The annual spring rite of Hollywood’s TCM Classic Film Festival (five years strong now, with no signs of slowing) has once again come and gone, supplying indelible memories to the many lucky movie fans in attendance. Whether a filmmaker or simply someone who enjoys great films, this love and shared passion for the classics of the past is a unifying thread running throughout this wonderful four-day celebration. Unlike many other film festivals where the marketplace and distribution hopes can often seem the raison d’etre, TCM fest attendees are dealing with known entities, films that have already stood the test of time. As always, there’s the additional thrill of stumbling upon an occasional lesser known gem ripe for rediscovery. The theme of this year’s festival was Family in the Movies: The Ties that Bind’. Broad to be sure, but a theme that dovetailed perfectly with the inclusive feeling of being part of the much heralded TCM ‘family’ of besotted classic film lovers. Throw in a long overdue tribute to comedy’s living king Jerry Lewis, and one could not hope for a more perfect cinephile’s dream weekend. With news that the closing night film to be screened in historic Grauman’s Chinese would be one of my all-time favorites, the 2014 TCM fest could not start soon enough for me.

There was a wonderful geographic circularity to this year’s edition of my favorite film festival – it began in Oklahoma and concluded four nights later back in neighboring Kansas. No tornado warnings for the festival’s gala Opening Night screening of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma! (this is earthquake country after all), to the gratitude of the stars and fortunate passholders who strode the Chinese theatre red carpet under late-afternoon blue skies. That film’s seemingly ageless star Shirley Jones was the first to arrive on the carpet, accompanied by husband Marty Engels who seemed to particularly enjoy waving his homemade sign trumpeting their 37 years of marriage.

Marty might better have followed Kim Novak’s husband Robert’s lead as he ably supported his stunning wife as they made their way up the press gauntlet. Miss Novak (who was herself the center of TCM’s affection at the 2012 fest) looked every bit the movie legend, walking the carpet in chic black pinstriped jacket and slacks. Aside from introducing Bell Book and Candle (her lighthearted 1958 follow-up to Vertigo with good friend Jimmy Stewart), Novak was on hand at Club TCM to exhibit one of her many pieces of art, this an intriguing pastel tribute to her haunting Hitchcock film. The painting was featured in the TCM intro which preceded each screening, including inside the Chinese theatre where Novak had watched Vertigo unspool at the 2012 fest.

Back in the ’50s, Novak was named the No. 1 Worldwide Box Office Star three years in a row, and now seems genuinely happy to have been embraced so warmly by the TCM family, perhaps erasing some of the negative feelings toward the industry which prompted her to leave Hollywood mid-career for a life of quiet rural bliss. Unfortunately, there’s still plenty of pain and cruelty the town can dish out (see the last few Oscars), and Novak used her time at the fest to speak out eloquently against such bullying. She elevated the festival with her presence, and it’s comforting to know that she’s found a sanctuary of support within the TCM family of appreciative movie lovers.

Beautiful eighty-something Kim Novak still has a few years to go before reaching the century mark which lovely Luise Rainer had already passed when she appeared at 2010’s premiere TCM festival. Nonagenarian Maureen O’Hara is even closer, yet still possesses the fiery Irish twinkle in her eyes she exhibited in 1941’s How Green Was My Valley. She continued to charm as John Ford’s muse in four additional films with the great director, and later in the fest O’Hara introduced Ford’s moving 1941 Best Picture winner, a film she made a mere seventy-four years ago.

Earlier still, in that miraculous movie year of 1939, the beautiful red-headed actress starred memorably as Esmerelda, the object of desire for Charles Laughton’s iconic The Hunchback of Notre Dame. The presence of Miss O’Hara at this year’s festival truly was a treasured link to Hollywood’s history, and fully justified TCM host Ben Mankiewicz’s sincere red carpet genuflections.

Frequent TCM hosts Alec Baldwin and Illeana Douglas also joined Mr. TCM himself, Robert Osborne, on the red carpet as the many film artists made their way slowly into the opulent Chinese theatre. Back again this year were Opening Night regulars Margaret O’Brien (who would pay tribute to her dear friend Mickey Rooney on the fest’s final morning), Diane Baker, and Tippi Hedren, who year after year consistently walks away with the film fest’s fashion honors. This being the fiftieth anniversary of her underappreciated Hitchcock psychological drama Marnie, we spoke briefly on that film’s rediscovery of late, and she mentioned how some film scholars are now considering it to be perhaps Hitchcock’s misunderstood best. (Miss Novak might have another thought or two on that subject.)

This year’s random “Why are they here?” red carpet moment (ala the cast of TV’s Dallas, or Kate Beckinsale last year) had to have been the appearance of comedian Andy Dick along with his pierced, flip-flop wearing posse. Conversely, also apparently ageless Oscar winner George Chakiris (West Side Story’s Bernardo) tried valiantly to bypass the parade by sneaking in anonymously with everyday passholders on the ‘low rent’ side of the velvet rope, only to be spotted by the press corps who insisted he hop the barrier for a few photographs. Did he not get the memo that this refreshing desire for red carpet anonymity would not be tolerated here in the very heart of Hollywood?!

The festival’s 2014 opening night screening was the first to premiere inside the historic Chinese theatre since the TCL corporation gutted it to install new stadium seating and an upgraded IMAX screen. While I have no issue with the technological improvements, the interior has not only lost some of its past character, but nearly 200 seats as well. I realize that ‘progress’ such as this is likely inevitable these days, but in a fest that thrives on its love of film history and nostalgia, I found myself missing the older, slightly tarnished edition. If I’d had my druthers, the Tin Man’s oil can would’ve been sufficient to remedy the occasional squeaky seat of yore. I suppose the silver lining (aside from the state-of-the-art projection) is that now so many of the rear seats are tantalizingly close to the magnificently ornate Chinese ceiling, where one can more fully appreciate the craftsmanship of the interior design artists of the 1920s.

After the red carpet promenade wound down, I strolled across Hollywood Boulevard (passing Maureen O’Hara’s star en route) to the hidden oasis of the Roosevelt Hotel’s glowing palm-lined pool. As a pair of dancers jitterbugged to ’50s rock-and-roll tunes, pass holders gathered on poolside lounges in anticipation of that night’s outdoor screening of George Lucas’ American Graffiti. Three of that film’s pitch perfect ensemble – Candy Clark, Bo Hopkins, and Paul Le Mat – joined Ben Mankiewicz to discuss the film that altered their professional careers.

These casual poolside screenings always bring out the best from the interviewees, and this year was no exception. Because the 1973 film bounces around between a series of interrelated but separate storylines, none of these three actors actually had any scenes together, and yet all share a passion for the finished product. Conspicuous by his absence was co-star Richard Dreyfuss, and it turns out Paul Le Mat might possibly have been the reason why.

As hilariously related by Miss Clark, Dreyfuss had not been the most popular actor on the set, which somehow resulted in Le Mat grabbing Dreyfuss by the arm and leg and tossing him into the shallow end of their Holiday Inn pool where he hit his head on the bottom. “Yeah, he could’ve broken his neck!” ribbed Clark. As Dreyfuss was present at the fest for a (premature?) tribute, Ben Mankiewicz promised to ask him about the incident when he interviewed him later that weekend. “Yeah, he didn’t want to come here tonight because of the swimming pool and me!” quipped Le Mat, pointing to the shallow end of the Roosevelt pool just a few feet away.

Vivacious Candy Clark ended up being the only member of American Graffiti‘s large cast to score an Oscar nomination, but the Academy Award evening back in 1974 didn’t turn out quite as she had hoped for. Although she said that getting the Supporting Actress nomination was “really neat,” the fact that she lost to a nine-year-old Tatum O’Neal (in what was unquestionably a lead performance) rankles somewhat. “I’m still hurt,” laughed Clark, after which Mankiewicz helpfully interjected, “By the way, we’re showing Paper Moon at the fest this year!” In her best melting Wicked Witch voice Clark shrieked, “No … you can NOT!” while Bo Hopkins jibed, “She’s ba-ack! ”

To make matters even worse on that Oscar night forty years ago, when the camera shows each nominee in a little box as the winner is announced, instead of a close-up of Clark  they somehow put up one of a completely random stranger. “My big moment … GONE!” bemoaned Candy. “At least I can laugh about it now, but at the time it was tragic.” Still, her dumb blonde with a heart of gold performance is a delicate marvel, and Lucas’ seminal and influential film holds up fantastically to this day.

Within minutes of retrieving me from the Los Angeles airport, my chauffeur (okay, brother) inexplicably made a slight detour so as to pass by the secluded entrance of Joan Crawford’s hillside Nichols Canyon mansion. Perhaps an omen, but having begun my 2012 TCM fest experience with Crawford’s big breakthrough Our Dancing Daughters, it only seemed fitting then that I start this year’s fest with one of Crawford’s late career best … Nicholas Ray’s essential Johnny Guitar.

What great fortune that on this sixtieth anniversary of its release the TCM faithful were treated to the first theatrical showing of this new restoration created especially by Paramount for the occasion. Originally shot in poverty row Republic studio’s sketchy Trucolor process, almost all circulating prints up until now have been nearly unwatchable, especially considering that the use of color is of such vital importance to the story. Clichéd as it may sound, seeing Ray’s seminal Western in such a jaw-dropping presentation truly was like seeing it for the very first time. In fact I was so impressed by the upgrade that while watching it, I even considered that the film might more appropriately be re-titled Vienna’s Red Scarf.

The packed late-night showing was introduced with humorous detail by archivist Michael Schlesinger, whose knowledge and enthusiasm for the film was the perfect setup for this memorable screening. Schlesinger expounded on how the film works on multiple levels: as a Western, a feminist film (in its ‘manly men’ milieu, it seems as if Joan Crawford and Mercedes McCambridge do all the heavy lifting!), a gay man’s touchstone (“It’s All About Eve goes West!”), and finally as a thinly disguised attack on McCarthyism. (Ben Maddow, the actual uncredited screenwriter, was himself a victim of the Blacklist.) Schlesinger noted that the film has more quotable lines than almost any Western this side of Rio Bravo, and indeed the dialogue and editing beats simply crackle.

Joan Crawford had originally bought the rights to the story, and was responsible as well for the casting of McCambridge (reputedly because she wanted to make sure that the other woman was less attractive than she). Crawford got her wish, but unfortunately hadn’t counted on the fact that McCambridge was actually a better actress, whom she soon realized was stealing every scene. With oceans of alcohol being consumed during production, at one point Crawford even broke into McCambridge’s dressing room and threw all of her clothes out into the street. Director Ray originally thought he could use this tension to flesh out the characters, but instead soon started wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Even Sterling Hayden (the titular Johnny Guitar) said after the shoot, “There’s not enough money in Hollywood to let me do another picture with Joan Crawford … and I like money!”

Although a box-office hit initially, the film was not at first a critical success. “When you say Joan Crawford Western,” joked Schlesinger, “you’re just begging for a wedgie.”  As often is the case, it took Europeans to first rescue the film’s reputation. In the ’60s Francois Truffaut wrote, “Anyone who didn’t like Johnny Guitar should never be permitted inside a theatre again, because they have no true appreciation of cinema.” Martin Scorsese, Peter Bogdanovich, and Andrew Sarris spearheaded its stateside revival, and in 2008 the Library of Congress placed it on the National Film Registry, perhaps the highest honor a film can achieve. So while the V.I.P. pass holders enjoyed the opening night screening of Oklahoma! down at the Chinese, for me the real action was the horse opera upstairs with Cranberry and Johnny Guitar.

Aside from the handful of special opening night screenings, the festival doesn’t really kick into high gear until the following day, ushering in a long weekend overflowing with a smorgasbord of cinematic choices. As a philatelist as well as a cinephile (a cinephilatelist?), I somehow find it inexplicable that I failed to attend the early morning ceremony in the Chinese courtyard where the U.S. Postal Service unveiled the latest stamp in its “Legends of Hollywood” collection. Was it perhaps because I felt subject Charlton Heston not worthy of such a lofty, exclusive honor? (A tribute to his seminal sci-fi troika Planet of the Apes, Soylent Green, and The Omega Man … well now that’s another story!) Or was it simply a lack of enthusiasm for the stamp’s bland, unexciting artwork (rivaling Jimmy Stewart’s for worst of the series)?

Regardless, I chose instead to honor Chuck a few hours later by attending the noon screening of Orson Welles’ brilliantly seedy Touch of Evil, thought by Heston and others to be the best ‘B’ film ever made.

Charlton Heston’s son Fraser was on hand inside the dark Chinese theatre to introduce this world premiere restoration of Welles’ brilliantly disturbing film noir. Unhappy with Orson’s planned editing choices for the film, Universal Pictures fired Welles in post-production, cut the film to their liking, and most troubling of all, slapped tacky opening titles over Touch of Evil’’s uninterrupted three-minute opening shot. From his retreat in Mexico, Welles wrote a lengthy fifty-page memo detailing his preferred editing choices from which this definitive ‘director’s cut’ has been painstakingly assembled. The thrill of seeing Marlene Dietrich’s sultry hooded eyes, Welles’ bloated slab of inhumanity, plus that amazing title-less opening sequence all projected up on the new giant Chinese screen was an incredible start to the long movie marathon weekend.

One last cinephilatic suggestion – rather than the new Heston postage, lovers of movie stamps might be better served by seeking out the ferocious Helena Bonham Carter Bellatrix issue from the new Harry Potter series. And don’t despair about losing out on that Academy Award, Helena … really, who needs an Oscar when you’ve already got your own stamp (while alive!), much less being the featured attraction of Andy Dick’s red carpet t-shirt.

A singular highlight of every TCM fest for me is the screening of a great Silent classic accompanied by a live in-house orchestra, often performing a new musical score written specifically for the occasion. While the less said the better about last year’s Alloy Orchestra’s annoying accompaniment of Buster Keaton’s The General, order was restored this year with the appearance of the great Carl Davis conducting an eighteen-piece orchestra with his world premiere score for Harold Lloyd’s fun 1923 romp, Why Worry?

Maestro Davis is internationally renowned as perhaps the most prolific and prominent composer of silent film music, having scored everything from Abel Gance’s Napoleon revival, to the major classics of Keaton, Chaplin, and Lloyd. Last year illness had unfortunately sidelined him from personally conducting his rousing score for King Vidor’s The Big Parade, but he triumphed this year with his upbeat mariachi-themed work for the Lloyd comedy.

Why Worry? was Harold Lloyd’s follow-up to his popular Safety Last and came at a time of great upheaval in Lloyd’s personal life, explained his granddaughter Suzanne, tireless protector of the family legacy. While the film may not quite measure up to Harold’s more well-known comedies, any opportunity to see a Lloyd film in these conditions is a reason to celebrate, and the full house at Grauman’s beautiful Egyptian theatre enthusiastically lapped it up.

When I met Carl Davis on the previous evening’s red carpet, I couldn’t resist asking him, “One question … Buster or Charlie?” to which he diplomatically replied, “Harold.” He then went on to talk about Charlie Chaplin’s connection to children, and how Charlie really got children while the other two were perhaps either too abstract or adult (my sons would certainly disagree). I was particularly excited when Davis related that he is currently starting a new Buster Keaton project with the hopes of performing his new Keaton scores before live audiences worldwide. In fact, he mentioned that he was working on a score for Buster’s incredible short The Playhouse up in his hotel room between all of the festival commitments. Great news for lovers of silent comedy, yours truly in particular.

To cap off my full day of glorious black & white film viewing, I attended my very first Midnight Movie of these many TCM festivals. And not just any run-of-the-mill one, but perhaps the ultimate Midnight Movie … David Lynch’s dark and disturbing Eraserhead. (From Lloyd to Lynch in the blink of an eye, this is why I love this fest!) Comedian Patton Oswalt took to the stage to praise the TCM festival (“Coachella for Shut-ins!”) and expound on the film’s five-years-in-the-making troubled gestation, heaping particular praise on Sissy Spacek for her early financing of the film. (“Avert your eyes” if fortunate enough to meet her, he suggested.) Oswalt had the late-night audience rolling when he asked if any of the couples in attendance were contemplating marriage or a family. “Ladies, if your guy brought you here, he is trying to plant the seed for you NOT to want to have children!” he joked. “That’s why he brought you here. He wants to be child-free. ‘Take her to Eraserhead, we’ll never have kids! This is great!’ ”

That was most likely the last laugh the audience would have  for the following few hours as David Lynch’s primal, beautifully nightmarish fever dream unspooled. After a wonderfully full day of movie viewing, Lynch’s hypnotic rhythms (as well as the late hour) did in fact lull me at times into semi-consciousness, which in this case was the perfect state of being for his unique work of art. Afterwards I caught the last subway back to my motel for a few hours of actual sleep, and realized that it was located on the same avenue (and roughly equidistant between) the original silent Fox studios (where both 7th Heaven and Sunrise were filmed) and AFI’s Greystone mansion where Lynch painstakingly created his first masterpiece. Needless to say, I slept exceedingly well that night.

Awakening just a few hours later (batteries run low during this long weekend), I prepared myself for a day honoring perhaps the greatest, most influential living comic genius … the one-and-only Jerry Lewis. Having joyously schooled myself over the previous few months on all aspects of Jerry’s 83-year-long career, it was with great anticipation that I awaited his arrival inside the Grauman’s Chinese courtyard where he would immortalize his hand and footprints in fresh cement. The ceremony began under the blue skies of another perfect Hollywood morning, as Quentin Tarantino strode to the podium to introduce Mr. Lewis to the gathered fans and photographers.

Tarantino (more excited even than usual) explained to the crowd that he had just recently turned fifty, and how when he was a boy he’d been aware that his parents’ generation all had their own personal movie star favorites (Lancaster, Streisand, Eastwood, etc.). “But for every kid, every child, girl or boy in my elementary school, we only had ONE favorite movie star … and it was Jerry Lewis!” effused Tarantino. “He was the children’s movie star. Kids really responded to Jerry Lewis, and he was there. And he was for [countless] generations of children. That’s actually pretty neat, and I don’t really know anyone else that has that, and owns that, and owns it so singularly as Jerry Lewis does.”

It’s interesting to note that these sentiments echo almost precisely what Carl Davis had mentioned to me about Charlie Chaplin’s connection to children, as Jerry Lewis has often stated that Chaplin is perhaps his own greatest personal film idol. “So that’s why if you’re my age,” Tarantino continued, “And you grew up watching Jerry Lewis, he’s been part of a constant in your life, making you laugh and identifying with him. I even remember when I was a kid, if they told me to clean up the art supplies in the back of the class in elementary school, I was going to try to turn it into a Jerry Lewis movie and mess everything up. ‘The Student’ starring Quentin!” Before inviting Jerry out to the stage, Tarantino concluded, “I really do think that this man is a real, real treasure. Not only is he a great comedian, but one of the true great actor-directors in the history of cinema.”

   

Comedy’s King emerged to the cheers of the assembled crowd, and almost immediately began sabotaging the proceedings, yucking it up with gleeful abandon. It seems to be part of Jerry’s innate nature to invariably, unwaveringly go for the laugh – a born clown, he’ll give his all to get an audience laughing, and he rarely comes up short. While Jerry’s gait may have slowed some during his impressive eighty-eight-year span, his comic timing and razor-sharp wit are as tight as ever. Jerry was at his feisty, offensive best as he greeted the press corps with, “What a motley looking group, my gawd!”, which was soon followed by a brief two-fingered salute (using separate hands, unlike Jane Fonda’s Peace sign from her handprint ceremony last year).

I’m envious of the young stage hand and lucky press photographer who Jerry incorporated into his schtick, as they both now can say they’ve been part of a classic Lewis comic moment. Even Quentin Tarantino, after Jerry pretended to chew on his hand, shouted with glee, “I got bit by Jerry Lewis!!” (To which Jerry replied without missing a beat, “Anybody got a tetanus?”)

Perhaps the funniest, most spontaneous moment that morning occurred when after a joke failed to get a loud enough response, Jerry jokingly asked the bleacher fans to start singing “Silent Night.” To his great surprise, the crowd didn’t miss a beat either and immediately burst into song, whereupon Jerry joyously began conducting them in subsequent verses.

After placing his signature, hand and footprints in the box of fresh cement (“I wanted to give them another imprint, but they said that might not be good!”), Lewis was joined by Robert Osborne, Richard Lewis (no relation), Dane Cook, and indefatigable Illeana Douglas who would interview him later that evening.

Getting serious for a rare moment, Jerry stated, “This is an incredible time for me. I have never had an experience like this and had my daughter present, and this is the first time I’ve ever asked her to join me. Dani, take a bow.” After his lovely daughter rose he modestly enthused, “She’s crazy about me!” as she and her mother joined Lewis beside the freshly imprinted cement.

“I have a simple philosophy,” Lewis is quoted in Shawn Levy’s comprehensive biography “King of Comedy.” “Don’t say no swell stuff over my grave. I’m opening up a chain of eulogy stands where anyone can go in and for twenty bucks they read to you all the swell stuff they’re going to say when you croak. I want to hear it now. Tell me now.” Well, on that one perfect April morning in the heart of Hollywood, Mr. Lewis most definitely got his wish, and then some.

Just a stone’s throw across the Boulevard sits the magnificent El Capitan theatre which along with the Chinese and Egyptian make up the Triple Crown of beautiful Hollywood movie palaces utilized for the fest. After an exciting recital of movie themes played on its mighty Wurlitzer organ, Jerry entered to a standing ovation from fans waiting to see his comic masterpiece, The Nutty Professor. Aside from a classic spit take and a very funny parrot joke, Lewis was for the most part quite serious as Illeana Douglas walked us through his eight-decade-long show business career. When she first met Lewis (they co-starred in Jerry’s latest film, Max Rose), he told her that “My work is an outpouring of love.” Overwhelmed with emotion (eyes tearing, voice cracking), Douglas continued, “And we’ve spent the day showing him the same love.”

In recounting his storied life, Jerry spent a good portion of the discussion talking about two of the most influential men in his past: his father – traveling Borscht Belt comic Danny Lewis – and his original partner, Dean Martin. His father impressed upon him at an early age the ultimate importance of making sure the audience was always entertained. Jerry lived for being onstage and the contact it allowed him to have with the audience, because that’s where he always seemed to be the happiest. It’s a tradition he continues, as Lewis always includes an unpredictable audience Q&A segment in his comedy act to this day. I know firsthand, as I was lucky enough to see Jerry perform last year and got to question him on the subject of … Jayne Mansfield!

Traveling the vaudeville circuit of the ’30s with his parents, Lewis learned his craft almost as if by osmosis. “I stood in the wings of every theater in this country with my Dad, and watched the other acts.” Jerry continued, “You can watch somebody do something, but if it isn’t coming from your gut, if what you’re watching doesn’t come from your heart with love and affection and pride …” He shrugged. Then with true justification Lewis continued, “I was always so proud that I could walk out on a stage and make an audience laugh. I was so proud of that ability.”

In July of 1946 Lewis teamed up with suave crooner Dean Martin (they would split up exactly ten years to the day later), the partner who would help propel the two into the entertainment world’s upper stratosphere. Before long the pair would become the most popular act in show business, and the nationwide frenzy was unlike anything up until that time, only surpassed later by Elvis Presley and the Beatles. To better understand this phenomenon I got hold of some discs of their amazing Colgate Comedy Hour kinescopes, and only now fully appreciate the incomparable comic anarchy that young Jerry thrived on. I guiltily admit that I tend to fast forward through most of Dean’s musical numbers (nice voice, but I’ll save my quality Martin time for Rio Bravo or Some Came Running), but it’s simply to see more of Jerry’s raw comic insanity let loose at full throttle in its prime.

What a thrill it must have been to see one of Martin & Lewis’ uncensored nightclub shows in person back in the day. Countless comedians who’ve come since (Jim Carrey, John Belushi, and Chris Farley being just a few that spring to mind) owe an incredible mountain of gratitude to Jerry Lewis for shattering comedy conventions and paving the way for their inspired, antic outrageousness. As fantastic and groundbreaking as his film work of the ’50s and ’60s was, it is these early semi-improvised TV sketches that never fail to make me giddy with laughter. (Dean Martin, for the record, was a perfect straight man to Lewis, and Jerry’s fascinating book “Dean and Me – A Love Story” is the perfect heartfelt valentine to their decade of collaboration.) When Illeana Douglas asked Jerry which of the team’s sixteen films together he’d recommend to someone who hadn’t yet seen any, he answered without hesitation The Stooge, and I agree wholeheartedly (with Artists and Models a very close second).

Jerry had such a strong love for film and its comedic possibilities, that he inevitably ended up taking the filmmaking reins himself. His lessons in film directing came on the sets of his many shoots, learning from the best (Frank Tashlin) and sometimes even more from the worst. “Every time I made a film I learned another education,” explained Lewis. “What I had to do was find a visual comedy that worked out to that audience. I was like a kid in college, learning my trade while hoping to get a degree. I never got the degree, but I made a fortune!”

He asked Billy Wilder (“one of the dearest men I’ve ever met in my life”) if he’d direct Lewis’ screenplay of The Bell Boy, but Wilder suggested that Jerry might do a better job of it himself, and Lewis’ film directing career was off to the races. “I was very affected by the fact that I could do something funny, put it through the camera, process it, edit it to get it exactly like I wanted … and I realized that there were children in Shanghai that were going to see this!” And he was right. His physical humor, not reliant on language (though Lewis is also a master of verbal mimicry), translates internationally just like that of the great silent comedians he idolizes. Perhaps this helps explain Jerry’s worldwide popularity, where he is often appreciated more overseas than here in his home country (with the French yet again leading the way).

Due to the constraints of a tight fest schedule, the too-short discussion came to a close, and Jerry exited stage left on the wings of another sustained standing ovation. The wondrous El Capitan’s lights dimmed, and the over fifty-years-fresh, eye-popping colors of The Nutty Professor burst anew upon the screen. Buddy, the packed house was full of Love, and infectious howls of laughter throughout the screening made the shared experience one unlikely to be forgotten. To know that Jerry was still in the theater hearing all the incredible laughter that he’d toiled so hard to create a half century past, was a wonderful feeling – his Dad no doubt would’ve been incredibly proud.

Near the close of The Nutty Professor, Jerry’s Professor Kelp character has a short speech where he states that in the end, a person had better learn to like oneself. In closing her interview, Illeana Douglas asked Jerry a final question, “Do you like yourself?” Lewis paused, then replied decisively, “Yeah! I guess it took the better part of eighty years, but how do you not like yourself, spending that much time with YOU?!”

The theater full of grateful fans, lovers of unbridled comedy, had hoped for a bit more time with Jerry as well – he’d originally been scheduled to answer questions from the audience immediately after the screening and had waited backstage to do just that. But due to the extended length of the earlier interview, and the rapidly approaching start time of George Cukor’s The Women in the same theater, there was sadly no chance for that to happen this time around. Damn you, Norma Shearer! (Or now that I think of it, more appropriately … Damn you, Joan Crawford!)

Disappointed that I was unable to ask Professor Lewis about his chemistry working with Kathleen Freeman in their many collaborations, I made my way to the end of the next feature’s line which snaked all the way back into the alley behind the El Capitan. Happy that Jerry had heard the waves of laughter rippling through that gem of a theatre, I watched with gratitude as Jerry’s SUV passed by as he and his family were driven off into the Hollywood night.

Soon after, I struck up a conversation (as one tends to do at the festival while queuing) with a wonderful family who to me best personified this year’s festival theme of Family – The Ties That Bind’. Like so many of the TCM passholders I met, they’d traveled a great distance to attend the fest (from Nova Scotia in their particular case), and looked to be having the time of their lives. The enthusiastic parents joked about the nutritional value of subsisting on popcorn during the fest, and I soon discovered that their knowledgeable 19-year-old son was a kindred cinephile, with cinematic tastes right up my alley. (Jerry’s Alley!)

Before long we were singing the praises of not only Jerry Lewis films, but those of David Lynch as well. As the line inched forward, we spoke about having all experienced the previous evening’s screening of Eraserhead (always a fun family night out), and what we felt the required number of viewings were for certain Lynch films to release their meaning. It really should have come as no surprise that it turned out they also loved The Wizard of Oz. Possessing such wonderfully warped and eclectic taste in film, I’m certain the knowledgeable young man will find success as he pursues a film journalism degree at Halifax University. Film viewing can at times be a solitary, even lonely, experience, so to be immersed in a milieu where one discovers that perhaps one’s taste in film is not completely out of whack, that others out there also share your particular cinematic passions … well, it’s a wonderful feeling and one of the most fulfilling aspects of this very happy festival.

While not as great a fan of The Women as I’d hoped to be, and nowhere near as obsessed with it as Anna Kendrick apparently is (the young actress giddily introduced the film, explaining it’s been part of her DNA since the age of twelve), it still is always a pleasure, even privilege, to see a great old classic in pristine condition up on the giant screen. Looking back, I now see my biases are quite apparent, as over half the films I saw during the entire fest were from the ’30s or earlier. Two of my hitherto unseen favorites from this group were the pre-Code Employee’s Entrance (starring Warren William and Loretta Young), and 5th Avenue Girl (with Walter Connolly and Ginger Rogers). While both ladies would go on to stardom and Oscars in the following decade, it was the two stalwart character actors in rare leading roles that were the real revelation here.

Little known to contemporary audiences, Warren William is considered by some to be the ‘King of Pre-Code.’ Expert at playing powerful philanderers, scheming scoundrels, and charming cads, William has his quintessential role here as a New York City department store manager, with virginal prey Loretta Young in his crosshairs. The beautiful new 35mm print (struck from the original camera negative and preserved by the Library of Congress) was preceded by a saucy ‘Pre-Code 101’ compilation, and a fun, informative talk by scholar Bruce Goldstein. Making the screening even more memorable for me was the chat I had beforehand with the great Buster Keaton’s dear friend James Karen, a dashing and gracious gentleman whose karmic bank is overflowing, not just for bringing years of happiness to his bridge partner Buster, but for having co-starred in David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive as well.

 

And what to say about Miss Ginger Rogers? While in my book she may never top her delirious Pig Latin warbling of “We’re in the Money” from Gold Diggers of 1933, she turns in a delightfully caustic, big-hearted performance in Gregory La Cava’s 5th Avenue Girl, a fast-paced comedy of manners that ranks right up there with the director’s own My Man Godfrey. Rogers is a natural as a wise-cracking, down-on-her-luck city gal who forms a novel ‘arrangement’ with 5th Avenue big-wig Walter Connolly, only to find that the situation is a bit more complicated than anticipated. It’s always fantastic to see a dependable character actor such as Connolly finally get a chance to shine in a rare three-dimensional starring role such as this, and his gruffly bewildered lead performance made La Cava’s lark of a film that much more enjoyable. I only wish I’d also been able to make time for Rogers’ other big 1939 hit, Bachelor Mother, playing elsewhere at the fest, but DON’T get me started on the alternate festival that might have been.

The final Sunday of TCM fest 2014 began with a sad, last-minute substitution – a loving tribute to one of the most popular stars of his time, Mickey Rooney, who’d shuffled on to that great cinema in the sky exactly one week earlier to the day. Mickey had become a beloved regular at most TCM fests these past few years, including last year’s It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World panel at its Cinerama screening (next to an empty chair where recently departed Jonathan Winters was to have sat), and his presence will be greatly missed.

The specter of mortality often hovers over this wonderful celebration of film that is the annual TCM fest, and yet the promise and power of immortality via the silver screen must surely be a balm to its aging participants. When Elizabeth Taylor passed within just a month of the second TCM fest’s start, there was a palpable sense of loss on hand which was eased, and made cathartic during her packed tribute screening of A Place in the Sun.

So it seemed fitting that the moving film chosen to honor Mr. Rooney this year was the one these two MGM stars made together back in 1945, National Velvet. Taylor was just eleven years old when she made Clarence Brown’s touching picture, and Rooney just twenty-three (although he’d already been nominated twice for the Best Actor Oscar, and been the #1 box-office draw two years running). Already a film veteran, Rooney helped guide Taylor through her first major starring role, and their on-screen chemistry and friendship anchors the heartfelt film. Unbelievably, Rooney worked in the movies for TEN consecutive decades and director Brown once called Mickey, “the closest thing to genius I ever worked with.” In his memoir, Rooney stated that his favorite line in National Velvet was the one spoken by Anne Revere about his character, “What’s the meaning of goodness if there isn’t a little badness to overcome?” These words resonated with Rooney so much that he later said they could indeed be his epitaph.

After the screening, Mickey’s dear friend (and fellow Juvenile Academy Award winner) Margaret O’Brien took to the stage to reminisce fondly about the big-hearted man. Wearing the bright green jacket she’d worn to an Irish dinner of corned beef and cabbage with Mickey just this past St. Patrick’s Day, O’Brien lovingly recalled how she had made her very first picture with Rooney, and he had just finished what sadly turned out to be his last with her. Mickey, she said, loved being on the set making films right up until the end (he’d begun his career in the silents), and absolutely loved watching old classics on TCM with his closest friends.

Like his National Velvet character, Rooney had a passion for the ponies according to O’Brien, loved Irish music, as well as writing poems and limericks. After a reading of Mickey’s poem “Flesh and Bone” in which he looked unflinchingly back on his long life, O’Brien was joined briefly on stage by the son of Mickey’s most beloved partner Judy Garland. Joey Luft was a great friend of Rooney his entire life, and felt compelled to add at the close, “One thing I admired about Mickey … he did the right thing. I loved his spirit, his acting, and everything about him. I will really miss him.” As, no doubt, the entire TCM family will as well.

 

With Judy and Mickey being so warmly embraced and remembered that final morning of the festival, it seemed appropriate that the last screening of TCM fest 2014 would be that greatest of MGM musicals, The Wizard of Oz. The anticipation of seeing my favorite film anew, inside that magnificent movie palace with state-of-the-art presentation and a packed house of appreciative fans, had me buzzing. To steady myself, after securing my place holder ticket I hightailed it a block down Hollywood Boulevard to the tiny, nearly seventy-year-old Snow White Café, where I raised a pint of Guinness in honor of the full lives of both Mickey and Judy. Two of Hollywood’s staunchest, most talented troupers, you somehow just want to believe that wherever they may now find themselves, it’s a good bet that they’re planning some way – any way – to go put on a SHOW!

 

Throughout the festival, I’d admired Dorothy’s blue gingham dress as well as one of the Winged Monkey’s outfits from The Wizard of Oz that were on display in two glass cases inside Club TCM (the Blossom Room at the historic Roosevelt Hotel). Once inside Grauman’s Chinese theatre, I secured the best dead-center seat I could find, the better to appreciate the new 3D IMAX presentation of Victor Fleming’s classic fantasy. As the lights dimmed and the film’s incredible music rose, I recalled how this beloved masterpiece had made its Hollywood premiere in this theatre exactly seventy-five years before (with over 10,000 excited fans lining Hollywood Boulevard to view the arrivals). Dubious as I’d been about the need for high-tech enhancements (both on the film as well as inside the theatre), in the end it was a truly magical experience, and one of a handful of high points in my movie viewing life.

 

To be part of that enthusiastic crowd, who applauded each character’s entrance and the end of every memorable production number, well … it’s times like this when you realize that you may have finally found your tribe (Winkies, Munchkins, or otherwise). Which, when it comes right down to it, is what makes this festival so meaningful for those who travel from around the world to attend. As celebrated by this year’s festival theme, to be part of an extended family sharing an appreciation of what the art form can achieve, alongside familiar stars of movies past or families from Nova Scotia … well, it really is the stuff movie dreams are made of and an experience that any lover of film should not miss. Cheers to Robert Osborne and the entire TCM family for five years of indelible, incredible festival memories (it really doesn’t get much better), and primarily for this shared love of classic cinema beating as ever, from the heart of Hollywood. When I awoke back home a few days later, I realized what a strange and wondrous trip it really all had been, and began counting down the days until next year’s adventure.

All festival photos by Steve Striegel, exclusively for ICS