Showing posts with label Carl Laemmle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carl Laemmle. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

May 6, 2014

May 6, 2014

When Orson Welles was working with the Mercury Theater in New York City, he was approached by the Hollywood producer Carl Laemmle to do a quickie b-movie western called “My Pal, the King.” The plot of the film, written by Welles, is about a boy, played by Mickey Rooney, who is a king from a European country who comes out west to meet real cowboys at a traveling circus.   Eventually hiding his identity he joins the circus.  Meanwhile, the count from that mysterious European country decides that he wants the king to disappear for good, so that he and his family can take over the country.

The casting was set by Laemmle, with Tom Mix playing the head of the circus, Hank Darnell playing his side-kick (who is actually a real cowboy who knew how to do rope tricks), and James Kirkwood, who worked on many films with Mary Pickford, and rumored to be a very close friend of Rudolf Valentino,  as the evil Count DeMar.   Welles brought in Rooney as the star, who early that year, saw him play Puck in Max Reinhardt’s film production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”



Laemmle gave Welles a strict budget to do the film, and mostly it was going to shot in New Mexico.  Everything was going perfectly fine, till Welles came up with the idea of telling the whole narrative through the eyes of the little King.  Not only that, but he wanted the camera to represent how the king sees the world at the time.  So in a lot of scenes you hear Rooney’s voice, but not his face or his body.  To add a certain amount of visual menace to the film, Welles hired Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, a German expressionist painter at the time.  He came up with the idea of painting the rocks in the New Mexico landscape black.   Which gave the environment an eerie almost Mars like look of the place. Welles didn’t want a naturalistic or place New Mexico in a realistic light whatsoever.  At the time, Welles was going through a period in his life when he was obsessing over the writings of Sigmund Freud.  He felt “My Pal, the King” should be told in a subjective style, than the original routine objective approach that was to be found in the script.



When Laemmle saw the rushes, he flipped. He took a train from Los Angeles to Sante Fe to fire Welles personally.   Once Welles was gone from the film set, Laemmle brought in the director Kurt Neumann, to finish off the film, using a new script by Thomas Crizer, who was employed with Harold Lloyd.   Welles, of course, was upset.  With the Mercury Theater, he was a king, and wasn’t was often treated in such a harsh manner.   He didn’t always want to think about it, but he must have realized that his vision will be for the rest of his life, a battle between how he sees the world, and how the world sees Orson Welles.

Friday, January 17, 2014

January 17, 2014



January 17, 2014

As usual after eating my Peanut Butter and Jam English muffin, I took my bath.  Rarely do I take a shower, because I feel taking a shower is sort of the lower class of a bath.  Taking a shower represents that you have to something in great speed or the only purpose is to clean oneself.  But alas a bath is one taking over time, even denying time to soak themselves into a small body of water. Today I took a scented bath (smells like a forest in some imaginary land) while reading the play "The Cherry Orchard" by Anton Chekhov.  It seemed appropriate to read this while taking a bath.  Doing nothing can almost be seen as a political act in our world today.

Carl Laemmle, who was the father of Universal Pictures, so much part of my history, with respect to my love for films.  But the film medium is so fragile, and I remember reading that all his property or place of business was eventually torn down.  Only in the San Fernando Valley is his true home still exist, in a permenent place.  But before that his personal residence was owned by Thomas Ince, whose house was razed in the '40's.  Stars, film and the Cherry Orchard don't last forever!



I think about things like that while taking a bath.  Where i live is also where Mack Sennett worked and lived - yet where is his studio or home?  Shouldn't there be a plaque praising and acknowledging this great figure of cinema history?  But then again, perhaps there is a plaque. Often I have trouble explaining myself, at times I suffer from what Ronald Firbank suffers from, which is a feeling of not belonging.  Nevertheless, once I am out of the bathtub I rarely think about these matters.