Fridays in March | 21 Movies
The incorrect assumption, the confused situation, and of course, the mistaken identity are all part of the history of storytelling (Shakespeare himself built both comedies and tragedies on such mix-ups) and became part of the DNA of the movies from the very beginning. How many slapstick farces began with a jealous lover jumping to conclusions or a hapless bystander mistaken for someone else? Over the course of four Fridays in March, TCM celebrates some of the most delicious and deadly movie mix-ups of the 20th century, from romantic comedies to pointed satires to riveting thrillers.
Friday, March 7
The first night tackles "Mistaken Identities" and the complications that spiral out of such situations, be they deadly or comic. North by Northwest (1959) has it both ways with Cary Grant as a Madison Avenue executive who ends up on a cross-country trek when, in a random twist of fate, he is mistaken for a master spy. "Wrong man" movies had become a specialty for Alfred Hitchcock since his silent movie thriller The Lodger (1927) and North by Northwest became his breeziest, sexiest and purely entertaining twist on the theme. It features some of his most memorable set pieces, and not since Ernst Lubitsch has someone slyly slipped so much sexual innuendo past the censors.
Also set in the culture of Madison Avenue is Lover Come Back (1961) starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson as rival ad executives who lock horns over a new account while also engaged in romance when she mistakes him for an idealistic scientist and he plays along, planning to add her to his long line of conquests. The film is Day and Hudson’s second film together and their easy chemistry defines the frothy romantic comedy. In addition to establishing one of the most successful romantic screen teams in Hollywood, Lover Come Back forged a lifelong friendship and established a template for a whole string of popular 1960s comedies for Day.
Being There (1979) turns the theme to social satire when an illiterate gardener, dressed in his former employer's expensive clothes, is embraced by a political power broker who misinterprets his simplistic horticultural observations for deeply meaningful political metaphors. Chance the Gardener is a blank slate of a man onto which people project what they want to see, and it was a dream role for Peter Sellers. According to the novel's author, Jerzy Kosinski, "For seven and half years, Peter Sellers became Chauncey Gardiner." It was the performance Sellers was most proud of.
There's nothing accidental in the identity switch in Purple Noon (1960), the first of multiple adaptations of Patricia Highsmith's novel "The Talented Mr. Ripley." Alain Delon stars as the charismatic nobody who murders and then impersonates the spoiled son of a millionaire he's been sent to retrieve, and his nuanced portrayal of the sly, scheming Ripley helped elevate the handsome young actor to international stardom.
Mistaken identities abounded in the screwball comedies and musicals of the 1930s. In Top Hat (1935), love at first clash between dancer Fred Astaire and fashion model Ginger Rogers becomes a romantic duet stalled by Rogers' belief that the elegant Astaire is married to her best friend. This confusion follows their dance from London to Venice, all recreated as fantasy visions on lavish art deco sets on the RKO lot.
Friday, March 14
The evening's theme is "From Bad to Worse" and it doesn't get much worse than the disaster-in-the-making in Dr. Strangelove (1964) when a renegade general sends a bomber squadron with nuclear warheads to Russia. What began as a serious topical drama was transformed by filmmaker Stanley Kubrick into a dark satire with an irreverent sense of humor and a much more pessimistic ending than the source novel. Peter Sellers plays three roles in the film and was originally intended to play a fourth as well—bomber pilot Major Kong—before an injury sidelined him. Slim Pickens took over the part and sealed his place in cinema history in the film's memorable finale.
The gravity of Send Me No Flowers (1964), the third and final pairing of Doris Day and Rock Hudson, is also played for laughs. Hudson portrays a hypochondriac who is convinced he's dying and sets out to find a new husband for his wife (Day). It's pure farce and director Norman Jewison leaned into the slapstick aspect to showcase Day's knack for physical comedy, in his own words "inventing, funny situations for her…. She carried it off beautifully." Almost four decades later, “Vanity Fair” cultural critic James Wolcott proclaimed Day and Hudson "the best romantic-comedy team ever."
Things are far more serious in Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation (1974), starring Gene Hackman as a surveillance expert hired to record a discreet conversation between a young couple wandering through a crowded plaza. Hackman's Harry Caul considers himself a professional interested only in the how, not the why, but the dispassionate expert is haunted by past tragedy and becomes personally invested when he suspects his work could get someone killed. It was a personal project for Coppola, who wrote the original screenplay, but the director gave much of the credit to Walter Murch, who both edited the film and designed the complex soundscape, calling him "a full collaborator on the project."
Blood Simple (1984), the feature debut of the Coen Bros., is a contemporary take on the classic film noir dropped into the southwest landscape of a small Texas town. The characters have just enough information to make wrong assumptions and bad decisions with deadly consequences and the Coens fill both the script and the screen with wit and invention. Their distinctive approach all but redefined the American neo-noir.
Hitchcock’s first great romantic thriller, The 39 Steps (1935) is a prime example of the MacGuffin principle in action, that mysterious, often thematically meaningless object that nonetheless sets the plot in motion. Robert Donat is the innocent tourist plunged into international conspiracy when he crosses paths with a spy. Madeleine Carroll is the cool blonde beauty who is literally handcuffed to him as he flees both the police and foreign agents. Hitch proves that, as in any quest, the object of the search isn’t nearly as satisfying as the journey.
Friday, March 21
The third night of films finds its characters "In Hot Water," as James Garner does in Move Over, Darling (1963). He’s a widower who remarries only to find his first wife (Doris Day) is alive and well. It was Garner's second film with Day, and he had nothing but praise for the star he called "the Fred Astaire of comedy." It's a remake of My Favorite Wife (1940) starring Cary Grant as the would-be widower and Irene Dunne as wife who returns on her husband's honeymoon.
Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon play musicians who, fleeing violent mobsters, don wigs and dresses to join an all-girl band in Some Like it Hot (1959). To add even more identity confusion to the adventure, Curtis pretends to be a millionaire playboy to romance the band's singer, a dizzy but sweet beauty played by Marilyn Monroe. It is easily the funniest and sexiest take on the St. Valentine's Day Massacre ever made.
Hitchcock was a master at turning mistaken identity into thrilling romantic adventure but in The Wrong Man (1956) it becomes a nightmare for an innocent musician (played by Henry Fonda) with an unfortunate resemblance to a wanted criminal. It's inspired by a true story, and Hitchcock directs with a sober style and a realistic manner as he observes the stress of such an ordeal on the people involved, especially the wife (Vera Miles), who slips into depression. This somber, serious drama is an outlier in the evening's entertainment.
We're back to comic romps with What’s Up, Doc? (1972), Peter Bogdanovich's modern take on classic screwball comedy with Ryan O'Neal as a meek, repressed intellectual and Barbra Streisand as a kooky free spirit who takes a shine to the absent-minded professor. Their romance ignites as spies, jewel thieves and scholars collide and crisscross at a convention where a shell game of identical satchels sends them all on a mad scavenger hunt.
Katharine Hepburn is the lively socialite whose second proposed marriage to a dull, responsible groom is complicated by the reappearance of her ex-husband (Cary Grant) and a confession of love from a smitten society reporter (James Stewart) in The Philadelphia Story (1940). It was quite the comeback for Hepburn, who just a few years before was branded "box-office poison" after a string of financial failures, and it became a popular and critical hit scoring two Academy Awards (out of six nominations).
Friday, March 28
The final evening finds its characters "Taking Advantage" of confusion, just as Fred Astaire does in The Gay Divorcee (1934) when Ginger Rogers assumes that he is the "co-respondent" hired by her lawyer to facilitate a divorce from her husband. It's the dance team's second film together but the first to give them starring roles and the mix of grand art deco sets, sophisticated fashions, elegant, graceful dance numbers and comic complications set the style for the rest of their successful series.
Based on the satirical literary classic by Henry Fieldling, the rollicking Tom Jones (1963) stars Albert Finney as the foundling adopted by a kindly country squire. The earthy young man's amorous adventures take him through the high and low society of 18th-century England before finally guiding him to his true heritage. Tony Richardson gives his period piece the energy and spirit of the British New Wave cinema and ribald humor that had never been seen in the literary adaptations of the previous era. It made the film a massive hit in both England and the U.S. and, despite scathing early reviews from critics appalled by the liberties taken by the filmmakers, it earned four Academy Awards.
Would you believe that A Stolen Life (1946) is the first of two films to feature Bette Davis as identical twins? In this one, the shy, artistic Kate loses the man she loves to her more aggressive, competitive sister and then takes her identity to get him back. It's pure melodrama sustained by Davis's savvy performances (body language and subtle gestures differentiate the two) and superb special effects that seamlessly blend those performances into sustained shots where they seem to be interacting in the same space.
In The Importance of Being Earnest (1952), two different men adopt the identity of the non-existent title character fabricated by a respectable country gentleman (Michael Redgrave) for his London romps. Though Oscar Wilde's play has been adapted numerous times for the screen, Anthony Asquith's deft theatrical version is still considered definitive thanks to pitch-perfect performances from a cast of stage veterans, among them Michael Denison, Margaret Rutherford and Dame Edith Evans as the aristocratic Lady Bracknell.
Finally, in Love Crazy (1941), William Powell pretends to be insane to stop his wife (Myrna Loy) from divorcing him when she suspects him of infidelity. It's of course a misunderstanding—what else would you expect by the end of this series—and in classic screwball fashion it results in mad antics from the sexy sophisticates. It was the 10th of 14 films for Powell and Loy, arguably the most debonair romantic screen team of the classic Hollywood era.
