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Thursday, 11 August 2016

Shooting Stars, Part 1

Shooting Stars: A Ranking of the 29 Greatest Western Actors Since 1939
Part 1—The Top Five
ShootStarsYoungWayneshootist-books
1.  John Wayne  [The Big Trail, Stagecoach, Red River, Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, Rio Grande, Angel and the Badman, The Searchers, Rio Bravo, The Horse Soldiers, The Alamo, North to Alaska, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, McLintock!, The Sons of Katie Elder, The Comancheros, El Dorado, The War Wagon, Chisum, Cahill US Marshal, Rio Lobo, The Train Robbers, Big Jake, The Cowboys, The Shootist, et al.]
Wayne’s image is the first that comes to mind when we consider westerns between 1939 and the present.  He made many forgettable westerns while learning his craft during the 1930s in low-budget quickies, but beginning with Stagecoach in 1939 he made a surprising number of appearances in really good westerns.  While his career in westerns included a number of duds and clunkers, particularly toward the end (The Undefeated, Rio Lobo, The Train Robbers, etc.), for a long period he was consistently good—and often great.
Although, like most male stars, he sometimes seemed to show up in roles too young for him as he aged, he was more successful than most at playing age-appropriate roles as he grew older.  He successfully played older than he was in Red River and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and he moved into more mature roles naturally in The Searchers and Rio Bravo.  (He’s probably too old for Angie Dickinson in Rio Bravo, but somehow it works.)  He even made a couple of great westerns during the final stage of his career (The Cowboys, The Shootist).
Some of his position at the top of this list is due to his long-time relationship with John Ford, the greatest director of westerns, which helped both of them earn their pre-eminence in the field.  But he also made very good westerns with directors Howard Hawks, John Farrow, Don Siegel and others.
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2.  Clint Eastwood  [A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, Hang ‘Em High, Paint Your Wagon, High Plains Drifter, The Beguiled, Joe Kidd, Two Mules for Sister Sara, The Outlaw Josey Wales, Bronco Billy, Pale Rider, Unforgiven; Rawhide on television]
Eastwood is the greatest living star in westerns, although he is now in his 80s and is unlikely to make any more westerns either as a leading man or as a director.  Remarkably, he accomplished this mostly during a period when westerns were out of cinematic fashion; although he didn’t appear in nearly the number of westerns John Wayne did, his high position on the list results from the unusually high quality of the few westerns he did make.  Beginning with his central role in Sergio Leone’s influential Man With No Name Trilogy in the 1960s, he went on to appear in good westerns in the 1970s (Hang ‘Em High, for example) and to direct better ones with himself as the star (High Plains Drifter, The Outlaw Josey Wales, Pale Rider, Unforgiven).  Director Eastwood benefited from having an iconic western star (actor Eastwood) at the center of his films, and he knew how to use him.
ShootStarsYoungStewShootStarsStewBend
3.  James Stewart  [Destry Rides Again, Winchester ’73, The Naked Spur, The Man from Laramie, Night Passage, Two Rode Together, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, Bend of the River, The Far Country, Shenandoah, How the West Was Won, Firecreek, The Rare Breed, Bandolero!, The Cheyenne Social Club, The Shootist, et al.]
Before leaving for World War II, he made his reputation in modern films by Frank Capra and The Philadelphia Story (1940), directed by George Cukor.  His only western in that period was 1939’s Destry Rides Again.  Upon returning from the war, he revived his film career once again with Capra (It’s a Wonderful Life) and by working with such directors as Alfred Hitchcock, Delmer Daves and Anthony Mann.  His high position on this list is due to the five films he made with Mann, in which he usually played a character on the psychological edge in some way.  Between them, Mann and Stewart re-defined in many ways the world of western movies and the stories they told.  The quality of westerns he made in the 1960s after his relationship with Mann fell apart tails off noticeably, although he made three late westerns with John Ford, one of which is particularly memorable (The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance).
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4.  Gary Cooper  [The Virginian (1930),The Spoilers (1930), Fighting Caravans, The Plainsman, The Westerner, Along Came Jones, Dallas, High Noon, Garden of Evil, Springfield Rifle, Vera Cruz, Man of the West, The Hanging Tree, They Came to Cordura, etc.]
Dave Kehr sees him as John Wayne’s principal rival.  “Cooper, for whom the words lanky and laconic seem to have been invented, was identified by the Department of the Treasury as the nation’s highest paid wage earner in 1939….the mildly satiric Westerner (William Wyler, 1940) already finds Cooper playing an inflated archetype — the Man of the West — rather than a character, much as he would in his most overrated film, Fred Zinnemann’s didactic political fable High Noon (1952).”
In his biography of Gary Cooper, Gary Cooper, American Hero (Robert Hale, London, 2001), Jeffrey Myers quotes Robert Warshow’s essay on westerns:  “The romantic image of the cowboy as the embodiment of male freedom, courage and honor was created by men who had lived a rugged life in the West:  in words by Teddy Roosevelt and Owen Wister, in art by Frederic Remington and Charles Russell, and in film, preeminently, by Gary Cooper.”  Cooper was an authentic westerner from Montana, and he had a natural way with western roles.  Cooper would challenge John Wayne for the top spot on this list, except that he didn’t make many westerns during the 1940s when his career was at its peak.  His reputation in westerns was substantially made by movies released before 1939, until he revived his career in the 1950s beginning with High Noon.  One consequence of this career arc is that in several of his best westerns from the 1950s he seems too old for the roles in which he’s cast.  He’s good enough that we mostly look past that, though.
ShootStarDuvallLD___^_
5.  Robert Duvall  [True Grit, Lawman, The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid, Joe Kidd, Tender Mercies, Lonesome Dove, Geronimo: An American Legend, Broken Trail, Open Range]
His position on this list comes from what Duvall refers to as his Trail Boss Trilogy (Lonesome Dove, Broken Trail, Open Range).  In all of them he plays a trail boss moving his herd somewhere against considerable obstacles.  These three are of surprisingly high quality, despite the fact that two of them were not movies but were made-for-television miniseries.  Like Wayne, Eastwood and Stewart, Duvall has benefited from working with unusually capable directors of westerns, John Sturges, Simon Wincer, Walter Hill and Kevin Costner among them.  His Augustus McCrae (Lonesome Dove) is one of the most indelible characters in the history of westerns.
At an age similar to Eastwood’s, his career also took place largely during a period when not many westerns were made.  His Best Actor Oscar comes from a modern western of sorts; he played country singer Mac Sledge in Tender Mercies (1983).  If you like him in more traditional westerns, give Tender Mercies a try.  He is one of the pre-eminent movie actors of his time generally, not just in westerns.  Unlike the others this high on the list, he has seldom played a conventional romantic lead.

Gossip Friday: Santa Checks Up on Good Boys and Girls

shirley temple christmas
In the January 1935 issue of Hollywood magazine, they printed “Santa’s book” of good and bad points for film stars. So who’s getting what they wanted for Christmas and who is getting coal?
CLARK GABLE
Good Points: For giving is It Happened One Night. Being always thoughtful of others. When a friend had no place to keep her dog, he gave it a home on his ranch.
Bad Points: Balks at picture assignments with women stars. Drives studio frantic by disappearing between pictures, when he is wanted for story conferences.
Gifts: More dogs to take care of

CAROLE LOMBARD
Good Points: Proved she could act in Twentieth Century. Came back to start Repeal like a good trouper, though still suffering from the shock of Russ Colombo’s death.
Bad Points: Still cusses when excited. But improving. Gets mad at stupid producers who want her to make stupid pictures, and makes one now and then in spite of herself. Put your foot down, Carole!
Gifts: A real vacation
JOAN CRAWFORD
Good Points: Kept her head and won respect by not rushing into another marriage. Has stuck by her career. Left off that extra splash of lipstick this year. Always gives us good pictures.
Bad Points: Suspicion that she has gone a bit coo-coo on cars. That big white limousine, and now that all white, satin upholstered roadster. Joan! How could you? And that horn can be be heard fully three miles!
Gifts: A plain Ford
JEAN HARLOW
Good Points: Well, you finally finished that book, Jean! I like you to stick to things that way. Add good point; not letting personal problems sour her. Made her mother happy with beautiful room in new home. Lifted Bill Powell out of the dumps.
Bad Points: O, hum, with 115 pounds distributed like that, what are Jean’s bad points? Hasn’t sent the editor a copy of “Today is Tonight,” her first book. Maybe he’ll find one in his stocking!
Gifts: A letter from every fan
SHIRLEY TEMPLE
Good Points: Refuses to be spoiled by compliments. Is Mrs. Santa Claus’ favorite actress. Can now spell her name and count. Invited all Hollywood (almost) to her birthday party.
Bad Points: Shirley, you mustn’t ask for so much gum–I heard you! After all, Mama isn’t made of gum! But I guess you’ve been a very good girl.
Gifts: Carton of gum
MARLENE DIETRICH
Good Points: When her studio make-up woman gave a little house-warming, Marlene came to the party and brought a gift. Keeps democratic; always lunches at Paramount cafe with common horde.
Bad Points: Caused great anguish and disappointment on return from Europe with trunks and trunks of gorgeous clothes–and then refused to appear in them, though all Hollywood waited in expectation, The meanie!
Gifts: Another director
BING CROSBY
Good Points: Now there is a fine lad; hope he continues to be a good boy, and gives us more like She Loves Me Not. Add two more good points–the twins. (Give Mrs. Crosby some credit there).
Bad Points: Got put in the doghouse during the making of We’re Not Dressing for keeping Director Taurog out all night. He and Carole Lombard tied a rope to the still man’s camera and hoisted it to the roof. Makes Paramount worry by putting on weight.
Gifts: Triplets!
WILLIAM POWELL
Good Points: The Thin Man–worth a dozen good marks. Got our favorite child, Jean Harlow, out of the dumps. Built a new home with a swimming pool for his nine-year-old boy.
Bad Points: Can’t find any black marks to chalk down against Bill. He has a good word for everybody, and everybody has a good word for him.
Gifts: Monogrammed hankies and scarf.
CLAUDETTE COLBERT
Good Points: For earning and keeping the admiration of all fans. Because her form has nothing but good points. For giving is her share of It Happened One Night.
Bad Points: Hates to take stills and is always trying to get out of it. Takes too many people’s advice and worries too much about meaningless criticisms if trivial matters.
Gifts: That long planned trip to Europe
GEORGE RAFT
Good Points: For never forgetting a friend.
Bad Points: That fist fight at the Brown Derby.
Gift: A night club
GARY COOPER
Good Points: Settling down to being a good husband. Never kicks about a picture role. Let Shirley steal one picture and gave her a present for it!
Bad Points: Has terrible memory or else a convienent forgetter. Spoiled one scene by putting on wrong tie and forgetting where the right one had been tossed.
Gift: A rifle
GRETA GARBO
Good Points: For just being the most fascinating star in pictures. For doing The Painted Veil. For creeping out of her shell a bit.
Bad Points: That inhuman hermit complex. Refusing to sign a new contract and keeping Metro and all her fans in suspense.

Thursday, 7 January 2016

Gary Cooper Finds Fame In The Name

Gary Cooper is his name, and he is known to his Clemson Tigers teammates as ''High Noon'' and ''The Pride of the Tigers.''

A year ago, he caught four passes for 56 yards in Clemson's 35-10 victory over Penn State in the Florida Citrus Bowl.



Now, he is back for more.

The Oklahoma Sooners are concerned about how to cover Cooper, who is a double threat as a pass receiver and a runner on a reverse play.

Cooper touched the ball 20 times this season for the 9-2 Tigers, gaining 538 yards, an average of 26 yards a play. He scored five touchdowns, three on pass receptions and two on reverses. He had a 41-yard run against North Carolina. He ran twice for TDs against Maryland.

After Cooper led the Tigers with 34 pass receptions for 618 yards in his sophomore season, teams began to devote double coveage to him. ''They used what is called a bracket defense,'' Cooper said. ''They would have one guy run on top of me, another underneath.''

Basically a running team, averaging 277 rushing yards a game, Clemson often used Cooper as a decoy to throw to other receivers or to tie up defenders who did not read the run.

Instead of matching his 34 catches, Cooper had only 13, which doesn't bother the Tigers or Cooper. ''What the team does is more important than piling up good looking statistics,'' Cooper said Monday while eating lunch at the Stouffer Orlando Resort.

''We moved the ball well this year -- mostly on the ground and we won 9 of 11 games,'' Cooper said. ''I feel I made my contributions, and I believe football people know that -- the teams we play, the pro scouts.''

Cooper said he hopes to play in the National Football League. ''The pros know I can catch the ball and that I can do something with it,'' he said. ''I'm not worried about being overlooked.''

His famous name -- Gary Cooper -- came from his dad, Gary Cooper, Sr. Cooper said he really doesn't know too much about the late actor, Gary Cooper. ''I saw the movie High Noon,'' he said, ''and that's what a lot of the guys on the team call me -- High Noon. I want to see Pride of the Yankees but haven't yet. I know Cooper played Lou Gehrig in that one. I guess I'm a little young for Gary Cooper movies.''

Cooper was born in Sewickley, Pa., and went to Ambridge High School, in a small town north of Pittsburgh. He said he played football as a ninth grader but not again until he was a senior.


''I liked basketball more and I played pretty well,'' he said. ''But when I began thinking about college, I was concerned where I could go. It seems you have to be 6-10 or bigger to be considered nowadays. I was 6-3. Our football coach at Ambridge, Frank Antonini, told me I had potential to be a college football player. I went along with him.''

Cooper said his best position in high school was free safety, and that he came to Clemson as a free safety. ''I came here that way but I only lasted one day. It was kind of rough that day. Clemson had some very big running backs that I did not enjoy meeting so soon. I just wasn't used to anything like them. By the end of the day I was a wide receiver, and happy about it.''

A sociology major, interested in criminal justice, Cooper is articulate and enjoys a conversation that goes beyond the series of ''yups,'' the late Gary Cooper was known for in his wild, wild western movies.

He said Monday that he looks forward not only to Monday's Citrus Bowl game with Oklahoma but to his senior season with the Tigers. ''Rodney Williams graduates and we'll be breaking in a new quarterback next spring,'' Cooper said. ''Could be we will throw more next year. I'd like that. But I'm satisfied just to do what they want me to do.''

Blount talk about tangy New Orleans

Author and NPR personality Roy Blount Jr. rambles through the Big Easy in his new book.
May 15, 2005|By Jay Boyar, Sentinel Travel Editor

Roy Blount Jr. is a man who loves to talk. And one of his favorite places to talk about -- and in -- is New Orleans.

"People there are loose and unpretentious and tend to enjoy talking," says Blount of the Big Easy, which he calculates he has visited 42 times in his 63 years. "I love to be around people who like to talk picturesquely, without getting too forced about it."



Blount (pronounced "Blunt") is focused on New Orleans because he has just written a stylish, tangy, reminiscence-packed guidebook about it. Feet on the Street: Rambles Around New Orleans (Crown Journeys, $16) contains his free-associative reflections on a place he adores immoderately.

"I like to sit around a table with a few people and eat and drink and talk," he says of his favorite New Orleans activity. "If I could do that all the time, I wouldn't write."

But write he does -- a lot.

Blount contributes columns to Atlanta Magazine and Oxford American, and also writes humor books, including Crackers (about being a Southerner) and It Grows on You (about hair). He's written the memoir Be Sweet, the novel First Hubby and the biography Robert E. Lee.

Blount also has written a movie, Larger Than Life with Bill Murray, and has appeared briefly in a few of them. If you were casting him in a film these days, you might make him a plant foreman or a wagon master or the manager of a struggling ball club. His features are unassertively flinty -- more Chris Cooper than Gary Cooper -- and his sweep of gray hair imparts an air of earned authority.

On a picture-postcard afternoon, late in April, Blount is having lunch in Central Florida, rather than in New Orleans. That night, he'll tape a road-trip installment of the NPR news-quiz program, Wait Wait . . . Don't Tell Me, at the Portifino Bay Hotel at Universal Orlando Resort.

As Blount works his way through a plate of grouper, under the umbrella of an outdoor table at the hotel's Trattoria del Porto, Carl Kasell, the show's silver-throated announcer, drops by on his way to an afternoon of serious roller-coastering. Other droppers-by include fellow-panelist Roxanne Roberts and her adolescent son.

"Have you ever been to the real Portifino?" asks Roberts, meaning the restaurant in Italy upon which our local version is modeled.

"Yeah," Blount replies, with gracious understatement. "It's a little more European."

ALL ABOUT OYSTERS

New Orleans strikes Blount as European too -- a cross between Europe and Dixie.

Blount grew up in Decatur, Ga., and currently spends much of his time in Mill River, Mass. He first visited the Louisiana city as a child, but only began to understand the place in the summer of 1963, when he worked at The Times-Picayune after college.

"People in New Orleans tend not to present themselves in formal ways to the world," he reflects. "People sort of melt a bit in the heat and the moistness."

Without provocation, Blount will run down a list of artists who, thanks to the city's moist magic, have experienced "formative moments:" William Faulkner, Louis Armstrong (a New Orleans native), Zora Neale Hurston, Little Richard, Ray Charles and, well, it's a very long list.


He can recommend a lot of things in the city, including The Bistro at the Hotel Maison de Ville ("where Tennessee Williams used to stay"); Audubon Zoo ("the gorilla and the orangutan"); Jackson Square (where he recently heard a man play "Malaguena" and "Summertime, Summertime" on water glasses); and the annual Jazz Fest celebration, as well as a spot called Jacques Imo's.

"Last time I was there, the owner was drunk and standing on tables and giving out free food," he recalls with a chuckle. "So there's that."

Surprisingly, the author has never been in New Orleans during Mardi Gras.

"From everything I hear, the actual Fat Tuesday day is too loud and violent," he cautions. "I would chase one naked drunk person -- I mean, if she wanted me to chase her -- but a whole bunch of naked drunk people is just too much."

In Feet on the Street, Blount calls New Orleans, "the best town for eating in America, if not in the world." And for him, oysters may be a bigger part of that than they are for most folks.

New Orleans Directions (Rough Guides, $10.99), a recently published no-nonsense guidebook, contains only the briefest mentions of the mollusk. ("Oysters Rockefeller [was] concocted at Antoine's around 1900," author Samantha Cook notes, "and named for the oil magnate.")

In contrast, the cover of Feet on the Street prominently features an image of an oyster, and the book's text is rich in references to them. Blount also includes his semi-famous song about oysters, which ends this way:

I prefer my oyster fried.

Then I'm sure my oyster's died.

The author even compares himself to an oyster: As a young man, he reveals, he had developed a hard shell that the moistness and informality of the Big Easy helped him shed.

"It's a metaphor," he explains. "Oysters work on all sorts of levels in the book."

Tuesday, 6 October 2015

Movie Quote of the Day (Gary Cooper, Unnerved by Barbara Stanwyck)


Professor Bertram Potts(played by Gary Cooper): “Make no mistake, I shall regret the absence of your keen mind. Unfortunately, it is inseparable from an extremely disturbing body.”—Ball of Fire (1941), written by Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder, based on an original story by Wilder and Thomas Monroe, edited by Howard Hawks

Today marks the 70
th anniversary of the release of Ball of Fire, which came toward the end of Hollywood’s magnificent screwball-comedy era. Five days later, Pearl Harbor would be bombed, and once Hollywood was done with its propaganda products and home-front dramas, it began to explore in earnest a genre it only began to touch this year, in The Maltese Falconfilm noir that reflected a newfound understanding of man’s darkest impulses. The world would never look so bright again.
 
Ball of Fire would be the last film that 
Billy Wilder, chafing under the restrictions placed on his work by the men behind the camera, would make only as a screenwriter. The following year, The Major and the Minor began his nearly 40-year career as a director. In the meantime, he convinced the studio to allow him to observe the work of Howard Hawks, whose films he greatly admired.

For all the fast-and-furious action that Hawks packed into this two-hour film about a “nightclub singer” holing up with a group of linguistic professors to avoid police questioning about her mobster boyfriend, the film really can be seen as one long wink to the audience. Even the quote marks in that prior sentence represent a raised eyebrow.
Barbara Stanwyck’s “nightclub singer” is a stripper, one of two she would play in her long, illustrious career (the other being Lady of Burlesque, based on a mystery by Gypsy Rose Lee, whose pretensions as an intellectual exotic dancer were mocked by lyricist Lorenz Hart in the musical Pal Joey.)

The more knowing members of the audience would also catch on to the film's central satiric premise,  seven professors studying slang centered around one brassy female with an especially vivid sense of it--Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, if you will. And Hollywood insiders were probably beside themselves guffawing over box-office champion 
Gary Cooper--so laconic that Art Buchwald, in one of his funniest early columns, used the actor’s characteristic “nopes” and “yups” to respond to Coop’s own questions--as the chief linguisticsprofessor. (How Cooper got around the formal, polysyllabic but hilarious lines above, addressed to Stanwyck, can only be imagined.)

And how can you not find a place in your heart for a stripper namedSugarpuss O’Shea?

The queen of film bloggers, Self-Styled Siren, has a characteristically astute analysis of what made this film so worthwhile 
here
.

Hitchcock And Actors

Herewith, my humble contribution to a wonderful cinephilia-friendly cause, the third For The Love Of Film Blogathon, proceeds from which will help finance a restoration of a worthy film in which the maestro had an early-career involvement. Please see the bloggers cited in the logo below, and/or look at today's piece by my friend Self Styled Siren. And click here to make what will be a much appreciated and worthwhile donation.
Blogathonhome2
I cannot find the exact citation, unfortunately, but I recall reading back in the '90s a magazine story chronicling the making of director Gus Van Sant's ostensibly shot-by-shot recreation of Psycho, and said piece containing many quotes from the participating actors in which they justified/rationalized their participation in the project, which, depending on who you were talking to was either a senseless kockamamie scheme or some kind of conceptual coup. And I remember William H. Macy, who was playing the part of Arbogast that had been originated by Martin Balsam, opining that one good reason, for him, to get on board with what many might consider a desecration was to get some kind of payback with respect to Hitchcock, because Macy didn't like that thing Hitchcock said about actors, that they were "cattle." And I read this, and I sighed. Because Macy is a soulful and not unintelligent man, and his misbegotten notion that Hitchcock was somehow the enemy of actors is unfortunate. And, I guess, very hard to kill. 
The Hitchcock of 1939, anticipating a trip from Great Britain to Hollywood, in an interview in Film Weekly (reprinted in the invaluable Sidney Gottlieb-edited compilation Hitchcock on Hitchcock), revealed not just a great enthusiasm for American stars, but (and this shouldn't really come as a surprise) an acute sensitivity with respect to both particular abilities and potential. On Gary Cooper: "[He] has that rare faculty of being able to rivet the attention of an audience while he does nothing." Andre De Toth saw this in Cooper too, although he did not articulate it in quite the same way. On Carole Lombard: "I should like to cast [her] not in the type of superficial comedy which she so often plays but in a much more meaty comedy-drama,giving her plenty of scope for characterization." Once in Hollywood, Hitchcock and Lombard became friends. And they collaborated, on Mr. And Mrs. Smith, a 1941 divorce comedy that Hitchcock, in one of his legendary interviews with François Truffaut, kind of pooh-poohed: "That picture was done as a friendly gesture to [...] Lombard...I didn't really understand the type of people portrayed in the film, all I did was photograph the scenes as written." It was on the set of this picture that Lombard played the famous practical joke in which she built a mini-corral on the set and stocked it with three pieces of livestock tagged with the names of the film's three principal players. 
Hitchcock's retrospective disconnection from Mr. And Mrs. Smith, juxtaposed with his previously stated eagerness to push Carole Lombard's performance envelope, suggests several questions, the most obvious being "What happened?" Well, it's entirely possible that nothing happened. That while Hitchcock's observations concerning the various actors were sharp and truly meant, his stated desire to remold them in certain ways was little more than public-relations bluster/diplomacy.On the other hand, the fact is that Hitchcock did approach Gary Cooper for the lead in Foreign Correspondent, and Cooper turned it down, which he (Cooper) later regretted.  But whether or not Hitchcock's creative struggles with David O. Selznick during the making of Rebecca made the director subsequently dig in his heels harder with respect to hermetically sealing his creative process in the future, it's difficult to argue against the notion that the actor had a very specific and kind of immovable secondary place in Hitchcock's creative process. But it's also incorrect to translate this into an attitude of actual hostility. In his autobiography, Elia Kazan goes over the ways that different directors handle/respond to actors. His view: "Hitchcock told his screen stories as much as possible without help from his actors' performances. When Cary Grant, going into a film, asked him how he should play his part, Hitchcock answered, 'Just do what you always do.' Hitchcock relied on his camera angles and his montage [...] to do what on stage we relied on the actors for." Note the neutrality of Kazan's description; recall also Hitchcock's observation on Gary Cooper's ability to resonate while doing "nothing;" juxtapose with the theory behind the Kuleshov effect; and there's all the more reason to regret that Cooper and Hitchcock never got together.
Of course, Hitchcock made no bones or apologies for the fact that he considered shooting to be the most boring part of making a film. His pre-production work was the process by which he developed the movie in his head and assembled the means by which it could be materialized. So the actual shooting became a mechanical process, not unlike stuffing sausage casings. You could understand why an actor who was savvy to this attitude might build a resentment toward this. You can also understand how one actor might take "Just do what you always do" as a compliment and sign of respect, or as an insult. Until the period when he was getting all weird with his leading ladies, Hitchcock's expectation of a performer was that he or she would bring their best abilities and have whatever homework they felt they needed to do, done. Various acting methods and the work of directors like, well, Kazan, brought a notion of a more active collaboration between actor and director to the fore. The actor would not be playing a role in someone else's motion picture but creating a character/characterization, and hence the actor's notion of what was proper for the picture was to be taken rather seriously. This kind of idea, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say, was anathema to Hitchcock, who was only concerned with filming what HE saw. Here's how he describes (to Truffaut) his difficulty with Paul Newman during the filming of 1966's Torn Curtain, discussing a scene that was ultimately cut from the film: "As you know, he's a 'method' actor, and he found it hard to just give me one of those neutral looks I needed to cut from his point of view. Instead of looking toward Gromek's brother, toward the knife or the sausage, he played the scene in the 'method' style, with emotion, and he was always turning away." If we look at the camera as a pen, then here we can see Newman as runny ink. Martin Scorsese can be seen as having, in some ways, synthesizing Kazan's sympathy for actors with Hitchcock's plastic storytelling style. Talking about working with Newman some twenty years after Hitchcock's Torn Curtain, for 1986's The Color of Money, he recalls (in the Faber and Faber book Scorsese on Scorsese): "Paul [is the] kind of actor who doesn't like to improvise that much on the set, so [...] everything was rehearsed beforehand. We did it the way he suggested, which was to take two complete weeks and just work out with the actors in a loft. I was really nervous, because it was like the theater [...] So when he said, 'What you do is take a tape and mark out an area for a chair; then you tape out an area for a bed,' I could foresee those terrible theater things when people pretend a door is there, which I hate. I said, 'What if we use a real chair?' 'A chair is good,' he said, to my relief."
While we cannot imagine Hitchcock in such a situation getting anywhere near to, let alone beyond "just work out with the actors in a loft," we shouldn't, by the same token, beat his ghost or his films over the head with some conception that he, and they, are anti-human-performer. That's a rap more applicable to, say, Michael Bay.
Hitchcock:Bergman

Gary Cooper is born

Gary Cooper, the star of High Noon and other classic Westerns, is born in Helena, Montana.
Born Frank James Cooper, he was the son of well-to-do lawyer who eventually won election to the Montana Supreme Court Justice. The family owned a 500-acre ranch near Helena, where Cooper became a skilled horseman. As a young man, Cooper put his backcountry skills to good use as a guide at Yellowstone Park, but his real dream was to become a cartoonist for a big city newspaper.
After attending Grinnell College in Iowa for several years, Cooper moved to Los Angeles in 1924. At the time, Hollywood was churning out countless low-budget western movies that catered to the American fascination with a mythic west of noble cowboys, brave cavalry soldiers, and vicious outlaws. In a city dominated by cars, however, the studios found it difficult to find skilled horsemen to ride in these so-called “horse operas.” On a lark, Cooper had applied for work as a movie extra. When producers discovered he had grown up riding horses on a Montana ranch, they quickly put him to work as stunt rider and a cowboy heavy. Soon after, he abandoned the dream of becoming a cartoonist for the glamorous world of Hollywood.
Cooper appeared in a string of low-budget two-reel Westerns for the next two years before he finally caught the eye of Sam Goldwyn of the famous MGM studio. Goldwyn gave him a small role in the popular 1926 movie The Winning of Barbara Worth, which earned Cooper favorable reviews and bigger roles. Three years later, Cooper won the lead part in a movie version of the famous Owen Wister western novel The Virginian. Cooper’s laconic, understated style of acting was well suited to portraying the Virginian, a coolly competent cowboy who avoided trouble when he could but was quick with a gun when his honor was at stake. Generations of subsequent cowboy actors, from John Wayne to Clint Eastwood, borrowed many elements of Cooper’s Virginian for their own characters.
The success of The Virginian made Cooper one of Hollywood’s leading male actors. He went on to star in a number of films, including A Farewell to Arms (1932), Beau Geste (1939), and The Pride of the Yankees (1942). Cooper never abandoned the genre that began his career, though, and he continued to appear in successful Westerns like The Plainsman (1937) and The Westerner (1940).
Appropriately, one of Cooper’s last great roles was in a Western that is generally considered a classic of the genre. In High Noon, Cooper plays an aging town marshal who faces a showdown with four killers arriving by train at noon. Despite having honorably served the citizens of the town for years, Cooper’s marshal is unable to convince any of the cowardly townspeople to stand with him as he confronts the outlaws. As the hands of a loudly ticking wall clock inch towards high noon, the marshal prepares to fight alone. A profound meditation on the dangers of social conformity and cowardice, High Noon was also a hugely entertaining and successful western tale of suspense. Cooper won his second Academy Award for Best Actor with High Noon (his first had come in 1941 forSergeant York), confirming his status as one of the most talented actors in western movies.
Cooper was 51 years old when High Noon was released. During the next decade, he made several other films, though none were as successful as his earlier works. In 1961, the Motion Picture Academy gave Cooper a special Academy Award for career achievement. When his friend Jimmy Stewart rose to accept the award for Cooper, Stewart broke down and revealed that the actor was seriously ill with cancer. Cooper died shortly after at the age of 60.
 
 
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