We visit Walt Disney World in Orlando every few years, and I always enjoy the classic Hollywood vibe at Disney's Hollywood Studios. Here are a few photos from our most recent trip showing some of the ways that the park makes classic movie fans feel right at home.
The nod to classic costume designers Adrian and Edith Head was one of my favorite little touches. Replicas of gowns from the 1920s and 1930s could also been seen in many shop windows, although, sadly, the merchandise within the stores tended to be the same old theme park souvenirs. I keep hoping that Studios will add more interesting items to their stores, but we did manage to find some neat Oswald the Lucky Rabbit stuff this trip.
The main entrance area of the park is bright with neon and signs that recall Hollywood's Golden Age, including this Planet Hollywood sign. If only the real Planet Hollywood chain was this cool!
The mock movie posters at the Planet Hollywood shop also pay tribute to classic films. The sci-fi one is clearly a reference to the iconic promo image for Forbidden Planet (1956), while the Flyboys Over Hollywood poster reminds me of both the original and remake versions of The Dawn Patrol. I often wonder how many tourists actually stop to look at these little details, much less know what they mean.
These next two bring to mind Gone with the Wind (1939) and Out of the Past (1947), but they also summarize the whole genres of romance and film noir. I wonder how many old movie posters the designers looked at when they made these?
Every time I visit I notice something I hadn't really seen before, which is one of the reasons going back to Disney is always fun. I hope that by the next time I go, I'll have lots of new classic movie details to appreciate with the TCM updates at The Great Movie Ride!
Showing posts with label Edith Head. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edith Head. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Friday, November 7, 2014
Classic Films in Focus: THE HEIRESS (1949)
Olivia de Havilland won her second Oscar for Best Actress for The Heiress (1949), William Wyler's dramatic adaptation of the Henry James novel, Washington Square. The awkward, naive protagonist de Havilland plays is a far cry from the unshakably sweet Melanie Wilkes, the role for which de Havilland is best known, but Catherine Sloper is a far more complicated and dynamic character, which gives de Havilland the opportunity to prove that she is every bit as talented an actress as any leading lady of her era. Romantics and sentimental types beware: The Heiress offers no salve for wounded hearts except the cold, cruel comfort of revenge, which de Havilland's heroine metes out to the men in her life with all the fury of a woman scorned. Despite its decidedly cynical perspective on love, The Heiress is a winner for classic film fans, with excellent performances from Ralph Richardson, Miriam Hopkins, and Montgomery Clift, as well as Oscar-winning work from Edith Head and Aaron Copland.
The heiress of the title is de Havilland's character, Catherine, a shy, simple girl who falls woefully short of her father's expectations in a daughter. Dr. Sloper (Ralph Richardson) constantly compares Catherine to his beautiful, accomplished wife, who died in childbirth; to Catherine he is cool and condescending, but to others he more openly complains of her faults and his own disappointment. When the penniless but handsome Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift) courts the lovestruck Catherine, Dr. Sloper assumes that he only wants her money and tries to break the match, but his heartless tactics have unintended consequences. His widowed sister, Lavinia (Miriam Hopkins), encourages the young couple, but even she underestimates the extent of Catherine's resentment against those who have conspired to break her heart.
Catherine's climactic disillusionment gives de Havilland very different emotional states to play in the first and second halves of the film. When we first meet Catherine, she is not exactly plain, for de Havilland's natural beauty shines through no matter what, but she is very shy and introverted, never sure what to do with her hands or where to look during a conversation. She always leans away from the person who addresses her, shrinking with self-consciousness, but she can be clever when she speaks to her aunt, and if she is awkward it is partly because she possesses keen feelings that are easily overwhelmed. Catherine feels happiest when left alone with her embroidery, but as a young woman of the nineteenth century she is expected to be decorative, graceful, and, above all, marriageable. Dr. Sloper and Morris both make assumptions about her because of her perceived vulnerability, but cold iron waits beneath the softness that they manage to tear away. The moment of transformation is marked; everything about Catherine changes forever, even her voice, which drops from a tremulous whisper to a clear, hard snarl. In the later Catherine de Havilland gives us a fierce, sharp-edged fury of great beauty and burning eyes, feeding a bonfire of resentment beneath a calm exterior. She is absolutely terrifying, especially in the final scenes, when Morris returns after many years of separation.
The supporting players lend their characters subtlety and nuance that keep us from easily guessing their motives or their true natures. Miriam Hopkins is the most transparent and sympathetic as Aunt Lavinia, who enjoys life and the prospect of young love enough to hope for the best for Catherine, even if she also suspects that Morris is chiefly attracted to the girl's fortune. Ralph Richardson's Dr. Sloper, a bit devilish in his neat goatee, might actually love his daughter in some capacity but doesn't realize how deeply he wounds her until he has gone too far. He is certainly a selfish, insensitive father, who describes his only child as "an entirely mediocre and defenseless creature without a shred of poise." He never realizes how important Catherine's love for him is until he loses it forever. Montgomery Clift gives the most inscrutable performance as Morris; we never know how he really feels about Catherine. He, too, might love her, as he perpetually claims, even if he sees her wealth as necessary for his own comfort. His face never betrays him, but he does demonstrate quite a taste for the finer things in life, as well as a complete inability to work for them himself. Because the audience never knows for sure, we never know if Catherine's wrath is warranted. Is the ending terrible justice, or is it only tragedy?
The Heiress earned eight Oscar nominations in all, including a nod for Best Picture, with four wins. For de Havilland's other Oscar-nominated performances, see Gone with the Wind (1939), Hold Back the Dawn (1941), To Each His Own (1946), and The Snake Pit (1948). William Wyler also directed Mrs. Miniver (1942), The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and Ben-Hur (1959). See more of the handsome, tragic Montgomery Clift in Red River (1948), A Place in the Sun (1951), and From Here to Eternity (1953). You'll find Ralph Richardson in The Four Feathers (1939), Anna Karenina (1948), and Richard III (1955). Miriam Hopkins takes leading roles in earlier films like The Story of Temple Drake (1933), Becky Sharp (1935), and The Old Maid (1939). For the sake of comparison, you might try the 1997 version of Washington Square, which stars Jennifer Jason Leigh as Catherine and Albert Finney as her father, but the most famous adaptation of a Henry James story is certainly the 1961 horror classic, The Innocents.
The heiress of the title is de Havilland's character, Catherine, a shy, simple girl who falls woefully short of her father's expectations in a daughter. Dr. Sloper (Ralph Richardson) constantly compares Catherine to his beautiful, accomplished wife, who died in childbirth; to Catherine he is cool and condescending, but to others he more openly complains of her faults and his own disappointment. When the penniless but handsome Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift) courts the lovestruck Catherine, Dr. Sloper assumes that he only wants her money and tries to break the match, but his heartless tactics have unintended consequences. His widowed sister, Lavinia (Miriam Hopkins), encourages the young couple, but even she underestimates the extent of Catherine's resentment against those who have conspired to break her heart.
Catherine's climactic disillusionment gives de Havilland very different emotional states to play in the first and second halves of the film. When we first meet Catherine, she is not exactly plain, for de Havilland's natural beauty shines through no matter what, but she is very shy and introverted, never sure what to do with her hands or where to look during a conversation. She always leans away from the person who addresses her, shrinking with self-consciousness, but she can be clever when she speaks to her aunt, and if she is awkward it is partly because she possesses keen feelings that are easily overwhelmed. Catherine feels happiest when left alone with her embroidery, but as a young woman of the nineteenth century she is expected to be decorative, graceful, and, above all, marriageable. Dr. Sloper and Morris both make assumptions about her because of her perceived vulnerability, but cold iron waits beneath the softness that they manage to tear away. The moment of transformation is marked; everything about Catherine changes forever, even her voice, which drops from a tremulous whisper to a clear, hard snarl. In the later Catherine de Havilland gives us a fierce, sharp-edged fury of great beauty and burning eyes, feeding a bonfire of resentment beneath a calm exterior. She is absolutely terrifying, especially in the final scenes, when Morris returns after many years of separation.
The supporting players lend their characters subtlety and nuance that keep us from easily guessing their motives or their true natures. Miriam Hopkins is the most transparent and sympathetic as Aunt Lavinia, who enjoys life and the prospect of young love enough to hope for the best for Catherine, even if she also suspects that Morris is chiefly attracted to the girl's fortune. Ralph Richardson's Dr. Sloper, a bit devilish in his neat goatee, might actually love his daughter in some capacity but doesn't realize how deeply he wounds her until he has gone too far. He is certainly a selfish, insensitive father, who describes his only child as "an entirely mediocre and defenseless creature without a shred of poise." He never realizes how important Catherine's love for him is until he loses it forever. Montgomery Clift gives the most inscrutable performance as Morris; we never know how he really feels about Catherine. He, too, might love her, as he perpetually claims, even if he sees her wealth as necessary for his own comfort. His face never betrays him, but he does demonstrate quite a taste for the finer things in life, as well as a complete inability to work for them himself. Because the audience never knows for sure, we never know if Catherine's wrath is warranted. Is the ending terrible justice, or is it only tragedy?
The Heiress earned eight Oscar nominations in all, including a nod for Best Picture, with four wins. For de Havilland's other Oscar-nominated performances, see Gone with the Wind (1939), Hold Back the Dawn (1941), To Each His Own (1946), and The Snake Pit (1948). William Wyler also directed Mrs. Miniver (1942), The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and Ben-Hur (1959). See more of the handsome, tragic Montgomery Clift in Red River (1948), A Place in the Sun (1951), and From Here to Eternity (1953). You'll find Ralph Richardson in The Four Feathers (1939), Anna Karenina (1948), and Richard III (1955). Miriam Hopkins takes leading roles in earlier films like The Story of Temple Drake (1933), Becky Sharp (1935), and The Old Maid (1939). For the sake of comparison, you might try the 1997 version of Washington Square, which stars Jennifer Jason Leigh as Catherine and Albert Finney as her father, but the most famous adaptation of a Henry James story is certainly the 1961 horror classic, The Innocents.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Classic Movie Costume Designers
For
many film fans, the gorgeous costumes and gowns of the stars make up a big part
of the appeal of classic movies. That was true during Hollywood's early days,
too, when audiences flocked to the cinema for a look at life on the greener
side of the hill. Actresses like Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Katharine Hepburn,
and Gene Tierney were expected to look ravishing in gowns created by the most
talented costume designers in the business; the stars' reputations for glamour
were on the line every time they appeared on the screen or strolled across the
red carpet, and a talented designer could make the difference in a performer's
rise from actress to icon. Here is an introduction to a handful of classic
Hollywood's greatest costume designers, along with some suggestions about where
to see their best creations on film.
Adrian
Adrian
Adolph Greenburg (1903-1959) was the gifted designer who created the fantastic
costumes of The Wizard of Oz (1939)
for MGM, but he also styled the gowns for many other memorable classics,
including The Philadelphia Story
(1940), A Woman's Face (1941), and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1941). Some of
his best work sprang from his association with Joan Crawford, one of the great
style icons of the period. Although Adrian designed many gorgeous gowns for the
queens of the silver screen, his most enduring creations must be Dorothy's ruby
red slippers, changed from novelist L. Frank Baum's original silver shoes in
order to capitalize on the lavish hues of the Technicolor production.
Oleg Cassini
Born
in Paris, Oleg Cassini Loiewski (1919-2006) was romantically linked to many
Hollywood actresses, but his most important relationship was with the ethereal
Gene Tierney, who was both his wife and his muse as a costume designer. Cassini
created the gowns wore by Tierney in The
Razor's Edge (1946), The Ghost and
Mrs. Muir (1947), and Night and the
City (1950). Although their union ended in divorce (twice), film fans can
still appreciate the beautiful partnership that made Tierney look so lovely in
many of her best pictures. Having dressed both Jackie Kennedy and Grace Kelly,
Cassini remains one of the most renowned designers in the world, and his design
house still turns out haute couture for fashion conscious consumers who long
for their own chance at classic Hollywood style.
Edith Head
No
classic film designer was more prolific or better known than Edith Head
(1897-1981), who won eight Academy Awards over the course of her long career.
Her work included costumes for stars like Barbara Stanwyck in The Lady Eve (1941) and Ball of Fire (1941), Veronica Lake in Sullivan's Travels (1941), Ginger Rogers
in The Major and the Minor (1944),
and Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard
(1950). She created holiday cheer for the outfits worn in White Christmas (1954) and medieval fantasies for The Court Jester (1955). From Westerns
and screwball comedies to period dramas and musicals, Edith Head did it all,
which helps to explain why Edna Mode, the superhero costume designer in Pixar's
The Incredibles (2004), is both
parody of and homage to her legendary status.
Orry-Kelly
Originally
from Australia, Orry George Kelly won three Oscars for his costume designs. His
winning work came with An American in
Paris (1951), Les Girls (1957),
and Some Like It Hot (1959), but he
also designed costumes and gowns for Bette Davis in many of her best pictures,
including Jezebel (1938), Dark Victory (1939), The Old Maid (1939), and Now, Voyager (1941). His career started
in 1932, and by the time of his death in 1964 he had worked on nearly 300
films. Today, his most recognizable work is almost certainly his costuming for
Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca
(1942).
Walter Plunkett
If
you can picture Scarlett O'Hara from Gone
with the Wind (1939), you can picture the work of Walter Plunkett. He was
the costume designer responsible for that famous green curtain dress, as well
as the many other gorgeous period costumes featured in the film. Plunkett's
ability to create memorable and historically accurate period costumes led to
his involvement in many of the more colorful classic films, including both the
1933 and 1949 versions of Little Women,
Stagecoach (1939), Duel in the Sun (1946), and Kiss Me Kate (1953). Aside from Gone with the Wind, however, his most
memorable work came with Singin' in the
Rain (1951), in which he recalled the Hollywood styles of the 1920s for
Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, and Donald O'Connor with the perfect combination
of grace and humor that the film required.
Travilla
William
Travilla (1920-1990) won an Oscar for his work on The Adventures of Don Juan (1948), but he is best remembered as the
designer who dressed Marilyn Monroe in eight films: Monkey Business (1952), Don't
Bother to Knock (1952), Gentlemen
Prefer Blondes (1953), How to Marry a
Millionaire (1953), There's No
Business Like Show Business (1954), River
of No Return (1954), The Seven Year
Itch (1955), and Bus Stop (1956).
His work with Marilyn produced some of the most famous images in Hollywood
history, including the blonde bombshell dressed in white above a ventilation
shaft in The Seven Year Itch (1955).
An earlier version of this article originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.
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