Spread out that blanket: the new Twilight Time/Sony Pictures Blu-Ray of the quintessential 1955 American crowd-pleaser PICNIC will have you deliriously smelling the barbecue goodies and feeling those late summer breezes.
This fifties blockbuster wowed 'em from day one – and its memorable imagery (almost every contemporary review mentioned the climactic helicopter shot) continues to define the era more than half a century later.
William Inge's 1953 Pulitzer Prize-winning play ruled Broadway for over two years. Granted, much of PICNIC’s phenomenal success was owed to the emotional powder keg narrative and risque dialogue, but also to the seamless partnership between the author and the director Joshua Logan. When Columbia bought the film rights, they reasonably tapped Logan to helm the big screen version. I’m hard-pressed to describe the filmic directorial abilities of Joshua Logan, save to say that he's the DGA equivalent of Betty Hutton – commanding every performer to bellow his/her lines, playing to that last row in the audience like they’re John Raitt in the movie version of The Pajama Game. Going one step further, raucous pepped-up characters in Josh Logan pics not only seem to be partying like it's the 1980s – but partying like it's the 1980s with Robert Downey, Jr. While this often misfires, in PICNIC it's an attribute, as everyone's full of braggadocio and the spirit of Labor Day in the small Kansas town where the action plays out.
Gotta say it, when Logan hit the mark, he hit it big; when he didn't (Ensign Pulver and the winky-dink color filtered Fox evocation of South Pacific)...whoops! With PICNIC, he scored a home run. I must unabashedly say that some of my all-time favorite movie-going memories emanate from Logan – not the least being the promotion for his 1961 rendition of the famed Marcel Pagnol Marseilles trilogy: Warner Bros. Proudly Presents Joshua Logan's Fanny...in Technicolor! Logan’s professional Waterloo occurred in the late sixties when he had the dubious honor, along with Vincent Minnelli, Blake Edwards and Sergio Leone, of nearly bankrupting Paramount Pictures – an event that only in a Bizarro World like Hollywood could have been remedied by the likes of Love Story. Key to Logan's great triumph in the movies undoubtedly came from his teaming with Inge; their next project would be Bus Stop, another immensely popular loudmouth show, which provided Marilyn Monroe with one of her best vehicles.
When it comes to Americana during the Eisenhower years, no one is more prominent than William Inge. This is germane to his ripping the covers off that never-to-be-spoken-of taboo world of covetousness and brilliantly adding it a la mode to the country's traditional apple pie ethics. In short, he turned O. Henry, a previous dean of U.S. pluck, into O. Henry Miller.
This feat was actually fairly easy to achieve – especially when it comes to the hamlet of Salinson, KS – as the berg seems to be on the verge of a sexual tsunami. The arrival of hunky Hal Carter, the story's protagonist, doesn't help. Carter’s showing up just in time for the town’s title fete couldn’t be more apropos due to his swoon-at-first-sight effect upon the Salinson female populace. To be blunt, he’s already won the three-legged race without ever alighting upon the holiday’s designated fair grounds. Moreover, from the moment he hoboes into the city limits, we know straightaway that Hal’s endorphins exude that lethal catnip to all things feminine, Badboyous rebelous; this is unhesitatingly evident by his defiant slamming of the rattler door he's stowed away on. Hal's post-Brando/Streetcar traits transcend to his clothing – wearing those torso touch 'n tear jobs that seem to have been made by a subsidiary of the company that manufactures all that western movie saloon furniture. Insult to injury, one can’t disregard Salinson’s moral compass, which makes Flamingo Road look like Sesame Street – and that's before Carter swaggers into the community. Nevertheless Hal is a pistol; his recounting being held a sex slave at gunpoint by two horny hot women has his old college chum panting. Notwithstanding all Salinsonians salivate with coital tales/fantasies to tell – and Hal's Boccacian adventures are nowhere near as disturbing as when veteran character actress Verna Felton discusses how the drifter gets her juices a-flowin'. Fortunately, this too-much-information moment is curtailed by a very necessary edit. PICNIC’s unbridled lust factor is such that the nanosecond Hal removes his shirt (for the first time), every Salinson uterus is put on alert – and we’re not relegating that to the humans. All of a sudden we’re not in Kansas anymore – we’re in a yankee doodle interpretation of Amsterdam’s red light district, an all-too-literal 1950s translation of Leave it Beaver.
It's amazing how much of the cushion-pushin' stuff made it to the screen. Columbia must have been excreting bricks, but happily, their decision to hand the reins to Daniel Taradash (who scripted their smash From Here to Eternity) was right on the money. Columbia, we must state, like Hal, was really feeling its oats during this period – having finally ascended from an A-minor concern to one of the industry’s top studios. Universal-International, to whom the Gower Street outfit was often compared, could never break out of the bread-and-butter look. Even their large-scale pictures (The Glenn Miller Story, Magnificent Obsession) always looked like back lot efforts. Columbia, like U-I, made a fortune on westerns, sci-fi and tits-and-sand epics, but when they went “big,” every dollar was on awesome display (the aforementioned James Jones adaptation, The Man From Laramie, The Caine Mutiny and, of course, PICNIC). The lavish look of this movie is a huge asset – and much of that credit belongs to the beauteous CinemaScope photography of James Wong Howe; his artistry rightly received a plethora of the pic's numerous accolades (FYI the celebrated helicopter finale was physically lensed by Howe’s assistant, Haskell Wexler). Curiously enough, Howe maintained that he felt uncomfortable working with color – specifically Technicolor – and only by the 1970s (with The Molly Maguires) did he feel confident that he came up with a viable approach. This was a short-lived achievement, as the d.p. was quick to note that the industry foolishly chose this period to abandon the imbibition process.
The music too is an integral part of PICNIC's perennial appeal. George Duning, under contract to Columbia, opted for total originality, mercifully jettisoning that awful “boom-boom” canned nonsense (too frequently utilized by overworked house supervisor/conductor Mischa Bakaleinikoff) which plagued so much of the studio’s output during the 1950s. Duning's PICNIC score deservedly put him on the map; in that decade of hit single tie-ins (“Moulin Rouge,” “The Colonel Bogie March,” “Ruby” “Que Sera, Sera”), no one theme is more recognizable than “Moonglow,” which sets off the movie's most famous sequence. The instrumental composition soared to the top of the record charts then and, astoundingly, is still in print fifty-seven years after its debut. To quote a recording industry pal, “More people have gotten laid to ‘Moonglow’ than any other movie theme.” Lugwig and Wolfgang couldn't have said it better!
The transformation from hit Broadway play to movie star-friendly lollapalooza defines what makes Hollywood...well, Hollywood. The original theatrical production starred Ralph Meeker (with Paul Newman as his understudy) and Janice Rule. Although both fine thesps, their candle power was deemed unacceptable by Tinsel Town suits. Hal, who is supposed to be in his mid-late twenties, became cinematized by the 37-year old William Holden, arguably one of the major stars of the 1950s. Despite having already played a near-middle aged family man in 1954's Executive Suite, Holden signed on to the PICNIC basket of stars (albeit reluctantly; he, too, thought he was too long in the tooth for the part). While its undeniably WTF jarring to see him reunited with his dorm chum (a youthful 30-ish Cliff Robertson), Holden's natural presence and assuredness believably conquers the age question via his naïve delivery (Hal’s not the brightest crayon in the box – he just has the biggest one) and pained reminiscences of what he's been up to since quitting the alma mater – ultimately making the “premature” cragginess work.
Kim Novak, whom Columbia was rigorously developing during this period (pause for wags to comment how she looks developed enough) is a fine replacement for Rule. Let me say once and for all that I'm sick and tired of hearing how limited an actress Novak is. She is, after all, the female lead (actually leads) of my favorite movie ever, Vertigo! For decades, I've heard how “She sleepwalks through that!” I used to counter-attack with, “Yeah – well that's the point!” But now I've had it. She's funny in Kiss Me, Stupid; she's sad in Strangers When We Meet; she's alluring in Pushover and she's crazy hot in PICNIC. The latter point is obviously worth elaborating on, as, in the course of the proceedings, Novak morphs from confused innocent pubescent to budding sexual predator. With Logan calling the shots, one would expect this change to occur with the delicacy of Lon Chaney, Jr. during a full moon. This makes Kim's take all the more remarkable. “There comes a time in a man's life when he's gotta stop rollin' around like a pinball,” spouts Holden. Cut to Novak: TILT! “Moonglow” seals the deal; as Holden starts moving to the music, Novak turns Kardashian before our eyes – gyrating solo with bedroom eyes while lasciviously slapping her hands together; it's like the back section of The Village Voice come to life! The final union of testosterone and estrogen comes in a classic Logan-framed doozy – a quivering if-I-held-you-any-closer,-I'd-be-in-back-of-you Holden and Novak clinch juxtaposed against the background image of thundering freight train plowing through the night.
It's Novak's constant yammering of “I get so tired of being told I'm pretty” that admittedly does grate on yours truly. She really needs to append it with, “that's because I'm friggin’ DROP DEAD GORGEOUS!” Otherwise, let's face it, the only way that line works for me would be if it were uttered by Ernest Borgnine.
This fixation upon looks brings us to the role of Novak's kid sister, Susan Strasberg (one of two actors retained from the original stage version, the other being Arthur O'Connell). Strasberg’s Millie constantly kvetches about Novak's looks – and why she has to be the ugly duckling in the family; it is an analogy only possible in the annals of show business. Strasberg, even when dressed-down, is incredibly beautiful. Yet, under Logan’s sledgehammer-subtle hands, her bang-you-over-the-head habitually strange appearance swiftly becomes one “Okay, I get it!” annoying pill. Hair tied back, Millie adorns herself in boyish clothes and wears glasses – an obvious fashion statement that reeks “intellectual.” This red flag occurrence is additionally prompted by the revelation that she not only reads, but reads The Ballad of the Sad Cafe – in and of itself a subversive act that Tea Partiers would instantly tag as suspicious Rachel Maddow behavior.
The final portion of the acting equation is delivered with aplomb by the middle-aged twosome of Rosalind Russell and O'Connell as Rosemary and Howard. “I'm the old maid school teacher!” shrieks Russell early-on in typical Logan style, thus equating her pronto toMad Magazine movie parody status. Worse – pour some hooch into her and she's doing the Maypole Dance with every phallus in sight. Pawing Holden shamelessly, Rosemary and Hal's verbal exchanges become akin to a hellish Irving Berlin paraphrasing of Annie Get Your Gun, i.e. “Anything Line You Can Shout, I Can Shout Louder.” Her iconic “You gotta marry me NOW, Howard!” speech to a bewildered O'Connell became the seed for my proposed concept of Simian Theater, wherein actors performed familiar play scenes in gorilla suits (this would have been followed by Big Daddy's mendacity monologue from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof). Ah, what could have been...As over-the-top as she is in this movie, Russell was a much-touted shoe-in for an Academy nod, but shot herself in the foot by refusing to allow Columbia to nominate her as Best Supporting Actress. It was Best Actress or nothing! It was nothing.
The Twilight Time Blu-Ray of PICNIC indeed lives up to its title – it's a joyous festive feast for all. The clarity, as one might expect, is outstanding – topped only by the disc's the rendition of the 1955 Technicolor materials. This is an important point – as, for decades, one could only view PICNIC on TV via atrocious pan-and-scan full frame washed-out Eastmancolor prints. Around 1980, Columbia finally struck some CinemaScope copies, but they leaned toward the peachy side, dominated by dull colors and badly lab-timed sequences. A Pioneer Special Edition laserdisc fixed the problem somewhat by offering acceptable hues and tones, plus the inclusion of the 1955 stereo tracks. To appreciate what was visually traded-off could only be appreciated by those lucky enough to have experienced the 16MM Technicolor adapted scope rental copies from the 1960s; unfortunately, way too often these splicy battered remnants had the “Moonglow” sequence missing – ending up on some private collector's clip reel. Reasonable DVDs were made available around ten years ago, but now that's all changed. Twilight Time's PICNIC bursts forth in full CinemaScope aspect ratio glory (2.55:1 and not 2.35, in order to accommodate the fifties mag tracks) – with eye-popping colors not seen since 1955. Suffice to say that, personal reservations aside, methinks master Howe would be delighted with result. The stereo sound is offered in 5.1 or standard 2-channel; either is excellent. And, as we always are quick to point out with this company, the music is accessible as an IST (Isolated Score Track). Please bear in mind that the downside is that this is a limited edition of 3000...Once they're gone, they're gone. This is the ONLY version of PICNIC to own; prevent this collectable op from becoming a Hal situation; by that I mean don't let this one drift by...or, for that matter, deflower your daughter.
PICNIC: Color; Letterbox [2.55:1; 1080p High Definition; 16 x 9 anamorphic].
Twilight Time/Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. SRP: $34.95; available exclusively through www.screenarchives.com
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