For Your Commercial Interruption…

I don’t know about you, but I’m easily annoyed by commercials. These days I should probably add because I have fond memories of re-enacting the most popular commercials for my family when I was little, giving them all a good laugh at the dinner table. It must’ve looked positively silly though, when I repeated all those slogans I barely understood at five or six. After all, my family has always been utterly unimpressed by all things Hollywood. I, however, have always loved it, for as long as I can remember, and when I grew up I didn’t only practice smoking by buying chewing gum cigarettes and filling my toothpaste cap with ice-cold water to resemble booze and learn how to chug-a-lug (which TV had taught me was something you just had to have down to a tee to become an adult), no, I also loved to watch commercials and learned the slogans and jingles by heart without the use of a VCR.

Today, my fascination is but a mere memory of that time long gone, of an era when classic stars were still regulars on a vast variety of TV programs. Looking further back, I now find great joy in looking at ads and commercials from the 1940s and 50s, when car companies, soap manufacturers and cigarette labels sponsored entire programs: Ford Television Theatre, Lux Radio Theater or General Electric, just to name a popular few. Apart from those anthology series, other shows were also endorsed by companies and products; Date With the Angels, for example, was presented by a single sponsor, the Plymouth Dealers of America, following in the footsteps of many others while Perry Mason was supported by a variety of sponsors in its almost ten production years. Depending on the target audience, brands like Procter & Gamble’s Tide, Palmolive and Lux soap often sponsored afternoon programs on the radio, directly aiming at America’s housewives and their interest in beauty and their homes. Yes, also in the golden days of Hollywood, marketing companies ruled our world of entertainment.

It may be shallow to admit that those classic ads don’t bother but rather appeal to me – on Radio Vintage or Old Time Radio, it doesn’t matter: I love the jingles and the time they used to take to sell their products, time that has gotten more and more expensive over the years. I also like to look at my favorite stars in many ads – their pictures always beautiful in that way commercial art worked back in my favorite era. Just have a look at Barbara Hale (and her husband Bill Williams) below. In her fifty year career, she was not only the video spokesperson for Amana Radar Range in the 70s, she already plugged for Chesterfield cigarettes, Lux, Max Factor, Sunnybank Margarine and Matson back in her RKO, Columbia and Perry Mason years. Aren’t those pictures just darling, the colors vibrant and delicate, the smiles warm and inviting?

I may be in the minority, but apart from being tired of looking at undernourished teenage models these days, those airbrushed faces with their blank expressions also make me feel depressed. I prefer to see happy faces and not someone who is starving herself to look smaller than Twiggy in the 60s. So yes, I admit vintage commercials are my guilty pleasure and this link is meant for anyone who’s with me on this topic. Have fun listening to those jingles or tune in to listen to Radio Vintage like I often do, always getting giddy about those commercial interruptions which bring me back to “the good old days”.

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Sorry, Wrong Number

Talkie of the Week: Sorry, Wrong Number

USA 1948, 89 minutes, black & white, Paramount Pictures. Director: Anatole Litvak, Written by Lucille Fletcher, Based on the radio play “Sorry, Wrong Number” by Lucille Fletcher, Cast: Barbara Stanwyck, Burt Lancaster, Ann Richards, Wendell Corey, Harold Vermilyea, Ed Begley, Leif Erickson, William Conrad, John Bromfield, Jimmy Hunt, Dorothy Neumann, Paul Fierro

Plot summary: Leona Stevenson overhears two men plotting a murder of a woman who turns out to be herself.

Review: Today, the lovely Barbara Stanwyck would have celebrated her 105th birthday. In dear memory of an unforgettable leading lady, I have thus decided to present Sorry, Wrong Number, a film noir for which she received her fourth Academy Award nomination for Best Actress in a Leading Role in 1949.

Originally a radio play that featured Agnes Moorehead in a solo performance in 1943, Sorry, Wrong Number was turned into a screenplay by Lucille Fletcher, the playwright herself, and conquered the silver screen in the fall of 1948. Starring Barbara Stanwyck as invalid Leona Stevenson who overhears two men plotting a murder on the phone, the story is dark and suspenseful in writing, as well as in effect. Told in real time with the use of explanatory flashbacks, Leona’s desperate attempt to inform the authorities are as futile as her effort to reach her husband. The phone, as her only medium of communication with the outside world, turns into a beacon of hope and sorrow when she finally realizes
that the victim is going to be herself. Haunting in her desperation, Barbara Stanwyck’s performance is never quiet but rather striking in its fierceness and color. Supported by an excellent co-star, Burt Lancaster, as Henry Stevenson and an overall convincing cast, Ms. Stanwyck’s fear and constriction reaches an almost tangible level with every phone call she places, every secret she learns. Her face reflects the horrid situation she finds herself trapped in, the mere panic she begins to absorb. It is the music by Franz Waxman and the expert use of shadows and light which does the rest, affecting the audience with a story that keeps you on the edge of your seat.

Reclaiming her role as Leona on CBS’ Lux Radio Theater in 1950, Barbara Stanwyck showed her full range of emotions in a part that was the last to get her the attention from the Motion Picture Academy until she finally received an Honorary Oscar in 1981. As one of her many films that left a mark until today, Sorry, Last Number is a classic that never gets old but has the potential to attract an entire new generation of fans. With its enthralling style and Ms. Stanwyck’s powerhouse performance, the film is perfect to bring sunshine to an autumn-like July and a beautiful way to honor her today.

Available on DVD, CD and as radio podcast.