Border Incident Moves To Metro

I'm for crediting Dore Schary with MGM film noirs popularized of late via Warner DVD release. His was the experiment that made possible a series of lower budget thrillers prolific as what RKO and Fox contributed to dark-lit cycles. Schary brought noir sensibility from production heading at RKO, where Crossfire had been his personally supervised hit, in addition to Out Of The Past, They Live By Night, and The Set-Up, which he oversaw. It's true Schary tilted toward messages, but that ID's been over-applied by writers quick to assign this exec blame for Metro's slide (could even a reincarnated Thalberg have prevented that?). DS was given MGM reins in August 1948 and set sight toward expanded volume, putting an unprecedented-for-Metro thirteen pics before cameras by November. His part-mission was to reduce costs, bloated under Louis Mayer and varied committees to point where even well-attended shows bled red, that due to overhead tacked on already high budgets. Schary was experienced producing B's, had done so for MGM in earlier seasons, and knew how to make cash go far. He'd cinch belts at this industry's most extravagant address, first by shopping for scripts in-house or bought reasonably from outside, a switch from Metro policy of spending large on pre-sold novels and plays. This would translate to present-day set hat, coat, and often gun mellers later called noir by coiners of the term. What Schary stamped in a first season would be manna to cultists not yet born --- Act Of Violence, Scene Of The Crime, Border Incident, Tension, and Side Street, among others distressed but not fully noir. Without DS on the lot, I doubt these would have happened.

Cross-town Eagle-Lion was then celebrating $ spun off tinglers Raw Deal and T-Men, two demonstrative of thrifty ways director Anthony Mann and camera-magician John Alton had with exploitation others barely got essence of. Both were sufficient talks-of-town to bring Schary calling for a loan-out. Could Mann/Alton breathe life to his concept for Metros done on a budget? Eagle-Lion had planned Border Incident for the dark team's next (and Mann/Alton were very much regarded as that). In fact, a script was finished, and as of late October 1948, three weeks away from cameras. Plan called for it to be brought home for $450,000, though more realistic estimate suggested $650,000, too expensive to make at this time, said E-L president Arthur Krim. Rescuing Dore Schary bought the screenplay for $50,000 and borrowed Mann plus Alton. He'd known AM since they were in high school together, and figured the team ideal to test newly lean policy for Metro. Shooting schedules that had passed fifty days, sometimes ninety or more, would be trimmed to thirty, perhaps less, under Schary's plan. Border Incident was called his "experiment" to see, as Variety put it, if a picture can be turned out at a reasonable budget without bypassing production quality.

Surprising was MGM's embrace of personnel from the "quickie field," but conditions couldn't go on as they had. If Border Incident got made within a planned twenty-eight days on a proposed budget of $550,000, so much the better. Eagle-Lion's was an example worth following where economies were concerned. Toward simulating that model, Schary borrowed even script polisher John C. Higgin and assistant director Howard Koch from E-L, both versed on Mann-habits and getting max out of a dollar. The deal was cut in late November 1948 ... by mid-March '49, Border Incident was finished. Final negative cost came to $748K, not quite the bargain Schary hoped for, but way below an average $1.5 million MGM spent on features after the war. Border Incident was a hard-hitter based on topical subject matter that appealed to Schary's social conscience. You could take (sell) it as exploitation (Eagle-Lion's original intent) or as cry for reform. Enforcement agencies on both sides of the border cooperated. The story had begun as Wetbacks, later Border Patrol, all the while a T-Men redo to glorify agents stanching flow of illegal entrants past US checkpoint. Mann had told The New York Times months earlier that sympathies would direct toward Mexican labor sold into virtual slavery by farm barons who'd rob them coming and going. There was canyon quicksand, mass graves, and gravel-toned Charles McGraw as henchman's lead (plus no more stinking badges Alfonso Bedoya from Treasure Of The Sierra Madre), these for a public less interested in social themes than wallow in violence known to accompany illegal border crossing.

"Border" In Need Of A Boundary said Variety once Incident completed and it was discovered multiple companies were planning pics with Border in their title. Both Fox and independent Milton Sperling registered Over The Border, plus Paramount had Below The Border ready. Something had to give. MGM kept its moniker and trade reviews were encouraging. Advance comment noted Mann's rough-play, a signature from Eagle-Lion hits. There was Border Incident shock of farm equipment separating one character from his insides that caused vapors, though all conceded wicket takes might swell accordingly. Schary wasn't for pulling punches. To his and Metro's credit, they'd let E-L's transplanted team go bare knuck as had been policy at home-lot. It seemed the cheaper these thrillers, the more gloves off. Schary used neophyte staff to bring further ones in, each for less than the last --- Tension cost a mere $682K, Dial 1119's even more rock bottom (for Metro) $472K. Disadvantage to these, along with Border Incident, was total lack of star names. Each played lower half of double-bills in larger markets, and all lost money. At Los Angeles openings, Border Incident backed Scene Of The Crime, another MGM economy model (negative cost: $760,000, but it made profit thanks to Van Johnson). Chicago's run was sluggish, said Variety, Border oddly paired with Margaret O'Brien in The Secret Garden. The Garrick's take for these was actually surpassed by the theatre's subsequent booking of Marx Bros. oldies Animal Crackers and Duck Soup ($7,500 for that week as opposed to Garden/Border's $6,000). Said drubbing put Border Incident in its own quicksand of $178,000 lost. Domestic rentals so low ($580K, plus $348K foreign) wouldn't be mitigated even by savings on the negative. Expert as he was at slimmed-down thrillers, Anthony Mann would not make MGM's first team so long as returns continued this tepid.

Next Up: More Anthony Mann and Devil's Doorway.

Selling Son Of Paleface --- Part Two

To that data of Philadelphia bidding $27,500 in advance for Son Of Paleface should be added this: They had to guarantee $37,500 for Martin and Lewis in Jumping Jacks and six weeks minimum playing time as opposed to Paleface's four. So what did this say to Bob Hope's primacy on the Paramount lot? The Dean and Jerry snowball had rolled for going on three years, its peak in sight for 1952's summer and giddy anticipation for Jumping Jacks. These boys were the fad Abbott and Costello had been ten years before, only to crowds bigger. Bob was around before either and his just showing up was no longer assured boxoffice. Jacks was beating M&L's previous Sailor Beware by a third in many houses, startling all the more was its largest take for Paramount since DeMille's Samson and Delilah and ongoing smash The Greatest Show On Earth. Numbers would tell the tale ... Jumping Jacks finished with $4.1 million in domestic rentals to Son Of Paleface's $3.1. Unkindest cut for Paramount lay in both having been independently financed and shot, by producer Hal Wallis and Hope Enterprises respectively. With Para little more than distributor, thickest gravy would be Wallis and Hope's to scoop.

So could there be wonder at Bob's willingness to pump for Paleface oil? He had radio and emerging TV to help with that. Exposure to either got you wired to his newest in theatres. Hope dropped in on the New York Paramount's opening night to join Louis Prima on stage and introduce SOP, that stand good for a first week swelled to $75G's. Jane Russell was meanwhile Chicago ways to help a newly reopened Oriental Theatre christen Son Of Paleface. There was too Roy Rogers' rodeo situated at Madison Square Gardens, spreading Paleface word through capacity bleachers. Such was media exposure of these combined that got message to masses undreamt of in today's scattered marketplace. Where I lived (well, not yet ... two years to wait for that), exhib friend-to-be Garland Morrison was ass't manager at nearby Elkin, NC's Reeves Theatre, assigned to bally Son Of Paleface without benefit of Bob, Jane, or Roy personal appearing. Garland came through with a borrowed buckboard he'd park front of the entrance with stills and playdate attached. That stunt got him ink in Boxoffice, but I can't help wondering ... weren't functioning buckboards still a fairly common sight on 1952 Elkin streets? They were in neighboring small towns, including my own.

Roy Rogers hadn't intended for Son Of Paleface to be a last theatrical feature. There'd been a break with Republic, recriminations following, and all-over TV dump of westerns sans Rogers' consent he felt entitled to. The company also spread thin reissued oldies to trade on RR's continuing popularity. This King Of Cowboys had built a cross-biz empire nearly a size of Autry's, both entering vid spheres with respective half-hour series in play as Son Of Paleface opened. Roy wanted back in features on independent terms --- was observing Bob Hope's operation a hint? There would be new RR westerns in color and widescreen, released through United or perhaps Allied Artists. That was at least Rogers' plan by 1954, but it wouldn't come off for reasons perhaps lost to time. A return to big screens post-Son Of Paleface might just have been the ticket, for in its way, SOP is among slickest and most accomplished of outdoor shows Roy did. Drop Hope and the thing plays like any of a dozen westerns Rogers did, only this time a much wider audience was getting what for many was first-time exposure to the sagebrush star.

Son Of Paleface's negative became asset of Hope Enterprises. So had a number of his other past Paramount releases. There'd be bookings, occasionally as bottom of duals, into the sixties, but no dedicated reissue. Hope had too much fresh product to compete with himself via vaulties. Besides, he'd revisit Son Of Paleface as Alias Jesse James in 1959, same old west setting and airing of gags that clicked before. What Bob (and partnering NBC) did have of considerable value was backlog of negs coveting syndicators wanted for 60's television lease. Trades heralded Allied Artists-TV scoring the lot in June 1963, ten years of use upon payment of $850,000 for seven Hope starring features dating from 1947's Road To Rio, and all had been solid hits in theatres (one of the highest prices paid for pix for TV, said Variety). A pair had tube-run earlier, Rio and My Favorite Brunette, but The Lemon Drop Kid, The Seven Little Foys, The Road To Bali, The Great Lover, and Son Of Paleface would be new to airwaves and likely major lures. AA even announced reissue for the group under a "Hope Jubilee" umbrella, but I found no evidence of that coming off. Indeed, the package was made available to broadcasters within weeks of the deal, July being launch for the seven to local channels. Son Of Paleface has been released on DVD several times, not always from flattering elements. I'd like knowing who stores negatives of the group with Bob gone. Does his family maintain an interest, or more to point, are they interested? There was packaging of four in the old HD-DVD format, certainly a best I've seen these pictures look. Welcome would be all Hope Enterprise titles arriving in a Blu-Ray box, but with DVD sales in general decline, I guess that isn't likely to happen.

Son Of Paleface and What's Funny --- Part One

I'm starting to question the whole Laughter is Contagious thing, having been told since forever how comedies play so much better in a crowd. Does an audience magically transform a show that isn't funny into one that is? Sitting alone with clowns is frightful prospect for many, but is that because they need others to cue them when to laugh? Is it a herd mentality that makes us seek out capacity rooms and reassurance that what we find amusing is indeed that? Ann sometimes wonders why I don't laugh (audibly) at comedy we agree works, and I respond that everyone's mirth mechanism differs. It's possible to appreciate humor more even if you laugh at it less. I once rolled off the sofa before an Ace Ventura routine most cultivated watchers would deplore, and I'd not call Jim Carrey an equal to comics of the GPS pantheon, so is there disconnect between my "appreciation" of comedy and response the basest of it sometimes provokes? Too often I find myself clocking laughs others might get from stuff I've watched too many times, Son Of Paleface most recent object of said cold analysis. There's sadness in time spent alone with movies crafted to please hundreds per unspooling, but we'll not see SOP through 1952 eyes again. A lot of us never did. Look at all this publicity and tieing-in, then imagine mobs primed to show up and guffaw at everything this cast laid down and called hilarious. I feel for ones who saw Son Of Paleface in that white-hot '52 summer, only to re-encounter it later and wonder why it didn't seem so yok-some anymore.

So this is maybe the best Bob Hope he did sans Bing. What does that say about the others? Serious notice of SOP came as result of Frank Tashlin directing, though I'd cringe at prospect of this one screened in a university classroom, straight-back chairs and an instructor to drain whatever amusement might inadvertently have come his pupils' way. I'll close Tashlin's part by acknowledging best gags as impossible ones he staged like cartoons done at career beginning with WB. Such came natural to a Bob Hope long versed in crashing fourth walls and well along conspiring with viewers to undermine pic conventions. We like Bob best when he's most irreverent. Here he was pushing (at least) fifty, displaying cheek of a newcomer half that age. Think longevity of this man's career and name another who approached it. Son Of Paleface plods here/there, I'd question how some thudding gags clicked even for packed houses, but when this one delivers, it's transporting, best moments being comedy sure-footed as was possible in days when likes of Hope defined what made a culture laugh.

He was an all-media titan then, as witness deal lately wangled with anxious Paramount. Bob had wanted more, always more, to stay on contract board ... fifty, maybe sixty, percent of receipts. Guess Para knew he could get it elsewhere, as they pret-near handed Hope keys to the Marathon gate and coffers within. Not unlike the Hal Wallis deal worked out previously, this was setting for Hope to have a studio address for making features he'd bankroll, then own outright. The Lemon Drop Kid ... was produced by Hope Enterprises with its own coin and without financial help from any bank, observed Variety when news of the renewed pact came down in September 1950. Hope was that early planning a spoof western with Roy Rogers, to be ankled by Lemon Drop profits. How did Paramount prosper in all this? They'd have the star for eight total commitments, four via Hope Enterprises and the balance in-house for which he'd get salary plus percentage (estimated by Variety to be about 25%). Budgets for each would be $1.5 million, in line with increased studio scrutiny over bottom-lines. In addition to total control of his own productions, Hope approved writers, directors, and players utilized for the Paramount shows. Added Variety: Complications between motion pictures and television will be straightened out by another clause which calls for a timing arrangement. It provides that Hope, the TV star, will not make live video appearances in spots where Hope, the Paramount star, is on the screen in first-run theatres. In this way, he won't be competing with himself.

Whatever its share of eventual profits from Son Of Paleface, Paramount could at least boost distribution fees by making theatres bid for what everyone knew would be a sure-fire hit. There were complaints in July 1952 of Para's failure to tradeshow Son Of Paleface, as if anyone needed proof it would score. Drive-ins had begun competing for new films and getting them. Los Angeles ozoners grabbed SOP and Paramount's other summer laff- getter Jumping Jacks for same day open as indoor houses, having ponied a $5,000 guarantee plus $1,000 more to defray distribution's advertising costs. A new era of cutthroat bidding was upon showmen across the land, perceived best product hotly chased for bragging rights as much as profit gained. With theatres now divorced from former owning producer/distributors, it was every exhib for himself. Paramount demanded advances to $27,500 plus a four-week minimum run for Son Of Paleface in Philadelphia. The Fox Theatre there smiled and paid up. With 2423 seats and overhead like theirs, what were options? Such a palace couldn't afford booking product less than a cinch for full attendance.