Another TCM Classic Film Festival has come and gone, leaving behind more great memories from one of our favorite film festivals of the year. Read on to see which films writer H. Nelson Tracey saw from the festival.

Paris Blues (1961)

Special Guest: Joie Lee (Crooklyn, Do the Right Thing) | Presented on 35mm

Paul Newman and Sidney Poitier play two jazz musicians operating a Paris nightclub who fall for a pair of American tourists (Joanne Woodward and Diahann Carroll) in this romantic music-driven drama. My favorite viewing of this year’s film festival, the class act performances of the entire ensemble of all-stars make this captivating beyond words.

This is combined with exceptional jazz music, including a performance by Louis Armstrong as a fictional version of himself! The show-stopping number features Armstrong playing alongside Newman and Poitier, which has to be seen to be believed and drew huge applause from the TCM audience. Even when jazz is scored only, the storyline builds a newfound appreciation for the sophistication of the genre; Duke Ellington received an Oscar nomination for his original score of the film.

Paris Blues has some elements that feel of its time, and some that feel notably progressive for the early 1960s. Paul Newman is given a significantly richer character arc than Sidney Poitier, and I think if this movie were to be remade (it absolutely could and should), you would swap the emphases: Newman’s character is trying to be taken seriously as a composer, not just a performer, and dealing with the infinitely relatable struggle of an artist trying to break through while not letting their life slip by chasing a dream.

Joanna Woodward, who was married to Newman in real life, represents the conflicting choice that falling in love presents and deciding between love and a dream is wholly compelling. Their chemistry is off the charts and is no doubt influenced by their real-life love – what a beautiful thing to see soulmates on celluloid.

Meanwhile, Poitier and Carroll are caught between the decision to stay in Paris, where being Black is significantly more liberating than the United States, or returning home where family is and where contributing to civil rights has a sense of vocation at the time. For a movie made still within the censorship era, Paris Blues threads this debate with remarkable deftness.

Based on a novel, one of the major changes discussed in the pre-film conversation was that the censorship of the era would not allow an interracial couple to be seen onscreen, even though such behavior would’ve been acceptable in Paris at the time, putting the romantic options into a specific pairing.

However, the movie dances around this by having early moments where it seems the couples will end up with reverse matches, which was the filmmaker’s way of nodding toward this original idea while still drawing within the lines. It creates a fascinating tension in the early flirtations between all four leads.

It’s never explained how Woodward and Carroll became friends nor why they’re traveling together: an updated version would give the women more development, but they are remarkably interesting characters even without that information.

From start to finish, Paris Blues feels like exactly the kind of classic this film festival is for: an underseen gem starring some of the best stars of all time, with an emotionally rich narrative and simultaneously timeless and timely themes. 

This TCM screening was preceded by a conversation with Joie Lee, writer of Crooklyn and star of many films including Do The Right Thing. Growing up with a jazz musician father, this was a film Lee remembered well seeing on weekend television as a kid, and she gushed about the use of music and beauty of Poitier and Carroll. She said her father (Spike Lee) claimed improvisational jazz was “the highest art form” which was a perfect primer to appreciate the artistry of the film.

A few years ago when I saw Stage Door at TCMFF it completely changed my perception and empathy for actors, for the better. In some ways, I feel this film did the same for my perception and admiration for jazz music.

 

The Wiser Sex (1932)

Special Guest: historian Cari Beauchamp | Presented on 35mm

A great TCMFF experience is not complete without at least one “Pre-Code” flick. The Pre-Code Era lasted from 1927-1934 and was a brief period where the invention of sound was in place, but the strict censor laws that strangled Hollywood for over 30 years were not yet implemented.

As you can imagine, these are popular pictures for the TCM crowd: festival programmers described the “Pre-Code Bump” in attendance for every Pre-Code screening. What’s equally unique is that the films TCM brings for this are usually underseen classics that are rare or hard to find.

The Wiser Sex is certainly such: shown on a 35mm print not yet widely available, for nearly everyone in the audience this was a first-time discovery. Further proof of its obscurity: prior to this year’s festival only only 47 on IMDb had rated this title and only 8 on Letterboxd! 

Film Historian Cari Beachamp gave a fantastic introduction contextualizing the many famous stars in this picture of the Golden Age: Claudette Colbert (prior to winning an Oscar), Franchot Tone (his first feature), Lilyan Tashman, and Melvyn Douglas (whose career lasted all the way until the early 1980s and netted him two Oscars).

She also talked about the damning impact the Code would have on movies, especially the roles of women in society and the rigid social norms that would have a generational impact on female autonomy. For screenings like this, the historical context is equally as powerful as the picture itself.

And how is The Wiser Sex? A two-crossing dame frames her virtuous ex as a murderer, forcing his current love interest to go undercover, uncover the plot, and reveal the true villains using nothing more than her cunning wit. It’s a job for The Wiser Sex: our heroine Claudette Colbert declares “men are stupid” and takes matters into her own hands to save the day.

It’s this type of brash talk and societal norm-breaking that make Pre-Code pictures so compelling: it makes us hyper-aware of just how strict censorship became in the United States when you see a movie that is uninhibited by it.

In addition to some risque components, there is no shortage of boozing in this film which would quickly become corked by the censors, along with extramarital sex and other so-called “deviant” behavior.

In festivals past, the rediscovered Pre-Code film Merrily We Go To Hell (1932) shortly thereafter received a Criterion release, so don’t be surprised if this movie gets added to that Collection in the coming months.

 

Bye Bye Birdie (1963)

Special Guest: Ann-Margret

Cinephiles broadly speaking tend to celebrate the movies of the post-censorship era in the late 1960s and early 1970s that rebelled against the more traditional fare of the decades prior and ushered in a new era of gritty and raw filmmaking that permanently changed the course of movie history.

But in the modern love of this type of cinema, it’s easy to forget to check out exactly what these movies were rebelling against the cozy, all-ages pop entertainment that was primarily made up of musicals and TV westerns. Bye Bye Birdie fits squarely into the former category. It’s a bubblegum musical that feels like the quintessential Camelot Era musical, with silly ditties making up the entire runtime and family values (by 1963’s standards) winning the day.

What’s most interesting is that the movie is very much a self-aware satire, with the titular Birdie being a very obvious stand-in for Elvis (whose manager refused to let him play himself in this movie) and the fervor of young girls obsessed with the pop star being poked fun at in this entire narrative. I can’t imagine a movie today taking something so current (it was based on Elvis’s drafting) and making it into a musical. It speaks to how these were the tentpoles of their era.

It also makes me think about how it feels like this era of history, one that I’ve spent my entire life studying through the dearth of a pop culture devoted to it, was already solidifying its narrative as it happened. When you see this after a contemporary take on the era, like 2022’s Elvis, the wild reality is the new version isn’t saying anything that wasn’t widely recognized in the time of its release.

Compared to more revered musicals like The Sound of Music or West Side Story, Bye Bye Birdie feels much less essential but in that sense is a good representation of mass media for its time. Largely, the movie hasn’t aged because its musical numbers are admittedly, not particularly catchy. The story is relatively slight: music numbers feel rather pedestrian by comparison to the bigger classics.

But there’s undeniable entertainment to be had. There is one particular number featuring Janet Leigh that has some funny phallic moments. Dick Van Dyke’s singing in the garden at night feels like a first pass at what would be iconized in Mary Poppins a few years later. But by and large, these are not exactly karaoke favorites nor resung tunes.

However, the influence of this movie can be felt in numerous ways. Watching the very opening and the dance hall number, I was reminded that Spike Lee described seeing this movie with his mother and cited it as an influence; with that, you can see how the opening directly influenced Do the Right Thing and how the dance hall number largely resembles a sequence in Malcolm X.

I have no way of proving this but the father figure of the film played by Paul Lynde seems to clearly resemble Steve Carell and I wouldn’t be surprised if Carell pulled some of his comedic stylings, particularly his earlier work, from Lynde’s hammy performance.

The film played through the roof for the audience in the TCL Chinese theater with applause after every number. Personal opinions aside, the movie looked spectacular on a crisp colorful DCP, particularly the iconic opening number.

And that brings up the last component worth highlighting: Ann Margret, the film’s young star who graced the audience with her appearance, looking thrilled to be welcomed with open arms by loving fans. I primarily know her as a 1970s actress with Oscar-nominated turns in Tommy and Carnal Knowlege. But I learned just how big she was at the start of the 1960s as a magnetic singer and soon-to-be sex icon.

In this film, she plays the teen obsessed with Birdie, and ironically, this would lead her to actually co-star with the real Elvis Presley the very next year in Viva Las Vegas. And her charisma was so strong that Elvis’s manager forced the studio to cut songs where she upstaged The King. Now that’s a director’s cut I would like to get eyes on.

 

Carmen Jones (1954)

Special Guests: historian Donald Bogle, Robert Osborne award recipient, Deborah Martin Chase (producer) Louis Gossett Jr. (Oscar winner, An Officer and a Gentleman)

In a complete tonal shift from the bubblegum pop of Bye Bye Birdie comes the all-Black cast adaptation of the Opera “Carmen,” featuring a historic performance by Dorothy Dandridge, who became the first Black performer of either gender nominated for a Leading Performance Oscar, when she was nominated for Best Actress in 1954.

The movie modernizes the Carmen opera to a contemporary era but retains the grandeur of the stage music, most of which is recognizable even to those unfamiliar with the source. Looking gorgeous on Technicolor, the movie shines on the big screen and took me back to my youth of going to see Opera Colorado performances (and participating in a few, a story for another day).

It had to have been progressive and interesting for 1950s audiences to see a film of this budget and scale without a single white face on camera. Director Otto Preminger would try and replicate this success (it was a box office smash) with Porgy & Bess, but to lesser results.

I didn’t realize until after the film that none of the actors are singing themselves but are dubbed, which makes more sense in hindsight, but is an example of what was once a common technique that in a post-2012 Les Miserables world is largely frowned upon in movie musicals. While the film feels more stagey than some of the more cinematic musicals of its era, the daring performances especially from Dandrige and Harry Belafonte are undeniable.

What made this screening special was not only the film but that it was preceded by the annual Robert Osbourne Award, which goes to an individual whose lifetime contributions to film history are worth applauding (past recipients include Leonard Maltin and Martin Scorsese).

This year’s recipient was Donald Bogle, who is the premier history of African-American cinema. In a moving tribute to Bogle, TCM host Ben Mankiewicz introduced a wonderful clip reel showcasing Bogle’s career highlights. Bogle’s longtime friend, producer Deborah Martin Chase, gave a moving speech showing her love and admiration for his career and their friendship.

Then, Oscar-winning actor Louis Gossett Jr., the first Black actor to win Best Supporting Actor, made an appearance (at the age of 86) and gave a commanding speech that paid tribute to Bogle and his indelible mark; without Donald Bogle, Black Hollywood would not have been properly cataloged and many of the contributors would’ve been lost in time.

Finally, Bogle took the stage to multiple standing ovations, professed his great thanks, and introduced his favorite movie of all time, Carmen Jones. With legendary guests, enthusiastic audiences, and outstanding programming, it is moments like this that make the TCM Film Festival a truly unforgettable event year after year.