Magic Couples of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

Movies have always reflected the hopes and dreams of the public, especially in terms of romance. Since almost every movie genre - from mysteries to swashbucklers, from war to love stories - features a leading man and a woman, it is not surprising that thousands of different screen couples exist on film. Only a relatively few couples created real magic, and of these, a surprising number worked for MGM.

At the studio with "more stars than there are in heaven," Louis B. Mayer and Irving Thalberg acted as divine matchmakers. If a couple proved successful in a film, it was likely they would be recast as a team, especially if they were both under contract to MGM. Thalberg, for example, noticed a chemistry between Joan Crawford and Clark Gable when they co-starred for the first time in Dance, Fools, Dance ( 1931 ). He set the story department to finding scripts that would suit the two actors. Subsequently, Crawford and Gable made eight films together, in most of which she played the working girl who rose to fame and glamour, and he was the rugged he-man who loved her. Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney, the perennial happy-go-lucky teenagers, co-starred in nine MGM movies. And Myrna Loy and William Powell, the quintessential happily married couple of the forties, made thirteen films together in as many years. 

What made a great screen couple? The answer is as difficult to determine as it is to explain what makes a relationship work in real life. Like all great lovers, screen couples exude mystery and wonder. "We're inevitable, " John Gilbert tells Greta Garbo in Queen Christina ( 1934 ), "Don't you feel it?" She does and so do we. Great lovers always seem inevitable, part kismet, and part coincidence. 

Casting two actors together creates a third entity, a single ideal. And no movie studio in the world paired couples together with as much frequency as MGM. In some cases, screen couples served to perpetuate a series, such as Johnny Weissmuller and Maureen O'Sullivan in the Tarzan films, or Lew Ayres and Laraine Day in a succession of Dr. Kildare episodes. But the great MGM screen couples came to symbolize a singular aspect of romance: Greta Garbo and John Gilbert ( Temptation ); Clark Gable and Jean Harlow ( Lust ); Joan Crawford and Clark Gable ( Glamour ); Myrna Loy and William Powell ( Sophistication ); Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy ( Sentimental Love ); Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney ( Good, Clean Fun ); Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon ( Enduring Love ); Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn ( Mutual Admiration ). 

Perhaps the popularity of these couples can be attributed to moviegoers' longing for the romantic ideals these costars projected on the screen. Certainly, their popularity also was a reflection of the times. Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy sang sentimental arias to each other, lavishly adorned in period costumes, while the world suffered through the Great Depression. Their love was always chaste and their relationship was as idealized as someone like Louis B. Mayer couple imagine. In Mrs. Miniver ( 1942 ), Greer Garson and Walter Pidgeon stoically endured the hardships of World War II. ( Winston Churchill said that the movie did more for the war effort than a fleet of destroyers ). But the common bond and the lasting appeal of the majority of screen couples from this era also had to do with equality of the sexes. 

We may think of the liberated woman as a phenomenon of the seventies, but just look at the female characters of the thirties and forties. They were women who stood up to their men; Women who could wisecrack, work, even fight, if necessary, for the things they wanted and for the men they loved. They were equal partners in solving a crime, running a business, singing duets, or dancing on Broadway. These women held their own with men in the bedroom, the boardroom, and even the barroom, when necessary. In a classic scene from The Thin Man ( 1934 ), Myrna Loy discovers that William Powell has consumed six martinis, and tells the waiter, "....bring me five more martinis, Leo, and line they right up here."

These women matched their men, drink for drink, or any other way, and the men loved them for it. 

The influence of MGM's screen couples continues today on late-night television and in video rental stores, where these movies of yesteryear are still popular, reinforcing the fantasies created by Hollywood's most powerful dream machine. Obviously, we still want to believe that, in real life, Loy and Powell or Garson and Pidgeon stay happily married for decades. "Ah! Sweet mystery of life, " as Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy would croon. And the mystery was this: Why can't real life work like the movies?

- Peter Hay

The above article was an excerpt from "MGM: When the Lion Roars", written by Peter Hay and published by Turner Publishing Inc ( 1991 ). 

From the Archives: The Treasure of Lost Canyon ( 1952 )

Catch that chicken, Mr. Powell!!

The Treasure of Lost Canyon is one of those films that get lost among all of the other features that came out in the early 1950s, but it really is quite a treasure in itself. Its a sweet family film about a country doctor who adopts an orphan boy and their quest for a lost treasure chest of gold coins. The story was based upon Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Treasure of Franchard". 

From the Archives is our latest series of posts where we share photos from the Silverbanks Pictures collection. Some of these may have been sold in the past, and others may still be available for purchase at our eBay store : http://stores.ebay.com/Silverbanks-Pictures

A Walk around the Studio Lots in 1938

In a recurring feature of Photoplay magazine, "We Cover the Studios," columnist James Reid meanders around the various studio lots seeing what film productions are in progress and keeping his ears and eyes open to anything that may be of interest to the readers of his column. In this March 1938 issue quite a bit of his news has interest for classic film fans and so his article has been reprinted here ( in part ) : 

The Baroness and the Butler is the picture that brings Annabella, the French star, to the American screen. Opposite her is William Powell. She asked for him as her costar after meeting him in Paris on his recent trip abroad. It was carefully explained to her that he was under contract to another studio. She still couldn't see why the costardom couldn't be arranged. It was arranged. Annabella is that persuasive, even in person. (P. S. She is blonde with lively brown eyes.) 

Powell looks rested after his long vacation trip. But you can't be around him without sensing that he still is low-spirited. He says, "From now on, I'm going to do only two pictures a year. That's enough, if the two are good. If I rush through five a year, only one of the five may be good. This way, people can expect more by seeing me less. Also, there is such a thing as trying to do too much. I've seen it happen: people overworking, wrecking their health, even dying." . Though he still may be playing comedy, he is not forgetting Jean Harlow. 

Again, as in My Man Godfrey, he is a butler. The setting, however, is Budapest — where the People's Party elects him to the same Parliament in which his baron-employer (Henry Stephenson) serves. We see the scene in which the baron, who doesn't know how to lace his own shoes, begs Bill to reconsider, while the baron's daughter (Annabella) upbraids Bill for being a "traitor." Bill blithely replies that he expects life to go on as before, when the parliament isn't in session. Before the scene begins, Bill, standing close to Stephenson, absent-mindedly plucks lint off Stephenson's coat. He is so used to being a butler now that he even buttles between scenes.

We look in on Stage 22, to see what Bette Davis is doing, in the curls and crinolines of nearly a century ago, in Jezebel. Bette, it seems, is coming up to a death scene. 

She and Director William Wyler are having an argument. A friendly verbal bout but — still a bout. Willie isn't satisfied with Bette's make-up for the scene. She "isn't pale enough"; she "doesn't look tired enough." Bette is arguing that she has done death scenes before, has always worn this kind of make-up, and has "always looked realistic." 

Neither can convince the other. Finally, Bette says, "Willie, don't tell me you won't listen to reason! Don't tell me I'll have to go temperamental on you!" She flounces off to her portable dressing room, as if she's going temperamental here and now. 

Wyler, with a gleam in his eye, stalks after her. He takes off her door the white board with the name "Bette Davis," turns it over, prints something on it, then hangs it back up. The sign now reads: "Simone Simon." Bette flings open the door to see what he is doing, and unwillingly laughs. But she isn't changing her make-up until make-up expert Perc Westmore (already sent for) arrives, to referee the argument. 

They still are waiting for Westmore, and the business manager is shredding his hair over the production delay, as we head for the Warner back lot and the set of The Adventures of Robin Hood. Here, another business manager is rendering himself bald over production delay. The picture is in Technicolor and, because of lighting problems, they can work only five hours a day. And today there are nine hundred people on the set, and it takes an hour to line them up for one "take." 

This is a vast set — a market square in Twelfth Century England. In the center of the square towers a primitive gallows. All about the square are extras in tatters, representing the angry populace, being held in check by other extras in the chain-mail uniforms of medieval soldiers. At one side stands a silken pavilion, housing nobles who have come to watch the sport of seeing Robin Hood hanged — Robin Hood being played by Errol Flynn, who has Olivia de Havilland for his Maid Marian. 

Two cameras are filming the scene, from different angles. Sun reflectors have to be set for each of them. Then, because of the size of the set, director Michael Curtiz has to do his directing via a loud-speaker. Between his accent and the echoing acoustics the extras have their troubles, finding out what they are supposed to do, and when, and where. 

The extras, after standing around and being pushed around for an hour, aren't up to being excited when Robin Hood is finally trundled into the square in a two-wheeled cart. Curtiz calls for a retake, meanwhile delegating an assistant director to bawl them out in plain English. The second take is better. The third is perfect. But by that time the business manager, incredulously feeling the top of his head, fails to find a single hair to tear.

To find more stories like this, check out the other posts in our series - Movie Magazine Articles. Enjoy! 

Beau Geste ( 1926 )

In 1926 Percival Christopher Wren's best-selling novel "Beau Geste" was brought to the screen in a thrilling silent adaptation by John Russell and Herbert Brenon. It was a film that inspired director William Wellman and launched numerous remakes ( including Wellman's own 1939 version of Beau Geste ).  

Ronald Colman, Neil Hamilton and Ralph Forbes star in the lead roles of three English brothers who join the Foreign Legion after one of them is accused of stealing a family jewel known as "The Blue Water". They find that becoming real soldiers is a far cry from the game of soldiers they played in their youth, especially with a bestial sergeant ( Noah Berry ) and a greasy rat ( William Powell ) in their company. 

Beau Geste could be called a war film, but it would be better to classify it as a mystery, for director Herbert Brenon established a riddle of events within the first fifteen minutes that draws audiences into discovering what the remaining story has to tell. Unlike most mysteries, it unravels its narrative working backwards to a solution.

Beau Geste begins with a troop of Foreign Legion soldiers marching towards a fort announcing their coming and receiving no response from the trumpeteer within. When the leader of the troop, Major de Beaujolais, investigates closer he finds that all of the soldiers standing guard around the fort are corpses, leaning with their guns pointed outwards in readiness for an attack. He asks for a volunteer to climb the walls and open the gates from within, but this man too disappears and so the Major scales the walls himself and finds the dead body of the commander clasping a letter in his hand...a letter addressed to Scotland Yard, confessing a crime that he had committed. The major returns to his soldiers outside of the gate but within a few minutes turns to find that the fort is going up in flames. A bonfire of corpses standing alone in the desert. What could it all mean? 

Paramount united with its rival, Famous Players, to bring Beau Geste to the screen, releasing it in the autumn of 1926. Critics at the time thought the film would have only a mediocre run, underestimating audiences ability to endure an "epic length" film ( 120 minutes ). Little did they realize that within twenty years this would become a standard running time. Beau Geste quickly became Paramount's biggest hit of the year and one of the greatest box-office successes of the entire decade. 

Some of the era's most popular stars worked together to make the film such a roaring success....Ronald Colman, who was being groomed as a rival to Rudolph Valentino, the legendary actor Neil Hamilton, William Powell, Ralph Forbes, Victor McLagen, Alice Joyce ( as the boys mother ), and Mary Brian as their love interest. 

Norman Trevor receives the choicest role as Major de Beaujolais, the man who first discovers the mysterious Citadel of the Dead with its legions of dead soldiers standing guard. As Sergeant LeJaune, Noah Berry demonstrates a glorious slice of ham in a performance which would have earned him an Academy Award had the awards been established at that time. 

Beau Geste is silent cinema at its best, combining elements of adventure, mystery and romance in one tight production and we highly recommend it as an introductory film for those who have not yet had a taste of silent cinema. 

This post is our contribution to The Silent Cinema Blogathon being hosted by In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood and running from Oct. 27 - Oct. 29, 2015. Be sure to check out all the great articles on your silent film favorites.

Libeled Lady ( 1936 ) - A Behind-the-Scenes Look

Every ace reporter wants a good story, one that is ripe with human interest and a fair amount of juice. But a really good reporter avoids the pulp. Sometimes, in the haste of chasing a scoop they squeeze a lemon and then they find the aftertaste to be quite bitter. Warren Haggerty ( Spencer Tracy ) did just that. As editor of the New York Evening Star, he printed a statement that heiress Connie Allenbury ( Myrna Loy ) was a marriage-breaker, cause enough for her to sue him for libel - $5,000,000 worth! 

Frantic, Haggerty schemes up a plan to prove his statement true. He nabs an out-of-work reporter ( William Powell ) to marry his own fiancee Gladys ( Jean Harlow ), and then orders him to compromise Ms. Allenbury. Enter an indignant Gladys who will then publicly sue Connie Allenbury for husband-stealing. Good plan, providing all runs well. 

All does NOT go well, however. Hence, the film takes a rollicking good turn into the realm of comedic mayhem. 

Libeled Lady is based on an original story by William Sullivan, a former newspaper reporter himself. Its premise revolves around a newspaper editor's worse nightmare - a libel suit. But, like most editors will attest, ingenuity comes to the rescue in moments of crisis, and Warren Haggerty will do anything to avoid that suit and save his job. 

The film is a briskly paced and highly amusing comedy which gives each of its stars plenty of room to sparkle and shine. It features some of MGM's top talent in their best form. Jean Harlow began her rise to stardom through screwball comedies and her return to the genre, after some more diverse roles in Riffraff ( 1935 ), Wife vs. Secretary ( 1936 ), and Suzy ( 1936 ), was welcomed with open arms by the public. Libeled Lady secured her standing as one of MGM's top female stars. She went on to make two more films before her untimely death at the age of 26.

Interestingly enough, Harlow originally balked at playing the part of Gladys. She wanted the role of Connie Allenbury in order to have scenes with her off-screen fiancee, William Powell. The MGM boss, Louis B. Mayer, shook his head at the suggestion ( he insisted the Powell/Loy teaming was what the public wanted ), and by the end of the film Harlow admitted that she enjoyed playing Gladys and the role was perfect for her. Even though she didn't get to spend many scenes together with Powell, they did spend time with each other in between scenes. As Frank Miller* writes, 

" She often visited the set when he was filming his scenes with Loy. One of those times, while she was waiting for Powell to finish a scene so they could go to dinner, director Jack Conway realized that he was one extra short for a big scene. Rather than let them postpone shooting - the casting office was already closed for the night - Harlow put on a black wig and joined the rest of the extras, a return to the work she had done when she first arrived in Hollywood ". 

Rosalind Russell was originally selected for the role of the heiress, but after the success of Powell and Loy's teaming in The Great Ziegfeld, it was decided that Myrna Loy would be more suitable. Libeled Lady marked the fifth of their fourteen films together. 

Another star that was replaced prior to the film's shooting was Lionel Barrymore for the part of Mr. Allenbury. Walter Connolly took over and played it with flair.

Location scenes for the famous fishing sequence were filmed in the high Sierras of California. The beautiful set design of the Allenbury's fishing cottage was another wonderful creation from MGM's supervising art director, Cedric Gibbons, who was busy that year working on Romeo and Juliet and The Great Ziegfeld for the studio as well. 

Libeled Lady was advertised as being MGM's first all-star film since Dinner at Eight ( 1933 ). It was directed by one of MGM's most dependable directors, Jack Conway, and was an immense hit at the box-office, earning $2.7 million in sales and even picked up an Oscar nod for Best Picture. 

Unlike most romantic comedies today, Libeled Lady had a perfect balance of star punch. It subtly refused to shine the spotlight on any one person and let it rest on all of them instead. It is truly a sophisticated slapstick par excellence. We have not seen the movie in over ten years and yet the one feature we do recall about the movie is it was funny...for that to remain memorable is a testament to how amusing the film must really be.

Some may say that a libel suit is no laughing matter...but Libeled Lady proves that statement wrong. It can be a laughing matter indeed! 

This post is our contribution to the Journalism in Classic Film blogathon covering newspaper men and women in classic films, hosted by Comet Over Hollywood and Lindsay's Movie Musings. Be sure to check out all the other great posts in this blogathon! 

* for TCMdb