Warners' Tricky Selling of I Confess

Crushed Lips Don't Talk! says manhandling Montgomery Clift in one of numerous ads Warners concocted for I Confess in early 1953. Was director Alfred Hitchcock on board with this wildly misleading campaign? I've put up samples to demonstrate how WB strove overtime to sell a public on something entirely different from what AH put on screens. Books say Warners wasn't happy with this project from its conception. Tough stirring man/woman excitement (a must for merchandisers then) with a priest in the lead, worse still when it's girl idol Clift as cleric. Watch the movie, then take a squint at these ads. In none could I locate Monty in priestly robe. Only stills and a few lobby cards reveal truth of his casting. Holy men (and women) were anathema to merchandisers (RKO sold The Bells Of St. Mary's de-emphasizing Crosby and Bergman in collar and habit). Censorship robbing Hollywood of sex obliged east coast marketing to cover shortfall. Phrasing along lines of a shame confessed, a sin concealed, drew patronage to I Confess beyond what Warners and Hitchcock realized from Strangers On A Train, one better regarded now, but a back-seater then at $2.9 million in worldwide rentals as compared with $3.2 million I Confess brought home.

I Confess plays somber today, but notices in 1953 were positive, if not uniformly so. Reportage from first-running territories credited vibes off entertainment pages that helped business ( ... had crix doing raves was word out of Pittsburgh, while in New York, several strong reviews are contributing to (a) strong initial week). A check through exhibitor reactions found I Confess earning high marks, viewers exiting said to be satisfied. The following year's sock of Rear Window tends to leave just previous Hitchcocks shade-bound, but Confess was by commercial way a tidy success, its $700K profit one the director shared via net participation. What had begun as an independent venture by Hitchcock and British producer/exhibitor Sidney Bernstein, their company called Transatlantic, was taken over in whole by Warners after AH began shooting on location in Quebec. Transatlantic is reported to have run into difficulty setting up outside financing, observed Variety. Warners' previous deal had been to release indie projects Hitchcock oversaw, including Under Capricorn and Rope, while using the director for occasional films done in-house, for which he drew a salary and percentage. I Confess thus began as Transatlantic's and finished as Warner's, the negative becoming distributor property upon receipt.

A primary thing I Confess had over Strangers On A Train was Montgomery Clift, a fresh face whose every move drew notice, going Farley Granger's femme appeal many times better. All this pic needed now was a love ballad to close sales, composer Dimitri Tiomkin prevailed upon in December 1952 to "clef" a title tune after fashion of his High Noon number, then Number One-ing across the country. Though it wouldn't be heard in I Confess, Tiomkin's song was covered by Perry Como, Sarah Vaughan, and others in advance of opening, and fed anticipation, reinforced by ads, that Hitchcock's new thriller would put forbidden love front and center. Quebec was site for a February 12, 1953 premiere, city fathers having sent Hitchcock home from location filming with WB-addressed entreaty (and signed petitions). This was followed by engagements along the east coast through February, possibly to gauge interest before a three-theatre Los Angeles open in that month's final week, a $30,000 take from this called satisfactory by Variety, but perhaps not enough so for the LA first-running trio, as they brought in RKO's oldie, Too Many Girls (1940) to, in Variety's words, bolster the second week of I Confess. Another reason for the pick? Too Many Girls was an early joint appearance of mega-watt tube personalities Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz.

New York and Chicago saw I Confess bolstered as well, with stage shows weighted toward pop acts familiar off radio and platters. An interesting contrast these must have been ... high-powered singer/bands performing, in Chicago's case, for a full hour, then ceding way to Hitchcock's brooding I Confess. A first week at New York's Paramount Theatre returned $75,000, slightly below hopes said Variety, despite Patti Page, comedian Bobby Sargent, and Jerry Wald's Orchestra doing live honors. Page's highlight was smash hit Tennessee Waltz, followed by Doggie In The Window, sung to a live pooch on stage. Imagine all this with I Confess for a chaser. A final day of the bill's third week was cut short for an evening's "Special Preview" of the 3-D sensation, House Of Wax, set to open April 10 and most hotly anticipated film on Broadway.

A two-week stand at the Chicago Theatre (ad above) during latter weeks of March saw I Confess looking to overcome the usual Lenten low grosses (Variety), Chicago's bill strengthened by local singer made good Joni James, late of Billboard's Number One hit for six weeks, Why Won't You Believe Me, which had sold two million records. Ralph Marterie and Orchestra had been ten weeks on BB charts in 1952 with Caravan, an instrumental soon to become a standard we've all heard. I mention these acts because they were background against which many saw I Confess for a first time. For better or worse, they set moods for Hitchcock's film, and for many, Joni James or Patti Page was reason for going, not I Confess. Minus these stage attractions, Hitchcock's thriller might have gone down to key engagement slumps and from there, lesser revenue and bad showman word-of-mouth. It was, after all, the principal cities that set a tone for any film's boxoffice reception to follow. Smaller towns relying on a feature alone to make the grade often found to detriment how much stage shows were responsible for movies sold to them as established hits. I Confess went into smaller markets with the aura of a hit, and did become a hit, but how much was attributable to now obscure bands and performers that made much of its success possible?

Favorites List --- Elizabeth Taylor

A few weeks ago, I read something to the effect that Elizabeth Taylor had an explosive tell-all memoir sealed in a bank vault of unknown locale, and upon her death, it would be unearthed for right-away publication. Could anyone blow the lid off Hollywood so completely as Liz? News of her death came over a drug store fountain's TV halfway through my foot-long hot dog. Everyone in the place set down forks to watch. We'll hear more about this Last Star's legacy before a week (or day) is out. TCM already sent a mass e-mail announcing tribute nights. Taylor stayed longer than you'd expect of a glamour name with so much offscreen baggage. Where was life-saving difference in way she handled personal travails as compared with a Marilyn Monroe broken by her own? What ET experienced in this life would not be believed if we knew just the half of it. That's why I really hope there's a book where it's all gotten down for what I'm sure would be a more than eager readership.

Taylor's best friends were said to be those best at keeping secrets. Who could a person in her position trust? There must have been a score who gained confidence, then betrayed it. Imagine unerring eye she developed for users and their agendas. And did anyone get closer to so many doomed personalities? There's James Dean, Montgomery Clift, Rock Hudson to start, plus others I've doubtless forgot. Taylor never sat for a career interview (did she?), I guess for fear they'd harp on personal stuff, for which you'd not fault her reticence, but then there'd be surprise of participation in Paramount's A Place In The Sun DVD, where she spoke of Monty Clift with insight and affection. Such was exception she'd make to No Press rules chiseled in rock from madness of a Liz-Dick era unknown to generations after and near-forgot by those of us around during tabloid hysteria.

I always wonder if stars look at their old movies. Laid up as she mostly was toward the end, did ET finally revisit a lifetime's screen work? Must have been several the actress barely recalled doing. If not for TCM, would most be seen anywhere? To younger folk, Elizabeth Taylor was eldest support for Michael Jackson, if that. She stayed prominent through the 60's of Burton and Cleopatra, continued marrying through a disco 70's, remained famous for having been so famous through decades since. Taylor never had to worry about outliving legend as did others still around long past a public's recognition. Will Liz as definitive face and fashion of a gone era capture a generation groping for something like her style? Think of Audrey Hepburn stepping down runways from beyond. And Marilyn Monroe, known better today for still, rather than moving, images. Now that Elizabeth Taylor's past frailty and age, might there be icon status more lasting than these and even fame she knew during life?

King Of The Cowboys

Can taste for singing cowboys be acquired past childhood? I didn't care for them then, but do now, in full knowledge that's going at it in reverse. But who's even discussing SC's anymore? Roy and Gene are stuff of waning nostalgia and estate auctions. Running them to an audience wouldn't even occur to me, yet both please, even in admitted solitude. Roy's been heaping served of late at Rancho Greenbriar, courtesy Republic waves off Netflix. It's easy to dismiss cowboys short of watching them. You figure on knowing their game and being too sophisticated to play, then one smacks the unexpected over complacency's fence and digs get underway for more. There's been six Roys so far this week and I'm still at it. Burnout's got to come, but hopefully not before spilling impressions here. Hang it all, he was likeable, could ride, sang better than Gene, and punched like demons (especially on rougher William Witney directed occasion). My loss comes of missing Roy during his 40's peak, first exposure being instead to spangles and guitar-strumming amidst TV variety he and Dale called 60/70's home. Had he really stuffed his horse to rear up eternally for visitors at the Roy Rogers Museum? The dog too? Both these were sold recently. Can't imagine to who. My ceilings are too low for Trigger, and prospect of a taxadermied Bullet holding night vigil would be just another word for Sleep No More.

We never had a Roy Rogers Restaurant around here. Was their food good? His celebrity hung on a long time for someone no longer doing movies. I seldom watched RR's TV show, playing as it did on CBS Saturdays behind preferred Heckle/Jeckle and such. Mixing up horse, dog and vehicle names vexed me. Buttermilk was Dale's mount, though I keep wanting to think the Jeep's name was Clarabelle, but wasn't that a dummy on Howdy Doody? ... no wait, she ... no, he ... was a clown. Uninspiring too was Roy and Dale happy trailing while theatre and other vid westerns got rugged beyond hope you'd vest in Rogers' family-friendly brand. I'd got to thinking they were for little kids before I was eight. Vintage movie Roys to balance scale were lopped to uniform 53 minutes, no matter original running times, Trucolor ones in black-and-white only. TV wrecked this star's feature legacy. A shame Rogers never bought up negatives like Autry and Bill Boyd so he could save what he'd poured fifteen years of effort into. Roy would admit being performer first, businessman second, this a polar opposite to go-get-it Gene.

These Republic westerns run a pockmarked trail. Many that were shortened remain so. Some of the Roys they color-shot exist only in B/W. I don't know of so many casualties among any other (largely) 40's made group. Bunches went Public Domain and are sold accordingly by varied DVD labels. Complete prints of otherwise hacked titles became available thanks to collector efforts. A single Rogers starring feature can be had on DVD via Republic library owners, Bells Of Coronado, not his best, but nicely representative of the Trucolor run. Ones I looked at came off meaner mold cast by directing William Witney. He was for making fists connect with hardened postwar attitudes. No way could you call Roy a noir westerner, but who dreamed we'd see him outnumbered and brutally beaten by Dave Sharpe's outlaw band in Bells Of San Angelo? --- a painful enough scene for me to watch, so imagine effect on 1948 small fry. I'll bet fans appreciated Roy ushering them onto toughened ground, his a kid's preview for Anthony Mann-ed up westerns to come.

No cowboy got so much animal assist as Rogers. Horses and especially dogs crowd every frame. It's hounds to rescue of Roy in Bells Of San Angelo. Bullet goes fang and claw against Grant Withers' "bad" Doberman in Spoilers Of The Plains, while Trigger vanquishes a renegade horse in thrall of Under California Stars outlawry. Oft-occasion find Rogers patting dogs at length, his clear love for animals give shows a warmth unique to this star's output. Down Dakota Way takes time to explain symptoms of hoof-and-mouth disease, while Twilight In The Sierras has Roy taking extended care of gunshot Trigger. I regret the encroaching cynicism that made all this passé. There's community and cheer about these westerns that would not survive them. Rogers even did a Trucolor prologue for Saturday matinees, The Cowboy's Prayer, asking theatres-full to bow heads with he and Trigger. What I'd not give to have been on hand for crowd reaction to this charming, and sincerely felt, couple of minutes (it's on You Tube). Republic spent generously on Roy even after reducing budgets and applying stock footage to other series. The party ended in 1951 when Rogers left Republic and set up televising tents. DVD's of good quality can be had on PD-RR from The Roan Group, VCI, and Sinister Cinema. Paramount-owned Republics stream through Netflix and more continue to be added.