Showmen Sell It Hot #6

 

Showmen: For a Few Dollars More and The Valley of Decision

FOR A FEW DOLLARS MORE (1965/1967) --- Nearly a year and a half elapsed between Italian release of For a Few Dollars More and its American open. Did this bespeak a lack of confidence? Turns out United Artists, as US distributor and financier on the second and third “Dollars” westerns, wanted to release all three over four-month intervals beginning in January 1967, like episodes of a TV program offered close enough together so patrons could recall each as they ate through the lot. For a Few Dollars was the middle one that improved upon the first, wickets-wise and artistically, while third and epic last (with Clint Eastwood) surpassed formers all-wise. Foreign grosses drove them, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly getting twice as much overseas ($12.3 million) as it realized stateside ($6.097). These pictures were not made so much for us as for other markets that responded more to a Yank vid actor suddenly an international sensation, but was it Eastwood or style Sergio Leone brought to the trio of new-fangled westerns? Brutal after fashion of James Bond, the Man with No Name was seen as period variation on 007. The Dollar man as embodied by Eastwood killed not only in cold blood but in bunches. Should the star weary as a lone act, there came Lee Van Cleef as even better recognized refugee off American frontiers, and from features, having menaced back to Gary Cooper in High Noon. Van Cleef swaps all that past for Dollars authority, so much for Eastwood to recognize and refer to Lee’s “Colonel Douglas Mortimer” as the “Old Man” whose greater experience he'll rely upon for planning next moves. They make a felicitous team and we like seeing both survive the end title. Col. Mortimer to my approval identifies his home state as “Carolina,” not which Carolina, though I’ll assume it’s North Carolina, the Colonel having fought honorably at Fredericksburg, Bull Run, other sites of Confederate victory.

Eastwood was identified on posters as “The Man with No Name,” but unless I’m mistaken, he had a name in all three Leones where he figured, even the last where Tuco dubs him “Blondie” for near-entirety of G,B,&U. To that last, we assume the “Bad” is Van Cleef and the “Ugly” Eli Wallach, for Van Cleef was never ugly in maturity, his hawk features distinct, ennobled, by maturity. There’s good reason we saw Van Cleef back, and back again, in a string of starring westerns extending well into the seventies. Was he a first among American players to become a bonafide star as ongoing anti-hero? Even Eastwood had to modify his act to get by in creamy-centered US westerns that fed off imports (see, or rather don’t see, Hang Em’ High). Amusing is the actor telling in offscreen chats how every ounce of sound for the Leones had to be post-dubbed, so frequent was distraction from unplanned noise on locations, plus most if not all support actors not knowing but one language, these movies meant to play in all markets worldwide, but wasn’t this every film’s reality by the sixties, and before? To my eye if not ears, For a Few Dollars plays smooth considering undoubted chaos to shoot it, let alone to apply dialogue. Faultless is structure, pace, these took for granted in stateside actioners, then comes Sergio Leone (who co-wrote) to surpass models he consulted, borrowed freely from. I place For a Few Dollars among fleetest 132-minute views I’ve lately had, one fun confrontation and/or killing(s) after another. We knew spaghettis for noses thumbed at convention plus punches too long pulled by American cowboys. Tuco’s deathless line in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly comes to mind, If you’re gonna shoot … shoot!

THE VALLEY OF DECISION (1945) --- Another for quick delivery to Radio City Music Hall. Certain shows were made for that address, being plush, lush, long, and star-studded. Greer Garson dominance of the Hall was known and an ongoing circumstance. House nut was high or MGM could just about have got their $2.1 million negative cost back from this one engagement. The Valley of Decision came from a novel by Alice Davenport, a music critic whose prior work was a Mozart biography before showing better aptitude for multi-generational family sagas, which this was and which readers wanted for way to spend leisure and share with bookish friends. Literary agent Maxwell Perkins is remembered best for backing Hemingway, Wolfe, Fitzgerald, but it was Davenports like Alice his company sat most comfortably on, sales she pulled topping novels critic-embraced, latter admittedly better regarded than Alice, but what mattered more than selling well there and then? Legacy as ever meant less than current cash. The Valley of Decision took 800 pages to finish. Who among us ever read a book that long? Not me so far, at least not a novel, maybe thick books of famed quotations which is like having a massive jar of M&M’s alongside to also savor. The Valley of Decision made for ideal movie to adapt so far as two hours took you, pick of most engaging generation from three (or was it four?) that Alice Davenport covered but most of which old hands at Metro would discard. I bet credited scribe John Lee Mahin never read a fraction of Davenport’s massive book, his job not to reason why it went so long, but to do or die at pulling ripest fruit from it, a job as efficiently done for somebody else having summarized the epic read for him. “The book was better” many would say, but even they knew impossibility of putting a thing so sprawling to film, a night out at the movies never meant to be all night out at the movies.

The Valley of Decision ran one minute under two hours. I watched Warner Archive’s Blu-Ray and liked there being no misunderstanding as to what the experience will be, us taking these best for knowing what we’ve got into, “Greer Garson” medicine we don’t expect to blanch on, as it’s gummy plus cherry-flavored in the bargain. Garson, MGM too, is for those who have stood duty in old movie trenches for most of viewing life. I rue the day when none such fanship is left, but know well it's coming. To Greer Garson followers: Ever feel you might end up the last of your kind standing? That sometimes comes to me with regards Deanna. Among Valley joys: Leo buying talent and spreading same like butter on toast. They pressbook-brag of “Hollywood’s Meanest Juvenile in (a) Big Role,” juvenile being Dan Duryea who probably hadn’t thought of himself quite that way, nor expected a part small and supporting as here, but bets are on his having got more money than Universal dreamed of giving for him having been even meaner. Gladys Cooper was a presumed free agent, she and her agent not having things so good since she, according to Metro blurb, stumbled by chance into movies. Contractees get colorful look-ins: Lionel Barrymore, Marsha Hunt, Marshall Thompson, Dean Stockwell, each able to “act” more here than for stock parts given with weekly checks for predictable effort. To that last, did G. Garson feel too much defined by Metro plow she had been pulling? I wrote her once in the eighties, address in Texas, to ask a series of questions about working with Gable on Adventure in 1945. She went down my list writing Yes, No, an occasional Maybe or Sometimes, to my inquiries. Single word replies to everything I asked. How does one but admire such brevity? Here’s last to speculate upon: The Valley of Decision was shipped by the War Department to service personnel throughout the world. Imagine sitting through it in undoubted valleys of death where every movie you saw might be a last you’d ever see. They say that for some of deepest jungle shows, the enemy would climb trees so they could watch too.

More Halloween Harvest for 2026

 

Spooking: Monsters, Mayhem, and Marquees

And a Hand-Made Puppet Shall Lead Them --- Do click and enlarge the Beast. He’s a model, so are cars, so’s the street itself … would we have it any other way? Much appeal of Harryhausen was fans figuring they could do what he did at home. That’s how he started after all, in the family garage with a tabletop and stuff bought at the hardware. His was Dreaming the Possible Dream as lots loving his work would. More than a few made films like Ray, enough succeeding to realize it could be done. Have any effects artists come up in the last sixty years who were not inspired by Harryhausen? What astounds me is detail he lent, inside of the creature’s mouth, its roof, teeth, tongue, all done with two hands and infinite patience. Such application was unknown to my building of Aurora kits. The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms probably got the classiest first-run playdates of any monster movie made during the fifties. Look how the Paramount Theatre gave it a blue-ribbon stage show for accompany, and how their opener day ad emphasizes TV saturation. The Beast stayed three weeks at the Paramount, amazing play for product insignificant on the surface. Easy to forget that The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms also took more money than most (any?) horror-sci-fi from the fifties. It may still be the most enjoyable of them.

Runt of That Season’s Litter --- Humphrey Bogart said Karloff or Bela Lugosi should have done this rather than him, Return of Dr. X a frank “B” with no relation to the landmark 1932 thriller. Well and good, but how many B’s got such a splash as this outside theatres? Horror was something you could sell no matter how sorry, quality not anyone’s expectation. I would have figured X opening for New York’s Rialto, but no, the Loew’s Criterion got it, and we could hope they didn’t hang too high with it. Still … Return of Dr. X as a single? Wiser heads might have picked something else, but this was Thanksgiving weekend, so maybe the Criterion took a punt and hoped for better things from Kay Kyser in That’s Right --- You’re Wrong, scheduled to come in next. Return of Dr. X was done and out after one week of play.

Be Rich, Rathbone! --- Above is the sort of daily life I would have wished for Basil Rathbone. Comfortable surroundings, wanting for nothing, a full pipe always, work awaiting with demand for him constant. Above was posed for The Bishop Murder Case, wherein Rathbone played Philo Vance, a gentleman detective who solved murders not for money but to test his skill against killers and police whose resources could never match his own. Rathbone should have been Vance offscreen, wealth assured, servant or staff at always beck and call. Unfortunately, not many film stars got to live that way, fewer even died comfortable thanks to gravy scoopers and “career assist” to graze forever upon them. No-stop struggle to stay above water lines is illustrated by Basil shill for “Fatima” cigarettes. Did he use them? I’m going to guess no, or a tentative could-be. Doubt too he drank Leisy Light Beer despite hosting movies the brewer sponsored on local TV. That was later when chips were headed down. Basil spent (too much) to please his wife. She liked lavish parties and showing off, so he fed parasite multitudes. I’ve thought since kid-hood that Basil could have done better than Ouida. There are grandchildren by son Rodian (of a previous marriage). One of them is a pathologist with Yale New Haven Hospital. Next time you get a biopsy, let him perform it.

Fu Manchu Wore Many Masks --- Boris Karloff came out and said that Mask of Fu Manchu was a lousy picture, such breach of tact not common to this actor. Debate persists as to whether it is, or not, a lousy picture. Fans insist no. They all bought the Blu-ray and no telling how many times they’ve watched. I once had a 16mm Films, Inc. rental print made up before MGM cut Fu in the early seventies for a triple reissue with Mark of the Vampire and the Paramount Jekyll and Hyde, latter which MGM had come to own. What’s remarkable are these ads, both resolutely precode. Chicago basks in the torture, Faster! Faster! Faster! Fu’s devices for pain are individually celebrated. Here was sort of stuff that brought Code enforcement upon the industry, not content of movies themselves. Were such shows wrecking our youth? Chicago’s Roosevelt answers with dime rate “for children.” As remarkable is Broadway’s Capitol ad, Fu’s “love drug” a lure surpassed only by Bing Crosby and Bob Hope paired on stage. Was this when/where the boys had their first impromptu teaming? If so, it was history made in Karloff’s sinister shadow.

Gape, Gasp, and Wonder --- RKO misled patrons with posters for both Son of Kong and Mighty Joe Young, making the monkeys seem bigger than what screens would reveal. Call it puffing, or is it puffery? Don’t be blunter however with “lying,” which I guess everyone was used to, could even forgive so long as the film got by on minimal merits, which Son of Kong previously had, though word-of-mouth, quick and pitiless, resulted in Son taking less than half of domestic rentals as did Dad. Mighty Joe Young arrived to New York with a roar and stunt publicity to make its human fly of an ape-skinned wire walker defy death to fill seats at the Criterion Theatre. Why not a direct sequel to King Kong? The money for one thing, disinclination by now to play this sort of material for anything other than comedy. Mighty Joe Young would stay a kid show well into 60’s Saturdays, at least here in NC. Imagine local permits it took to put that faux ape aloft. Out of his costume and into the shower, he could have made it in time for the next performance of history-making A Streetcar Named Desire across the street. To have known New York in such hallowed days …

A One-Legged Race for Two Fright Films --- New York’s Rialto was long a home to horror. Most chillers first-ran there to be observed by showmen who might use them down the exhibition line. That was then, as in late 30’s, early-to-mid 40’s, but this (1958) was now. Frightful combos were getting the more so for low yield, MGM seeing minimal reward from The Haunted Strangler (domestic rentals $208K) paired with Fiend Without a Face ($198K). Fans were weary of sameness, more so cheapness as exemplified by American-International if not worse cheapies. Strangler and Fiend were independently produced in England by Richard Gordon. His horrors (two with Boris Karloff) were unpleasant in the extreme, enough so for me to avoid them even in childhood. They’re well-made enough, better than rivals, which is probably why Metro was willing to handle them. Nice to see Karloff late as ’58 still referred to as “King of Monsters.” Who else had come along to challenge him? Big companies needed product to eat overhead and keep exchanges busy, monster duos beneath them in a sense but necessary evil especially where a public was willing to buy. B/W packages like here were fast fading, MGM finding out first with this foray.

I Was Three So Why Not Take Me? --- October 1957 was pre-Liberty by two years, but I/we can dream of shows that preceded age and capacity to attend. AI asserted its own creative bent with this ad which I tried to disabuse, but no luck. Sometimes the oracle listens, other times won’t. That scarred up head might belong to anybody, but not Chris Lee. Still it’s an OK swap for my “original” coming off microfilm at the Community College and muddier than objects Baron Victor lowered into his acid bath. What is life but swaps and settling? Point is night of nights as hosted by Colonel Forehand and staff among whom were teen ushers I spoke with years later who’d confirm the Colonel ran a taut ship (remember his report card inspections? If grades fell, out you went). The Curse of Frankenstein was the thousand watt show for summer elsewhere, limping down to us for autumn, but what better occasion than Halloween Eve at which to revel? X --- the Unknown would join the program for next day and Friday play. Wonder if attendees liked Curse enough to come back for another dose plus the Hammer sci-fi. And what if somebody really fainted during the show? A boy doing so would surely be branded for life (imagined conversation at a fiftieth reunion: Remember that time you fainted during the Frankenstein picture?).

UPDATE (10/26/2026, 8:20 pm): Donald Benson sent along the below astonishing ad. Would not believe it had I not seen it. Donald explains:

Somewhere I have this actual page, courtesy of my sister (pulled the attached image off reddit). The copy implies it was part of a campaign; wondering if the copy was as arch all the way through.

Many Thanks to Scott MacQueen for supplying the Roosevelt Theatre ad for The Mask of Fu Manchu.

UPDATE (10/31/2026, 12:15 pm): Lou Lumenick sent another Jiffy ad. Again, who knew? As ever, thanks a million, Lou.

Halloween Harvest for 2026

 

Compare Here and Below If You Can Stand It ...

'Tis Another Spook Season --- Part One

Here’s Where We Spot AI From a Mile Away --- To collect lobby cards, you often  make do. Pinholes, scuff marks, even paint dabs can be fixed. Fading cannot. Cards sat often in the sun, displayed outdoors to damaging rays. It didn’t take long for Old Sol to do his harm. I got this group scene from Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and tried to kid myself it was OK, self-deception collectors often engage, but no, it was bleached and no denying. Still I’ve kept it because a pristine specimen would cost upward of five hundred, Holmes and Rathbone always a lure, plus being early Fox offering. For fun’s sake, I turned AI loose on the image and got result shown here. Such modern, no ... miracle, treatment looks better than that $500 original would, sharper anyway, except who'd pay $500 for such chromo? We want the real thing, faded even, if that’s all there is.

To Think Folks Took Such a Gallery for Granted Back Then ...

Bridal Bouquets --- For every screen fiend there’d be an eventual Bride(s), gateway to sex and procreating a Son of said fiend. Healthy progress in its way, whatever the unholy results. Barbara Payton as Bride of the Gorilla suggested possibilities undreamt of to then, she being Barbara Payton, and what was a gorilla for her other than slight step down from Tom Neal? We’d all give much to have been at the Capitol when Lon Chaney made his live-on-stage appearance. What did he do or talk about? Was it enough to merely s tand there and let us stare at him? Would have been for me, Lon after all the Wolf Man, Mummy, Count Alucard, classics still rotating heavy in the early fifties when Bride of the Gorilla made its rounds. Producer Jack Broder was the man who kept such favorites in circulation thanks to his “Realart” deal with Universal which dated back to the late forties. I’d like knowing what Chaney was paid for showing up at the Capitol. Somebody please tell us too where this Capitol was located. Small town or large? I’ll bet small, but probably within driving distance of Chaney home and hearth.

And Multiple Brides for Dracula --- He came, saw, seduced many a lass by 1960 when Hammer, if not distributing Universal, realized that sex was an only way to profitably sell a Dracula movie, the vampire king becoming long-in-the-teeth otherwise (Francis Lederer for UA’s “Return” … who cared?). Hammer had David Peel, older than he looked, but a champ conqueror of manifold maids, several to make up guest lists at Hammer reunions into a next century. This Memphis Screamiere at the Malco was historic. Management had wanted to preem The Mummy a previous year, but Universal said no, be patient, your time will come, which it did in 1960 for blockbuster Brides event. There is experiencing Brides of Dracula at home, a sharpest Blu-Ray, seeing it even at a theatre back in the day, but nothing would approach this one-of-a-kind extravaganza, evoked if not replicated by Greenbriar on 4/14/2007 and between covers of Showmen, Sell It Hot. Of all places on heaven or earth to have been at a particular juncture of time, this would stand tall.

Use What You Got to Look Like a Lot --- In the exhibition trade, you work with resources you have. For Halloween or horror theme, or sci-fi … well after all it’s the same pudding whipped different perhaps, but still standard recipe. Here was a manager with a 1956 show he probably didn’t know from any other shocker in and off the screen within a day or slightly more. Did local management figure Invasion of the Body Snatchers for an update on the 1945 Body Snatcher? That had done OK, and Boris Karloff was in it, so why not use an on-hand Frankenstein mask and horror gloves to march across lobby and street environs? This showman never knew from “seminal,” as we know Invasion of the Body Snatchers to be, but outlook then was very different. Any show of this sort went poof and was gone, then-audiences caring little more than men who booked and ran the film. Our Liberty used Invasion of the Body Snatchers for two days during mid-week, this a local equivalent to roadshowing for weirdies. I don’t believe Colonel Forehand kept a Frankenstein mask on hand. At least we never saw ushers wear one.

Low on Stars, But Here They Are --- Maybe not apropos to Halloween and horror, but being Star Wars is fantasy, and features a horror-associated player, here we go. How to bill a cast where most of that cast are unknown? This was summer 1977 remember, and no one knew from youths that “starred” in Star Wars. Peter Cushing and Alec Guinness, however, were stars, and where names are needed for the marquee, theirs would do. I like how Cushing went first. He’d been a jobbing British player for long after Guinness took pole position among UK luminaries, which ask yourself how many true such came out of Britain, at least until Sean Connery, and I’m talking worldwide mega-sort names. Cushing and Guinness were said to have received a percentage of Star Wars, enjoyed wealthy third acts as result. I wished while watching Star Wars that Cushing would be the principal villain and be active throughout the show, which wish came largely to naught. Also read where Mark Hamill showed up on days he didn’t work to grill Cushing about his previous work for Hammer and with Laurel and Hardy in A Chump at Oxford. Alec Guinness had a remarkable likeness to Stan Laurel and used it for early stage work. He also wrote Laurel “a gushing fan letter” in 1961 but never met the comedy great. Why not? ... for Stan was in the phone book. Perhaps Guinness being naturally shy had something to do with it.

This Jungle Was Greener Than Green --- Again more fantasy than straight-up horror, but when did Technicolor look so utterly fantastic as this, even on TCM where much comes across visually compromised to some degree or other. The Jungle Book was produced by Korda, filmed in Hollywood (1942). England shoot was hazardous due to war, especially hothouse handling here, color amidst wild, with animals wilder. Distinction of The Jungle Book is Sabu talking to, and with, wildlife. They understand and respond to him. Tarzan had same tricks but this played as something uncanny, and we buy it, or at least I did. Disney made The Jungle Book two decades later as a cartoon. Korda’s treatment was a lot more serious. It really should be available on a deluxe Blu-Ray with extras. United Artists distributed, but it looks like Janus/Criterion owns The Jungle Book now. Do they think it too obscure? You’ll not have a Technicolor experience like this anyplace else. Mark Vieira restored the color images above. One I believe was originally the cover for a soundtrack album, among earliest sold.

UPDATE (10/19/2026, 8:40 am): Ever-welcome Scott MacGillivray finds another Lon Chaney appearance on behalf of Bride of the Gorilla, "in Detroit, at the Capitol Theatre (a 24-hour grind house) and the Gratiot Drive-In, on October 10 and 11, 1951." Thanks as Always, Scott.

I Like the Above AI-Enhanced Gorilla Perhaps More Than the One in the Movie

More Halloween Horrors to come next week at Greenbriar.

Another round of thanks to Lou Lumenick for supplying a rare ad from Lon Jr.'s 10/19/51 appearance at the New York Theatre, "across Times Square" from the fabled Rialto, celebrated often at Greenbriar:

UPDATE (10/22/2013 --- Noon): Just came across a neat trade ad for a topic Greenbriar visited back in 2018, The Big Drive, all about Great War ravages with unexpurgated combat footage. Also freshened up the theatre fronts and marquees shown. Go see!

Count Your Blessings #7

 

Patriarch of All He Surveys Burt Lancaster was at a Disadvantage in Whatever Version of The Leopard Unspooled

CYB: The Leopard (1963)

THE LEOPARD (1963) --- Made the mistake of watching the 2003 standard DVD release in mistaken belief there was no Blu-Ray, learning subsequent that Criterion upgraded to Blu later on. The Leopard is like so many European features hobbled by necessity of an English language version to properly sell stateside. That meant dubbing of everybody aboard, even star Burt Lancaster, who though he spoke English during the Italian shoot, had to do-over his voice for Twentieth-Fox distribution, that version supervised by the actor along with American director Sydney Pollack. Result was a mess that couldn’t help being a mess, the original Technirama debased to standard scope projection with inferior Color by Deluxe Fox was using in the sixties as opposed to rich Technicolor Euro audiences got. Length was also reduced by 24 minutes, 185 minutes down to 161 for domestic dates (the Rome premiere actually ran 205 minutes). I looked at the 185 edition, then portions of the Fox job, mainly to hear Lancaster, understand now why The Leopard failed, at least in the US. There seemed no way this or any Euro effort, let alone such an epic as here, would survive the crossing. Everybody spoke in voices not their own, here and there, each using native language during shooting and having to leave final outcome to post-production techs. Such was reality of multi-lingual filming and distribution worldwide. Yes, Lancaster spoke English when he acted his role in Italy, but all that had to be post-post-dubbed by him once back in America, and imagine how difficult that was with director and Italian crew moorings lost. Lancaster had to essentially work alone and try to remember nuances of a performance he had given months before. Poor guy ended up badly dubbed by both others and himself. Alain Delon and Claudia Cardinale were major names with no little appeal to worldwide audiences, but neither were heard in America, substitute speakers the rule with actors suffering for the switch. Delon especially loses what conviction he’d have otherwise brought to the US version, having to rely, like Cardinale, and Lancaster, on whatever impact his physical presence could have. This was enough to some extent, for these players had visual appeal during shared peak period, but to rely upon that would not support The Leopard enough in most markets it played.

Want to Hear These Actors Speak? Go Find France's Edition of The Leopard

Lancaster could not speak Italian, Cardinale could not speak sufficient English to dub her part for US release, Delon in the same position. He and Cardinale were only heard in their real voices for the French language version, which is available on a Region Two Blu-Ray. That may be the closest to an authentic rendition of the film in circulation, but wait, Burt Lancaster did not speak French, so there goes that. Fact is most Europeans never got to hear the actual voice of Lancaster and many other major American stars, as they of necessity were dubbed for whatever of their films circulated offshore. As with silent features and many a talkie from Europe, I frankly find it more satisfying to “learn” the narrative from a couple of viewings, then turn off the subtitles and watch the shows sans reading from there on. Certainly it helps from a visual standpoint, and we can sense most of drama and conflict from character expressions, the tone and tenor of their voices, or whoever's voice has been grafted onto the action. In that sense, European films are essentially silent, enjoyed best where we approach them that way. 60's critics argued endlessly on dubbing vs. subtitles, neither camp emerging the clear winner. A general public spoke loudest perhaps ... they'd take neither. Euro receipts from The Leopard gratified, but reviews and boxoffice in the United States crashed, $673K collected in domestic rentals against $2.466 million spent on the negative (Italian producers bankrupted by the venture). Final loss recorded by Fox was $1.422 million. Darryl Zanuck had seen and evaluated footage as production went on, him back in charge as crisis of Cleopatra deepened. The Leopard was anything but Zanuck’s sort of movie, him baked from beginnings in narrative-centered oven where languor or distractions of any sort were shaved before he’d permit release, but Zanuck knew also that his way of work was largely finished, especially where confronted by European methods and philosophy. He was in this regard not unlike Burt Lancaster’s character in The Leopard.

Inapt Comparison to The Longest Day and Cleopatra Was Far From Ideal Way to Sell The Leopard in the US

Critics in the US would not support The Leopard, which based on what they had to look at was understandable. Lancaster and Pollack did the best they could with what they had, a near-hopeless commission. The Leopard suffered on all screens for a story and background (obscure Italian history) that viewers needed thick encyclopedias to follow. I never understood what conflicts were really about and had to rely on colors of opposing uniforms as to who shot who, but never did I fully grasp why. The one mass battle scene seems a disorganized mess, now-sharpness of a restored image revealing soldiers running aimlessly forward or backward without really engaging one another. Zanuck surely winced when he screened these dailies. Director Luchino Visconti was celebrated enough to go forward with much resource, but till then smaller films may not have prepared him to now stage outsized action. In fact, he had not wanted the fight footage but was obliged by producers wanting size to sell. Euro makers dreamed constantly of American markets they’d crack. It had been done, by Italians in fact with La Dolce Vita, but insistence on an American star was not enough to overcome so many obstacles to The Leopard’s success in English-speaking markets. For all attempts at action, this came off insistently like an art film, which meant mainstream housing would bypass it, Burt Lancaster or not in the lead. He hosted an effusive trailer but showmen smelled a rat. Maybe they remembered how he stiffed them before with art-inclined projects. Television was as cruel. ABC used The Leopard first on November 5, 1967, again May 12, 1968. Ratings bottomed out both times. This film like so many others was utterly wrecked by square-framed tubes, or maybe viewers were used to seeing mere 60%, if that, of intended images. I’ll confess to that being the case for me. Fox recovered $491K from televised exposure of The Leopard.

A Ballroom Tour-De-Force to Influence Many Films That Would Come Later

Even If You Lose the Story's Thread, There Still is Wonderment Just to Look At

What did we know of proper ratio at the time? There was a book I eagerly bought during run-up to new network offerings called “TV 68,” cost $1.25. A most critical section, which I more-less memorized, was “Movies on TV Are Better Than Ever,” NY Times critic Howard Thompson brief reviewing near-all features networks had scheduled for the new season. One was The Leopard, which Thompson started out praising, “strikingly artistic, moodful, and atmospheric tableau,” then out came the stiletto, “also slow and extremely remote.” Result was me skipping ABC's run. It was a school night anyway and I would not have been permitted to stay up (same thing happened, and more traumatically, with Shane). Considering Leopard length, it would have been midnight before embrace of Morbius, although I can imagine how much ABC chopped this offering to keep it out of AM hours. The Leopard would wait long to flower. Per often, Criterion got the job done. Their Blu-Ray is the best The Leopard ever looked, the US cut there as an extra but not restored. The Italian “legitimate” version now seems the only one serious cinephiles care to watch. I don’t say “Count Your Blessings” lightly here. The Leopard as rendered by Criterion is a rescue for what many consider a masterpiece, a till-then oblivion admirers thought The Leopard would never emerge from. Still a commitment to get through, but highlights are more than memorable, a final forty minutes centered on a lavish ball one of the outstanding highlights of sixties, or anytime, filmmaking. We see clear where inspiration for parts of The Godfather, The Deerhunter, Heaven’s Gate, and The Age of Innocence came from. They all learned from Visconti, though I’d not say any surpassed him.

Trade Talk #7

 

What Trades Told: Paramounts on Parade, Frank Wants Back In, and Adults Only Please

Re Broadway's legendary Paramount Theatre (interior above), how’s addressing sheer vast of the place, a closest millions came to entering a king’s palace, let alone as welcome guests, not sweeping ash but treated like royals manor born. I personally never stood in a so-called “movie palace,” crumbled remnants of a few, yes, a more sad than satisfying experience. Ever visit such ruins? They're like Pompeii after the eruption. In fact, preservationists are doing a better job keeping Pompeii intact these days. Once there was a collector’s show (1976) at a rundown Greensboro venue, promoter-in-part Don Key who used to publish the fabled Big Reel where we enthusiasts could buy 16mm. The onetime Paramount anchor now saw reels and old posters change hands in spacious common areas once pristine and filled with excited patronage. There was smell of decay about it, but what did we care so long as there was film plus paper to barter back and forth? Broadway’s Paramount Theatre was ultimate showcase for freshest product its corporate owner had to offer, the site a model to which others could aspire, but never equal. People who never knew luxury in their lives could come here and experience it. An admission bought far more than a feature plus live entertainment, however spectacular these were.

Walking upon plushest carpet, using facilities unknown at barely plumbed homes, what survives of such grandeur stilled images as published by trades, plus Paramount fronts and marquees photographed for whatever posterity they’d know. Then too were ads that once enticed, prices notably lowered following the war when receipts began falling as folks found other ways to dispose of dollars. Trades tried to assure a nervous industry that renewed prosperity was just around a late forties corner, but wiser heads knew better. How do you maximize profits while forced to lower admissions just to fill a fraction of your seats? Simple truth was movies not so entrancing as before. Neither were the live acts now that swing had passed its prime. Trouble was studio output much more costly to complete, then compete, for leisure dollars. You’d not dream it all could disappear, but consent decrees cruelly scattered the lot of Broadway palaces plus others of similar size at key sites throughout the country. Little is left of these monuments now, only ads, stills, to convince us they existed, a fact the harder to conceive with ever fewer of eyewitnesses to confirm that life was indeed once like this.

I'm Told the Paramount Even at Peak of Frank's Popularity Put Plants in the Audience to Shriek and Swoon for Him

Meet Danny and Meet Frank Again --- Trades didn’t tell it at the time but run-down-at-heels Frank Sinatra fairly begged old stand the Paramount Theatre to let him back in to live perform with Meet Danny Wilson, a Universal comparative cheapie that hoped to revive both Frank and musicals not necessarily the strength of this studio. The Paramount was by now a free agency for exhibition of films they’d choose rather than have them chosen by previous owner Paramount Pictures, entity formerly in control of this Broadway house plus 1,200 or so more across the country. That was then and this was now, choke collars off theatres and if you wanted a favor, like Frank obviously did, you took your hat in hand and called on Mr. Manager. Sinatra's relationship with the Paramount was good for multiple appearances at this acknowledged sweet spot of all presentation houses he graced over years since starting. It all came inevitably to accumulated good will, this true all over but especially so in exhibition. Tricks of the Trade were better called Trust of the Trade.

Swim In a Heated Morgan’s Creek --- Trade folk followed each other like hounds after meat. Word would get out of a selling device that worked and sniffers from however far would ape the scheme and be off to respective banks with reward. Far from resenting the purloin, showmen were flattered when brothers of the business took their example and ran farther with it, like for instance Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, a 1945 hot potato to declare censors defeated and come on in to wide open comedy forbidden till now. Who were they kidding really, though proof was in pudding whipped by Preston Sturges, who wrote-directed Morgan’s and made Miracle of beating prudes at their suffocating game. Did the Chicago Theatre here go too far? What if would-be patronage took the “Adults Only” tag serious? Storks a-flyin’ bespeak babies born, that of course what Morgan Creek’s Miracle was all about. Word spread fast that Betty Hutton’s character gets knocked up, but by which of many servicemen she kisses goodbye? It all seemed too good to be true for sauce seekers so far frustrated by Hollywood pulling in horns. Had a new day dawned for moviegoers?