“Looking at [Ann] Harding,” wrote film historian Mick LaSalle in his book, Complicated Women (St. Martin’s, 2001), “is like looking into clear, deep water. Nothing stands in the way. No stylization, no attitude, no posing. In fact, little about her technique could date her as a thirties actress.”

These are some of the words that inspired Scott O’Brien, author of Ann Harding – Cinema’s Gallant Lady (BearManor) in his research into the career and life of actress Ann Harding (1902-1981). For those who met her during the height of her Hollywood career, she left starkly different impressions. Laurence Olivier called her “an angel.” Henry Hathaway said that she “was an absolute bitch.” Myrna Loy found her “a very private person, a wonderful actress completely without star temperament, but withdrawn.” Ann Harding may not be as well-remembered as actresses whose stellar careers extended well beyond the pre-code era, such as Norma Shearer or Barbara Stanwyck. Her natural reserve means that her name does not automatically come up when particularly saucy favorites of the period like Ruth Chatterton, Joan Blondell or Dorothy Mackail are discussed. Powerful icons whose last name conjures something singular, such as Garbo, Dietrich and West, are better remembered. In recent years, in large part because of the rediscovery of her early films on Turner Classic Movies, occasional revivals of her movies and the work done by film historians reassessing the pre-code period, Harding has begun to captivate audiences again. Her lustrous beauty and surprisingly modern style of acting are only part of her appeal.

With the publication earlier this year of Scott O’Brien’s beautifully illustrated and well written biography, a balanced portrait of a skilled actress emerges, as well as some sense of the publicly guarded but privately intense woman behind her fame. Recently, I had a chance to ask the author of this meticulously researched and long overdue biography of Ann Harding about his interest in this unique, transitional figure in American film. Perhaps after reading this post a few more people who have yet to discover her work will pause next time one of her rarely seen films, such as Devotion (1931), The Animal Kingdom (1932), Double Harness (1933), When Ladies Meet (1933), The Flame Within (1935) or Peter Ibbetson (1935) emerges from the movie vault. This often surprisingly modern actress may intrigue and touch you with her presence. You might find yourself unexpectedly enthralled.
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ROBERT RYAN IN GERMAN ADVERTISEMENT FOR HORIZONS WEST

In November, Netflix introduced a “streaming only” option to their membership plan, for $7.99 a month, another marker in the slow death of the DVD. Their “Instant” offerings are frequently presented on faded and cropped masters likely made during the VHS days, but the rarity of their hodgepodge collection makes it a near-essential outlet for those interested in American film history. Unless one lives in a cinephilic megacity like New York or L.A., VOD offerings like Netflix Instant and DVD-on-demand outfits like the Warner Archive are the only (legally) easy way to view older titles.

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Last year, I joined the “list brigade,” that huge contingent of writers and reviewers who feel compelled every December to offer lists of films they have seen during the previous year. I have a confession to make: Once you step into those waters, it’s addictive, and there’s no going back. Usually the lists are generated by movie reviewers obsessed with the year’s ten best films, but I prefer lists of overlooked gems that slipped through the cracks. Many movies that might appeal to a mainstream audience, or to a large segment of the population, are treated shabbily by distributors and exhibitors, and they don’t receive a decent distribution in the theaters. For movie-lovers who don’t live in a major market, the only chance to see some of these films is on DVD, if at all.

My tastes are fairly populist; none of the titles on the list are esoteric art-house movies or quirky British fare with eccentric characters offering life lessons. They are all films that adults with an interest in good drama and appealing subject matter will appreciate. In the spirit of bringing attention to some decent films that were shafted by the conditions of the current industry, I bring you my list of ten favorite movies from 2010 that deserve a second chance or a second viewing.

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To renew or not to renew? That is the $329.99 subscription question.
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Remember how your mama told you “two wrongs don’t make a right?”  Well, maybe two wrongs don’t make a right, but a half dozen or so might.  Consider Robert Altman’s 1980 POPEYE.  Almost without exception, every creative decision that went into its manufacture was catastrophic.  Yet while any one of these horrible ideas could have completely derailed the whole thing alone, once you stack them one atop another you get a critical mass that starts to cancel itself out.  Eventually, it cycles around the back of wrong and comes out the other side as imminently watchable.  How is POPEYE a glorious mess?  Let me count the ways.

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Pushed in over the transom last Tuesday with the usual flotsam of Bed, Bath & Beyond coupons and Christmas catalogues for L.L. Bean and J. Crew was the new issue of Shock Cinema , which made for a very happy Thanksgiving.  If these words mean nothing to you, if they’re just a confusing jumble of verbs and nouns with the occasional article thrown in for musicality (don’t feel bad – I had the same reaction to The Bridges of Madison County), let me educate you.  Shock Cinema is the brainchild of one Steve Puchalski (carve his name with pride!), a New York-based writer and my friend of the past 10 years.  My first-ever celebrity interview, with my late pal Victor Argo, was published in Shock Cinema No. 18 in the spring of 2001.  We’re up to issue No. 39 now and what a long strange trip it’s been.  Shock Cinema is a continuation of the work Steve started with his classic ‘zine Slimetime, self-published, self-folded and self-stapled between 1986 and 1989.  Slimetime ran for a short but sweet 27 seven issues before being succeeded by Shock Cinema.  I first ran across SC at the long-gone Tower Records in New York City’s East Village.  It was Xeroxed onto card stock in those days and shelved alongside a ton of other ‘zines dedicated to all manner of topics, from punk rock fashion to DIY anarchy.  I never did pierce my lip with a safety pin or make that potato bomb but I stayed current with Shock Cinema over the years as Steve, aided in recent years by his lovely wife Anna (and that’s not professional courtesy either – she really is lovely) transformed the modest publication into the slick, professional, full-colorful but deeply irreverant “guide to cult movies, arthouse oddities, drive-in swill, and underground obscurities.” READ MORE

During the holiday months I like to browse the shelves at my local bookstore to see what film related books publishers have released in anticipation of the “season of sharing.” This year I spotted many of the usual suspects; a couple of oversized glamour photo books featuring glossy pictures of Hollywood legends from the ‘40s and ‘50s as well as biographies of some highly acclaimed directors and celebrities. What I didn’t expect to see was Marcus Hearn’s latest book, The Art of Hammer: The Official Poster Collection From the Archive of Hammer Films. Recently I’ve been mourning the loss of Hammer starlet Ingrid Pitt and director Roy Ward Baker who helmed some of the studios best productions including Quatermass and the Pit (1967) and Dr Jekyll & Sister Hyde (1971). Coming across Hearn’s book was a much-welcomed surprise and an unexpected treat for this Hammer fan and movie poster admirer.

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