Well, dear readers, there never has been a woman like Gilda, and has there ever really been a movie like Gilda? Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, has there ever really been a movie like Gilda? It is nigh unto impossible to imagine how they got away with it, what with the motion picture code idiots at their worst in that era. The innuendo in Gilda is palpable – in fact, it’s more outuendo than innuendo. The gay subtext in this film is so strong it’s almost funny. How did the motion picture code idiots not see it? It starts in the very first scene, when Glenn Ford is picked up by George Macready on the docks – Macready saves him from someone who’s about to beat the crap out of him. He saves him with a big stick out of which comes a knife. The position of the stick will not be lost on anyone, believe me. Their banter is unbelievable. And then there’s the whole Rita Hayworth as Gilda dynamic, which is also quite perverse. It’s fascinating that the film was both co-written and produced by women, something that did not happen very often in 1946. It’s certainly one of the strangest movies ever. It’s considered a film noir, but I’m not really sure that it is, despite the noirish photography of Rudolph Mate, both in its deep shadows and spectacular photography of Miss Hayworth. Her entrance in the film is the stuff of legend and is one of the greatest character introductions in film history. Her performance of Put the Blame on Mame has to be seen to be believed (choreography by Jack Cole). Glenn Ford, always a favorite actor of mine, is just great and George Macready is creepy and brilliant. The dialogue is filled with great lines (Ben Hecht purportedly contributed) – “Gilda, are you decent?” “Me?” Glenn Ford to George Macready, “You must lead a gay life.” “Statistics show that there are more women in the world than anything else. Except insects.” “I can never get a zipper closed. Maybe that stands for something, what do you think?” “You’re out of practice, aren’t you – dancing, I mean. I can help you get in practice again, Johnny – dancing, I mean.” “You’re cockeyed, Johnny, all cockeyed.” “Quite a surprise to hear a woman sing in my house, eh Johnny?” Well, you get the idea.
The direction is superb. Charles Vidor is not a director who was ever high on my radar, and yet he directed several really top-notch movies like Cover Girl, Love Me or Leave Me, The Joker is Wild, as well as Hans Christian Andersen, The Swan, A Farewell to Arms, and his final film, Song Without End, a movie I quite enjoyed when I saw it at the Stanley Warner Beverly Hills. The transfer has moments of great beauty – I’d love to know what the elements used were – it says it’s restored by UCLA, which is odd since it’s a Columbia film and they should have the elements. There are occasional shots that look a bit dupey to my eye, but overall it’s quite nice, with really luscious blacks. The Blu-ray is from Criterion and is highly recommended by the likes of me.
Yesterday was a day in which I got stuff done. I only got seven hours of sleep, I think, but that seemed enough, actually. Pool guy was here and the pool is now spotless and sparkling and BLUE, but the damn remote still doesn’t work properly and despite his promise that someone was coming to fix it, that didn’t happen and I told him it really had to happen before his next visit. I had my usual chopped salad for lunch, this time with some turkey but no avocado. I must say, I like it with ham better than turkey. I couldn’t even finish it, so I do believe my tummy is shrinking a bit. I also had a bagel. Then I picked up a couple of packages and came home.
I did some work on the computer, had a few telephonic calls, got the good news that it looks like Hal Linden will join us in the ALS benefit (I haven’t had final confirmation that the date is okay, but am hoping it is), I did a two-and-a-half mile jog in the 104-degree heat, and then I finally sat on my couch like so much fish where I finished watching Gilda put the blame on Mame. I should have watched Mame afterwards but I don’t believe I own Mame in any video incarnation, at least I hope I don’t. Then I watched all the extras – they’re not really much on this disc – Martin Scorsese and Baz Luhrmann pontificating, which was kind of boring, at least Mr. Luhrmann was, and then noir expert Eddie Muller, who I find peculiar. There was also a Hollywood and the Stars episode about Rita Hayworth – just a kind of puff piece really. Then I relaxed and listened to music.
Today, I have back-to back work sessions beginning at eleven I think. After that, I have some foodstuffs here to eat (I have to break up my restaurant visits these days or I’ll OD on salad), I’ll hopefully pick up packages, I’ll jog, and then relax.
Tomorrow I have a rehearsal, then I’m seeing a play, and probably dining with Doug Haverty, with whom I’m attending said play. Saturday I’m seeing Sami in her school play (Urinetown – a musical I actively loathe), and Sunday I’m not sure what’s happening.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, have two work sessions, eat, jog, hopefully pick up packages, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your favorite films of Rita Hayworth? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, where I shall undoubtedly put the blame on Mame.