Just Give Me Something With Some Guts to It

Paper by Anne Zimmerman. Viewed on DVD.

If you mention Ida Lupino’s name, many people think of the famous Hollywood actress who had a four-decade career spanning from the 1930’s through the 1970’s. It is in Lupino’s directorial career, however, that her creative talents really began to show. This view is substantiated by reviews from her peers, critics, and books written about film history of that time. Lupino had a significant impact on film because of the controversial topics that she chose, her non-judgmental depiction of characters despite their wrongdoings, and her creation of both male and female characters that are complex, authentic, and relatable to the audience. This filmmaking skill is most evident in her films from the 50’s, including The Bigamist (Ida Lupino, 1953), The Hitch-Hiker (Ida Lupino, 1953), and Hard, Fast, and Beautiful (Ida Lupino, 1951).

Born in 1918, Lupino was never truly interested in show business, but was encouraged by her father to begin an acting career (Anderson 24). She had her first acting job at fourteen, and from there she went on to appear in almost sixty movies, calling herself the “poor man’s Bette Davis” (King 2). As an actress she was not always easy to work with, and often gave Warner Bros. executives a hard time by refusing to do certain roles that she said were “beneath her dignity as an actress.” Warner Bros. suspended her many times because of noncompliance with their plans for her (Wikipedia). During one of these suspensions, Lupino came to the decision that she was tired of being typecast and playing one-dimensional characters and decided to open up her own studio, Emerald Productions (Anderson 83). While she had not planned on directing, she was thrown into it when the director of one of the movies that she had co-written and co-produced became ill, and she took over. She found this work to be exhilarating, and felt that the directors were the ones getting to do all the truly creative work (Wikipedia). Ida later said that the years she spent directing were her most productive, saying that she had mostly given up on acting and instead was involved in producing and directing giving her, as she put it, “the freedom to call my own shots” (Anderson 85).

It is clear that Lupino greatly enjoyed this freedom. As when she was an actress willing to fight for what she believed, as a director Ida fought for the types of movies she wanted to create. Unlike some of the directors at the time, Lupino chose to work in a variety of genres, unafraid to explore new creative avenues. The movies that she directed in the fifties, for example, include a film noir, films about social issues, and a medical drama. This made her unique in Hollywood. While, according to Marsh Orgeron in her book Hollywood Ambitions, most directors and stars at that time were working on “creating, cementing, and exploiting their reputations to reap the (financial) rewards, Lupino sought to redefine hers in an unconventional and riskier fashion” (171). She was not content to settle for remaking the same type of movie again and again, but saw Hollywood’s need for a wider variety of film styles. Though she knew her directing career could end in failure, Lupino set out to change and expand the range of the film industry’s output during that time.

Lupino was not only resolute in selecting the genre of the films she created, but she was also determined to choose the subject matter. At a time when filmmakers were making science fiction movies, teen beach movies, and horror films, Lupino was taking risks by addressing controversial and taboo subjects that would make a difference and hold a message for the audience. In an interview, Lupino said that the intent of her production company was “to do high quality, low budget, independent films on provocative subject matter, to tell ‘how America lives'” (Knobloch). Though the cultural dictate at that time was to avoid such subjects, Lupino met the challenge head on. As pointed out in the Director’s Guild of America site, she directed movies that:
tackled subjects that were pretty daring at the time – unwed mothers, under the
table payoffs in amateur tennis, a hitchhiker’s cross-country crime spree, bigamy
and polio.” In the early 1950s, this was no small feat, especially under the
constant scrutiny of the Production Code Administration.
Ida acknowledges that it took a lot of effort to be allowed to fulfill her vision. She is quoted as saying, “I had to use my star power and negotiate with the PCA to get Not Wanted, (the story about illegitimate pregnancy) made. I wanted to make films with good stories” (Anderson 84).

Despite the challenges that went with making films with such controversial topics, Lupino saw this as her mission and contribution to film. She is quoted as saying, “”If Hollywood is to remain on the top of the film world, I know one thing for sure — there must be more experimentation with out-of-the-way film subjects” (Greenberg).

Equally interesting in her departure from the normal Hollywood subject matter was Lupino’s skillful development of the characters in her films, both men and women. They are complex, dynamic, and multi-dimensional. While some critics have said that she liked to put women in passive roles, a closer study of her films shows this as being inaccurate. In her social melodramas, for example, the women characters are the main focus of the film. These women are not passive, according to Cassandra Knobloch in her article, “Both Sides of the Screen”, but rather:
traumatized, victimized, or pressured by society to conform to traditional
female roles; each suffers great personal loss yet perseveres. Recurring
themes for Lupino’s characters are flight and displacement, loneliness and
alienation.”

In other words, contrary to being passive, Lupino’s female characters are strong women who find their independence and overcome the challenges they are dealt. Lupino herself refuted this criticism by saying that she, “never wrote just straight women’s roles. I liked strong characters. I don’t mean women who have masculine qualities about them, but something that has some intestinal fortitude…some guts to it” (Orgeron 178).

The male characters in Lupino’s works are equally as well-developed as the women. As stated in the TCM site, she created men who were “compelling portraits of both victims and aggressors wandering through artfully delineated back-street milieus of postwar America”. Lupino had the incredible ability to portray men as well-rounded, non-stereotypical characters. They showed weakness and strength, and had committed and caring relationships with both women and other men. As stated in the “Bright Lights Film Journal”, the director was able to portray a character’s wrongdoing so the character is not blamed for it in the end – no judgment. The article goes on to say that her trademark is in her gentle regard for both men and women constrained by misfortune, prejudice, and fear. Her protagonists are ordinary people, so her films did not feature the glamour Hollywood expected at that time (Aurora). She wanted the audience, instead, to relate to the characters so she worked intentionally to make them seem like “the people next door”.

The characteristics which made Ida Lupino’s movies such an important part of film history are clearly evident in three of her films from the 1950s. In The Bigamist, for example, the director is unafraid to address the subject of bigamy, despite its controversial nature. To create a movie addressing this subject matter was not an easy task. Lupino faced many obstacles with the PCA, but as a director, she saw the necessity of stretching the boundaries of what most of Hollywood was producing. As a result of this resolve, Ida was forced to negotiate with the PCA, who would only green light the movie if she agreed not to show the main character Harry (Edmond O’Brien) as being sexually frustrated in his relationship with Eve (Joan Fontaine), his wife (Orgeron 183). While Lupino followed the ruling from the PCA and the character does not outright say that this is the case, she infers it strongly enough that the audience is well-aware of Harry’s feelings.

In this film, as in her others, the characters that Lupino creates are real and complex. Harry, for example, is deeply in love with two women; he keeps this fact a secret not for himself, but because he is a good man who doesn’t want to hurt either of them. Harry is not the stereotypical egotistical man who commits bigamy and manipulates women by putting his own needs ahead of others’, but instead is a conflicted and torn character who has gotten himself into a difficult situation. Because of the complex way that Lupino fashions Harry, the viewer feels sorry for him, despite the ambiguous moral decisions he has made. As Kevin Thomas says in his L.A. Times article entitled “’River’ to the Future”, Lupino’s handling of the character of Harry “determinedly transcends the moralizing of its Eisenhower era. It extends compassion to all of its people, but especially to a man whose innate decency inadvertently leads him to commit bigamy” (12). Mr. Jordan (Edmund Gwenn), a social worker who has been investigating the couple because they want to adopt a baby, sums up the audience’s feelings perfectly when he tells Harry, “I can’t figure out my feelings toward you. I despise you, and I pity you. I don’t even want to shake your hand, and yet I almost wish you luck.”

The women in The Bigamist are equally well-rounded. Eve, for instance, is someone that the audience both likes and dislikes. At the beginning of the movie when she is, to quote Harry’s narration, “in her executive mode,” she is depicted as cold and uncaring. She is more involved in the business than she is with Harry. But Lupino also makes Eve vulnerable. When Eve’s father is sick, she relies on her husband for his comfort and support. When shown the reason behind her emotional shutdown, the fact that she can’t have a baby, the viewer has an even better understanding of her. Because of the dynamic nature of Eve’s character, the viewers are hoping that Harry will stay with her instead of leaving her for his other love.

The character of Phyllis (Ida Lupino) is equally authentic. Lupino first depicts Phyllis as a tough, independent woman; she even tells the audience that when she says, “I don’t need anyone. I’m a big girl now.” But as the story unfolds, we see that Phyllis, too, has many sides to her. She has had her heart broken and is just as vulnerable as Eve. Dr. Wallace (John Brown), who is taking care of Phyllis during her difficult pregnancy, shares this with Harry when he says, “She can be hurt just like the rest of us. Fooled me at first with that flip hard act of hers, but that’s not the real Phyllis. But you must know that.” Phyllis is a multifaceted woman, and the viewer feels equally as sorry for her as for Eve because of this vulnerability. Lupino carefully crafted each character so the audience is put into the turmoil that Harry faces as he tries to do what is right.

In creating the film noir The Hitch-Hiker, Lupino again went up against the Production Code by “dealing with notorious criminals in recent times.” She was so determined to make the movie that she proceeded to get legal clearance from the real-life criminal whom the story is about (Orgeron 195).

Being a film without any women characters, Lupino focuses her skills on developing the strong male characters that are genuine and relatable. She put the two friends in the role of victims to powerfully demonstrate that anyone can become a victim (Knobloch). The men are self-sacrificing and nurturing as they care for each other, which is pointed out when the criminal Emmett Meyers (William Talman) comments to his hostages, “You are fools. If you weren’t thinking about each other the whole time one of you would’ve gotten away.” Lupino’s handling of the characters also makes the audience question what qualities it is that make a man a man. Meyers tells the men they are soft because they “owe everybody and have never been independent.” The viewer is led to conclude just the opposite, however, because of the inhuman actions of Meyers. The audience comes to the decision that a man is at his best when he takes on responsibility and looks after his friends and family, who both Bowen (Frank Lovejoy) and Collins (Edmond O’Brien) refer to several times throughout their harrowing ordeal. To create complexity in the characters, the two men are frequently passive, confused, and bewildered by the world around them, but they also struggle to retain their power and dignity even as hostages (Knobloch). The scene in which Bowen refuses at first to give up the watch given to him by his wife shows his attempt at regaining power, even in a situation where he has none. In the end, however, he relinquishes, as a real person would out of fear for his friend’s safety. The character- driven The Hitch-Hiker addresses the subject of victimization and masculinity so the audience can relate to the characters and be deeply affected by the movie.

In perhaps her most famous film, Hard, Fast, and Beautiful, Lupino again tackles a difficult subject, illegal payoffs in sports. But while this is an interesting backdrop, the real depth in the movie is created by the complexity of the family relationships. Unlike most of the other films made during this time period, this movie reflects the power shift which many families in the United States were struggling with as men came back from war to find that women were now more independent and able to take care of themselves. As the book American Film: A History relates, “That a woman might be reluctant to settle down after the war and surrender her freedom was a significant concern of many men in the postwar period” (204). Milly Farley (Claire Trevor) clearly wants her freedom and is in a power struggle with her husband Will (Kenneth Patterson), who clearly states that he just “wants things to be how they used to be.”

The complexities of the characters in Hard, Fast, and Beautiful had to be well-established or this film would not have been successful. Florence (Sally Forrest) is the daughter who is easily manipulated by her mother Milly, who appeals to Florence’s greed to get her to do what she wants. The women are both weak and powerful at the same time. Milly, for example, has a clear view of what she wants for her daughter: the money and fame which she herself could never achieve. She is willing to work for it through her daughter, but she is not actually powerful because Florence is really the one in control. Florence, on the other hand, is clearly torn between pleasing her mother or taking care of her father and deciding whether to be a tennis star or settle down for a more traditional life with the man she loves. Florence is a truly dynamic character, maturing and changing her feelings regarding her mother and her life’s goals. At one point she takes on her mother’s ambition and becomes an exaggerated form of Milly, and then she decides to completely turn away from this life. During the final tennis match, the sports announcer says that Florence is, “fighting for her life.” The viewer knows that this can be taken literally, as Florence is fighting for the right to make her own decisions and not be controlled by the overbearing Milly. The power struggle between mother and daughter creates the drama and tension which makes the film so compelling.

Other characters in the story are also complex and well-developed through their struggles to achieve power. Though Florence’s father Will longs for times past, he is not willing to put up with Milly’s immoral and overbearing actions. He makes it clear when she returns for a visit that he is done with the marriage, which makes the ending scene when Milly sits in the stands all alone so powerful. Florence’s fiancé, Gordon (Robert Clarke), is another complex male character. Though he deeply loves Florence, he is not willing to put up with his life being manipulated and controlled by either women, and walks away when he becomes convinced that this would be the case. He is not portrayed as cold and unforgiving, though, as he still goes to Florence’s tennis matches and roots for her to be successful. The actions of the men in the film are unpredictable and often emotion-based, lending to their complexity.

Of the three films studied, it is in this film that Lupino best uses camera techniques to convey powerful meaning in the story. While every scene in the movie has original and unique camera positions and interesting shadowing and lighting, the techniques used in the last five minutes show Lupino’s directorial skill. The final scene’s establishing shot, for example, is an aerial shot of the tennis stadium. But even before the picture develops, the sound of the crowd cheering can be heard. This shock cut creates a stark contrast to the quiet and touching scene right before when Will is telling Milly to “beat it”, as their marriage is completely over. Lupino holds onto the former setting for just a moment more, dissolving the view of the bedroom until the lamp from the bedroom actually becomes superimposed onto the tennis court where Florence is playing what will be her final match. This technique jars the audience into seeing the dramatic contrast between what Milly’s life used to be before and what it has become now.

As the camera pans the crowd, it rests for a moment on the back of the sports writers and television cameras that are focused on the tennis match, causing them to be in silhouette. This unique view shows the tennis match being played in the background, perhaps to give a feeling of the isolation that the players have from the people in the crowd. As the players are volleying, Florence is always shown in a close-up, while her opponent is shown from a long shot. This possibly serves to remind the viewers that they are not watching the match, but watching a young woman’s life unfold in the few remaining minutes of the game. The camera cuts away from Florence several times to show her mother, who is watching from the stands. Lupino shows reaction shots of Milly breathing hard, like she is the one actually out on the court, truly living vicariously through her daughter.

Lupino continues to show the tennis match from a variety of interesting camera angles. She uses match on action shots to build the suspense of those final points. She uses overhead shots of Florence and shots from underneath looking up, creating respectively both a feeling of optimism and a dark deeply-shadowed pessimism. The most powerful angle is when the camera is pulled back and Florence appears to be smaller. The director is attempting to show that Florence is dealing with major life decisions which make her feel small. At one point during the action, Lupino creates a very interesting feel by shooting the opponent through the net.

Right after the match, the camera is focused on a close-up of Florence who is sandwiched between two reporters in a tight frame. They are barraging her with questions, but she is too mentally and physically exhausted to respond. She is being crowded in, just like her thoughts are crowding in on her to make her decision. It takes Gordon running up to free her from the both physical and emotional prison that she finds herself in.

As the newly-free daughter gives the trophy to her mother and says, “Here, it is really yours anyway,” Lupino uses a very interesting camera position. Milly is down on the court, and Florence and Gordon are standing above looking down on her, literally and metaphorically. Milly is now the one in the shadows, showing that she is losing hope for her dream ever coming true. Florence turns to go up the steps and walks toward the light of hope and optimism, arm-in-arm with Gordon.

The final scene in the movie is perhaps one of the most well-known of Lupino’s career (Orgeron 193). Milly is sitting alone in the stands as it becomes dark, while trash blows around on the court in front of her. Milly is like the discarded and unwanted throwaways, blowing in the wind because she no longer has a place nor a family to go home to. As the camera pulls back, we see that she is becoming out of focus, just as the character herself has lost her focus. She looks small and alone. The camera slowly scans to the left and Milly is soon out of the frame completely, while the audience just hears the faint sounds of tennis balls being volleyed back and forth, though no one is playing. This leads the viewer to feel the sense of isolation and loneliness that Milly has created for herself, the ghost life of what she used to have. As in her selection of genres, characters, and subjects, Lupino was not afraid to experiment with new techniques to enhance the message she wanted to get across to her viewers.

To quote Andrea Alsberg, curator at the UCLA film curator, Lupino is “just an amazing figure both for her acting and for the direction of these films that sort of came out of nowhere. There is nothing else like them. When did you see a film about rape or bigamy? She was not afraid to take on these challenging social dramas” (King 1). Though Ida Lupino achieved some fame and recognition because she was one of the few women directors of her time, the real reason she has earned her place in film history was due to the incredible characters she created and the stories she told.

Works Cited

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Armstrong, Richard. “South of the Chocolate Mountains:Scattered Impressions of The Hitch-
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Aurora. “Women Directors…Special Tribute to Ida Lupino.” Once Upon a Screen. WordPress, 5
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Greenberg, James, ed. “Ida Lupino.” Director’s Guild of America Quarterly. Director’s Guild of
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Knobloch, Cassandra. “Both Sides of the Screen.” Weekly Wire. Desert Net, 5 Oct. 1988. Web. 3
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Lewis, Jon. American Film: A History. New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 2008. Print.
Orgeron, Marsha. Hollywood Ambition. Middletown: Wesleyan University, 2008. Print.
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Thomas, Kevin. “’River’ to the Future.” Los Angeles Times [Los Angeles] 20 Aug. 1988: 17.
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