The Feminine Touch: Movies about Writing

One more Rosalind Russell film.

John Hathaway (Don Ameche) is a college professor with a realistic view of the world around him. He is writing a book about jealously in the human psyche. He hopes the book will make enough money that he and his wife Julie (Rosalind Russell) can leave the university town. This is especially true when the dean tries to force him to pass an athlete who refuses to put in any effort. John decides to give up his job and talk to publisher Elliot Morgan (Van Heflin) about his book.

John’s academic approach to relationships drives Julie nuts, wishing he would be jealous every once in a while. Still, she supports his writing, encouraging healthy habits around his obsession at the typewriter. She is also he biggest cheerleader, stating that someday Morgan’s office will be lined with copies of John’s books. John replies that he’s know plenty of books that never get published. The character is a realist, through and through.

Enter Nellie (Kay Francis), Morgan’s assistant and girlfriend who has excellent knowledge of the literary world. She starts by saying that they don’t often publish scholarly works (to which Julie jokes that her husband can’t help being smart), however Nellie expresses an interest in the book if he focuses only on martial jealousy. As Nellie convinces him to change the book, Morgan flirts shamelessly with Julie. Julie worries about Nellie spending so much time with John. Nellie is frustrated with Morgan ignoring her for Julie. And John is completely secure in his marriage, continuing to upset Julie. She even has a ridiculous dream in which her husband dressed in prison stripes punches every man who looks at her. Oh, 1940s shenanigans! Of course none of these highly intelligent people think to get counseling and have healthy relationships. Nope. The women start screaming and the men eventually swing fists. Sigh.

There are several good jokes about the book world. Morgan grows a goatee because “Shakespeare had a beard”. The group attends a party full of drunk writers, self-deprecating critics, and smarmy lawyers making light of what terrible people agents are. The process of rewrites and publishing are shown through silly one-liners. Yet the film also makes it seem rather simple to sell a book, even one with an academic topic - if it’s skewed the right way. Lastly, there is the idea of what principles you have to give up in order to be printed.

No Time for Comedy: Movies about Writing

What can I say? I like Rosalind Russell movies. Plus in this one, James Stewart plays a guy named Gaylord Esterbrook. Heh heh heh. No one is laughing? Fine. Here’s the movie. Spoilers ahead.

Gaylord has taken a break from small town reporting to write a comedy about life in New York City (a place he’s never been to until a group of producers bring him and his play there). While working on rewrites, Gaylord is mistaken for an usher by the leading lady Linda (Russell). In fact, no one believes he’s a writer at first based on his usual Jimmy Stewart looks. However, he has a refreshing view of tourism. For example, he wants to travel by subway during rush hour so he can “have the experience”.

Despite the rough writing of his third act, Linda convinces the cast and crew to give the play a chance. When it’s a hit, Linda and Gaylord marry. He continues to write comedies all starring her, which their director friend Morgan says have the same story every time. Linda declares how strange it is to pace the corridor “waiting for your husband to give birth to a play”. However, he falls into the stereotypical pattern of New York writers when he hits a block - drinks and takes trips out of New York.

At a party, the couple meets Amanda and Philo Swift. Philo asks what Gay does for a living and he says playwright, Philo responds, “Yes. Er, yes, I have a hobby, too. What I meant was, what do you do for a living?” The financier finds the job of “writer” rather juvenile, however his wife finds it fascinating. Gay declares that he doesn’t want to write anything else unless it has an important message, an idea given to him by bubble-headed Amamda. Linda states that if Gay and Amanda affair, Amanda should at least leave his writing style alone.

Gay writes a play about immortality, fascism, and general human drama which 1) has no part for Linda, 2) causes their friend/maid to hold it out in front of her between her thumb and forefinger, and 3) is unintentionally funny because it’s so badly written. Not wanting to hear Linda’s criticism or jokes, Gay leaves her for Amanda and Philo agrees to marry Linda since they become friends.

Amanda shows how she truly does not understand how a creative mind works when she can’t understand Gay’s opening night jitters. And the play is awful. No one has a single positive word to say between each act. Morgan says how he’d never feel bad for a playwright, but he can’t help pitying Gay. We as the audience should pity Morgan as Amanda tries to get her hooks into him at the end of the night. After it all, Linda tells him that 4 hits and 1 flop is not a bad record. They talk about how to turn the drama into satire about the rise of dictators. And he realizes that even if she’s not his muse, she’s better for him and his writing because she’s a constructive critic.

Design for Scandal: Movies about Writing

Oh 1940s shenanigans! As much as I love Rosalind Russell in comedies and Walter Pidgeon in general, this movie rubbed me the wrong way. Still, I watched it, so I’ll write a short blog.

Pidgeon plays Jeff Sherman, a reporter who agrees to dig up dirt on Judge Cornelia Porter (Russell) after she rules in favor of his bosses ex-wife in a divorce hearing. Sherman finds out that Porter has an interest in art and pretends to be a sculptor. He follows her on vacation with her sister, spoiled nephew, and associate Walter who is helping her edit a legal book she is having published. You know how the story goes from there. The pair fall in love under false pretenses. Boy gets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy wins girl back. Still, Sherman does not deserve her. He so condescending and made up of playboy stereotypes that his dialogue is pretty much predictable.

Jeff is not much of a reporter. He does not seem to have much of a story nor does he actually plan out any thing realistic that would sell in a paper. He claims he’s going to trap her in a scandal and use a news article about said scandal to force her to overturn the alimony payments his boss is paying. See. Not a great plan. Cornelia is more the legitimate writer. Walter and she spend several moments throughout the movie checking chapters, fixing citations, and using a critical eye to make sure her book is polished. Maybe I should hire them as editors.

Auntie Mame: Movies about Writing

Auntie Mame is one of my favorite films of all time so this blog was probably just an excuse to watch it again. This 1958 film isn’t entirely about being a writer, but the subject does take up the entire third act of the plot. Auntie Mame the movie is based on a book by Patrick Dennis and then a popular play. The stories are mostly fictional, but he wanted to make them sound true so he used the character’s name as a pen name (the author’s real name was Edward Everett Tanner III and Auntie Mame was loosely based on an actual aunt he had). Just to show how this was a runaway hit, the book was written in 1955 and by 1958 they already had a major motion picture.

First, the main story: Patrick Dennis (played by Jan Handzlik, then Roger Smith as older Patrick) is sent to live with his Bohemian Auntie Mame (Rosalind Russell the fabulous) after his uptight alcoholic father dies. The nine year old is exposed to new words, bootleggers, fancy parties, New York actors, Asian culture, modern art and philosophy, how to make a good martini, and other ideals considered eccentric in the late 1920s. However, despite it being an odd environment for a child, his aunt adores him, lavishing attention and time on the youngster.

This surprises all of Mame’s friends who have never seen her ever-changing interests so focused with so much love. That is, until her deceased brother’s lawyer demands Patrick be sent to boarding school. Mame is forced to agree and cannot fight against the lawyer when the stock market crashes. In the midst of the Great Depression, the fun-loving Mame gets a job and from there more antics ensue. I’m not going to give away the whole middle part of the story, so let’s just skip to the part where she become a writer.

Because this is the last part of the film, there will be some SPOILERS! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

After the accidental death of her husband, an oil tycoon with a heart of gold (one way you know this is fiction), college-aged Patrick wants to keep Mame distracted with a new project. With the help of family friends Lindsay (a publisher played by Patric Knowles) and Vera (an actress played by Coral Browne) they set-up Mame with a Dictaphone, typewriter, and personal secretary, the frumpy and naive Agnes Gooch (Peggy Cass). Agnes is at first at a loss to be thrust into the eccentricities of the Mame Dennis life, begrudgingly calling herself the “sponge”, but eventually grows envious of all the excitement she has never experienced herself. Lindsay declares the book will be a bestseller, however Vera is an immediate skeptic, pointing out that Mama has “never finished a postcard” so how could she finish her own autobiography.

This brings up my first “writer observation” in this film. Patrick wants his aunt distracted from her loss (and probably a bit from his social life) therefore he sets up everything he thinks she will need from the get-go, including hired help to keep her on-task. Personally, I would feel weird having a woman following me around, writing down my every word, but maybe it’s different for rich people. Either way, he tries to keep her excited for her new project and not make it seem like a chore to just keep her from being a mourning widow. There is also the check-ins from Lindsay to keep Mame on track. I love writing check-ins, the guilt of when I haven’t met my goals makes me work harder.

Joining Mame and Ages is a collaborator, which is really a fancy word for in-house editor in this case. Enter poet Brian O'Bannion (Robin Hughes), an attractive Bohemian in his own right. O’Bannion’s pretentious style of creativity is really more of an excuse for him to hang around Mame’s apartment drinking her fancy alcohol and eating her fine food (among other activities hinted at, but not stated out-right; must keep to the Hays Code you know).

O’Bannion is THAT GUY - all creative circles have one. Fellow artists, you know what I’m talking about. THAT GUY is the one who says things like “court the muse” with complete seriousness. THAT GUY is one who finds any writing style not his own to be “drab”. THAT GUY who criticizes anyone who uses a specific style of notebook or band of pen. Even as a child watching this movie, I did not like Brian O’Bannion. As an adult, I can only tolerate this real-like counterparts in short doses.

Eventually, Mame also gets tired of O’Bannion, realizing that he isn’t doing much to help her work and pouts when he doesn’t get his way. I never really understood the idea of having hired him since Mame’s character is well-read and cultured. They could have had one of Lindsay’s editors looked over the book with her. This is what they probably ended up doing after Brian disappears following a night on the town with a drunk Agnes - a plot line which is better for you to see in the movie than have me relate to you.

The final observation I want to make on the process of Mame writing her book is how proud everyone is when it is finally published. When Lindsay show up with the first copy, Mame announces, “Look everyone! I’m in print just like Edna Ferber!” This is a good joke on being excited about publication as Ferber was a famous screenwriter, member of the Algonquin Round Table humor group, and a PULITZER PRIZE WINNING AUTHOR. Sometimes just being published makes you feel like an instant success.

Image belongs to Warner Bros. Here’s Mame (Rosalind Russell), Agnes (Peggy Cass), and Brian (Robin Hughes) in the writing process.