Mae West In Hollywood. (PG.)
Night After Night/ She Done Him Wrong/ I'm No Angel/ Belle of the Nineties/ Goin' To Town/ Klondike Kate/ Go West Young Man/ Every Day's a Holiday/ My Little Chickadee/The Heat's On. 10 films on 6 discs from Powerhouse Films Indicator.
When it came to leading men, Mae West took on all-comers. Across these ten films, which make up the entirety of her period of Hollywood stardom, they range from Cary Grant and W.C. Fields. Like Fields, West in someone that I’ve really only known through impersonation. When I was a boy every comic or impressionist would do their “Come up and see me some time” or “My Little Chickadee" turns but even in the 70s it was rare to actually see the originals on screen. So this comprehensive boxset from Powerhouse Films/ Indicator is my first time seeing West in action. It's quite a shock.
Diving in more or less randomly, I went with I'm No Angel, one of two films co-starring Cary Grant. The first surprise is that all the broad imitators that set the West image in my mind were arguably less caricature than the real thing. Mae West is meant to be sex incarnate, the hottest thing on two legs but she is a bit of an old bruiser, putting the burly into burlesque. In her figure-hugging outfits, she's not even that voluptuous, and the strips of eye shadow manage to look garish even in black and white.
But in I'm No Angel literally every single man who sees her falls for her, and falls for her full-on, becoming helpless slavering slaves to their desire for her. They'll go to any lengths – leave their family; public disgrace; murder - to possess her.
There is though something absolutely remarkable about her self confidence. Her belief in her sexual magnetism is total and almost fools you into believing it. When Cary Grant looks lovingly into her eyes and says that she is "fascinating" you wonder who the joke is on: him, her or us? It's much like the extended Ed Sheerin wind up, where a plain-faced ginger bloke who writes and performs unremarkable songs in his unremarkable voice, is treated by the whole world as if he is a charismatic, hugely talented superstar, duetting with Eltons and Beyonces
The way she moves is remarkable. She is supposed to be an erotic dancer in a circus show but all she does is a mild shimmy. It seems insane that men would pay good money to see this, especially as even when not performing she never seems to stop vibrating in one way or another. Unless in recline, she moves around in an exaggerated saunter or when standing still she seems to be gently rocking on her heels.
It's preposterous, but hugely enjoyable. She is credited as the scriptwriter and I’m No Angel contains some of her most enduring one-liners: "It's not the men in my life, it's the life in my men," and "When I'm good, I'm good; When I'm bad, I'm better." You can tell she made her reputation on the stage: there's a halting aspect to the way she moves and delivers her lines. Is that pause comic timing or a quick check to see if she’s on her mark? She makes few concessions to this new medium and there is the sense that everybody must be perfectly still and listening quietly before she'll deliver her lines.
In the same way, the film is more revue than narrative. The story is a ramshackle construction with West's Tira starting as a sideshow dancer, moving into the big time with a lion tamer act and bagging a series of millionaire lovers. Grant doesn't turn up till the last half hour. The theatrical feel is heightened by the costume changes. Every new scene sees her swan around in some new outfit, either faux revealing or over the top glamorous and the film includes a little pause after each unveiling for the audience to swoon at the new getup.
She sings too, and rather well. Her earthy bluesy voice does considerable justice to the numbers she belts out. It’s also much more authentically sexy than the rest of her act.
I'm No Angel was a lucky choice for a first dip as it seems to be seen as her best film. After this, her one track stream of filth was stymied and curtailed by the censorship enforced by The Hay's Code. With prohibition repealed the righteous puritans had to find some new way to stop people enjoying themselves and settled on innuendo and smut.
Next week a little look at My Little Chickadee.
Night After Night/ She Done Him Wrong/ I'm No Angel/ Belle of the Nineties/ Goin' To Town/ Klondike Kate/ Go West Young Man/ Every Day's a Holiday/ My Little Chickadee/The Heat's On. 10 films on 6 discs from Powerhouse Films Indicator.
When it came to leading men, Mae West took on all-comers. Across these ten films, which make up the entirety of her period of Hollywood stardom, they range from Cary Grant and W.C. Fields. Like Fields, West in someone that I’ve really only known through impersonation. When I was a boy every comic or impressionist would do their “Come up and see me some time” or “My Little Chickadee" turns but even in the 70s it was rare to actually see the originals on screen. So this comprehensive boxset from Powerhouse Films/ Indicator is my first time seeing West in action. It's quite a shock.
Diving in more or less randomly, I went with I'm No Angel, one of two films co-starring Cary Grant. The first surprise is that all the broad imitators that set the West image in my mind were arguably less caricature than the real thing. Mae West is meant to be sex incarnate, the hottest thing on two legs but she is a bit of an old bruiser, putting the burly into burlesque. In her figure-hugging outfits, she's not even that voluptuous, and the strips of eye shadow manage to look garish even in black and white.
But in I'm No Angel literally every single man who sees her falls for her, and falls for her full-on, becoming helpless slavering slaves to their desire for her. They'll go to any lengths – leave their family; public disgrace; murder - to possess her.
There is though something absolutely remarkable about her self confidence. Her belief in her sexual magnetism is total and almost fools you into believing it. When Cary Grant looks lovingly into her eyes and says that she is "fascinating" you wonder who the joke is on: him, her or us? It's much like the extended Ed Sheerin wind up, where a plain-faced ginger bloke who writes and performs unremarkable songs in his unremarkable voice, is treated by the whole world as if he is a charismatic, hugely talented superstar, duetting with Eltons and Beyonces
The way she moves is remarkable. She is supposed to be an erotic dancer in a circus show but all she does is a mild shimmy. It seems insane that men would pay good money to see this, especially as even when not performing she never seems to stop vibrating in one way or another. Unless in recline, she moves around in an exaggerated saunter or when standing still she seems to be gently rocking on her heels.
It's preposterous, but hugely enjoyable. She is credited as the scriptwriter and I’m No Angel contains some of her most enduring one-liners: "It's not the men in my life, it's the life in my men," and "When I'm good, I'm good; When I'm bad, I'm better." You can tell she made her reputation on the stage: there's a halting aspect to the way she moves and delivers her lines. Is that pause comic timing or a quick check to see if she’s on her mark? She makes few concessions to this new medium and there is the sense that everybody must be perfectly still and listening quietly before she'll deliver her lines.
In the same way, the film is more revue than narrative. The story is a ramshackle construction with West's Tira starting as a sideshow dancer, moving into the big time with a lion tamer act and bagging a series of millionaire lovers. Grant doesn't turn up till the last half hour. The theatrical feel is heightened by the costume changes. Every new scene sees her swan around in some new outfit, either faux revealing or over the top glamorous and the film includes a little pause after each unveiling for the audience to swoon at the new getup.
She sings too, and rather well. Her earthy bluesy voice does considerable justice to the numbers she belts out. It’s also much more authentically sexy than the rest of her act.
I'm No Angel was a lucky choice for a first dip as it seems to be seen as her best film. After this, her one track stream of filth was stymied and curtailed by the censorship enforced by The Hay's Code. With prohibition repealed the righteous puritans had to find some new way to stop people enjoying themselves and settled on innuendo and smut.
Next week a little look at My Little Chickadee.
