Paying tribute to this survivor of 1950s Hollywood
The Archivist — Welcome to the Archive. As home video formats have evolved over the years, a multitude of films have found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Manufacture-On-Demand DVD operation devoted to thousands of idiosyncratic and ephemeral works of cinema. The Archive has expanded to include a streaming service, revivals of out-of-print DVDs, and Blu-ray discs (which, unlike the DVDs, are factory pressed rather than burned). Join us as we explore this treasure trove of cinematic discovery!
The film world said goodbye to another member of classic Hollywood last week when it was announced that Tab Hunter had died at the age of 86. One of the biggest box-office draws in the 1950s, Hunter was molded and crafted by his home studio into a bonafide A-lister. Under the careful eye of executives, every inch of Hunter’s image was carefully measured, including dates with leading ladies and eventually, even a brief second career as a recording artist. Years later when Hunter would announce his homosexuality to the world, the revelation would turn him into something of a gay icon; a status cemented by the generous candor the actor expressed regarding this secret part of his life in the memoir and eventual documentary Tab Hunter Confidential (my review).
With much of Hunter’s popularity laying in his unbelievably stellar looks (which followed him into old age) and later attention given primarily to his sexuality, it would be easy to forget the actor’s contribution to the screen. Hunter was never classically trained and no one can deny it was his looks that got him in the room, but there was never any doubt the actor took his work seriously, going so far as to take acting lessons and appear on episodes of Playhouse in roles far removed and slightly complex than the typical studio fodder he was given. He never in the same league as some of his contemporaries, but Hunter still managed to leave behind a collection of performances in films which just wouldn’t have been the same without him including The Sea Chase and Damn Yankees! (still his best turn). Even when studios forgot about him, young filmmakers didn’t, offering up roles in the likes of Polyester and Grease 2, which served as proof of his impact on moviegoers. In this special edition of The Archivist, we pay tribute to Hunter through a pair of titles which show the two sides of his screen persona: 1956’s The Girl He Left Behind and 1958’s Lafayette Escadrille. RIP to a fine actor and a true gentleman.
The Girl He Left Behind
In The Girl He Left Behind, rich spoiled college boy Andrew Scheffer (Hunter) has one job: keep his grades up to avoid being drafted into the Army. The task would be easy enough were it not for a blossoming relationship with the lovely Susan (Natalie Wood) which looks to be in trouble thanks to Andrew’s self-centered ways. When Susan dumps him, Andrew’s grades plummet and he soon finds himself in the new peace-time Army which seeks to make a man out of him; if he lets them.
There’s no disguising this film as anything but a 100 minute-long advertisement for the Army (the film’s optimistic, if slightly sarcastic, narration reinforces this notion), which it undeniably is. Yet it’s also the kind of fluff the studio was throwing at its valuable star and certainly indicative of how Hunter’s range was viewed by studio heads. It’s true, Hunter is a bit stilted in the pre-Army scenes, most of which never call for him to be anything but carefree. Not helping matters is Wood, who seems noticeably bored here (it was said she was unhappy with the script). In fact, The Girl He Left Behind was meant to be a the second in a series of films pairing the two with hopes they would be the next sensational movie couple a la Doris Day and Rock Hudson. However it’s the scenes featuring Andrew in the Army, while not exactly stretching the actor’s limits, at least give Hunter the chance to show a sort of dry wit as he embodies someone finally embracing adulthood. It may not be a film worth remembering for some, but The Girl He Left Behind is a document of the kind of natural charm and ease Hunter always brought to the screen.
Lafayette Escadrille
Based on writer/director William Wellman’s own experiences in WWI, Lafayette Escadrille recalls the true story of the American flyboys who sign up to be fighter pilots for France in the 1930s. For Thad Walker (Hunter), serving is nothing more than an escape from his troubled life back in America. While he throws himself into service, his heart is stolen by the beautiful Renee (Etchika Choureau), whom Thad is ready and willing to risk everything for.
The story of Lafayette Escadrille as a movie is a pure mess. The film was a true passion project for Wellman which he would eventually see taken away from him by the studio who reshaped it to the point of being unrecognizable. Even surviving pilots depicted by the film joined the director in disowning Lafayette Escadrille. It’s understandable. The film is a choppy, uneven trifle with little, if any, acknowledgment to the real men who served. What the film does have is a first-rate performance by Hunter. Prior to this, the actor threw himself into every scene with the kind of abandon which endeared him to audiences, but not critics. Lafayette Escadrille sees a more methodical, restrained Hunter taking on every scene the with the care of a real actor approaching his trade. The star’s time in between studio assignments performing in televised plays paid off as a more skilled Tab Hunter emerges here. Scenes between him and the non-English speaking Choureau soar and the instance in which Hunter delivers a monologue where Thad analyzes his life up until that point shows the actor finally at one with his craft.
