Past Issues
Warner's Regular Guy Part I
by Laura Wagner
Dennis Morgan is certainly one of the most fondly remembered actors of the `40s. An extremely versatile actor, he was good in any genre: musicals, comedies, westerns, war, or drama. Sadly, he was (and still is) a highly underrated actor. Popular for his curly haired good looks and melodious tenor voice, he also displayed a natural spontaneity with his acting.
Ginger Rogers' description of her two time co-star fit his image perfectly: "[Dennis] was the personification of the Arrow Collar man. He was extremely handsome, intensely romantic, without manufactured overtones."
In the 1940s Dennis Morgan was Warner Bros.' highest paid actor,
as well as one of their most popular stars. It wasn't always so.
When Dennis started in the `30s, there was a real problem with
his casting, and he worked in Hollywood for nearly five years
in ordinary bit parts and leads in "B's", until Kitty
Foyle with Ginger Rogers came along, making audiences (and studio
execs) take notice.
Since he played at Warner Bros. at a time when all their male
stars were predominantly of the Irish nationality, it was understood
that he was too. Add to that a number of "Irish" roles,
such as his hugely successful My Wild Irish Rose (as Clauncey
Olcott), naturally he has been associated with the Irish for many
years. His fans still fancy Dennis to be of true Irish descent
-- in spite of the facts.
Dennis Morgan started out with the very un-Irish name of Stanley
Morner on December 20, 1910. He was born and raised in the small
town of Prentice, Wisconsin, the second of three children. Older
brother Kenneth died twelve days before Dennis was born, and the
Morners would later have a daughter, Dorothy. Sorting out his
ancestry, which bore no trace of Irish, Dennis said: "Dad
was of Swedish extraction; my mother was a Van Dusen, of Pennsylvania
Dutch origin. Her mother was Scottish."
He had a normal childhood and a very stable one. His father, Frank Morner, was a banker who later became a supplier for lumber camps, and his mother, Grace Morner, studied music at Lawrence College before she married. Her love of singing was quickly passed on to her son.
Dennis was given singing lessons early on by his maternal aunt and subsequently sang in church (which he continued to do all his life), at town socials; and he even played trombone with the school band.
The Morners moved to Marshfield, Wisconsin when Dennis was in high school, and it was there he met Lillian Vedder, the town physician's daughter. It was love at first sight for Dennis, but it took awhile to approach the young girl, who was selling flowers to passersby on a war veteran's benefit day. "I was selling poppies," recalled Lillian recently. "After we really became acquainted, he told me he was too shy to come over! I was interested in him from the start."
It was because of Lillian that he entered Carroll College in Waukesha. "We both attended Carroll College. His mother never forgave me; she went to Lawrence College, and she wanted him to go there, but he didn't want to go there and have me go to Carroll."
Singing was also a big concern in Dennis' life, and he performed wherever he could, including singing between movie shows at a local theater. Acting wise, he appeared in some Carroll College productions, opposite Lillian in some. An active member of the Carroll College Glee Club, he performed with them around the Midwest. His vocal ability was so good, he won the Atwater Kent radio contest twice 1930 and 1931.
By 1930 he had graduated college and was soon touring the Midwest in a light opera production of Faust, which also featured his voice coach from Carroll in a main role. Meanwhile, Lillian went home to Marshfield and taught school nearby in Shawano. After his tour, Dennis went searching for a steady job so they could eventually marry.
Dennis found a spot at radio station WTMJ in Milwaukee. "One hour he would be `The Prince of Song,'" remembered Lillian, "and maybe in the afternoon, he would be `The Joyful Cavalier.' He also read poetry. He was [at the station] morning to night for a year." Contrary to many accounts, Dennis never was a sportscaster for the Green Bay Packers, although Lillian does recall one broadcast Dennis did at WTMJ for a baseball game.
From Milwaukee, he went to Chicago in 1933. He and Lillian were married on September 5, 1933, back home in Wisconsin, since he landed a prolonged engagement with Vernon Buck's Orchestra at The Palmer House in Chicago. "He was at the Palmer House for seven months," says Lillian. "He was there longer than any other entertainer."
Not only was he getting lucky with his career (he also appeared at The Chicago Theater and The World's Fair), but he was also lucky in love. He and Lillian were very happy, and their marriage was a long and successful one -- producing three children: Stanley, Jr. (1934), Kristin (1937), and James (1943). Dennis and Lillian led a quiet life among the glitter of Hollywood, many labeling them "Hollywood's Family Next Door."
Lillian Morner remembers well the circumstances surrounding Dennis' introduction to films. "He was appearing with an opera company, and when [opera singer] Mary Garden heard him, she said he should be in movies, and that she could get him an audition with MGM. He was signed by MGM, and he went out to Hollywood in 1935. By that time, we had our first little baby, and so we went out there in an old Packard. His sister went with us, and his voice coach Victor Chernois. We were real pioneers!"
Yet, the initial excitement turned to frustration when they learned that MGM had no real plans for Dennis. "They just kept him as a threat to Nelson Eddy -- because if Nelson Eddy refused to make a movie, they would put my husband in it. They never did, and it was most frustrating."
The movies Dennis made for MGM in 1936-1937 showcased him never. He was loaned out to producers Victor and Edward Halperin (under the banner "Academy Pictures") for a leading role in I Conquer the Sea (1936), which seems to be his first film. It was a dreadful story about Portuguese fishermen and very minor. After Dennis' success in the `40s, it was re-released with the title Sea Bandits in 1947.
Back at MGM he was inexplicably relegated to bits: in Suzy with Jean Harlow, he was a WWI officer; Robert Montgomery's starrer, Piccadilly Jim showed Dennis as a bandleader. Loaned out to Warner Bros., he is barely noticeable in Down the Stretch; at MGM, the same could be said for his bit in Old Hutch. Song of the City was a ghastly semi-musical in which, fifth billed, he showed up at the end as a yachting guest -- singing nary a note. He vaguely romanced Betty Furness in the Alice Brady vehicle Mama Steps Out; and in Navy, Blue and Gold his nearly minute spot consisted of him dancing with Billie Burke, who talked his ear off.
There exists a short subject, however, from this time period that gives Dennis an opportunity to sing, Annie Laurie, co-starring with Ann Rutherford. Unfortunately, this singing role was an odd occurrence as his next would prove.
The Great Ziegfeld was MGM's golden movie of 1936. It was a dazzling spectacle, telling the story of showman Florenz Ziegfeld (William Powell) and his Follies. The film's big production number was "A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody," and the staging was elaborate, earning Seymour Felix the 1936 Oscar for "Dance Direction." A beautiful display of a huge wedding cake revolved on the stage, surrounded by just about every girl contracted to MGM at the time. In the middle of this elegance was Dennis, dressed to the nines, looking gorgeous, singing the wonderful Irving Berlin song. Except he wasn't singing. For some unexplained reason, Allan Jones' voice was on the soundtrack, while Dennis mouthed the words. It's a mystery since everyone at MGM knew he could carry a tune. Much speculation has been made through the years concerning the reasons why, but no one seems to agree. Dennis was an unknown in 1936, and it seems unlikely MGM would trust in him a big song in an important musical sequence. It's very likely that Allan Jones recorded the song with every intention to film it, but at the last minute wasn't available. MGM, in a corner, subbed in the attractive Dennis. The music track was already laid down, so no new expense was added to the movie's already large budget for Dennis to re-record the number.
Besides work in bit parts for MGM, he also appeared in concerts as "Stanley Morner from MGM," which probably confused a lot of people since he wasn't a star. He also found work on the stage in the Los Angeles Opera production of The Student Prince, in the lead.
The truth was, however, that MGM was simply not interested in developing him for bigger roles, and it was a terrible time for Dennis. "He was so frustrated about not doing anything," says Lillian. "[MGM] wouldn't let him go. [Dennis] begged them to release him [so he could] go to another studio."
That other studio was Paramount, who signed Dennis in 1938
to a six month contract and changed his name to Richard Stanley.
Paramount was no better, and they threw him into bit parts which
did nothing for his career: Persons in Hiding, Illegal Traffic,
Men With Wings, and King of Alcatraz.
Dropped by Paramount, Dennis was quickly signed by Warner Bros.
With a new studio came another name change. "When Dennis
went to Warner Bros., Jack Warner said: `Stanley Morner?!' Morner
sound too sad ... and it was changed," laughed Lillian. The
publicity mill was churning with thoughts of the Irish: "Since
he's a singer and because he's Irish, let's give him a name that
sounds like an Irish singer," one release falsely stated.
It seemed there was a prerequisite at Warners that their male
stars be Irish, but Dennis never complained one bit about the
"confusion," once telling a reporter, "While I'm
very proud of my Swedish ancestry, I must admit -- I'm crazy about
the Irish!"
Still, there was a problem of how to cast him. Dennis wasn't the
gangster type or a fast talking Pat O'Brien clone, though he tried.
On the plus side, Dennis was playing leads, brightening up Warners'
"B" line up with his naturalness and beautiful presence.
The films he made in this early period were fast programmers blessed with excellent casts and breezy performances, and it was marvelous training for him. Warners tried the tough guy image on Dennis with Waterfront (1939) and fairly succeeded in convincing the audience he was indeed, as one character put it, "the toughest longshoreman on the coast -- proud of it!" His two-fisted performance was interrupted several times to show how romantic he was, with Gloria Dickson. That appearance came across better than the rough one. Dennis was teamed to good rapport with Wayne Morris in Return of Doctor X (1939), as they set off to solve some mysterious blood drainings. They meet up with zombie Humphrey Bogart, who, hungry for blood, goes after Denny's sweetie, Rosemary Lane. The film, often cited as the mistake of Bogart's career, is actually very exciting, funny, and wholly entertaining. True to Warner form, it was fast.
On the downside, No Place to Go (1939) did no one any good with its pointless story of a son (Dennis) wanting his father (Fred Stone) to leave the old soldier's home and live with him and his wife (Gloria Dickson). For reasons known only to the studio, Dennis was oddly given nothing to do and "no place to go."
Starting the `40s with a flutter, he was presented with Three Cheers For the Irish (1940), but not as an Irishman. He was a Scottish cop, and his accent was very romantic sounding in his lovely scenes with Priscilla Lane. The film relied too heavily on ethnic sparring, with an exhaustive amount of "dumb Scotsman" barbs from nasty Irishman Thomas Mitchell, playing Lane's father who's opposed to any romantic entanglement between his daughter and Dennis. The movie is worth sitting through, however, if just to hear an extremely romantic Dennis tell Lane she's a "bonny lass." They're a sweet couple, who deserved a sweeter movie.
Like many "B" stars toiling in Hollywood at the time, he was given small parts in "A's." The "A" being James Cagney's The Fighting 69th (1940), which told of the exploits of the famous Irish regiment during WWI. As a Lieutenant with the company, Dennis is not even a part of the main story line -- the cowardice of Cagney under fire -- and he has no sustained scenes. After a few nondescript movements in the beginning, Dennis shows up briefly near the end to die heroically, saving his commanding officer, George Brent, from a sniper's gun.
He was better served in his next picture and was allowed to sing for the first time in a feature film for Warners. For the love of a girl (Gloria Dickson again) Dennis decides to join the police force in Tear Gas Squad (1940), but finds opposition in rival John Payne for his girl's affections. The film shows some minor training sequences and had a rousing fisticuffin' finale, but the movie is notable for being the first real showcase for Dennis' musical ability. In the course of this brisk 56-minute yarn, Dennis gets to warble four full songs, including a gorgeous, "You, Darling," which melts Dickson's heart as well as the audience's. He especially makes the Irish proud by singing a captivating "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling."
Showing vast amounts of charm, Flight Angels (1940) had Dennis as a pilot with a roving eye for the ladies, which distresses Virginia Bruce. Also in the cast were Wayne Morris and Jane Wyman, the latter becoming Dennis' most frequent (besides Jack Carson) co-star -- even though many times they weren't paired romantically. Flight Angels, the title referring to stewardesses at an airline run by Ralph Bellamy, contains a confident performance by Dennis, as he works hard during the film to perfect a stratosphere plane with buddy Morris -- while also combating failing eyesight. Morris has his own problems, in the form of "angel" Jane Wyman. When not insulting Morris ("The stork that brought you should have been arrested for smuggling dope!"), she's after him to marry her. As for Dennis, he and Bellamy both want Virginia Bruce, with Dennis winning (by a long shot), with the help of the underscored song "Devil May Care."
Although critics were not kind ("as obvious as the nose on your face and typical Grade B second feature fare," noted one annoyed reviewer), the script by Maurice Leo was bright with some fun one-liners. Although the movie ran a trifle over long, it featured a "Devil May Care" Dennis ready for stardom in a big way.
He had to wait: his next was still of the "B" variety. River's End (1940) gave him an interesting dual role, playing a man wrongly accused of murder who takes over for his dead look-a-like -- Canadian Mountie to clear his name. He promptly falls in love with his "sister" (Elizabeth Earl), which causes the viewer to feel slightly creepy over the situation. It was a good action packed "B," despite the love interest.
With each movie, his style developed more to that of a nice, regular guy, who was a very personable ladies man. A "boy next door" he wasn't; he was in no way wholesome in his apparent eye for the opposite sex. Hearts were definitely starting to beat a little faster as he began to form his screen identity.
Warner Bros. did have some major ideas for Dennis in the beginning
when he had no "name." Before Rafael Sabatini's The
Sea Hawk started production, with an early but discarded script
by Delmer Daves, Dennis was set to star in the swashbuckling tale
-- until wiser heads decided upon the more ideal Errol Flynn.
Another prime chance would have been his playing of George Custer
in Santa Fe Trail (1940), a notion that was soon abandoned; Ronald
Reagan ultimately was cast in this Errol Flynn western. Dennis
incidentally became good friends with fellow Warners' star Flynn,
and he paid tribute to his pal at his 1959 funeral by singing
a Robert Louis Stevenson poem.
Alas, Warners still saw Dennis as a handsome ornament for their
"B" pictures and short subjects (The Singing Dude, March
on Marines, and Ride Cowboy, Ride -- among others) until a loan
out changed everything.
Dennis' part in Kitty Foyle (1940) was a hard fought battle
for him. He knew how important the leading role in this major
production would be for his career, which was stuck in the "B's."
There were two things against him; the film was being shot at
rival studio RKO, and he needed permission for the loanout, and,
more importantly -- he wasn't a top name or even in the running
for the substantial role opposite Ginger Rogers. He conquered
one of those hurdles when he reasoned with Jack Warner that if
he made good, it would help Warners in the long run. With Warner's
OK, Dennis next approached producer David Hempstead and director
Sam Wood. Dennis was initially offered the part of the poor doctor
(eventually played by James Craig) but flatly refused -- nothing
but the rich playboy role would suit Dennis Morgan. He was fighting
for his career, and he knew what he wanted. Finally, everyone
concerned realized Dennis was perfect -- and they took the gamble.
They created a star.
Kitty Foyle was Ginger Rogers' ticket to the dramatics she craved,
after her light comedy/musical roles of the `30s. She was finally
taken seriously as an actress when she won the Academy Award for
this portrayal of a young working girl who finds love with her
rich boss (Dennis). He has "competition" from doctor
James Craig, and she must ultimately choose between the two men.
There are some very romantic moments required of Dennis, who aptly proves his worth with this substantial part. Asked by the bewildered Ginger, when they are reunited after a long separation, "How did you find me?" Dennis responds, in a most romantic manner. "I just followed my heartbeat!" Who could help but fall in love with this handsome charmer? On the night of his marriage proposal to her, Dennis rents out a club for the night, and they dance until the wee hours to the strains of "I'll See You In My Dreams." Admiring Ginger's appearance, he tells his blushing bride-to-be, "You look like the wrapping around the neck of a champagne bottle!"
Of course, such happiness can not last, and they divorce soon after the marriage due to his rich family's disapproval of her modest background. They part but still love each other at a distance, and she seriously considers going away with him at the conclusion -- but, then, there's her dedicated doctor ...
According to columnist Sidney Skolsky: "After he was seen
[in Kitty Foyle], the fans took care of the rest. His fan mail
at the studio is larger than even that of Errol Flynn. The fans
howl for him," Skolsky added: "He is big -- 6 feet 2
inches tall, weights 175 pounds, has blue eyes and brown curly
hair and a smile that sets him with the gals."
Warners had a new heart-throb, and they started giving him some
very romantic leads in "A" pictures -- and never took
the chance to loan him out again. Dennis Morgan had become a very
bankable and significant star at the studio. He was young, good-looking,
and fit easily in anything the studio decided to give him.
The first of his romances was the delightful comedy, Affectionately Yours (1941), in which Dennis co-stars with two lovely ladies, Merle Oberon and Rita Hayworth. Oberon, for one, wasn't particularly pleased with the finished results, later shuddering to an interviewer, "[It was] a real dud. I hate it," although she conceded that her children did enjoy it. Her dissatisfaction with the film is obvious: her part is the weakest of the ladies. The best roles went to Dennis, displaying a pronounced flair for light comedy, and Hayworth, who seemed to enjoy herself immensely as "the other woman" threatening Dennis and Merle's chance of remarriage.
Humphrey Bogart was originally cast in Bad Men of Missouri (1941) in the part of "Cole Younger," but was put under suspension when he refused to report to the set. Dennis replaced Bogey, and it marked the beginning of his westerns. Largely a routine story, painting the Younger Brothers as misunderstood criminals, it nonetheless boasted an excellent cast: Jane Wyman, Arthur Kennedy, and Wayne Morris; and had a very tragic performance from Dennis. The reason for their path of crime is the killing of their father (Russell Simpson) by nasty Victor Jory. For other personal reasons, Dennis is distraught over the death of his beloved Faye Emerson (in a brief but moving scene). The film contained "plenty of excitement" (Variety) and likable playing from all, even though Wyman (who gets Kennedy) is unduly neglected by the, camera which was too often focused on shoot-outs.
Kisses For Breakfast (1941) seemed suspiciously like "B" territory, and judging by Dennis' appearance (with handsome mustache added), the movie looks to be made slightly earlier. The laughs were all A's, however, with Kenneth Gamet's screenplay (based on Seymour Hick's play) flying off risque dialogue and situations to great fun. It tells of a concert singer (Dennis) who marries rich Shirley Ross, but on his wedding day gets amnesia and disappears. While everyone thinks he's dead -- including his new bride -- he ends up on the southern plantation of Ross' poor cousin, Jane Wyatt. Ross goes on with her life, and one year after Dennis' "death" decides to marry her lawyer, Jerome Cowan, (who calls Dennis "a muscle-bound canary"). Wyatt attends the wedding with Dennis, whom she married just hours before. Ross is unsure of Dennis' identity (he looks exactly the same but has a name change, hence Ross' confusion!), but tries to separate the newlyweds before they can consummate their marriage. That's when things get wild.
The film is a riot, with director Lewis Seiler keeping the
pace lively, and he is helped by a game cast. Shirley Ross and
Lee Patrick are perfect partners in mayhem, as they set the household
on its ear trying to get Dennis and Jane Wyatt's mind off all
things amorous. Led by Patrick's fun quips ("I don't know
what you're up to -- but I'm all for it!"), they succeed.
Dennis is properly romantic, sings great, and is totally confused
when he learns he's a bigamist and must decide between two different
lifestyles.
1942 would be a busy year for the popular star, and it started
with an announcement in The Hollywood Reporter on January 5th:
"Ann Sheridan and Ronald Reagan will co-star for the third
time in Warner's Casablanca, with Dennis Morgan also coming in
for top billing." Although none were ultimately cast, Dennis
would have been perfect as the strong resistance leader eventually
played by Paul Henreid. He had no time to be disappointed: Warners
had him everywhere on the screen to keep him busy
His next was another first -- his first foray into war films,
in which he was very successful. Recounted producer Hal Wallis
in in the book "Starmaker": "In the spring of 1941
we began work on ... Captain of the Clouds, suggested to us by
two people: Joseph W. Clark, of the Canadian Department of National
Air Service, and John Grierson of the Canadian Film Board. They
outlined plans for a picture to illustrate the gallant work of
the Canadian air force in the war against Germany. The film would
show bush pilots at work, turning their skills to military uses
in wartime. To this end, we bought a property entitled Bush Pilots,
a magazine story by Arthur Horman that had been brought to my
attention by the Canadian actor, Raymond Massey."
Captains of the Clouds (1942) was an important film, but getting
it on the screen was tough going, especially since its main star,
James Cagney, wasn't keen on the script and had to be talked into
accepting it. "Making [the film] proved to be by far the
most extensive and difficult venture in location work undertaken
by Warners since the silent period," Wallis claimed. "We
had to shift an entire unit -- cast, crew, and colored film stock
-- to Canada," which was where most of the shooting took
place They confronted many problems during the filming: injuries,
illness, terrible weather, and delays.
Despite the hardships, Captains of the Clouds was certainly worth Warners' effort, and although lengthy, it was colorful entertainment with sincere playing by Dennis, Cagney, Alan Hale, George Tobias, and Brenda Marshall. The heart of the story lies with the rocky relationship between Dennis and Cagney. The latter steals Dennis' girl (Brenda) away because he recognizes she is materialistic and only out for excitement. A riff is developed early on and continues when the two men find themselves in the RCAF (The Royal Canadian Air Force). Cagney, a "fly by the seat of his pants" pilot, is kicked out after a prank turns deadly, while the more serious Dennis disapproves. Dennis' role was not as flashy as Cagney's, but he's capable and heroic in his routine part. Variety saluted: "timely, topical, and strongly patriotic in theme, it zooms along at a zestful attention-arresting pace." Equally patriotic, the New York World-Telegram agreed, saying "This one literally roars with excitement. The flying scenes are breathtaking and will leave you limp with suspense. The color is excellent, the direction fast, and the acting first-rate."
After the sleeper success of The Maltese Falcon (1941), Warners was happy to put director John Huston back to work with In This Our Life (1942), a wild adaptation of Ellen Glasgow's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, "This Our Life." It was a film that Huston regretted, telling an interviewer: "I felt rather ashamed of the way I got into In This Our Life. [Warners' producer] Bryan Foy said, `You don't really rate as a director until you've worked with the stars and show how you can make out with them!' With In This Our Life, ambition stepped in. It was laid out on a silver platter -- the biggest stars in Warner Bros. all together: Bette Davis, Olivia de Havilland, George Brent, Dennis Morgan, Charles Coburn. I thought, oh boy, I've arrived! [After reading the script I realized] it was not my kind of picture at all. More of a soap opera. But here was a chance to work in the `big time.' So I did it. Because it was good for my career. Balls! One should never do anything that's good for one's career. Every time I've done that, I've fallen right on my ass."
Bette Davis said afterward, "When I met [author Ellen Glasgow] later, she said she had hated what we had done to her book. I had to agree." Bette added she found the screenplay by Howard Koch "too hysterical," although the same could be said for her wild performance. Despite Huston's dislike for the film and Davis' own denouncement, the movie is great fun, never boring and very interesting. It also enabled Dennis to really act, giving him his strongest dramatic role of his career. He plays the weak-willed husband of de Havilland who is fooling around with her sister (Davis). Dennis is hooked by this very selfish woman, and when he expresses regret over his decision to leave his loving wife -- all Davis has to do is bat her eyes seductively, whispering: "I adore you, Peter"; Dennis is a definite goner! They run away together, leaving a bitter de Havilland and Bette's discarded fianceŽ George Brent to discover each other. Soon after his marriage to Davis, Dennis riddled with guilt over leaving the woman he sincerely loved and realizing Davis is just the opposite of what he believed -- finally commits suicide.
Reviews were basically negative, but most agreed with Time
when they offered: "The hard-working, competent cast is too
high-powered for the picture."
Another 1942 release was a war drama, without combat scenes, Wings
For the Eagle, co-starring with Ann Sheridan and, the first of
many times, Jack Carson. The action takes place at Lockheed, where
all the principals are factory workers turning out new airplanes
for the war effort. Dennis plays "a two bit cynic" who's
against getting into the war. Dennis and Carson are not buddies
in this one, as they fight over Ann -- she's married to Jack.
In the midst of the triangle (which is never resolved), Dennis
learns the importance of why we fight and joins up. Typical flag-waving
fare, brightened by the players.
Another wonderful (but rare) dramatic part came to Dennis with
The Hard Way (1942), directed by Vincent Sherman and co-starring
Ida Lupino, Joan Leslie, and Jack Carson. The story centers on
Lupino as the mothering older sister of Leslie who wants to help
her younger sibling become a success in the theater. Dennis plays
an experienced traveling musical performer who sees Lupino as
a manipulator who will do anything to get what she wants. He wants
his partner Carson, who marries Joan, to take his wife away before
she turns into "a first rate tramp." No one counts on
Lupino's driving power, however, and she finally forces a rift
between Carson and Leslie, which results in Carson's suicide.
Years later, when Dennis and Joan realize their feelings for each
other, Lupino again tries to step in to take control. By then,
the strain of her sister's constant meddling and pushing becomes
too much for Leslie.
By no means a typical film, it shows a very dark view of fame
and the unhappiness it can lead to. All principals do some of
their best work on film in this neglected classic. It is just
recently that The Hard Way has gotten any kind of recognition.
Director Vincent Sherman related in his memoirs ("Studio
Affairs: My Life as a Film Director") that when they were
filming the movie, "Irwin Shaw, who had written the screenplay,
had asked that his name be removed from the film because he did
not like what I was doing with his script. Ida Lupino yelled at
me at the end of the first week of shooting, `This picture is
going to stink, and I'm going to stink in it!' Jack Warner had
viewed the rough cut and said, `Boys, I think we've got a flop
on our hands.' Sherman's faith in the project is justified today,
and it has many new fans who enjoy this dark side of fame. One
person in the film who didn't dislike the finished result was
Joan Leslie who confessed: "That was the best chance I got
at a performance." It certainly showed in her multi-faceted
portrayal.
As for Dennis, whom Sherman called "an underrated talent," he turns in a knowing performance that is likewise multi-shaded. Joan Leslie (like many) enjoyed working with him, here in the first of three pictures together, and lovingly recalled: "Working with Dennis? Well, I'll tell you -- Dennis had the charm of a little boy and had it all his life, I'm sure. He never lost it. He liked to kid people, he liked to be kidded. He and Carson, of course, had such fun together."
Many critics labeled Dennis' acting as "wooden."
Joan Leslie, like all Morgan fans, thinks otherwise; "As
far as acting goes," Joan said, "he was always well
prepared. It never appeared that he was making an effort to be
so -- but he was well prepared. So, it was utterly natural. I
don't think he ever did an unnatural thing in a picture."
Leslie was a top actress at Warner Bros. in this period, starring
with the best of them in such classics as High Sierra, Sergeant
York, and Yankee Doodle Dandy, while still a teenager. "[Dennis]
was like a person my age," continues Joan. "Up to that
time, it seemed everyone I played with were a great deal older
-- Humphrey Bogart, Gary Cooper, Fred MacMurray -- all great guys.
I was lucky as I could be to work with them, but Dennis seemed
more like my kind of sweetie, you know? I have a very special
place for him in my heart. Dennis was just a sweet guy -- just
a sweet guy."
Again teaming with Joan Leslie, they appeared as the main characters
in the all-star Thank Your Lucky Stars (1943). Although chock
full of Warner stars, many of whom weren't known for their musical
abilities, it wasn't a throw-a-way film dependent on its all-star
line-up. Dennis is a singer wanting to make it in show business
helped by would-be songwriter Leslie (her big song is "Moondust")
and by tour guide Eddie Cantor. In this light fare, Dennis and
Joan are a sweet and engaging couple, and they sing two songs
together, which are highlights of this song-packed movie. The
first, "I'm Riding For a Fall," is an extremely catchy
novelty that is performed with the help of Spike Jones' orchestra.
The other is "No You, No Me," sung in a restaurant.
After many attempts, Dennis lands a spot singing "Good Night,
Good Neighbor" in a "Cavalcade of Stars" benefit,
which, of course, features a slew of Warner stars.
Thank Your Lucky Stars was Dennis' first real musical film, although the studio crammed everyone else in it. With his next, though, Dennis Morgan would have a whole musical to himself -- with a little help from his musical leading lady!
(continued next issue)