Friday, July 22, 2016
There shall be great classic comedy in NYC on the big screen at MoMA all weekend. Kudos, bravos and tips of the Max Linder top hat go to Dave Kehr, Steve Massa, Ben Model, Rob Stone of The Library of Congress (and writer of Laurel Or Hardy: The Years Before The Teaming) and Hal Roach Studios expert Richard W. Bann for their roles in Seriously Funny: The Films of Leo McCarey , which started last weekend and extends through the end of the month.
For screen comedy geeks, just a few highlights from this weekend's programs: Friday night and Saturday afternoon show is the Roach Sound Shorts Program, starring several of our favorites at Way Too Down Lazy To Write A Blog: Charley Chase, Edgar Kennedy and Thelma Todd. The Saturday afternoon show presents Cary Grant and Irene Dunne in The Awful Truth.
The Saturday night show pays tribute to Laurel & Hardy and Sunday's program spotlights the very funny comedian Max Davidson.
Saturday night's Laurel and Hardy Tribute and Sunday's retrospective of Max Davidson comedies will be introduced by Rob Stone of The Library of Congress.
From the MoMa press release:
"McCarey had been promoted to director-general of the Roach organization in 1926 and supervised everything on the films — story, gags, screening the rushes, editing, and shooting retakes. Although he left the studio in 1929, he was on hand to start their transition to the new sound medium and left them with a number of scripts for their first talkie efforts. These extraordinary rarities, which represent McCarey’s last work for Roach, come to us through the courtesy of Roach historian Richard Bann, who will introduce both screenings."
Friday, July 22 at 7:00 p.m.
Roach Sound Shorts Program - approx. 80 min.
The Big Squawk. 1929. USA. Directed by Warren Doane
Madame Q. 1929. USA. Directed by Hal Roach, Leo McCarey
Snappy Sneezer. 1929. USA. Directed by Warren Doane
Dad’s Day. 1929. USA. Directed by Hal Roach
Saturday, July 23, 7:00 p.m.
Laurel & Hardy Program - approx. 80 minutes
From Soup to Nuts. 1928. USA. Directed by E. Livingston Kennedy
Wrong Again. 1929. USA. Directed by Leo McCarey
Liberty. 1929. USA. Directed by Leo McCarey
Two Tars. 1928. USA. Directed by James Parrott
Sunday, July 24 at 5:00 p.m.
Max Davidson Program - 5:00 p.m.
Program approx. 80 min.
Jewish Prudence. 1927. USA. Directed by Leo McCarey
Don’t Tell Everything. 1927. USA. Directed by Leo McCarey
Should Second Husbands Come First? 1927. USA. Directed by Leo McCarey
Pass the Gravy. 1928. USA. Directed by Fred Guiol
For more, see the MoMA website and its descriptions of the Seriously Funny: The Films of Leo McCarey series.
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Earlier today, started writing this post to raise our champagne flutes both to France and the early innovators of cinema in celebration of Bastille Day. This day in 2016 has turned out to be a crushingly sad one for France and the world - yet again - giving us all the more reason to raise that toast to the innovators who invented cinema and our friends and film historian counterparts there.
When it comes to filmmaking, the Lumière brothers, Auguste and Louis, sons of prominent portrait painter Antoine Lumière, were responsible for many early innovations in the field of photography and in the development of the movie cameras.
From the section on the Lumière brothers from the comprehensive and splendid Early Cinema.com website:
By early 1895, the brothers had invented their own device combining camera with printer and projector and called it the Cinématographe. Patenting it on February 13th 1895, the Cinématographe was much smaller than Edison’s Kinetograph, was lightweight (around five kilograms), and was hand cranked. The Lumières used a film speed of 16 frames per second, much slower compared with Edison’s 48 fps - this meant that less film was used an also the clatter and grinding associated with Edison’s device was reduced.
In 1895, the Lumières would be doing public screenings using the Cinématographe to project their films featuring scenes from everyday life.
These scenes being an immediate hit with audiences, they augmented them with film of dancers and other performers. Many of these Lumière Brothers productions - and films made not long afterwards by Georges Méliès - can be seen on the DVD The Movies Begin.
The Lumières would very soon be followed by producer, director and Solax Studios founder Alice Guy Blaché. When it comes to filmmaking outside of the "trick film" exemplified at the turn of the 20th century by Melies and his editor Ferdinand Zecca and (slightly later) Segundo de Chomón, it was Solax Studios founder Alice Guy Blaché (1873-1968) who got there first.
Blaché, the cinema's first mogul, is arguably the best known of the female producer-directors who blazed trails in the beginning. She beat everyone else, including Edwin S. Porter, D.W. Griffith and Allan Dwan, to the punch, experimented with color technology, made sound films and also was a mentor to Lois Weber.
It would be an understatement to suggest that the pioneering producer-director wasted no time mastering the new technology.
Alice Guy Blaché was hands-on with the new and innovative motion picture camera technology in Paris and would be making short films for Gaumont as early as 1896-1897.
By the time the first great screen comedian, Max Linder, had become a frequent movie headliner in 1906-1907, Alice Guy Blaché had made hundreds of films. Comedy buffs will note that Alice Guy Blaché is tremendously important to the history of screen humor as both the first comedy filmmaker and the first to film the famous "mirror gag". It's in her 1912 Solax film His Double, which can be seen here, on historian Anthony Balducci's website.
The inventive Ms. Blaché also originated this classic comedy bit for her 1906 film The Drunken Mattress.
Although long overdue recognition, respect and acclaim may not have come in her long lifetime, her contributions to filmmaking were recognized in 1953 when she was awarded the Legion of Honor by the French government.
A comprehensive Alice Guy Blaché, Film Pioneer exhibition did hold forth (and wowed audiences) at the Whitney Museum Of American Art in November 2009 - January 2010.
Saw the following film, Falling Leaves, at the 2009 San Francisco Silent Film Festival and found it touching, beautifully filmed and very advanced for 1912.
There will be more clips in Be Natural, a documentary on the life and films of Alice Guy Blaché, currently in production.
UPDATE 2 Seeing Alice's Films A Fool and His Money (1912) from Be Natural on Vimeo.
UPDATE 43 The Intern & The Ocean Waif from Be Natural on Vimeo.
Thanks to Dr. Jane Gaines, Professor Of Film at Columbia University and students from both Columbia University Libraries/Information Services' School Of The Arts and Barnard College have created the The Women Film Pioneers Project website to shine the klieg lights on the largely untold story of Alice and other pioneering women filmmakers.
While he may have not been the first comic to make a movie, the dapper Parisian boulevardier was the first movie comedian to headline a continuing series: the great Max Linder (1882-1925), the man in the silk hat.
Author Trav S.D. elaborated on the influence of Linder's comedy on Keystone and beyond in his piece For Bastille Day: How the French Invented Film Comedy, excerpted from his book Chain Of Fools: Silent Comedy And Its Legacies, From Nickelodeons To YouTube.
Max would be an enormous influence on Mack Sennett (see the "Mack as Max" Biograph short subject The Curtain Pole) as well as Charlie Chaplin.
Here are some clips from Max' pre-1910 films, transferred from the 9.5mm format by Unknown Video.
The Kino Lorber compilation of Max Linder films for the Slapstick Symposium series, which includes his later films, is something we at Way Too Damn Mazy To Write A Blog recommend highly - on Bastille Day or any day.
We close with a charming cartoon made about dogs, fleas and Paris for MGM by Tex Avery, followed by two renditions of La Marseillaise (the first from Way Too Damn Lazy To Write A Blog favorite Casablanca).
Tex Avery - The flea circus - Video Dailymotion... by cartoonworld4all
Sunday, July 10, 2016
It has been mentioned before on this blog that the mere mention of Hal Roach Studio comedy stars Our Gang (A.K.A. Little Rascals) - as well as their colleagues Harold Lloyd, Charley Chase and Laurel & Hardy - brings to mind the line from Jack Ford's classic 1958 film The Last Hurrah, "how can you thank someone for a million laughs?" Well, you can't thank the filmmakers and casts personally but it is possible to see these great comedy shorts and laugh yet again, as the Our Gang comedies are out on DVD and prevalent on YouTube.
The depth of my affection for this series - much as it did during the writing of an "Unca Paul's Foodie Films" piece about the immortal Dogs Is Dogs for Eat With Annie.com - resurfaced when researching the comedic canines who played Pete The Pup for a piece posted as part of the 2016 Animals In Film Blogathon.
Producer Hal Roach, director, series creator and former fireman Robert McGowan, writer Tom McNamara and Roach Studio director general Charley Chase originated the series in 1922. There is certainly some trial and error on the first two episodes, which adhere to more of a rural "kids n' animals" template than the signature Our Gang concept focusing on the personalities of the kids that would be adopted soon afterwards.
There were numerous "kid comedies" but Our Gang had the edge in the personalities and talent of their youthful players. The Hal Roach Studios staff would settle on Jack Davis, Jackie Condon, Ernie "Sunshine Sammy" Morrison, Joe Cobb, Mary Kornman, Mickey Daniels and Allen Hoskins as the first regular cast. The chemistry of this stellar and talented group of kids would crystallize pretty quickly: not far into the first season. Film buffs may recognize Sunshine Sammy as the actor who played "Scruno," with enthusiasm and humor that often subverted the stereotypical role, in the East Side Kids movies 20 years later. A pioneer among African-American actors in American movies, Ernie Morrison was also a key supporting player at Hal Roach Studios before Our Gang, working skillfully with Harold Lloyd and Snub Pollard.
The formula - plucky poor kids dealing with day-to-day playground problems (as opposed to battling the elements like Buster Keaton or the baddies like Harold Lloyd) - is there practically from the start.
While the silent Our Gangs in many respects are very different from the talkies - there's a little more slapstick and a little less characterization than would be seen in the 1930's, and production staff could tell the kids their directions before each shot, as there was no sound recording then - the charm and likability factor is off the charts. The Roach production crew got on a winning streak pretty quickly, as these 2-reelers from the first two seasons demonstrate.
Soon the biggest stars on the Roach lot would get into the act. The studio's first headliner, Harold Lloyd, whose nephew Jack Davis was a Gang stalwart in the early years, appears in The Dogs Of War. And one of the funniest entries in the entire series, Thundering Fleas, features cameos by just about every Roach comic not occupied with a shoot at that moment.
The series kept rocking through the 1920's, with slight changes to the winning cast (the addition of Our Gang stalwarts Jean Darling, Bobby "Wheezer" Hutchins and Mary Ann Jackson from Sennett's Smith Family series), but none to the essential concept.
At the end of the silents, some very bizarre ideas found their way into the Our Gang comedies. This may be attributable to founder Robert F. McGowan taking a sabbatical in 1926 and handing over the direction to his nephew, Robert Anthony McGowan, who went by the nom de plume of Anthony Mack.Probably the best illustration of the strangeness Bob McGowan's nephew brought to Our Gang would be two late 1920's efforts. Dog Heaven, arguably the single most bizarre entry in the entire 22 year series, starts with Petey trying to kill himself over a broken romance and later includes a scene featuring our canine hero getting drunk and hallucinating.
Cat, Dog and Co., an early talkie from the era when Hal Roach Studios used a sound-on-disc system, includes a long dream sequence with little Wheezer Hutchins getting chased around by giant animals and birds comparable to those seen later in Bert I. Gordon flicks.
One could find Dog Heaven and Cat, Dog and Co. entertaining and funny in a sick-sick-sick way, but the cartoony quality which, while ideal for such comedians as Larry Semon or Charley Bowers, betrays the whole idea of Our Gang. The camera tricks, bits of animation and dream sequences circumvent the goal of achieving genuine pathos.
While the general run of Our Gang in this stretch is undistinguished, there are occasional efforts directed by Mack that have genuine pathos and land in the Our Gang wheelhouse, such as The Smile Wins.
Once in a blue moon, series founder Robert F. McGowan would experiment with offbeat ideas and come up with glorious results.
While we do not know the story of just how the Our Gang comedy Wiggle Your Ears, shot like a 1929 "art film," came about (perhaps Bob McGowan saw a Carl Dreyer flick), but it is the rare case in which a complete and total departure from the Our Gang modus operandi works quite well.
As the silent era ended and talkies began, pathos would increasingly be a cornerstone of Our Gang and differentiate the series from such competing kid comedies as the Mickey McGuires and the "Baby Burlesks" (starring Shirley Temple). To a significant degree, the move towards pathos as the 1920's ended and Our Gang shifted from silents to talkies was the acting of Allen Clayton Hoskins a.k.a. Farina. This is apparent watching his performance in The Smile Wins. His talent and sensitivity would be a driving force in the storylines. While lapses into racism in Our Gang - and pre-1935 movies in general - can frequently be cringe-worthy, especially in the silent era, Farina's characterization as the smartest and most resourceful kid in the room does act as a counterpoint.
Little Daddy in particularly uses pathos and a warm, strong performance by Hoskins extremely well. There is genuine heart throughout this film and the key to the comedy is Farina's ingenuity and the love he feels for his little brother. Sealing the deal is the twinkle in the eye of 5 year old Matthew Beard a.k.a. Stymie, arguably the funniest kid comedian who ever appeared in motion pictures.
It is no surprise to this writer that after showbiz and military service in World War II, Mr. Hoskins went on to a long career working with the disabled; his essential goodness and altruism was no act.
Exemplifying everything film buffs and Hal Roach studio fans adore about the series is the formidable Our Gang lineup together from 1930-1933. For this correspondent, indeed, Our Gang's peak was the early 1930's, smack dab in the middle of The Great Depression. Jackie Cooper was the star of the 1930-1931 cast, supported deftly and hilariously by Norman "Chubby" Chaney, Dorothy DeBorba and holdovers from the silent Our Gangs, Farina, Wheezer and Mary Ann Jackson.
The First Seven Years is a particularly good spotlight for Jackie Cooper and Mary Ann Jackson, along with ace supporting player Edgar "Slow Burn" Kennedy as Kennedy The Cop.
Cooper soon left for feature film stardom (Skippy, The Champ). Also leaving before the 1931-1932 season, Chubby, Farina and Mary Ann Jackson. Not to worry: the remaining cast would star in some of the series' best and most charming films.
For the 1931-1932 season, Kendall McComas (from the Mickey McGuire series) and Dickie Moore joined, with Dorothy, Stymie and Wheezer continuing as principal players.
Spanky McFarland also started in Our Gang in 1932 at the age of three and would quickly become a focal point of the series.
He would stay for ten seasons, well into the dreaded MGM-produced era of Our Gang. Spanky's first cameo is in Free Eats, a very funny Our Gang 2-reeler that serves as an excellent a vehicle for both Stymie Beard and the actors who played crooks masquerading as babies.
Stymie and Dickie Moore made such a wonderful comedy team in Free Wheeling that it was a darn shame Moore left the Gang for parts in feature films after one season.
That said, there were some real charmers featuring the later Our Gang cast: Spanky, Scotty Beckett, Alfalfa, Darla and Buckwheat.
The series was sold to MGM in 1938 and started off on the right foot with director Gordon Douglas, but lost its way sometime towards the end of the first season, as the 1930's ended.
Then, as the 1940's progressed, the series fell off a cliff like a character from a Saturday morning serial. Not retiring kids from the Gang at the age of 10 made for some very awkward results, as did the introduction of obnoxious adults and authority figures into a series that previously focused on the kids.
That's okay - before then, dozens of great Our Gang comedies had been produced, many of which would be staples of TV kidvid in the 1950's and early 1960's.
In a world rife with so much hurt and violence, we have nothing but love, respect and admiration for the laugh makers who made things better for moviegoers hit by the Great Depression 85 years ago - and for us watching DVDs now - or, better yet, going out to the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum as this writer is today, to see the Gang ON FILM, with an audience!
For more info, read The Little Rascals: The Life And Times Of Our Gang by Leonard Maltin and Richard W. Bann.
Saturday, July 02, 2016
Today's post is our contribution to the Olivia de Havilland Centenary Blogathon, hosted by In The Good Old Days Of Classic Hollywood and Phyllis Loves Classic Movies.
All weekend, classic movie fans shall be extending a respectful tip of a spectacular chapeau in glorious Technicolor to Olivia de Havilland, who celebrated her 100th birthday yesterday. Sight & Sound has devoted their July 2016 issue to her illustrious career.
Olivia’s the TCM Star Of The Month and with good reason - she starred in numerous unbeatable classic movies for Warner Brothers, some among the studio’s biggest box office smashes, others under-the-radar.
For the blogathon, we review a unique and funny historical romantic comedy, The Great Garrick, which, both for Miss de Havilland and director James Whale, remains in the second category. It is Olivia's eighth silver screen appearance and, regardless of billing (especially in re-releases), essentially a supporting role.
No doubt those audiences who flocked to theaters with the hopes of seeing the gorgeous and charismatic young maiden from the rousing Errol Flynn swashbucklers Captain Blood and The Charge Of The Light Brigade found it quite a disappointment that new star Olivia de Havilland did not make her first appearance in The Great Garrick until 39 minutes into the movie!
That's due to the fact that The Great Garrick, an adaptation of screenwriter Ernest Vajda's play Ladies and Gentlemen, is essentially a vehicle for British stage actor Brian Aherne, soon to be the hubby of Olivia's sister, Joan Fontaine, later in Alfred Hitchcock's I Confess and later still the author of A Dreadful Man - The Story of Hollywood's Most Original Cad, a biography of George Sanders.
Aherne stars in a very John Barrymore-ish self parodying role as an egocentric Shakespearian actor and is very much at the center of this film.
The supporting cast includes extremely talented character actors, led by the inimitable Edward Everett Horton and the diminutive Etienne Girardot. At times brilliant, The Great Garrick has moments of hilarity throughout.
The plot is based on a "what might have been" scenario involving celebrated 18th century actor and poet David Garrick (1717-1779); in other words, it didn't happen, but what the heck, maybe it could have.
Frankly, watching Aherne gently rib the art of shameless overacting playing "Hamlet - With Variations" in the opening scene gets this correspondent thinking of both the extremely funny Warner Bros. "Goofy Gophers" cartoon A Ham In A Role and Jon Lovitz as Master Thespian on Saturday Night Live (lo, 50 years after the production of The Great Garrick).
The star of London's acclaimed Drury Lane troupe, Garrick announces after his last performance of "Hamlet - With Variations" that he is leaving for Paris, where has been invited to be the special guest star performer with the Comédie-Française.
His loyal British audience is not thrilled at this news! They protest loudly ("YOU MEAN WE'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH???") and hurl fruits and vegetables at him. The Great Garrick then offers to stay in London. An audience member in the capacity crowd yells that Garrick must be leaving town to teach the French how to act. This immediately catches like wildfire, leading to the entire London audience lustily shouting, TEACH THE FRENCH! TEACH THE FRENCH!
Alas, also in the audience: Beaumarchais, a most unamused Parisian playwright and Comédie-Française troupe member (portrayed with style and panache by Lionel Atwill).
The news gets back to Paris, causing outrage among the thespian community and the Comédie-Française. Not surprisingly, the enraged response from the besmirched acting community of Paris is "we'll teach that guy a lesson, all right." Soon enough, a hoax designed to humiliate The Great Garrick is on - and let the games begin!
The cunning plan, as if hatched by Baldrick in Blackadder: have the Comédie-Française troupe take over The Adam & Eve Inn that The Great Garrick and his long suffering valet "Tubby" (played to the hilt by the devastatingly funny Horton), shall stay in for one night - and then scare the living daylights out of both of them. While this is happening, a coach carrying Germaine Dupont, a young countess in England fleeing France and an arranged marriage, breaks down near the roadside inn.
Although wise to the Comédie-Française ruse immediately and playing along, totally convinced all the while that the countess is actually a not particularly good actress from the Parisian troupe, noted playboy Garrick is also quite genuinely taken with and charmed by her.
Complicating matters: the young and strikingly beautiful Countess de la Corbe is simply gaga over Garrick and knows his legend as England's most celebrated actor.
The hostile takeover of The Adam & Eve Inn by rampaging and out-of-control thespians means all Comédie-Française members on premises ham it up in the best/worst possible way while staging horrific episodes of roguery - including wild marital quarrels, shootings, swordfights, knife-brandishing loons, etc. not to mention wanton destruction of furniture and china - and inn-competence so grievous as to, hopefully, get "conceited popinjay" Garrick and manservant Tubby sprinting back to London.
It also means that The Great Garrick is squarely and resolutely in The Suspension Of Disbelief department, as there are no French actors in the movie. This is with the full understanding that the price tag for Michel Simon, Dita Parlo, Raymond Condy or Jean Dasté would have very likely been prohibitively high for Jack Warner and also that Maurice Chevalier would have turned the danged film into a musical.
So all Comédie-Française players speak like the English, the only one we could imagine as a Frenchman is Atwill, and not even Warner Brothers perennial Hugh Herbert is on hand to do the cheesy French accent he would employ in the 1938 musical Gold Diggers Of Paris.
With the two stars heading the cast, supported by such stalwart members of the Character Actors' Hall Of Fame as Horton, Melville Cooper and Luis Alberni, as well as a teenage (and darn near unrecognizable) Lana Turner, why did The Great Garrick lay an egg at the box office? It may have simply been that it was a witty period piece comedy with an original and clever script - seldom a ticket to boffo box office success - and simply did not have the star power demonstrated in spades by the Warner Brothers vehicles for Bette Davis, Jimmy Cagney, Errol Flynn and later Humphrey Bogart. Olivia de Havilland would soon possess all of that star power - and then some - just a bit down the road, but doesn't have a heckuva a lot to do in this opus other than be adorable, which, naturally, she does exceedingly well.
The storyline, which attempts to merge the European stage lore of 1750 with elements of 1937 style screwball comedy mayhem, presents a tough assignment for the two stars. Any attempt to match the humor seen in such iconic screwball comedies as The Half-Naked Truth, Twentieth Century, Hands Across The Table, She Married Her Boss and My Man Godfrey, even as one element in a film (then and now) proves most ambitious and difficult to achieve.
Miss de Havilland gives a warm and heartfelt performance, emotionally investing herself in her role, which does not demand a story-driving screwball comedy turn a la Carole Lombard, Claudette Colbert or Irene Dunne. The screenplay does not offer additional nuances or a sense of what makes her character tick to give the story more interest. We know the countess looks fabulous and ran away from France, her father and an arranged marriage, but that's about it. As always, with personality and good humor, Miss de Havilland gets the maximum from the script, but, given the depth and breadth of her acting talent, one knows she could nail a much more complex characterization with ease.
Aherne's task is even more daunting: as a great Shakespearian actor, match the florid yet nuanced and hilarious self-parody that was John Barrymore's stock in trade. He's good, through much of the movie very good, but not that good. Perhaps the decision to not be quite as larger-than-life and outrageous as Barrymore (or for that matter, Peter O' Toole 30 years later) was not the right choice.
More importantly, key to the premise is that David Garrick is so laser-focused on his craft that he's unable to see or feel real emotion, and thus, the film is built around a character who is not particularly likable. While not nearly as unsympathetic as John Gilbert as "the cad" in Downstairs or any number of very bad bad guys played by Robert Mitchum, the character of The Great Garrick is . . . well, unsympathetic enough to make this movie problematic. Now matter how many witty exchanges happen between the star and his manservant Tubby - and there are many - it's difficult to root for this guy, or give a darn about the budding romance between David Garrick and the Countess de la Corbe.
That said, all the world's a stage and in the film's final moments, a deeply, profoundly smitten David Garrick confesses his adoration for the fetching Countess de la Corbe in the only way he knows how - before an adoring SRO audience at the Comédie-Française! It is an excellent payoff to a unique film filled with surprises.
The hijinx at the Adam & Eve Inn includes several brilliant sequences of physical comedy and offers the supporting cast an opportunity to go way, way over the top and have a blast doing so. In the end, as funny as said cast is - Horton, regal Atwill, stentorian Melville Cooper and especially a cheerfully wacko Luis Alberni - their stellar contributions (unlike in the aforementioned My Man Godfrey or several Preston Sturges features) cannot carry the movie by themselves. The film belongs to the two stars.
James Whale's direction is imaginative, his shot selection and framing of actors ingenious, while the cinematography and camera movement of Ernest Haller, as always, is inventive and fluid. All of the above, plus excellent costuming, makes for a fine motion picture, but does not entirely compensate for the need for a more bravura, electric and humorous performance from Aherne and less of a standard ingenue characterization for Miss de Havilland.
Nonetheless, this is latter-day nitpicking. The original blend of backstage scenario, period piece and wacky comedy equals highly entertaining movie fun, especially if one is lucky enough to live in the vicinity of such film friendly venues as the Stanford, the Castro Theatre, UCLA, the New Beverly, George Eastman House or NYC MoMa that will give screen it, as intended, in proper big screen glory.
The Great Garrick can also be bought on DVD via Warner Archive Collection. As part of its month-long Olivia de Havilland retrospective, Turner Classic Movies will be showing The Great Garrick on July 9.
We close by extending the Fred Astaire top hat tip to In The Good Old Days Of Classic Hollywood and Phyllis Loves Classic Movies for hosting the Olivia de Havilland Centenary Blogathon.
For the entire group of blogathon entries, click here.
The classic movie-loving reprobates who are both Way Too Lazy To Write A Blog and Way Too Damn Lazy To Host A Blogathon appreciate the opportunity to contribute and shall enjoy reading the posts by the many fine writers. Kudos, bravos and huzzahs to all who participated - and cheers to Olivia!