Damn The Torpedoes: Wartime Housing Shortage in The More The Merrier (1943)

The year is 1943, the location Washington DC; bureaucratic capital for wartime decisions. The film starts with a narrator mockingly welcoming the viewer to hospitable Washington, "eagerly throwing wide her doors," while all we see is shots of "no vacancy"-signs. Although wartime housing shortage was a very real problem, the film manages to deal with it humoristically. 

Whereas Elizabeth Lane (Barbara Stanwyck) was doing her Wartime duty by hosting a sailor for Christmas, Connie Milligan (Jean Arthur) does her patriotic duty by subletting half of her apartment. Although she was hoping to sublet it to a girl, fate will have it that a "well to do, retired millionaire," named Benjamin Dingle (Charles Coburn), works his way into Connie's apartment. 

Connie Milligan is a very efficient lady. When Dingle remarks on this, she gives the simple explanation of having worked in the office of facts and figures. When she knocks on Mr. Dingle's bedroom door to explain the morning schedule to him, she does not let anything go unplanned. Whilst vigorously flipping her bicolored pencil to mark their movements on the floor plan, she explains to Dingle:

"At 7:01 I enter the bathroom, then you go down to get the milk, and by 7:05 you've started the coffee. One minute later I leave the bathroom, and a minute after that you enter the bathroom. Now, that's when I'm starting to dress. Three minutes later I'm having my coffee and a minute after that, at 7:12, you leave the bathroom. At 7:13 I put on my eggs and I leave to finish dressing. Then you put on your shoes and take off my eggs at 7:16. At 7:17 you start to shave. At 7:18 I eat my eggs and at 7:21 I'm in the bathroom fixing my hair, and at 7:24 you're in the kitchen putting on your eggs. At 7:25 you make your bed, 7:26 I make my bed, and then while you're eating your eggs, I take out the papers and cans. At 7:29 you're washing the dishes and at 7:30 we're all finished. You see?" A very puzzled Dingle looks up from the floor plan [below]. "It's really very simple," deadpanned Connie, making it even funnier. 

The morning schedule was created as a matter of efficiency, but of course the next morning turns into a slapsticky routine of trying to stick to the schedule. You can see the scene here: [link]

It is especially in this scene where the history of director George Stevens shows. In 1922, when he was only 17, Stevens started working as an assistant cameraman for Hal Roach Studios. By 1927 he was working as a cinematographer and gag writer for Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy.

The first 30 seconds of this scene are eight shots being cut in a fast, ping-pong like pace. The first seven shots are of Connie's bedroom and Dingle's bedroom, alternating every few seconds. Because we can envision the floor plan of the apartment, our brain goes back and forth between left and right. Then for the eighth shot, Stevens takes us outside, showing Connie and Dingle synchronously storming out of their bedrooms, seen by us through their bedroom windows.

Both flatmates start running at 7:01, trying to stick to the schedule — unsuccessfully. When Connie is headed for the bathroom she bumps into Mr. Dingle in the hallway, where he makes the mistake of going into the kitchen instead of bringing in the milk, as planned for in the morning schedule. They bump into each other in the hallway another time, when Dingle is bringing in the milk and Connie just put on the coffee. This, of course, is partly Connie's fault, as she herself isn't sticking to the schedule by taking over Dingle's task of putting on the coffee. For efficiency reasons I drew out both their movements. Connie is done in red pencil, Mr. Dingle in green. The two dots in the hall are the two times they bump into each other.

As you can see in the very clear, uncluttered floor plan above, Mr. Dingle even ventures outside of the apartment when he is locked out of the apartment by Connie. He climbs out of the window onto the fire escape, which leads to Connie's bathroom window, where she is brushing her teeth.

At 7:30 Connie is all finished, whereas Mr. Dingle is spread out on the floor, still wearing his pajama pants.

Once Connie has left for work, and Mr. Dingle has succeeded at getting dressed properly, he sees a "high-type, clean-cut, nice young fella" on the doorstep, coming for the vacancy advertised for in yesterday's newspaper. Right then and there Dingle decides to play Cupid and rents half of his half of the apartment to Joe Carter (Joel McCrea), without Connie knowing (and with Connie already being engaged to a 42-year old Mr. Charles J. Pendergast for 22 months). This results in another scene where the three protagonists and the architecture of the apartment perform a beautiful choreography. The hall once again becomes the main place for passage. You can see the scene here: [click]

Remember; Connie is not to know about Carter until Dingle has told her, so when both Connie and Joe start going from room to room, Dingle has to use every trick in the book to prevent them from seeing each other. Since the apartment is not so big, this proves to be difficult. The moment Carter closes a door, Connie opens one and vice versa. This can't last, and we know it.

Eventually Connie and Joe cross the hall at the same time. The realization doesn't come until they've entered the room they were heading for. Joe spits out his milk upon realizing and Connie makes a dramatic stop before running back to the hallway and meeting each other for the first time.

There is a lovely moment in the scene, where Stevens has Connie and Joe rumba-ing together, but apart, merely separated by a wall. We know this, because we have come to know the architecture of the apartment by now. Later on in the film we get a throwback to this moment when the two are seated across each other at a table in a cafe, shimmying their shoulders. Dingle, still playing for Cupid, tells the "kids" to get on the dance floor. This is the first time the two actually get to dance with each other, without a wall or table separating them.

The floor plan scene is reminiscent of kitchen efficiency diagrams published in The New Housekeeping: Efficiency Studies In Home Management (1913) by Christine Frederick [below]. Frederick was a home economist, interested in applying Taylorism to the domestic sphere. In ca. 1912 she established the Applecroft Home Experiment Center in her home in New York, where she would set up experiments for domestic efficiency, mainly focusing on efficiency in the kitchen. Like Connie, Frederick would trace and time these movements, looking for labor-saving methods of preparation and use.

Kitchen efficiency diagrams published in 'The New Housekeeping' (1913), p. 52

The diagrams pictured above only have to deal with one person's movements, making it easier to make them as efficient as possible. The flow that Connie mapped out already looks rather hectic, but the floor plans in color (where I drew the actual movements) are pure chaos. The scenes wouldn't have been as funny as they are now if Mrs. Frederick would have directed it, though, for it is the architectural gags that give the movie so much of its comedy.

When discussing the morning schedule scene, I already mentioned Stevens shooting both bedroom windows from outside. This shot becomes a sort of leitmotiv throughout the movie. We get introduced to this type of shot when it is used to picture the platonic relationship between Mr. Dingle and Connie. The next time we see the same type of shot, it is with Joe and Connie.

Connie had ordered Mr. Dingle and Joe to be moved out by the time she got home from work, but Joe was somewhat delayed in his packing, which gives him an excuse to hand Connie a letter of apology written by Mr. Dingle in person. By communicating via their bedroom windows, Joe and Connie are in a way ignoring the existence of the thin wall that is separating their bedrooms. After reading the letter Connie changes her mind and Joe can stay. From this moment on the bedroom window shots aid in the depiction of the relationship between Joe and Connie.

The romance between Joe and Connie, that is not supposed to be, is growing. After their reconciliation Joe asks Connie on a date, but she is already going on a date with Mr. Pendergast. Connie's defiance has began to crumble, but she still tries to put up some resistance: "He's supposed to call at eight, you know. Sometimes he gets into a conference and he can't even telephone. So if that happens, naturally the date is off. So, I'll wait for him 'till eight, and if he doesn't call, well, then I guess it would be alright, [...]" Another window-shot shows Connie and Joe anxiously watching the clock opposite their building strike eight, hoping to go out together before Charles J. calls on his fiancée.

But Charles J. Pendergast does call on Connie and with visible disappointment she leaves Joe behind in the apartment. Joe then goes to a cafe with Mr. Dingle and who are there? Mr. Pendergast and Connie. This is where they first dance together and walk home together, thanks to another cunning Cupid-trick performed by Dingle. An intimate conversation between the two where they declare their love for each other takes place with both of them in their own bed, still separated by the tin wall between them. But the wall seems to be hardly there anymore, because of Stevens' use of photography. The wall is merely a blurry line and visually it's almost as if the two lovebirds are in bed together.

Nearing the end, after the couple had to get married due to circumstances, the camera goes outdoors one more time, this time panning along the facade. We see Joe opening the windows, without realizing that all of a sudden he is opening the window of Connie's bedroom. We, as voyeurs, are the firsts to realize the wall between the two bedrooms is gone. Only after we have been given this privilege, Steven goes inside, and it isn't until then that the newlyweds become aware of what is now their bedroom. The wall of Jericho has been broken down.

So, we can say the apartment in The More the Merrier is the architecture for comedy and romance. It is the floor plan, the slamming of doors and the windows that give us the moments that make us laugh and at times makes us swoon.

Credits:

Produced by Fred Guiol & George Stevens; directed by George Stevens; Story by Garson Kanin, Robert Russell & Frank Ross; screenplay by Robert Russell, Frank Ross, Richard Flournoy & Lewis R. Foster; cinematography by Ted Tetzlaff; art direction by Lionel Banks & Rudolph Sternad, starring Jean Arthur, Noel McCrea & Charles Coburn.

Sources:

1. “Another Old Movie Blog: War Stories Part 2 - ‘The More the Merrier.’” Accessed January 12, 2016. http://anotheroldmovieblog.blogspot.be/2010/12/war-stories-part-2-more-merrier.html.
2. Aquila, Marie L. Movies as History: Scenes of America, 1930-1970. McFarland, 2014.
3. “Christine Frederick.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, November 7, 2015. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Christine_Frederick&oldid=689558167.
4. “Christine Frederick: Kitchen Innovator of Efficiency.” Edible Long Island. Accessed January 11, 2016. http://www.ediblelongisland.com/2014/03/17/christine-frederick-kitchen-innovator-efficiency/.
5. Dancyger, Ken. The Director’s Idea: The Path to Great Directing. Taylor & Francis, 2006.
6. “From Laurel & Hardy to James Dean and Beyond: A Love Letter to George Stevens.” Sister Celluloid, December 18, 2015. http://sistercelluloid.com/2015/12/18/14994/.
7. “George Stevens.” IMDb. Accessed January 30, 2016. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0828419/.
8. “Haphazard Stuff - THE BLOG: The More The Merrier (1943) - A Review.” Accessed January 12, 2016. http://haphazard-stuff.blogspot.be/2015/11/the-more-merrier-1943-review.html.
9. Inc, Active Interest Media. Old-House Journal. Active Interest Media, Inc., 1999.
10. Jr, George Stevens. George Stevens: A Filmmaker’s Journey. Documentary, Biography, 1985.
11. MarsMoonlight, Publicada por. “Back to Golden Days: Film Friday: ‘The More the Merrier’ (1943).” Accessed January 23, 2016. http://back-to-golden-days.blogspot.be/2015/11/film-friday-more-merrier-1943.html.
12. Milberg, Doris. The Art of the Screwball Comedy: Madcap Entertainment from the 1930s to Today. McFarland, 2013.
13. Rutherford, Janice Williams. Selling Mrs. Consumer: Christine Frederick and the Rise of Household Efficiency. University of Georgia Press, 2010.
14. “Scientific Management.” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, January 20, 2016. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Scientific_management&oldid=700681998.
15. Stevens, George. The More the Merrier. Comedy, Romance, 1943.
16. “The More the Merrier (1943).” Journeys in Classic Film. Accessed January 5, 2016. http://journeysinclassicfilm.com/2014/03/25/the-more-the-merrier-1943/.
17. “The More the Merrier: Watch His Hands At All Times | The Sheila Variations.” Accessed January 23, 2016. http://www.sheilaomalley.com/?p=53490.

"Catastroph!": Faking Domestic Bliss in 'Christmas in Connecticut' (1945)

This is Elizabeth Lane. She has a husband, a baby and a farm in Connecticut. She's the finest home-maker around; knows about raising a baby, can flip a flapjack, owns 36 rocking chairs, is America's best cook and has her own column in Smart Magazine where she writes about all of this. All women want to be her and all men want to marry her.

This is the image of Elizabeth Lane that is projected upon us, before we even see her. When we do see her for the first time, she most certainly is not in a farm in Connecticut, but in a small New York apartment — the habitat a career woman ought to have, apparently. Instead of wasting time by fixing a proper breakfast, she is eating sardines (presumingly canned) whilst typing up her new column. Her Uncle Felix, who owns a restaurant, even drops in to bring her breakfast so she can continue working, switching gender roles in a not too provocative way. She is even paying for her new mink coat herself, even though it will cost her six months' salary, because "it's very important to keep promises, especially to yourself."

Due to circumstances I won't go into detail about, Mrs. Lane later finds herself doing her patriotic duty of hosting a sailor for Christmas. In order to do this she has to pretend to be living in the Connecticut farm of a stuffy friend who keeps asking her to marry him. She has to pretend to be married with (and actually getting engaged to) this man and borrow a baby from another woman. Also Felix has to be taken along with her to Connecticut to provide the food for the Christmas feast. She goes through all of this just to keep her job. "The things a girl does for a mink coat."

We become fully aware of how clueless as a mother Elizabeth is when it's time for the baby's bath. After taking off its diaper, Elizabeth casually tosses it in the air, not knowing what else to do with it. When she's struggling to put the baby in the tub, Jones offers to test the temperature for her, already rolling up his sleeve. Apparently he's a self-proclaimed expert at bathing babies, making him a better housewife than Elizabeth. She gladly hands the baby over to her guest, once again switching gender roles. Returning after Jones successfully bathed the baby, the struggle with the fresh diaper begins. Not knowing how to fold it, Elizabeth hands over the diaper to Jones, with the excuse that she will in the mean time fix the baby's dinner. Once again her hero knows how to handle the situation and Elizabeth is convinced: what a man.

One of the very housewifely acts described by Elizabeth in her column was the flipping of flapjacks. This strikes a nostalgic chord with both Mr. Yardley (Mrs. Lane's publisher who invited himself over) and Mr. Jones, persistently requesting Mrs. Lane to flip just one pancake for them. The word "persistently" is added deliberately to point out that the men won't take no for an answer, not caring for Elizabeth's excuses of not being in the mood for it or being out of practice. They want to see "America's most resourceful home-maker" do her tricks.

When Felix tried to teach Elizabeth to "flip-flop the flop-flips" that morning, she failed numerous times, with the flapjacks always ending up everywhere but in the pan. However, the men get what they wish for, and with three anticipating and one very nervous man looking on, she successfully flips the flapjack. This, I might add, doesn't do anything for the story, apart from letting her keep up the illusion longer.

Christmas in Connecticut is a Wartime Christmas classic and starts of differently than others of the same type. The first scene of the film has a German submarine torpedoing a US ship. Even though we start off with American men at war, the real battle takes place back at home, where the gender that needs saving is the American woman.

What we have here is a film rather mockingly telling us what the ideal post-war wife, the domestic goddess, should be and should be able to do. Remember that during the war, women's roles were of less domestic nature. When the men left to fight in the war, they left behind their jobs with only women to do them. Not only it became acceptable for women to become taxi drivers, operate heavy machinery, make munition and more; it was expected of them: "Do the job HE left behind." War, for many US women, was about gaining mobility, strength and freedom. It got women out of the home where they had been confined to.

After WWII ended, women were expected to go back to the place that society had destined for them, meaning: back to their domestic tasks, while the men would get back to their manly jobs. While some of them returned, things had definitely changed. Women had changed.

An article in LIFE dating from 1947 wrote about a woman's work, visualizing the 100-hour workweek of a housewife:

"Mrs. John McWeeney of Rye, N.Y. has a big, good-looking husband who works in a nut and bolt company, and three children, Shawn, a grave little 4-year-old; John, called “Rusty,” almost 2, and baby Mark, 4 months old. She lives in a bright new seven-room house that has a safe backyard for Shawn and Rusty to play in and a number of modern machines to help her with her household chores. She uses a diaper service and she can afford a cleaning woman once a week who does the heavy laundry.

"The picture [below] shows the household tasks that Marjorie must accomplish every week. She has a crib and four beds to make up each day, totaling 35 complete bed-makings a week. She has hundreds of knives, forks and utensils to wash, food to buy and prepare for a healthy family of five and a whole house to dust and sweep. . . "

The article emphasized the dilemma women of 1947 had. Before the war the only big decision a woman had to make was choosing her husband and after marriage her duties were confined to the household. After the war, however, a growing number of women were confused and frustrated by the conflict between traditional ideas about a woman's place and the increasing reality of female involvement in activities outside the home. Although she still wanted to marry and have children, she also wanted to take part in the world beyond the domestic. The problem was that society's norms and values didn't yet offer women decent alternatives to being a homemaker.

Housewife Marjorie McWeeney amid symbolic display of her week’s housework. Photo by Nina Leen for Life, June 16, 1947, p. 105

It seems silly to talk about this when discussing a lighthearted comedy like Christmas in Connecticut, but the many traces of wartime (and even feminism) in this film can't go unnoticed, although they are presented in the form of gags. The film's comedy depends on the domestic shortcomings of Elizabeth, but she never loses her desirability, apart from to Mr. Sloane. Sloane, the conventional type, is glad that in the end he didn't mary Elizabeth, because she isn't "how Mrs. Sloane should be". "You've disrupted my household!" he even accuses Elizabeth. But the sailor will gladly marry her, even though she can't cook. Felix even tells her never to learn how to cook, for if she does, she won't be able to write about it the same way she does now, "all easy and fun".

She may not be able to change a diaper, she can't flip a flapjack and most of all: she can't cook, but "what a wife!", to speak in Uncle Felix' words.

Next week a post about The More The Merrier (1943), also staying in the spirit of war, where torpedoes and wartime housing shortage play a big role.

Credits:

Produced by William Jacobs & Jack L. Warner; Directed by Peter Godfrey; Story by Aileen Hamilton; Screenplay by Lionel Houser & Adele Comandini; Cinematography by Carl E. Guthrie; Art direction by Stanley Fleischer; Starring Barbara Stanwyck, Dennis Morgan and Sydney Greenstreet

Sources:

1. “25 Days of Christmas: Christmas in Connecticut (1945).” Journeys in Classic Film. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://journeysinclassicfilm.com/2015/12/12/25-days-of-christmas-christmas-in-connecticut-1945/.
2. “A Film Celebrating Bad Cooks: Christmas in Connecticut.” Cary Grant Won’t Eat You. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://carygrantwonteatyou.com/christmas-in-connecticut/.
3. Bryant, Joyce. “How War Changed the Role of Women in the United States.” Yale-New Haven Teachers Institute, n.d. http://www.yale.edu/ynhti/curriculum/units/2002/3/02.03.09.x.html.
4. Chafe, William H., and William Henry Chafe. The Paradox of Change: American Women in the 20th Century. Oxford University Press, 1992.
5. “Coleman’s Corner in Cinema...: Christmas in Connecticut (1945).” Accessed January 4, 2016. http://colemancornerincinema.blogspot.be/2008/12/christmas-in-connecticut-1945.html.
6. Godfrey, Peter. Christmas in Connecticut. Comedy, Romance, 1945.
7. Levison, Frances. “American Woman’s Dilemma.” Life, June 16, 1947.
8. Ptak, John F. “‘Her Work’ Visualizing the100-Hour Work Week of the 1947 Housewife.” JF Ptak Science Books, June 1, 2010. http://longstreet.typepad.com/thesciencebookstore/2010/06/jf.html.
9. says, Kelly. “1940’s Fashion - Housewifes Daily Routine | Glamourdaze.” Accessed January 4, 2016. http://glamourdaze.com/2011/02/1940s-fashion-housewifes-daily-routine.html.
10. Stein, Sadie. “Silver Belles.” Paris Review Daily, December 19, 2013. http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2013/12/19/silver-belles/.

R and I: Monograms in Rebecca (1940)

"The shadow of this woman darkened our love", announces a newspaper advert for Rebecca (1940), from the Derby Daily Telegraph (07/Oct/1940), which certainly sets the mood for the film.

Rebecca is Alfred Hitchcock's film adaptation of Daphne du Maurier's novel of the same title, written in 1938. The story tells of Manderley, the estate of Maxim de Winter, in all its ancient, beautiful glory. Rebecca, the late first Mrs de Winter, made it so. When the Second Mrs de Winter comes to live at Manderley, Rebecca's influence is still present. How can the shy new bride ever fill her place or escape her shadow? Rebecca's presence, although only hinted at, is inescapable. From verbal references to objects and monograms to flowers, she is the most dominant character in the house.

Before we even see Mr and the Second Mrs de Winter living their lives as a couple in Manderley, we see a close up of a napkin with Rebecca's initials "R de W" embroidered on it. The camera then zooms out to show that the couple is having its dinner at a ridiculously large table, with them seated on far ends of the table, separated by a large empty space. Rebecca has already come between them, even before the first course is served at Manderley.

After breakfast Rebecca always did her correspondence in the morning room, the Second Mrs. de Winter is told. After getting lost Fontaine's character finds her way into the morning-room, where the fire is lit and her desk is waiting for her. A symmetrical display of the administration once again makes clear to the protagonist that it once belonged to Rebecca. In glittery thread Rs are embroidered on the covers of notebooks all serving different purposes: menus, addresses and guests. When the phone rings the Second Mrs de Winter, still startled by the presence of the previous mistress of the house, answers with: "Mrs de Winter? Oh, I'm afraid you have made a mistake, Mrs de Winter has been dead for over a year.", only after hanging up realizing she is Mrs de Winter now.

After a visit and a good looking over from Maxim's sister and brother-in-law, Mr and Mrs de Winter take their dog Jasper for a walk. Jasper, disobeying his master's commands, runs to a boathouse on the beach. The Second Mrs de Winter, also disobeying Maxim, runs after Jasper to get him back. Entering the boathouse with the excuse of looking for a piece of rope to tie Jasper with, she finds an exquisitely decorated interior, more resembling a cottage than a boathouse. While looking around for that piece of rope her eye catches yet another monogram bearing the initials "R de W".

Maxim shouts at his bride for not listening to him when he told her not to follow Jasper to the boathouse, adding that "if she had the same memories as him, she wouldn't go there, talk about it or even think about it". To dry her tears, the Second Mrs de Winter reaches for a handkerchief in the pocket of the mackintosh she's wearing, expecting to find one there. And she does. It is Rebecca's handkerchief, also carrying her monogram. That at such a vulnerable moment, when Maxim's new bride is crying after a row with her husband, it has to be Rebecca's handkerchief absorbing her tears, might for me be the darkest presence of the monogram throughout the film.

One of the climaxes of the film happens when the Second Mrs de Winter enters Rebecca's bedroom, the holy of holies, for the first time. The room seems to be a shrine, a place for everything and everything in its place. So much so, that you wouldn't even dare to touch anything. When Mrs Danvers catches the new Mrs de Winter in the bedroom, she gives her a guided tour making sure to point out all of the luxurious items. She caresses the new mistress of the house's cheek with fur belonging to the old one, shows Rebecca's lingerie especially made for her by nuns and her nightgown that's so delicate you can even see her hand through. The nightgown is kept in a silk case that "I embroidered for her myself", Mrs Danvers explains. While Mrs Danvers is still obsessively looking at the sheerness of the nightgown, the Second Mrs de Winter turns around and starts walking away.

The last shot we see before fading to black is the camera zooming in on the silk nightdress case, going up in flames to symbolize an end to Rebecca's hold on the couple. It looks like in the end she didn't win.

Monograms first became popular for personal use in the Victorian Era. Initially textiles were monogrammed to make sure personal possessions wouldn't get lost or mixed up in laundry. Very rapidly it became a sign of prestige and wealth, so the Victorians started monogramming not only linens, but virtually everything they owned. Note that the Manderley that was created for the film is of Victorian architecture. Although monograms went out of style during WWI, they were making a comeback when the novel was written and the film was created. Styles, however, had changed. Victorian monograms were more artistic of nature, whereas the monograms of the 1930s and 1940s were of a more streamlined and typographical kind. As Julia Coburn wrote in "Make Your Own Monograms" (Ladies' Home Journal, May 1935): "... if you wish to be in fashion today, the design of your monogram must be in streamline simplicity. And —Gothic or modern— monogram you must, for everything is initialed these days."

In Rebecca, "R's" or "R de W's" seem to be looming everywhere. Our heroine, however, doesn't seem to have any monogrammed objects. Furthermore, she doesn't even have a name, only being referred to by pronouns ("I") or "the Second Mrs de Winter". Without a name, the protagonist isn't even worthy of having her own character, it seems. She is constantly reminded of Rebecca and how she is nothing like her. People, as well as the abundance of monograms imply that Rebecca was endlessly more elegant, more prestigious. So she tries to live up to her glamorous predecessor more and more by changing her hair and wardrobe and asking about what things Rebecca would have done, trying to become Rebecca instead of developing her own personality.

It is interesting to note that the monograms on both the nightdress case and the handkerchief (the more personal, intimate objects) seem to be in Rebecca's own handwriting, whereas the monograms on the napkin, plaid and notebooks are too curly, too frilly (although the 'W' bears resemblance to her handwriting). If anyone has a theory on why they did this, I would love to hear it. Fun fact: the handwriting for Rebecca was penned by Selznick's wife.

To end this post I would like to share how du Maurier described the morning room in her novel (p. 89):

This was a woman's room, graceful, fragile, the room of someone who had chosen every particle of furniture with great care, so that each chair, each vase, each small, infinitesimal thing should be in harmony with one another, and with her own personality. [...] There was no intermingling of style, no confusing of period, and the result was perfection in a strange and startling way, [...]

This makes a perfect transition to next week's post on Harriet Craig (1950), starring Joan Crawford, the protagonist of which seems to have a lot in common with Rebecca.

Credits:

Produced by David O. Selznick; Directed by Alfred Hitchcock; Based on novel by Daphne du Maurier; Screenplay by Robert E. Sherwood and Joan Harrison; Cinematography by George Barnes; Art direction by Lyle R. Wheeler; Starring Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine.

Sources:

1. BlondeAtTheFilm. “Rebecca (1940).” The Blonde at the Film. Accessed December 2, 2015. http://theblondeatthefilm.com/2013/10/31/rebecca-1940/.
2. Doherty, K. “Rebecca (Alfred Hitchcock 1940)- Image Is Everything.” Filmtank.org, October 25, 2009. http://filmtank.org/forum/showthread.php?t=114.
3. du Maurier, Daphne. Rebecca. London: Arrow Books Ltd., 1992.
4. Hitchcock, Alfred. Rebecca. Selznick International Pictures, 1940.
5. Jacobs, Steven. Wrong House, the. Rotterdam: nai010 publishers, 2013.
6. Strauss, Marc Raymond. Hitchcock’s Objects as Subjects: The Significance of Things on Screen. McFarland, 2015.
7. Zegarac, Nick. “Hollywood Art, the.” American Hitchcock, 2013.
8. http://www.embroideryarts.com/

Hollywood Amuses Me*

Laura’s portrait as the investigator’s main obsession. (Laura, 1944)

On the 3rd of October 2015, around 8PM I wrote this:

Research working title: At Home in the Movies: Artificiality of Home in (Classic) Hollywood.

In all honesty I didn't know whether Classic Hollywood or Classical Hollywood was the correct term. In even more honesty; I still don't know which is correct. And whilst we're making confessions, I'd also like to mention that I'm no expert by any means on the subject, I'd just like to become one, eventually.

On this blog the main focus will be how the home is depicted in Hollywood during the golden years, either in films (The Wizard of Oz (1939), Laura (1944), Auntie Mame (1958), and many others) or in the lives of the stars.

How does the set design reflect the part the home or the house plays in the film and what techniques or tricks do they use to make the set look like it does? How do they make something so artificial look like a lived in home? Why should a character have a specific wallpaper in their house? Or how do they decide which flowers would suit the character?

Of course these homes were constructed for the film, but so were the off-screen personalities of these stars. As part of the Star System the film companies controlled the way the domestic lives of the stars were depicted to the public. The lives of the stars were literally as constructed as their onscreen characters and the sets the characters lived in. Can I also learn from —and use— the techniques the studios used to construct these stars?

This research is part of an artistic project about artificially creating domestic traces, but I won't go in details about that. Not yet, at least.

Please don't shy away from comments, for they can be highly educational to me and thus will be appreciated very much.

The next post will be about the presence of Rebecca through her monograms in Rebecca (1940) directed by Alfred Hitchcock and starring Joan Fontaine and Laurence Olivier. It will be published Thursday January 7.

* The title of this post is part of a quote by Grace Kelly that goes:

Hollywood amuses me. Holier-than-thou for the public and unholier-than-the-devil in reality.