Rodgers. I probably did more of The Sound of Music around the country for Mr. Rodgers than I did The King and I. Anyway, when they were casting The King and I revival with Yul Brynner, Mr. Rodgers called and asked if I would play Mrs. Anna and, of course, I said yes.

Café:  You recently reprised your role of Helena Cassadine for a couple of flashback episodes of General Hospital. You’ve made numerous appearances over the last 20 years as GH’s most famous villain. Why do you think Helena remains so popular?

As Helena Cassadine.

Constance Towers:  It's very interesting. When I first took the role, I thought: "Oh, what have I just done?" This is the villain of all villainesses and people hate the villain. I always played characters who were as pure as driven snow. Maybe they ended up on Perry Mason as the one who did it, but the least suspected of all characters. Suddenly, here was a character who was a magic marker villainess, over-the-top evil, and the richest woman in the world. Other actors didn't want to have a scene with me, because when I left their office, they were dead! So, I thought what am I doing to myself. But the character proved to be popular. People walk up to me wherever I go and say: "I just love to hate you!" And I say: "You don't mind that I'm so evil?" And they say: "No. Do more. We love it." We found the vulnerability in Helena Cassadine, which makes people feel a little sorry for her. She loved her grandson, Prince Nikolas, and he was her Achilles heel. She made mistakes because of him. That made her human and people loved that. Now, even though I've died four times on the show and managed to come back, I'm appearing in everyone's nightmares. They wake up and think, oh god, I thought she was really here! The writers keep the character alive that way, which is a very clever device. I just love playing Helena and however they write her, it's great to go back and play the character.

Café:  You probably can’t tell us, but is Helena Cassadine really dead?

Constance Towers:  She's coming back and they always talk about her. One time, my grandson Nikolas pushed me off a cliff and killed me. I came back and one of the characters said: "How did you survive?" And Helena said: "Just one mighty burst of adrenaline." Then, she walked away. The audience just accepted that she was alive. As Helena, I once killed my son Stefan and had him thrown off the back of a yacht. He was totally drunk, having consumed poison and a lot of wine. About three weeks later, he walked in on me. The first line I had after seeing him was: "I knew I shouldn't have taught you how to swim." So, other characters come back just like Helena. Who knows what they have in store for her?

Café:  How did you and your late husband John Gavin meet?

Constance Towers:  His godfather was Jimmy McHugh, the songwriter. He wrote "Don't Blame Me," "On the Sunny Side of the Street," and many other classic songs. We met in New York when I was singing in the Plaza Hotel. He told me I should call him if I went to Southern California. So, when I came out to California, I did. He invited me to a big party and took me out on the porch and introduced me to John Gavin. My impression was that he was just an absolutely gorgeous man. But he was engaged to someone else and just went off into the sunset. About five years later, I was married and my then-husband said that a very good friend of his was coming to dinner and John Gavin walked in the door with his wife. We became good friends. When we both divorced, we started going out and then we married. That's how that happened.

Café:  You sang on albums such as The King and I and Constance Towers Sings to The Horse Soldiers.  Did you ever consider a concurrent career as a singer?

Constance Towers' first film.

Constance Towers:  Well, I always had a career as a singer. I started out in New York, singing in the Maisonette in the St. Regis Hotel, which was one of the two rooms one could appear in as a cabaret kind of singer. I also sang at the Plaza. Both were big venues. I've been in musicals on Broadway for ten years. I've always been concurrently a singer as well as an actress. I've only sung in films a few times. I did in my first film, Bring Your Smile Along, which was Blake Edwards' first directorial effort at Columbia Pictures. Surprisingly, the first song I sing in the movie is "Don't Blame Me," which was written by Jimmy McHugh. I had not met John Gavin yet. I sang a song named "Lorena," which was an old Civil War song, in The Horse Soldiers and it ended up on the cutting room floor. I also sang with the children in The Naked Kiss.

Café:  Didn't you also sing during one of your guest appearances on Perry Mason?

Constance Towers:  That's right. I forgot that. That was my first one hour show and they had me play a cabaret singer and I sang in it.

Café:  You have been actively involved with many charities over the years. How did Project Connie come about and what is its mission?

Constance Towers:  In 1985, my husband John Gavin was U.S. ambassador to Mexico. And Mexico had that very tragic, horrible earthquake. I went into the streets with the Red Cross and tried to help wherever I could. I was just confronted by so many children who were either orphaned or seriously injured. One boy, a soccer player, had lost both legs at the hip. I brought him to UCLA. His one dream was to walk again. People contributed money and the UCLA rehabilitation center worked to help him walk on prostheses, which proved to be impossible for him. But at least, we gave him the opportunity to try. The staff then gave him a really hotshot skateboard. He could put his body on that skateboard and zip around to wherever he wanted to go, giving him mobility. He's now an older man and has a computer business in Mexico City. We did a lot of rehabilitation like that. Another little boy lost both arms at the elbows. I happened to have a friend in Mexico City, who lost both arms when he was taking down a kite on the Fourth of July and it hit in an electrical wire. He was a very successful businessman. So, he took this little boy under his wing and helped him emotionally as well as physically. He helped him get prostheses, so he had arms and hands that worked. It just changed the world for this little boy. We then decided to start Project Connie. We chose the name because it made it easier to raise money when people knew it was me. I think it would have been harder to do on my own if we were just living in Mexico without all the power of the United States. It was wonderful to be able to reach out and leave a lasting mark as the U.S. ambassador and the U.S. ambassador's wife. When my husband was no longer ambassador,  I put this project under the umbrella of the United Peace Movement and that's where it has remained. It has the people to watch the money and find situations that need it.

Café:  Last year, you starred in the family fantasy The Storyteller. Do you have any upcoming projects or appearances you’d like to share with our readers?

Rita Hayworth--the subject of
a new documentary.

Constance Towers:  At the moment, I'm doing a documentary on the 100th birthday celebration of Rita Hayworth. When I was at Columbia Pictures, Rita Hayworth was making the Rodgers and Hart musical Pal Joey. I didn't know her. I was just the young starlet on the lot and she was the big star. In the documentary, I'm going to take people onto the Columbia lot, which has retained some of the original buildings, where I met people like John Ford and Gregory Peck for the first time. Mr. Cohn was the big mogul of Columbia Pictures. His dining room is still there. I will be taking people around the Columbia lot and talking about Rita Hayworth and her contributions to film and why she's still one of the great film goddesses. I'll also be talking about Columbia as I knew it back in those days. It should be fun.


Café:  Thank you so much, Ms. Towers, for taking time out of your day to speak with us.

Constance Towers:  You're welcome.

You can follow Constance Towers on her Facebook page and Instagram.

The Five Best Western Directors

Stewart in Winchester '73.

1. Anthony Mann - Mann helped define the "Adult Western" of the 1950s with his seminal work Winchester '73. His output included five outstanding Westerns with James Stewart and classics with Gary Cooper (Man of the West) and Henry Fonda (The Tin Star). His heroes were often hard men with a questionable past seeking redemption (e.g., Bend of the River). He painted his tales against a backdrop of an American West in transition, in which budding towns would compete with the cattle empires.

2.  John Ford - Ford was a dominant figure in the Western genre for four decades. He brought prominence to the Western with Stagecoach, paved the way for Adult Westerns with his Cavalry Trilogy, and directed two iconic films late in his career (The Searchers and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance). Ford's incorporation of Western landscapes (he shot several masterpieces in Monument Valley in Arizona) became his trademark. In fact, a popular lookout was named after him: John Ford Point. I suspect many film fans would have Ford at No. 1.

Eastwood in For a Few Dollars More.

3.  Sergio Leone -With Mann, Ford, and Hawks in the twilight of their careers in the '60s, Italian filmmaker Sergio Leone reinvented the Western genre visually and thematically. His protagonists were morally questionable men who usually did the right thing, even while portraying themselves as profiteers (e.g., Clint Eastwood in For a Few Dollars More). He showed the big towns, but also the decrepit shacks amid the dusty, windswept plains--where a bounty hunter or an outlaw could buy a shot of cheap whiskey. Like Mann and later Peckinpah, Leone was intrigued with the last days of the Old West and the men who didn't want to tame it.

4.  Sam Peckinpah - An uneven director, Peckinpah was at his best when working in the Western genre. While his films also took place in the dying days of the Old West, they focused on the relationships among the characters:  two old friends in Ride the High Country, a band of outlaws in The Wild Bunch; and an unlikely businessman, a prostitute, and a would-be preacher in his masterpiece The Ballad of Cable Hogue. In the former two films, most of the characters are unwilling to adapt to the coming of civilization. However, the hero of Cable Hogue embraces it and finds happiness in doing so (though the ending is bittersweet).

Delmer Daves' The Hanging Tree.

5.  Howard Hawks and Delmer Daves (tie) - A tie may be a bit of a cheat, but it was impossible to omit either of these two from our list. Neither director specialized in Westerns, but they made important contributions to the genre. Hawks' Red River (1948) paved the way for Mann's dark Westerns. His Rio Bravo is one of the most fondly remembered Westerns of the 1950s. And after other Western directors had hung up their spurs, Hawks continued to make Westerns with John Wayne up until 1970. Delmer Daves, another versatile director, dabbled in the Western genre often, his films ranging from intriguing (the Shakespearean Jubal) to unique (Cowboy with Jack Lemmon and Glenn Ford). He secured his place on this list, though, with two beautifully-crafted classics: the thriller-like 3:10 to Yuma and The Hanging Tree, a tale of redemption and love.

Honorable Mentions:  Budd Boetticher, John Sturges, Clint Eastwood, and Henry Hathaway.

Hollywood Optimism vs. British Reality

Within the last week, I watched two films I hadn't seen in many years: the 1937 Shirley Temple vehicle Wee Willie Winkie and the 1959 British crime drama Sapphire. It would be difficult to find two films so distinctly different in every way. And yet, these films share a common theme: prejudice. Predictably, one film ends with an optimistic resolution while the other leaves many hanging threads.

McLaglen and Shirley.

Wee Willie Winkie is a prime example of the formula that made Shirley Temple a boxoffice sensation in an era in which moviegoers coped daily with the realities of the Great Depression and impending war. She plays an inquisitive nine-year-old who, with her widowed mother, travels to Northern India to live with her grandfather (C. Audrey Smith). "The Colonel" is a crusty military man with no time for children, so he entrusts his granddaughter to the rough and tough Sergeant McDuff (Victor McLaglen). Pretty soon, McDuff is conducting training drills just so Shirley--looking very cute in her little uniform--can play soldier.

Shirley also befriends Khoda Khan (Cesar Romero), a captured rebel leader plotting war against the British Army. Following Khan's escape, several British soldiers are killed in a skirmish. It looks like more blood will be spilled--on a grander scale--unless Khan and the Colonel can overcome their prejudices and reach an accord.

If you've seen any of Shirley's 1930s films, you know how Wee Willie Winkie is going to end. It's no wonder that Shirley was appointed an ambassador later in real life; by then, her negotiation skills, apparently developed through her movie roles, had to be impressive. Of course, there's a certain satisfaction in knowing the outcome of a Shirley Temple film. It's a comforting experience.

As for Wee Willie Winkie, in particular, it's slickly directed by John Ford (though I grew restless with the 100 minute running time). It features Victor McLaglen in the kind of role that made him famous. His gruffness is the perfect complement to Shirley Temple's sweetness. They make a wonderful team and remain the best reason to watch Wee Willie Winkie.

Made 22 years later, Sapphire tackles racial prejudice in Great Britain, but does so in the guise of a conventional murder mystery. In the opening scene, two children discover the corpse of a young woman in Hamstead Heath. The police soon identify the victim as 21-year-old Sapphire Robbins, a student at the Royal College of Music whom her friends described as a "sweetie." Why would anyone want to stab her six times in the chest?

Police question a suspect in Sapphire.

As the investigation unfolds, a complex portrait of Sapphire emerges. She was three months pregnant, a fact that her fiance and his family may or may not have known. She wore "flashy, pretty underwear" under her conservative clothes. And, in the words of one confidante, she "tried to pass herself off as white" (we learn that her father was white and her mother was black).

Sapphire is not the first film where a character tries to hide his or her race. It was a major subplot in the original Imitation of Life (1934) and took center stage in films like Pinky (1949).

What differentiates Sapphire is its frank approach and willingness to show the ugliness. A detective inspector working on the case casually asks Sapphire's physician: "Did she tell you she was colored? You always can tell, can't you? I can tell them a mile away." There is subtle prejudice, too, such as the landlady who liked Sapphire, but doesn't want people to know the truth because she runs a "white house" and it could hurt business. There's even prejudice against white people; a black barrister, who talks down to the police, makes disparging remarks about Sapphire for being half-white.

Of course, Sapphire plays it safe to a certain extent. The lead detective, Superintendent Hazard (Nigel Patrick), is a no-nonsense, nonjudgmental character. It might have been more interesting to watch him struggle with his own prejudices instead of making his second-in-command the bigot. Still, that's a minor quibble with a well-meaning mystery that reveals the murderer's identity, but is intelligent enough to avoid a neat and tidy resolution. Reality is often messy.

The Mount Rushmore of Film Directors

Hitchcock on Mount Rushmore--from
the North By Northwest poster.

If there was a Mount Rushmore of great American directors, who would you put on it? I pondered this question recently and then posed it to three other classic movie bloggers whom I admire. I gave them two criteria: (1) They could only pick four directors...because it's Mount Rushmore; (2) Their decisions had to be based on the directors' American-made films (after all, we're talking about an American monument here). Thus, directors such as Alfred Hitchcock and Fritz Lang could be considered--but not international greats like Federico Fellini, Luis Bunuel, and Akira Kurosawa. (And, yes, when I say "American," I am referring to the   U.S.--not all of North and South America.)

The Master of Suspense.

Personally, I had little trouble in coming up with three of my four choices. I consider Alfred Hitchcock to be the greatest film director...period...based on his storytelling skills, the complexity of his film's themes, and the body of his work. I don't think another director will ever be able to replicate the astounding number of superb films he made between 1940 and 1964--a period that included Rebecca, Notorious, Shadow of a Doubt, Rear Window, Vertigo, North By Northwest, Psycho, and Marnie. My second choice is Billy Wilder, possibly the most versatile of all filmmakers. He made classic film noirs (Double Indemnity), sophisticated comedies (Some Like It Hot), screwball comedies (One, Two, Three), and courtroom dramas (Witness for the Prosecution). His best films integrated drama and comedy so expertly that they created something uniquely Wilder (e.g., The Apartment, Stalag 17). That brings me to my third choice, a director whose films gave rise to a now common adjective "Capraesque," which one online dictionary defined as "of or evocative of the movies of Frank Capra, often promoting the positive social effects of individual acts of courage." Capra's film's restored faith in human nature when America needed it most--during the Great Depression and after World War II. He also helped make stars out of Gary Cooper and James Stewart. That brings me to my final spot and I struggled mightily here. I considered Richard Brooks, Samuel Fuller, Michael Curtiz, Robert Wise, and Otto Preminger. In the end, though, I went with Anthony Mann. A versatile director like Wilder, Mann helped define film noir in the 1940s with tough, dark films like Raw Deal and T-Men. In the 1950s, he reinvigorated the Western genre with five superb films starring James Stewart. Mann's protagonists were cynical men with violent pasts who found redemption, often by becoming part of a forgiving community (The Far Country, Bend of the River). In many ways, Mann's protagonists paved the way for the flawed "heroes" that dominated American cinema in the 1960s and 1970s.

Ernst Lubitsch.

The Lady Eve, Lady Eve's Reel Life: If not Mount Rushmore, these four filmmakers at least deserve to have their faces carved in stone on the hillside under the Hollywood sign. Here’s why: Alfred Hitchcock was a master of the art of what he called “pure cinema”-- visual storytelling (consider the famed crane shot in Notorious that zooms in on the key in Ingrid Bergman’s hand). And no one has surpassed his ability to draw the viewer so completely into a film or, at times, to identify with the villain (Robert Walker retrieving his lighter in Strangers on a Train, Anthony Perkins sinking a car into a swamp in Psycho). Long touted “the master of suspense,” Hitchcock was, more than anything, a cinematic genius (see also Rear Window and Vertigo). The comedies of Ernst Lubitsch literally sparkle (even the screen itself seems luminous). Brimming with charm and sophistication, his films offer a knowing yet sympathetic glimpse into human yearnings and foibles. His best work (the likes of Ninotchka, The Shop Around the Corner and To Be or Not to Be) has rightly been likened to the soufflé, a deceptively lighter than air concoction that is also deliciously rich and deeply satisfying. "Screwball" comedy existed before Preston Sturges started writing and directing his own films, but he took the concept into another realm. Original and decidedly eccentric, his best films neatly weave sly commentary on social values into byzantine plots involving cockeyed characters who rattle off snappy/smart dialogue at a mile a minute. Unique barely describes The Great McGinty, The Lady Eve, Sullivan’s Travels, The Palm Beach Story, Unfaithfully Yours.... Billy Wilder, like Hitchcock, was a top filmmaker from the ‘40s to the ‘60s. But Wilder began his career as a journalist and so, naturally, his films are marked by strong screenwriting and fine-tuned dialogue. His cynical world view made him a natural for noir, and Double Indemnity stands as a pillar of the genre. But Wilder wasn’t one to be pigeon-holed, as his wild, satirical romp Some Like It Hot would prove. Noir, farce, drama or “dramedy,” Wilder had as much range as he had skill.

Frank Capra.

Annmarie Gatti, Classic Movie Hub Blog:  If I could put four American directors on Mount Rushmore, who would they be???  Well, that's a really tough question...and one that will probably have me second guessing myself for quite some time--but, that said, after much "agony" and deliberation, my picks would be Frank Capra, Billy Wilder, Alfred Hitchcock and John Ford. Here's why:  Frank Capra--for creating some of the most beloved 'feel-good' films of all time that champion the common man and the basic goodness of human nature. Billy Wilder -for his use of script to drive the story (vs elaborate cinematography) and his ability to push the boundaries of mainstream entertainment by expanding the range of acceptable subject matter. Alfred Hitchcock--for his belief in the superiority of suspense over surprise, and his cinematic approach to filmmaking that communicates via images and editing to maximize fear and anxiety. And, last but not least, John Ford--for his sweeping visuals and dramatic vistas, master storytelling, and iconic portrayals of heroes and anti-heroes of the American West. 

D.W. Griffith.

Cliff Aliperti, Immortal Ephemera:  My Mount Rushmore of American directors? Difficult. I approached my selections thinking not necessarily of my favorites, but of the four I'd consider most iconic in their representation of America and the American film industry, while being among my favorites. Faces I'd carve in stone and be happy to leave there forever. That has to start with D.W. Griffith. For all of the issues over the content of The Birth of a Nation (1915), at least the movie is strong enough to warrant our talking about it a hundred years later, fighting over the same issues that incensed a hundred years ago. Griffith's early features that follow Birth are reliably accessible, well-told stories that at least perfect technique if not actually innovating it. If there were no Griffith, silent film would have been a much tougher sell for me during my formative movie-watching years, so Griffith gets the first nod just for all that he’s responsible for exposing me to. It gets more difficult from there because I've seen so many more films in the decades that follow, but two directors whose work I think of as intrinsically American are King Vidor, whose stories are so wonderfully visual while being grounded by the American Dream, and Frank Capra, who relied more on situation and dialogue to show the everyman overcoming bigger challenges. If Vidor had only done his war, wheat, and steel trilogy—The Big Parade (1925), Our Daily Bread (1934), and An American Romance (1944)—he'd have done enough, but that doesn't even include his best film, The Crowd (1928). Capra kept telling the same story by the time of Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), and Meet John Doe (1941), with his underdogs fighting for their place in so many of his other films as well. If Griffith led me to enjoy more silent films then it was Capra, even earlier in my film watching years with titles like Mr. Smith and It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), who allowed me to accept “old” black and white movies as if they were no different from last week’s release. A similar underdog spirit goes to the fourth face on my Rushmore, William Wellman, who could masterfully handle topics from any genre no matter the size of the movie and always seemed to have a great time doing it. A working-class director in that he reveled in the work, Wellman's characters could be as light as his subject matter was heavy. Out of his Great War experiences, he was dedicated to portraying male camaraderie, but I think he had an even keener insight into female characters, especially during the Depression years.

An Interview with Lana Wood

Lana in Diamonds Are Forever.

I recently had the pleasure of meeting actress Lana Wood at the Williamsburg Film Festival. Although best known for playing Plenty O'Toole in Diamonds Are Forever, Ms. Wood has had a long movie and television career, both in front of and behind the camera. Her first credited role was as a young girl in John Ford's The Searchers. As an adult, she became a regular on the popular TV series Peyton Place and guest-starred in shows like The Wild, Wild West and Mission: Impossible. She later worked as a production executive and co-produced a miniseries about her sister, The Mystery of Natalie Wood. She also wrote the biography Natalie: A Memoir About Natalie Wood By Her Sister. In between signing autographs and chatting with fans at the film festival, Lana Wood graciously talked with me about her career.

Café:  In a 2007 interview, you discussed playing the character Debbie as a young girl in The Searchers. You noted Jeffrey Hunter's "incredible kindness." Did you have any interaction with John Wayne?

Lana in The Searchers.

Lana Wood:  John Wayne used to come to me every morning, stand next to me, and pull out a tin of Allenberry black current pastilles, which he doted upon. He'd open them up and I'd take one and he's say: "Take another one." It was an ongoing little jokey thing between us. He was a very sweet and kind man. He cared a great deal about everything.

Café:  How did John Ford treat you as a child actress?

LW:  I don't think John Ford liked me. He never really spoke to me. I think the only thing he ever said to me was in the scene where Chris (the dog) and I run up to the headstone. He said: "Can you bend at the waist?" I couldn't bend at the waist, though I tried very hard to do it.

Café:  Peyton Place was already an established hit when you joined the cast in 1966. What are some of your memories of working with Ryan O'Neal, Mia Farrow, and the other cast members?

A publicity shot from Peyton Place.

LW:  In Peyton Place, we were all very young--and very spirited. I think that's a good way of putting it. There was a great deal of flirtation at all times. Ryan was an adorable, sweet guy, but not the best to work with. Mia was very sweet. All she'd eat for lunch was cottage cheese and spinach. Barbara Parkins absolutely loathed me. She would not speak to me, ever. What I would do was I'd go into the makeup room in the morning and talk to her all the more because I knew she wouldn't answer me. I was kind of poking the bear a bit.

Café:  You made quite an impression as Plenty O'Toole in Diamonds Are Forever and she remains one of the best-remembered "Bond Girls." Why do you think Plenty has remained so popular over the years?

LW:  Hopefully because I wanted her to be very sweet. I didn't want to appear like a hooker. Shill is not really the top category when you list careers you would like to have had. And I was very worried about that. So, I made her very ingenuous and just very nice. That's what came across and I think that's what people identified with.

Café:  I've seen the two deleted scenes with Plenty: the dinner scene with Bond and when she discovers James and Tiffany Case together. Do you know why they were cut from the final film?

Lana and friend Sherry in Williamsburg.

LW:  They didn't help move along the plot. The studio wanted the film at a certain length back then so it could squeeze in another showing. So, unfortunately, it was Plenty who went.

Café:  You were friends with Sean Connery before Diamonds Are Forever. How did the two of you meet?

LW:  My boyfriend at the time was dear friends with Sean. We were invited to dinner at his house. So, I went to his house, we had dinner, and I got to know him.

Café:  What do you think of Daniel Craig as James Bond?

LW:  I adore him. I think, at last, other than Sean, he is James Bond.

Café:  What led you to take a break from acting from the mid-1980s until a few years ago?

LW:  Several things. My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I had gone behind the camera at that point as well, so I was producing. I was working at Universal Studios as director of development for television films. I moved my Mom in with me. Lots of things. It was just unfortunate.

Café:  What were some of the made-for-TV films that you were involved with from a production standpoint?

LW:  Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer mystery Murder Me, Murder You. Lynda Carter in Born to Be Sold, which was, at that time, the highest-rated television film. Hotline (also with Lynda Carter) and two Lynda Carter specials. I rewrote six episodes of Bring 'Em Back Alive, a TV series with Bruce Boxleitner. And I produced The Mystery of Natalie Wood, which was an ABC miniseries.

Café:  Of all your films, which one was your personal favorite and why?

LW:  I like different ones for different reasons. I'm so thrilled to have been part of The Searchers. That's something that will go on forever. It meant the world to me to be in a film like that, which is so iconic--with John Wayne, Ken Curtis, Jeffrey Hunter, and Harry Carey. It's a beautiful film that holds up to this day. I'm very proud of it.

Café:  You show a number of adorable dogs and cats on your FB page. Are they all yours?

LW:  (laughs) Oh, yes! I haven't even put the half of them up. I can't get them to sit still.

Café:  Do you have any upcoming films or appearances that you'd like to share with our readers?

LW:  I have two films coming out. One is called Killing Poe, which is a black comedy. Then, I have a thriller coming out called Bestseller.


You can "like" Lana Wood on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.

The Grapes of Wrath (1940)

You don’t get more of a Depression-era film than director John Ford’s The Grapes of Wrath (1940). Based on John Steinbeck’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel of the same name, the story follows the displaced Joad family from the Dust Bowl of Oklahoma to the sunny orchards of California.  Darryl Zanuck took a chance when he bought the film rights for 20th Century Fox, but in the end it paid off with seven Oscar nominations—two of which earned Oscars for Best Director John Ford and Best Supporting Actress Jane Darwell.  While it isn’t surprising that the film was nominated for Best Picture; it is a tad shocking that renowned cinematographer Gregg Toland’s striking images were overlooked by the Academy. You see, the story is gripping and the acting is mesmerizing, but the visuals are what make this film a treasure. 

When I read Steinbeck’s 600+ page novel in college I found myself admiring preacher Casy (John Carradine) and rooting for poor Rose-of-Sharon (Dorris Bowden).  I also didn’t really like Tom Joad (Henry Fonda) and I could have done without the intercalary chapters. Thankfully, the intercalary sections were left out of the film and what remains is a story that rips your heart out, chops it up, and then feeds it to the pigs.  Here you have a poor Oklahoma family thrown off the land their family has worked for generations by both mechanization and the banks.  No one seems to care that they have nothing but an old rickety truck loaded to the brim with a few pieces of furniture and articles of clothing.  They search out a new life in California, only to find that they are not needed or wanted.  Along the way they meet mostly scorn and mistreatment (mostly by land owners and law enforcement), but they do meet a few compassionate people.  The most memorable being the diner waitress who sells two peppermint sticks to the children for a penny, when they really cost a dime. 

While red-baiting was taking a coffee break in 1940 America, it was still risky to include Steinbeck’s rather socialistic themes. In one memorable scene Tom asks, “What is these 'Reds' anyway? Every time ya turn around, somebody callin' somebody else a Red. What is these 'Reds' anyway?” Steinbeck, and even Ford to a degree, are making the point that anyone who asks to be treated like a human being and be paid a fair wage is viewed as a “red” agitator. 

Henry Fonda does a good job of conveying Tom Joad’s underlying seething rage. Rewarded with a Best Actor nomination by the Academy, Fonda plays the embittered Tom as a man who could (and often does) explode at any moment. You can see the resentment Tom feels in the way Fonda moves, looks, and delivers his lines. 

In addition to Fonda’s fine acting, Jane Darwell delivers the performance of her life as Ma Joad.  It is the simple and quiet way that she goes about building her character into the backbone of the Joad family that I think most people admire. It would have been easy to play up the stereotypical hysterical hillbilly matriarch that some actresses went for, but Darwell is calm, resigned, and resilient in her role. 

The other standout performance is John Carradine’s (one of Ford’s favorite character actors) as Casy.  He adds an almost spiritual element to the film—and not because his character is a fallen preacher, either. He just seems to have a very reverent screen presence, and he delivers his lines in a prayer-like fashion.  Casy was my favorite character in the book, and while he doesn’t get as much screen time as one might like, I think Carradine uses what time he gets to make his Casy one of the most memorable things about the film.

While Carradine’s Casy is memorable, it is Gregg Toland’s cinematography that steals the entire production. Employing  the purity of black and white film, Toland used wide-angle lenses to capture the parched desolation of the Oklahoma plains and the deserted isolation of the desert.  How small is man compared to such images? When dealing with capturing the human element, Toland used deep focus so savagely that you feel uncomfortable looking at the ragged and malnourished people he sets his sights on.  He also uses shadows in a very clever way to literally illustrate when someone has something hanging over their head or breathing down their neck.  His images are stark, realistic, and uncomfortable—just what the film and the book were trying to convey about the plight of the Joads and thousands others like them. 

Now, some might be disappointed that I haven’t discussed the biblical references in the film. It’s there—Casy’s murder is like the crucifixion of Christ and the whole trip is like Exodus—but I find this element severally lacking from that of the book (much was cut), so I don’t find it to be that important.  What I think makes The Grapes of Wrath an enduring picture is the stunning photography and the nuanced presentation of one of the best examples of Americana during the Great Depression.

Judge Priest (1934)

I suspect a lot of people would be surprised to learn that this little-known 1934 film was director John Ford’s favorite of his countless cinematic endeavors.  Some have argued that the title character, Judge Billy Priest (Will Rogers), was really a facsimile of Ford himself, just played by a more amiable personality in Will Rogers. This might explain why it was his favorite, especially when you consider he made many more highly regarded films like Stagecoach (1939), How Green Was My Valley (1941), and The Quiet Man (1952)—just to name a few. And, when you think about it, who wouldn’t prefer the film that most represents them?

All that said, Judge Priest is just a mildly amusing film, and far from my favorite Ford Film—that place is reserved for The Quiet Man. Still, it is a somewhat interesting film to watch because Will Rogers does a nice job playing a home-spun, down-to-earth Kentucky judge who has to step aside when a legal client of his nephew is brought before his court.  What makes Judge Priest so likable is his overall irreverence for proper courtroom decorum. His outright hilarious interactions with his would-be nemesis Senator “Yankee” Maydew (Berton Churchill) are also a delight to watch. Most critics believe that Rogers didn’t really have to stretch himself in the role, because he was just playing a fictional representation of his commonsensical self. This is probably an accurate assessment, but it doesn’t lessen the fact that Rogers plays the role to the hilt.

There is one element of the film that many viewers do not like—the shamelessly stereotypical role that black comedian Stepin Fetchit plays as Jeff Poindexter. Some critics have said that Fetchit plays nothing more than a human lawn jockey in the film.  It is true that he comes off as a shiftless trickster. Yet, it is also true that his conversations with Judge Priest are the most enjoyable parts of the movie. And, when you take a minute to think about it you might ask yourself what the film was saying about a judge in 1890s Kentucky who would go fishing with a grown black man. Still, the fact the the Judge jokingly tells Jeff that he might join a lynch-mob if Jeff plays “Marching Through Georgia” is not necessarily politically correct either.  Oddly enough, Fetchit would play Jeff Poindexter again in Ford’s, The Sun Shines Bright (1953)—another installment of the Judge Priest story, this time played by Charles Winninger. 

Not the greatest John Ford film, but still worth a watch.

About John Gilbert...an interview with Leatrice Gilbert Fountain

Today Turner Classic Movies will showcase the films of silent screen star John Gilbert as part of its "Summer Under the Stars" line up. Viewers will have a chance to see eight silents, a mix of Gilbert's most celebrated films and lesser-known gems, as well as six sound pictures, most rarely seen.

If this daylong tribute marks a high point in the resurgence of John Gilbert, it is also a triumph for his daughter, Leatrice Gilbert Fountain, who has worked tirelessly for nearly 40 years to restore her father's reputation.

I spoke with Leatrice after the "Summer Under the Stars" schedule was announced.

"Speechless and surprised," was Leatrice's reaction to the all-day honor, "and it's so satisfying."

Leatrice was born just as her parents, John Gilbert and silent film star Leatrice Joy, were divorcing in the mid-1920s. Raised by her mother (the two are pictured at right), she yearned to know her father. She recalls, "My nurse told my mother that I kept asking when my daddy was coming home." But the marriage was finished and Leatrice had little contact with her illustrious dad.

Time passed, and then came a summer Leatrice and her mother spent in Malibu - where, it turned out, her father was also staying. She had been trying but hadn't managed to run into him yet when one day, as she was rolling in the surf, the victim of a rogue wave, strong hands snatched her from the sea. Leatrice looked up to see that her rescuer was her handsome father.

A while later Leatrice sent him a letter; she asked for his picture and enclosed one of herself. This ignited what Leatrice calls "a brief, intense relationship" that spanned the last year of John Gilbert's life.

"He appeared, we clicked and the future looked bright," she remembers. He was the only adult in her life that didn't talk down to her, he spoke to her as an adult and asked her grown-up questions. "I was a news junkie even then," she says, and her father talked with her about various topics of the day, from President Roosevelt to the repeal of prohibition. In that short period, Leatrice achieved a bond with her father that she didn't have with her mother ("a sweet fluff-head") or stepfather.

"My father lived on a Hollywood hillside in a Spanish-style home near a water tower. In my mind he lived in the tower of a castle at the top of a hill." Gilbert had the aura of a storybook prince for his daughter and when he died suddenly of a heart attack in January 1936 at age 38, Leatrice was devastated. Her longed-for connection with him had completely engaged her and then he was gone - "I felt a great emptiness...I don't think I ever got over the loss."

As years passed, John Gilbert, a top MGM star at the height of the silent era, was reduced to a Hollywood footnote. What most people knew about him, if they knew anything, were oft-repeated (and reprinted) tales of an inadequate voice that didn't translate to sound, a broken romance with Greta Garbo, questionable acting ability and a drinking problem that killed him.

At the time of his death Gilbert's great silent pictures were no longer shown and his career was in flux, so Leatrice grew up not knowing enough about her father's life or career to actively dispute the mythology that had become accepted as truth.

By the early 1970s, Leatrice was a married woman with five children living on the East Coast. Though she didn't know it at the time, she was about to embark on one of her life's missions, the restoration of her father's name. New York's Museum of Modern Art invited her to a screening of one of John Gilbert's signature silent films, Erich von Stroheim's The Merry Widow (1925). Watching the film for the first time, Leatrice experienced a jolt; she realized her father was not simply a handsome face, but a gifted actor. She recalls, "A young fan came up to me and commented on the "wonderful film" and said he wanted to write a book about John Gilbert. It then became my cause...I knew I wanted to be the one to write the book."

Once committed, Leatrice began to seek out her father's other films. She traveled to Eastman House in Rochester, NY, where she told fabled film curator James Card, "I don't know anything about my father's work," and Mr. Card eagerly replied, "Come with me and I'll show you..." Between Eastman House, MOMA and the Library of Congress, she saw all of John Gilbert's available films.

Leatrice was a busy wife and mother when she began her research and so she worked "in bursts" over several years. In the course of her work she met with many people who knew or worked with her father. Today Leatrice looks back and realizes she began her undertaking in the nick of time; most of the people she interviewed were soon gone. She met with cameramen and other technicians, she met with directors like Clarence Brown, John Ford, Howard Hawks and King Vidor, and she met with stars like Joan Crawford, Marlene Dietrich, Lillian Gish and Norma Shearer.

According to Leatrice, some remembered John Gilbert from before he was a star, when he was affectionately looked upon as "an adopted kid on the MGM lot." All responded warmly to her and Leatrice discovered that they all had liked her father and respected his work. She stayed with King Vidor's daughter and was able to spend days talking with the man who had directed her father in two of his best silent films, The Big Parade (1925) and Bardelys the Magnificent (1926). Clarence Brown, who directed Gilbert and Garbo in Flesh and the Devil (1926), generously spent an entire afternoon with Leatrice sharing his memories.

Norma Shearer, whom Leatrice believes may have once had a fling with Gilbert, told her of his passing, "Some of the tears I shed while making Romeo and Juliet were for your father."

The transformation in industry and public perception of John Gilbert came slowly, but Leatrice recalls a moment when she knew attitudes were shifting. In the early '80s she was invited by esteemed silent film historian/author/documentary filmmaker Kevin Brownlow (co-producer of the distinguished Hollywood series for Thames Television) to introduce a screening of Flesh and the Devil in London. She remembers enthusiastic crowds of young and old lined up to see the film and that, "New writers and reviewers watched without bias and wrote about what they saw on the screen."

In 1985 St. Martin's Press published Dark Star: The Untold Story of the Meteoric Rise and Fall of the Legendary John Gilbert, Leatrice's biography of her father, written with John Maxim. Filled with Leatrice's detailed research, the book not only recounted the story of John Gilbert's life but also went a long way to set the record straight on the rumors about him.

Perhaps the most virulent myth debunked is the story that John Gilbert's "high voice" had caused the collapse of his career. Gilbert's first talking feature, a film Leatrice describes as "a romantic comedy that was mistaken by audiences and critics for a straight romance," was a resounding flop. The dialogue was laughable and laughed at. But some said it was Gilbert's voice that caused the tittering. The voice theory was not the consensus at the time but it was the story that stuck over time. Leatrice calls her father's voice "a light baritone similar to Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.'s." Ultimately, a combination of factors plagued Gilbert's transition to sound: his disastrous relationship with MGM kingpin Louis B. Mayer, the quality of the early talkies to which he was assigned and, perhaps, a change in audience tastes from Victorian-era morality to pre-Code realism.

In her book Leatrice pointed out that John Gilbert continued to receive film offers till the end of his life. Marlene Dietrich, his final love, had persuaded him to co-star with her in Desire (1936), but he was forced to drop out after he suffered one in a series of three heart attacks, the last of which killed him. Leatrice is firm that, though her father did drink to excess, "he did not drink himself to death."

Regarding Gilbert's storied romance and rumored near-wedding with Greta Garbo, Leatrice comments,"I don't think she ever had any intention of marrying him."

Dark Star was a great success and Leatrice traveled the talk show circuit, spoke to college audiences, appeared at silent film events and gave countless interviews. She still gives an occasional interview and has continued to frequent silent film festivals and screenings around the world, introducing her father's pictures and taking part in panel discussions. Her "swan song" on the road, she told me, might have been last year's annual Pordenone Silent Film Festival in Italy, the largest silent film festival in the world. At this writing, though, Leatrice is beginning to change her mind...she just might go to Pordenone again this year...I hope so.

She muses, "In his lifetime, my father did not believe his film work would last or be remembered and he said as much to his close friends."

Leatrice Gilbert Fountain's passionate campaign to restore her father's reputation has succeeded beyond anything she might once have imagined. Today she is happy to report that her children are able to "bask in the reflected glory of their grandfather." Like their mother, they attend screenings and introduce his films to new generations of appreciative fans.

John Gilbert on TCM, Aug. 24
(Times shown = Eastern/Pacific)

The Busher (1919) - silent with Colleen Moore - 6am/3am
He Who Gets Slapped (1924) - silent with Lon Chaney and Norma Shearer - 7am/4am
The Merry Widow (1925) - the silent film that made Gilbert a star - 8:30am/5:30am
The Show (1927) - silent directed by Tod Browning - 11am/8am
Desert Nights (1929) - Gilbert's last silent - 12:30pm/9:30am
Way for a Sailor (1930) - with Wallace Beery - 1:45pm/10:45am
Gentleman's Fate (1931) - directed by Mervyn LeRoy - 3:15pm/12:15pm
The Phantom of Paris (1931) - Gilbert took the title role followng Lon Chaney's death - 5pm/2pm
Downstairs (1932) - "a dark little masterpiece" - 6:30pm/3:30pmThe Big Parade (1925) - silent classic, perhaps Gilbert's best film - 8pm/5pm
Bardeleys the Magnificent (1926) - swashbuckling silent classic - 10:15pm/7:15pm
Flesh and the Devil (1926) - silent classic with Garbo - 12am/9pm
Queen Christina (1933) - Garbo and Gilbert's classic sound film - 2am/11pm
The Captain Hates the Sea (1934) - Gilbert's last film, with Victor McLaglen - 4am/1am