'The Kid From Left Field'

Fictional baseball movies appear to share the same premise: some catalyst turns a hard-luck team in last place into a lovable underdog that makes its way to the pennant race.

“Angels in the Outfield” featured divine intervention, a reformed foul-mouthed manager and a rejuvenated Pittsburgh Pirates. In “Rhubarb,” the fictitious Brooklyn Loons find luck in their new owner, a cat.

In 1953’s “The Kid From Left Field,” it’s a former ballplayer and his son jump-starting the Bisons. If the first two films are comedies, “Left Field” is touching, a heartfelt father-and-son story. The two share a love of the game that ultimately brings them closer together.  

Dan Dailey plays Larry Cooper, a former ballplayer who sells peanuts at Whacker Stadium, home of the Bisons. They are a losing team that sets records for low attendance, and team owner Fred Whacker (Ray Collins) says their new slogan should be “You can lose them all.” This means single father Larry struggles to make ends meet for himself and his son, Christie (Billy Chapin). Christie idolizes his father and believes him to be a former baseball hero, unaware that his dad’s career was not a stellar one.

When Larry loses his job and goes on a bender, Christie manages to get his dad’s job back and then is hired to be one of the team’s batboys despite his small size. While father and son love baseball, Larry is soon telling Christie what is wrong with each of the Bison players, and Christie shares with infielder Pete Haines (Lloyd Bridges) how to get out of his hitting slump. Soon Pete is following Christie’s advice, and it doesn’t take long before other players are asking for the pint-size batboy’s guidance, which irks the team’s manager (Richard Egan), who tries to take all of the credit for the team’s turnaround.

 

“The Kid From Left Field” may not be great filmmaking, but the simplicity of the narrative works, as does the screenplay by Jack Sher. It’s a straightforward film, one that doesn’t force the emotional moments. Director Harmon Jones previously worked with Dailey on the Dizzy Dean baseball biography “The Pride of St. Louis” the year before. Harmon guides Dailey through a terrific, understated performance of a man who clearly loves his son but lacks self-confidence in his own abilities.

Appearing in one of her first films is Anne Bancroft playing Marian Foley, secretary to Fred Whacker and Pete Haines’ girlfriend. It’s amusing that the poster makes you think Dailey and Bancroft are an item when, in fact, I don’t believe they even share a scene together! She’s playing the usual “girl” role, but she is not the typical starlet and therefore Marian is not the typical love interest, which is a very good thing. Although there’s not much to the role, Bancroft gives Marian intelligence; she’s more than just a pretty face, and a decade later moviegoers would know just how talented she was.

But Dailey and Bancroft take a backseat to Chapin. The youngster may not be a great actor (late in the film he faints and it’s an amateurish effort even by kids’ standards), but he’s earnest and likable, which is all that’s needed for him to carry the film. And the supporting cast – including Bridges, Collins and Egan – does fine work.

Sometimes simple is the best approach, and “The Kid From Left Field” wisely follows this path. Even with a fairly predictable plot, the film is surprisingly touching in its own quiet way.

'Rhubarb'

Last week I wrote about angels in the outfield. This week it’s a cat in the owners box.

“Rhubarb” is another 1951 baseball film, a comedy about an eccentric millionaire who leaves his fortune – and ownership of a major league team – to his cat, Rhubarb. I had never seen this one, but I’m a sucker for films about smart animals with lovably cantankerous owners.

And that owner is Thaddeus J. Banner, played by the wonderful Gene Lockhart. Banner is fixated on a mangy yet feisty cat that steals golf balls at the local golf course. He must have him and orders Eric (Ray Milland), the PR man for his baseball team, the Brooklyn Loons, to catch him.

Eric eventually traps the wild animal, and Banner gives it a home and a name – Rhubarb. In addition to being a plant, “rhubarb” is slang for a baseball altercation (first used on-air by Brooklyn Dodgers broadcaster Red Barber in 1943). Banner and Rhubarb become best friends, a situation that does not sit well with Banner’s exercise-obsessed daughter, Myra (Elsie Holmes).

When Banner dies, he leaves much of his fortune to Rhubarb, who is left in the care of Eric. Myra is enraged and vows revenge. Meanwhile, Eric is trying to marry Polly (Jan Sterling), daughter of the baseball team’s manager, Len (William Frawley). Unfortunately, Polly discovers she’s allergic to cats.

Players for the struggling Loons are not happy with being owned by a cat. They threaten a boycott by feigning various maladies and conditions. But Eric slyly convinces them that Rhubarb will bring them luck. Soon the team is winning, and Rhubarb is the toast of Brooklyn, although all is not well with the scheming Myra, bookies who are loosing a fortune and Polly’s allergy.

The film is based upon a 1946 book by H. Allen Smith, which was so popular that Smith wrote two sequels. Orangey, the film’s feline star, is the only animal to win two Patsy Awards for this film, his cinematic debut, and for playing Cat in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” a decade later. Orangey also appeared as Minerva the Cat on the “Our Miss Brooks” TV show.

 Orangey may be the star, but the human actors are a solid ensemble. Milland is always a dependable player and a relaxed comedian, whether he’s trying to catch a cat or run a baseball team. Sterling is feisty and fun, and Lockhart is always a delight. Plus there’s a fun cameo at the end that should please classic movie lovers.

Director Arthur Lubin was known for light comedies, having directed a number of Abbott and Costello’s biggest comedy hits for Universal. He also did well with animals of all sorts, directing the Francis the Talking Mule series and developing “Mister Ed” for TV. Lubin’s most prestigious work was the 1943 remake of “Phantom of the Opera.”

“Rhubarb” offers no surprises. It’s breezy and fun and a great way to get into baseball spirit.

'Angels in the Outfield'

The strangest feeling of nostalgia recently hit me like a line drive.

It was about baseball, a sport I don’t follow. As a kid, I went through the requisite baseball phase but because I was never any good playing it, I quickly lost interest. Sometimes my older siblings occasionally reeled me in with their enthusiasm for the game, and I remember playing Wiffle ball, baseball and even softball with them.


With the late arrival of spring just hitting the Chicago area, my thoughts inexplicably turned to baseball. As I fondly remembered a few childhood memories, I also thought about a few great baseball movies I had seen. I also discovered that I had not seen a slew of others.

So, over the summer, I’m going to play ball at Classicfilmboy, periodically mixing some fleeting memories with a review. This week, I’m inspired by the large front yard in which my siblings and I along with the neighbors would play ball. We lived next to the main road through town, and if one of my brothers managed to hit the ball over the road, it was a rare thing – and miraculous that the ball didn’t hit a passing car.

Just as miraculous are the angels seen by Guffy McGovern in “Angels in the Outfield,” a delightful 1951 comedy starring Paul Douglas as the manager of the woeful Pittsburgh Pirates. Guffy’s foul-mouthed tirades (imaginatively presented, due to the Production Code, by garbled, echoing sounds coming from his mouth) and temper-induced scuffles have won him few fans, especially sports announcer Fred Bayles (Keenan Wynn). When Guffy gets him fired, Fred vows vengeance by becoming an announcer for the rival Giants. 

One night alone on the field, Guffy is visited by an angel (voiced by James Whitmore), who tells Guffy if he cleans up his act, the team might start winning with the help of ball players who are now part of the heavenly squad. Guffy begins displaying restraint, and soon enough the team responds by showing signs of life.

Meanwhile, plucky Jennifer Paige (Janet Leigh), the local Household Hints editor, has been tracking Guffy and notices the change in his demeanor. Then Bridget (Donna Corcoran), a girl at a Catholic orphanage, claims to see angels in the outfield. Jennifer writes a story about Bridget, and Guffy seeks out Bridget, whose vision validates his own conversations with an angel.

Many of the game scenes were actually played at Forbes Field, home to the Pirates until 1970 when the team moved to Three Rivers Stadium. Two fires struck Forbes Field, and it was demolished in 1971. What may be lost today is the fact that the Pittsburgh Pirates had not finished first since 1927 and had been a sub-par team for years, without a winning season between 1948 and 1958. Pirates fans must have been praying for angels for years after this film was released.

One fun sequence in the movie involves interviews with notables after the Pirates begin winning. These include Joe DiMaggio, Ty Cobb and Bing Crosby, who was part-owner of the Pirates from 1946 until his death in the 1970s.

The story sags slightly toward the end, when a hearing is called to determine if Guffy is fit to lead the team. The central point comes down to whether angels exist, and it feels like a pale imitation of the debate regarding the existence of Santa Claus in “Miracle on 34^th Street.”

  

Otherwise, the film works, in large part to a cast that is clearly having fun. Leigh is as delightful as ever, Corcoran (whose brother Kevin found fame at Disney) is the rare child actor who is charming without trying to be so, and Wynn is a nasty delight. Bruce Bennett, Spring Byington, Ellen Corby and Lewis Stone (not to mention Mrs. Cleaver herself, Barbara Billingsley as a hat-check girl) round out the strong supporting cast.

However, it’s the affable Douglas who is the film’s MVP. Known for playing gruff and belligerent men, especially in his breakout role as Harry Brock in the original Broadway production of “Born Yesterday,” Douglas is the ideal actor to play Guffy. He’s completely believable as a sour baseball manager who loves his steaks more than his players, and he’s just as believable when he softens and begins to let down his defenses.

In 1959, Douglas was finishing up work on an episode of “The Twilight Zone” playing an umpire. The episode was written for Douglas by Rod Serling, who was inspired by his performance in “Angels in the Outfield.” Sadly, Douglas died suddenly of a massive heart attack at the age of 52, and the episode was reshot with actor Jack Warden.

Disney remade the film in 1994, adjusting the story and moving it to Los Angeles. I remember it as pleasant but not quite up to the 1951 version, which was made for MGM and directed by Clarence Brown, known for his sensitive touch behind the camera. The original “Angels in the Outfield” is a charmer. It’s also a great way to kick off the baseball season.

Audrey of the Month

It's Audrey of the Month time. I thought this lovely photo would put everyone in a spring mood, especially with May just around the corner.

Young and March in 'Bedtime Story'

“Bedtime Story” is a charming romantic romp that was the third of a three-picture deal that Loretta Young had with Columbia Pictures.

As I mentioned in my review of “The Doctor Takes a Wife” a few weeks back, Young had refused to extend her contract at 20^th Century Fox and became a freelance artist. But her agent, Myron Selznick, confirmed that the major studios were steering clear of her in a gentleman’s agreement with Fox chief Darryl F. Zanuck, whom they did not want to cross. Columbia’s Harry Cohn, who loved a bargain, did sign Young at half her price, and the deal kept her working.

While the three movies she made at Columbia may not be classics, they are solid romantic comedies that proved Young’s worth in the marketplace among fans. With “Bedtime Story,” she was paired with the terrific Fredric March, and the two are perfectly matched in this story of a playwright, Luke Drake (March), who refuses to believe that his wife and stage actress, Jane (Young), is ready to retire. Even on the night of Jane’s final performance, a preoccupied Luke announces at her retirement dinner that he’s created his next masterpiece, perfect for Jane. When she reminds him that they bought a home in the country specifically for retirement, he replies that he sold it to finance the new production.

An incensed Jane decides to go to Reno for a divorce, all while a disbelieving and scheming Luke attempts to win her back – and get her to play the lead in his next play.

Columbia had so much faith in this film that it was the studio’s big Christmas day release in 1941. The down side is that it was just a few weeks after Pearl Harbor and the U.S. entering World War II. The initial mood of the country was somber, but as 1942 began, it became clear that films like this were a perfect escape from reality, and this film ultimately did well enough for Columbia.

Unfortunate, Young and Cohn had a falling out during the making of this film. According to the book “King Cohn,” Young was allowed to select a gown for a particular scene on her own. The base price was $155, but the designer suggested about $400 in changes. The total cost was not unreasonable, but Cohn saw the initial price of $155 and thought Young was trying to make money off of the deal by claiming there were changes. He removed her top billing (which March had generously given her) and refused to allow her to wear the dress. In retaliation, she worked with the studio seamstress on the dress after hours, meaning overtime pay, and ordered unnecessary changes so that the ultimate cost of the dress was in the thousands! Many years later, Young apologized to Cohn for her behavior, which he accepted, and while Cohn wanted her to make another movie for him, it never happened. 

 

It’s worth noting that Young looks stunning throughout this film. She and March had wonderful chemistry together, and I believe it’s the only time the two worked together, which is a shame. I have been a huge fan of the versatile March for many years, and it’s amazing to watch him play a character who can be so unappealing and yet he manages to make us all like Luke and root for him to win back Jane.

The fine supporting cast includes Robert Benchley; Allyn Joslyn, a delight as Jane’s snooty, buffoonish admirer William Dudley (how funny to hear Young refer to “Dudley” when that was the name of Cary Grant’s character in “The Bishop’s Wife” made several years later); Eve Arden, wonderful as Virginia Cole; and Helen Westley in one of her last screen appearances.

Young’s tenure at Columbia was fairly brief. Oddly enough, she did make a fourth film there, “A Night to Remember,” for producer Sam Bischoff, which is not mentioned in “King Cohn” nor in a few other books I use for research. Bischoff operated much like George Stevens did when he was at Columbia, which was with no interference from Cohn. It also may have been an oversight from Thomas. Regardless, whatever gentlemen’s agreement was in place before Young signed with Columbia, she had no difficulty finding steady work after leaving the studio and continued to produce some fine work throughout the rest of the decade.

“Bedtime Story” is a thoroughly enjoyable film thanks in large part to Young and March. If the story grows more improbable as the ending nears, the stars keep everything lively and fun.  

James Cagney Blogathon: 'Yankee Doodle Dandy'

Through the years, I’ve read some criticisms regarding James Cagney’s musical work in 1942’s “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” 

Perhaps in an era where dancing was defined by the timeless elegance of Fred Astaire, Cagney’s “hoofing” didn’t compare. Gene Kelly would soon appear on the scene, and in retrospect Astaire and Kelly are considered the epitome of male dance on film. 

But it’s an unfair comparison, and one that is rather insulting to Cagney’s talents, who worked hard to mimic Cohan’s style of dance. Although Cagney skyrocketed to stardom based upon his gangster roles, which represent some of his most beloved films, he himself always thought of himself as a song-and-dance man. In his autobiography, he talks about how he rarely watched his old movies when shown on TV except for the musicals he made. At 75, he still loved to dance and did so for exercise. 

And “Yankee Doodle Dandy” – Cagney’s favorite film – is such a rousing piece of entertainment, and Cagney a bundle of energetic joy, that any criticisms of his dancing can best be contributed to a preference of style. His early days in show business consisted of a lot of dancing in vaudeville. And while his time at Warner Brothers during the 1930s is marked by tough guy roles, he did make the occasional musical, such as the Busby Berkeley extravaganza “Footlight Parade” and the lesser-known “Something to Sing About.” For the latter, he said he was thrilled to be working with two dancing idols from vaudeville, Harland Dixon and Johnny Boyle, and that they were carrying on the style and tradition of one George M. Cohan, the legendary entertainer who wrote more than 500 songs, created more than 40 stage productions and produced 130 more. In fact, Boyle would become one of Cagney’s coaches for many years. 

 

Cagney said: “Many people think I learned to dance for ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy,’ the prevailing impression being that when a fella gets up and does a dance routine, he learned it the day before yesterday. Not so. A song-and-dance man, which is what I am basically, becomes one over many years of unrelenting work.” 

When Cohan was shopping his story to studios, he had offered it to Sam Goldwyn and Paramount. Astaire reportedly turned it down because it wasn’t right for him. Cagney’s brother, Bill, aggressively sought this story. Despite Cagney’s film stardom, he also felt he had been unfairly portrayed by some as a radical, and he was looking for a property that would prove that he wasn’t. Cohen finally was convinced that Cagney was indeed a song-and-dance man like himself and took the property to Warners. Cagney didn’t like the original script and asked that Julius and Philip Epstein provide rewrites. Then Cagney went into intense rehearsals and learned Cohan’s stiff-legged style and how he would run up the side of the proscenium arch during a routine. 

Cohan himself was dying of cancer (he would pass in November of 1942), and Cagney did not meet him. When Cohan saw the film before its release and gave it his blessing, Cagney was proud of the job he had done. 

While “Yankee Doodle Dandy” is a biography of Cohan (with a fair number of liberties), it’s also a big slice of Americana, a film that for some is a July 4^th staple. In this first year of U.S. involvement in World War II, it was a patriotic way of lifting spirits. And Cagney seems at ease with the role from the very beginning, in which Cohan is still performing even in middle age. After portraying the President Franklin Roosevelt in his latest stage show, Cohan is summoned to the White House. Cohan is nervous, but he soon discovers there are no hard feelings between himself and the President. During his meeting, Cohan reminisces about his life, from his birth on July 4 (which, in real life, was July 3), through years on the road with his family, and finally to his own stardom.  

 

The cast includes Walter Huston and Rosemary DeCamp as Cohan’s parents; Cagney’s real-life sister, Jeanne, as his on-screen sister Josie (brother Bill Cagney was an associate producer on the film); and Joan Leslie as Mary, the woman who would become Cohan’s wife (in reality he had two but only one in the film). Directed with flair by Michael Curtiz, the film is filled with wall-to-wall music. Familiar tunes like “Over There” and “You’re a Grand Old Flag” certainly boosted morale of audiences dealing with WWII. 

But the film belongs to Cagney. In some ways, his performance is the Cagney we know and love, a fast-talker with that distinctive voice and patter. Regardless, he’s given many moments to shine, especially in the big “Yankee Doodle Dandy” production number, in which he rarely seems to catch his breath – nor does the audience. As a showman, Cohan was unstoppable; as an actor, so is Cagney. 

The movie was a box-office bonanza, and it earned eight Oscar nominations, with Cagney winning his only Oscar as Best Actor for this film. And he was the first actor to win for a musical performance. The movie also won for sound and scoring. 

Sometimes it’s difficult to review a film that is beloved by so many people. But perhaps the best way to end is with the finale of the film itself, when Cohan does wings down the stairs of the White House. Cagney himself said that’s one moment from his movie career that he particularly enjoys, and it’s a fitting ending to this marvelous film – Cohan sailing down those stairs followed by the audience sailing away on their own wings, thoroughly entertained by both film and actor, one of the all-time greats. 

This post is part of the terrific James Cagney Blogathon hosted by The Movie Projector. Click here to read the other entries in this event. 

James Cagney Blogathon

Hi All ... I am participating in the Cagney Blogathon hosted by The Movie Projector beginning on Monday. I will review "Yankee Doodle Dandy" on Friday, April 12. Please click on the link below to see a list of all participating bloggers and the schedule of postings. Looking forward to seeing you next Friday! 

Cagney Blogathon