RICK'S REAL/REEL LIFE

The cast of 1973's "Lost Horizon" enters Shangri-La in awe.

 

While most moviegoers forgotten the musical version of Lost Horizon, some film fans have not. They feel the ’73 Lost Horizon is a maligned masterpiece; I would not go that far, but in some respects, Horizon is still watchable.

The reason that Lost Horizon still intrigues is the story: world-weary westerners are kidnapped to an isolated paradise in the Himalayas. In temperate Shangri-La, inhabitants co-exist peacefully and enjoy extraordinarily youthful and long lives. Doesn’t that sound wonderful these days? There are a few catches…

The "Lost Horizon" cast, often posed as a group, gaze in wonder at Shangri-La!

Peter Finch is a UN peacemaker who is spirited to Shangri-La by plane. Along for the ride: Michael York as his reporter “kid” brother; Sally Kellerman is a suicidal news photographer; Bobby Van is a USO entertainer; and George Kennedy is an engineer—not a pilot, for once! Noted non-Asians John Gielgud, Olivia Hussey, and Charles Boyer are Shangri-La citizens. Norwegian Liv Ullmann’s teacher migrated there as a baby; Japanese actor James Shigeta is Gielgud’s wingman.

Some critics complained about the social standing order in Shangri-La. Yes, the book was written in the ‘30s by a white British male, so naturally the lead characters are white, living in luxury. And “natives” are content worker bees.

"Lost Horizon's" Shangri-La or Norma Desmond's manse in "Sunset Blvd.?"

James Hilton’s novel Lost Horizon never made an easy journey from the page to the screen or stage. The 1937 Frank Capra version has long been considered a classic. But when it was made and released, the film went far over budget and was initially just a modest hit, which caused a huge strain on then-small Columbia Studios. A 1956 Broadway musical was an expensive bomb. And this panned 1973 musical version cost a fortune, and made very little money.

Both film versions caused greater divisions than just cost versus profits. The making of the ’37 version was so fraught that it was the first crack in director Capra and screenwriter Robert Riskin’s friendship. And studio head Harry Cohn was so unhappy with Frank Capra’s handling of the runaway production that they got in a financial dispute that soon ended their famed association.

The Bacharach/David score and the dance numbers bring "Lost Horizon" to a halt.

The ’73 version created just as many rifts. Producer Ross Hunter chose Burt Bacharach and Hal David, fresh off the Broadway musical Promises, Promises, to write the songs for the movie musical Lost Horizon. Bacharach blamed the studio and Hunter for the weak versions of the subsequent tunes; Hunter later said that the musical duo were in the process of breaking up and gave him a “bum” score. Considering that Bacharach didn’t do all that much after Lost Horizon, until he met Carole Bayer Sager in the ‘80s, I’m thinking Hunter was closer to the truth.

As for Hunter, the self-publicizing producer sailed through over a decade of far more hits than misses, starting with ‘59’s blockbusters Pillow Talk and Imitation of Life. His run was bookended with 1970’s mega hit Airport. Feeling his oats, Hunter left long-time studio Universal and signed with Columbia. Hitchcock did this in 1960, when he signed with Universal and got carte blanche, after a string of huge hits in the ‘50s. After the costly but profitable The Birds, Hitch then started laying eggs with Marnie.

Ross Hunter gets in the spirit of Shangri-La.

Hunter didn’t even get that far. Like Lucille Ball the following year with Mame, Hunter went heavy on personal promotion, intoning to all that Lost Horizon was an uplifting film, a positive alternative to all those ‘70s sex and violence laden movies. Talk like this just put a big target on Ross’ rear. And like Lucy, when critics and audiences saw the old-fashioned, overblown results, everyone had a field day. Ross Hunter’s most personal project killed his film career faster than trying to flee Shangri-La. Hunter never produced another feature film.

Why does this cast photo look like the SS Poseidon should be behind them?!

I won’t parade the bad reviews, but my favorite quote was by Bette Midler: “I never miss a Liv Ullmann musical!” What’s fascinating is how the movie musical, a dying genre after the ‘50s, didn’t go down without a fight. In the early ‘60s, the film musicals made were usually Broadway adaptations. And post-studio system era, a box office name was deemed a must, whether they could sing or not. So, Natalie Wood was cast in West Side Story and Gypsy and Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. The standard then was to have a strong ghost singer providing vocals—always so phony. Luckily, Julie Andrews came along and did her own singing, in hits like Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music. Her hits kept studios hoping there was more box-office gold to be mined, until Julie started making stinkers like Star! Then came Streisand with Funny Girl. Unfortunately, Babs followed up with expensive snoozers Hello, Dolly! and On a Clear Day You Can See Forever.

You can tell Michael York's reporter want's to split from Shangri-La because he's back to his Lloyd Bochner "Dynasty" ensembles again!

Studios still cast with box office in mind, but now let non-singing actors start doing their own vocals. Audiences were then treated to Richard Harris, Peter O’ Toole, Clint Eastwood, Lee Marvin, Lucille Ball, Elizabeth Taylor and more, warbling in movie musicals in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. You would think that mega-bombs like Doctor Dolittle, Sweet Charity, and Darling Lili killed off the genre. Oh, no! Perhaps musical dramas like Lady Sings the Blues and Cabaret kept movie moguls hopes alive.

"Have you ever seen my Julie Andrews impression?"

This brings us to the worst part of the ’73 edition of Lost Horizon: the singing and dancing. The only actors who sang were Sally Kellerman, Bobby Van, and James Shigeta! Peter Finch, Liv Ullmann, and Olivia Hussey were mostly or totally dubbed. But all the songs are all snooze-worthy elevator music. A couple of the musical numbers are such doozies that audiences and critics hooted them right off the screen.

Liv Ullmann and Peter Finch are the subdued romantic leads of "Lost Horizon."

Though Charles Jarrott had directed Anne of a Thousand Days and Mary, Queen of Scots, this was Ross Hunter’s show all the way. Hunter put his passé philosophy forth in this early ‘70s movie, set in a fictional Asian land. Modern audiences were not wowed by Tibetan-type characters carrying on in Broadway via Hollywood showstopper style. This was all mixed with Bacharach/David numbers that sounded like they had just overdosed on Jonathan Livingston Seagull! While Hunter was a square, he was only 8 years younger than supposedly hip Bacharach, who was 45 when Lost Horizon was released. Their generational sensibilities clashed and showed on the resulting film.

Burt Bacharach gets a police escort to an event for "Lost Horizon." W/ wife Angie D!

A lot of talent is involved in Lost Horizon that either gets wasted or was on the wane. The Bacharach/David team seemed tapped out of tunes. Famed choreographer Hermes Pan created the dances, but aside from some energetic native performing, the rest of the dancing is dramatic actors and children twirling in circles and flapping their arms. As someone who worked at public elementary schools, I’ve seen more enthusiastic dancing at recess!

Bobby Van dazzles the kids with tap and baffles them with American history!

As for the stars’ singing and dancing, let’s just say it’s all bad. Sadly, the worst numbers are by two stars that could sing, Van and Kellerman. Their two solos are so inanely staged you can’t believe what you’re seeing. Bobby’s ditty is “Question Me an Answer,” with kids in an outdoor classroom, as they express hilarity at his every move. Van also power clashes with a Nehru top and white bell bottoms and dance shoes. All while he’s teaching the native kiddies a ditty about American history! 

Sally Kellerman wows George Kennedy with "rock" dance moves in "Lost Horizon."

Sally sings the upbeat tune “Reflections” to Kennedy while standing on a rock, waving her arms and offering a preview to Seinfeld’s Elaine Benes. Dishonorable mention: “The Things I Will Not Miss,” with Shangri-La’s own Hussey and woman of the world Kellerman, as they compare their lives, while climbing stairs, ladders, and seat spinning on countertops! What makes it even more hilarious is petite Olivia was pregnant and looked buxom and willowy Sally is 5’10”, so they make an incongruous pair in this aerobic song and dance routine.

The "Living Together, Growing Together" starts off like a live Disney spectacle...

One number that was cut for decades was the infamous fertility dance toward the end of “Living Together, Growing Together.” The scantily clad males look like Chippendales in Shangri-la, but they provide the only really professional dancing in the entire film. Remember the “Hot Tongan” from the Olympics? Like that, times a dozen or two! Though we now live in an era where exploiting flesh is equal opportunity, audiences back then had been raised on Debra Paget leading a dance troupe in scantily clad routines. Shangri-la’s Solid Gold Dancers got laughed at so much in previews, the number was cut. But it’s back, baby, so enjoy! In this movie centerpiece, the young married couple and swaddled baby look like a live Disney show, when suddenly a bunch of buff, nearly in the buff dancers come running out of a cave to strut their stuff. Hey, it takes a village, people, to make Shangri-la a paradise!

...and finishes with the Shangri-La Solid Gold Dancers finale!

How times have changed. When the buff dancing boys came out in "Lost Horizon,"  they were laughed off the screen. In 2018, "Tongan Guy" was the hit of the Olympics!

"It twirled!" Shangri-La meets Las Vegas in 1973's "Lost Horizon!"

Robert Surtees does the best he can with the cinematography, but what can you do when paradise obviously looks like studio sets or matte murals? Critics commented that Shangri-La looked like a swanky spa. Some of Bob’s zoom shots, as when Liv Ullman runs into the camera boobs first, makes one relieved that Lost Horizon wasn’t filmed in 3-D. Jean Louis provides lavish costumes, while not innovative, are pleasing to the eye. I haven’t seen so many caftans since Elizabeth Taylor’s estate auction!

Who wore it best? York's caftan: Jean Louis.

ET's caftan: Empress of Iran Farah Diba.

In movie mega-bombs like these, the cast is always the one at the front lines for the grenades lobbed by critics and movie goers. Yet, with a few exceptions, the cast performs their dramatic scenes as well as the pedestrian script allows—written by firebrand gay activist/author Larry Kramer! Peter Finch, John Gielgud, and Charles Boyer are solid as the U.N. diplomat, the host Chang, and the High Lama. Liv Ullmann was obviously brought in for her creamy, blue-eyed blonde looks, hoping to recall Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. A schoolteacher who was brought to Shangri-La as an orphaned infant, Liv’s sincere if somewhat ill at ease, like most of her American movies. Michael York is alright as Peter Finch’s impetuous younger brother—the quarter century age difference is right up there with Bradley Cooper and Sam Elliot in the recent A Star is Born. Olivia Hussey is lovely and enigmatic as the local lass. Sally Kellerman is the one star with a real ‘70s vibe and she’s quite empathetic as the jaded photographer.

George Kennedy gives me a "Shrek" vibe here! Sally Kellerman's acting is appealing.

The two actors I found unbearable were George Kennedy and Bobby Van. Kennedy, who was the same in every movie, always struck me as a backup for any part that Ernest Borgnine turned down. It's amusing that Lost Horizon begins with a plane crash, and here’s Airport’s Georgie boy, once again. He also has the hots for Sally Kellerman from the get-go. Can you imagine a more unlikely couple? As for Bobby Van, he’s sort of the Red Buttons of this movie. I’m highly allergic to the type of “look at me” comic/hoofer who seeks audience adoration, like Mickey Rooney, Gene Kelly, or Donald O’ Connor, at their worst. Like “adorable” Red Buttons in The Poseidon Adventure, I wished that Bobby Van would vanish every time he started mugging whenever the camera pointed at him.

Shangri-La would be nirvana if it wasn't for these two knuckleheads!

I don’t think any of the cast member’s careers were seriously harmed by appearing in Lost Horizon, though this was one more nail in Liv’s American film career coffin. The rest of the film actors kept working, George Kennedy kept making Airport movies, and Bobby Van went back to TV game shows.

Michael York & Olivia Hussy's characters about to leave their fairy tale world.

Since we live in the age of fast forward options, Lost Horizon can be best viewed as an old-fashioned early ‘60s movie that was unfortunately made a decade later. The 2 hour and 30 minute running time can be cut down to two hours by fast forwarding through all those uplifting musical numbers!

Love when Peter Finch returns to Shangri-La, he not only has grown a beard, but apparently stopped for some 'Just For Men' along the way!

Here’s another Liv’s ill fated American movies, 40 Carats: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2021/09/40-carats-1973.html

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/

Farewell to one of the most distinctive actresses of the '70s, Sally Kellerman.

 

Kim Novak as Elsa Brinkmann, facing the press in "The Legend of Lylah Clare."  The scene is afternoon, but the window's view always says sunset in Transylvania!

Robert Aldrich, one of the least subtle directors ever, made one of his most outlandish and personal films in 1968, The Legend of Lylah Clare. The 130 minute Tinseltown tale was taken from a 60 minute ‘63 TV drama. Aldrich loved showbiz gothic—imagine The Big Knife, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, and The Legend of Lylah Clare in a triple feature.

How many camp classics feature the star madly slashing away at a portrait?!

This type of hothouse Hollywood story was out of style by the late '60s, when gritty new movie realism had taken hold. What we have here is a Sunset Boulevard-esque show biz mystery: What Really Happened to Lylah Clare?

Those Kim as Elsa portrays '30s star "Lylah Clare," Novak's style says '60s, baby!

Kim Novak plays the legendary title character AND wannabe Elsa Brinkmann. Lylah’s agent, Bart Langner, who discovered the late star, comes across the dead ringer starlet. Thinking he’s struck lightning twice, Bart takes her to Lewis Zarken, Lylah’s late director—and husband, for a day! Skeptical, he runs roughshod over Elsa, though she turns out to be a diamond in the rough. Soon, the starlet is groomed to play Lylah in a big screen bio epic. Along the way, Elsa starts channeling Lylah that borders on obsession…or possession? To describe the byzantine plot any further would require many spoilers and a flow chart.

Tuesday Weld at 20 played Lylah as a fragile Monroe-type starlet.

While Tuesday Weld played TV’s Lylah as a Marilyn Monroe-esque type, Kim's movie Lylah is written as a Garbo/Dietrich-esque icon. Both Lylahs are controlled by a domineering director and claustrophobic Hollywood mindset. The TV version focuses on what Hollywood does to fragile personalities, having been filmed a year after Marilyn Monroe's sudden and shocking death. The expanded movie version gives director Aldrich ample opportunity to take his pot shots at Hollywood, both old and new. Some criticisms are still relevant today, like moviemaking as a mainly tie-in venture, the public's acceptance of anything that's dished up to them as truth, etc. And old Hollywood gets skewered with their crass moguls, bitchy gossip columnists, and movie legends with lurid off-screen lives. 

Kim Novak at 35 played Lylah ala Dietrich/Garbo, here portraying "Anna Christie."

With the exception of Kim Novak, the cast cannot be faulted for the mind-bending awfulness of The Legend of Lylah Clare. It's the absurd, literal screenplay. Robert Thom wrote the original teleplay, but some Aldrich associates with slim resumes wrote the film screenplay, along with Bob’s heavy hand, no doubt.

Elsa/Lylah gives the hunky Italian gardener the Hollywood handshake  in "The Legend of Lylah Clare, as the Svengali director looks on.

The supporting cast plays types, often stereotypes, but they get the job done. Peter Finch has great fun as the egotistical director, based on Svengali-types of Hollywood past like Josef von Sternberg, Mauritz Stiller, and Erich von Stroheim. Peter's at his most rugged, silver fox best, and he's quite convincing in this cartoonish role. Notice how Peter Finch in flashback as the evil genius sports the same goatee as Kenneth Branagh in his flashbacks from Dead Again. Finch has the film’s most absurd lines and relishes every one of them! Yet, in the few moments of melancholy, Finch is genuinely touching.

In one of the many absurd flashbacks, Peter Finch as the mad director sports a goatee.

...which reminded me of Kenneth Branagh in HIS maestro flashbacks from "Dead Again!"

 

Everyone assumed that Coral Browne as Molly Luther was playing a mix of Louella Parsons, with her grumpy cat face, and Hedda Hopper, all queen bee snappishness. Perhaps, but it's also a takeoff on lesser-known columnist Radie Harris, who had a wooden leg due to a childhood riding accident, and was usually in a wheelchair. Ironically, Browne was sued by Harris years prior, when she publicly asked Radie how it felt to have showbiz at her FOOT. Browne lost, but got her revenge later!

Coral Browne does a take-off on imperious columnist Radie Harris in "Lylah Clare."

Rossella Falk is quite convincing as ... Rossella! The drug addict lesbian loves Lylah, but seems to have a love/hate feeling toward Zorken, is an interesting character. Why does she stick around and put up with the director’s abuse—the drugs, their secrets? Falk makes this all very believable and empathetic.

Rossella Falk plays imaginatively named Rossella in "The Legend of Lylah Clare."

Ernest Borgnine has a ball hamming it up as the forever shouting movie mogul, Barney Sheean. His exact opposite, mild-mannered Michael Murphy, plays the son, who wants to make films! Aldrich fave George Kennedy has a cameo as Lylah's co-star in a movie within a movie of Anna Christie. 

Ernest Borgnine as the loud studio head, bargaining with Peter Finch's director, with demurely dressed Kim Novak looking on.

Of the huge cast, the one big problem is Kim Novak. As mousy Elsa Brinkmann, Kim is vulnerable and awkward in the Vertigo mold. Kim's face and figure found her aging far more beautifully than such screen beauties as Rita, Ava, and Liz. However, Kim was 35 and a bit long in the tooth to be playing an aspiring actress. Sharon Tate, a decade younger, might have been a better choice. But that's the least of Kim's problems as Lylah Clare.

I think Kim Novak is actually prettier as "plain" Elsa Brinkmann than as bleached blonde Lylah Clare.

Once Kim gives up Elsa's dowdy clothes and long brownish wig, Novak gets the Hollywood makeover and is transformed into the late, great Lylah Clare. Kim Novak also seems to have her own version of Wigstock going on in Lylah Clare. Kim looks fab in the Renié wardrobe and sports a variety of puffy platinum wigs and falls, accented with Novak's trademark black eyeliner and frosted lipstick. Oh, wait, isn't Kim supposed to be playing an old-time Hollywood star? Novak's about as convincing a '30s star as Carroll Baker was as Harlow. Authenticity apparently wasn’t “in” during the '60s.

Kim as Elsa starring in a Lylah Clare bio pic, got all that? With Peter Finch.

Kim Novak's 60s's style reminded me of another star who loved wigs, black eyeliner, and frosted lipstick!

Though Kim looks more like Dusty Springfield than Hollywood golden era, Novak handles the gorgeous part, but doesn't have the flair to play the flamboyant film diva. As Lylah seems to possess Elsa, Kim throws her head back to laugh so far and wide, that you can see all of her fillings. And out from her mouth spouts a baritone German accent that sounds more like Mercedes McCambridge in The Exorcist than Hildegard Knef mimicking Marlene Dietrich. The dubbing comes off especially bad because it seems broadcast in Stereophonic sound compared to Kim’s whisper! The excruciating dialogue makes the accent sound even more absurd: "Keep your FEEL-THEE hands off me!" And her bwah-hah-hah laugh makes me think of Rocky and Bullwinkle's Natasha Badenov! Finally, in the flashbacks, the voices are slowed down, making the dubbed baritone sound especially bizarre. It’s all insane, and instantly undercuts Novak, who looks helpless as the late volatile screen siren.

Photographer Richard Avedon took a series of pictures of Kim Novak as Lylah Clare, which are more subtle than anything in the film!

Elizabeth Taylor and Bette Davis dished up over the top self-parodies in Boom! and The Anniversary in ’68. Lana Turner and Jennifer Jones were oblivious in their late '60s camp misadventures, The Big Cube and Angel, Angel, Down We Go. But Kim seems painfully aware that she's out of her depth in Lylah Clare. She doesn't just cruise along in like Lana and Jen, or ride the wheels off like Liz and Bette. Novak looks like she wants to leap out of her vehicle!

The finale of "Lylah Clare" is a circus scene. Why? Don't ask! And don't look down!

The last act of Lylah Clare takes the cinema cake. The circus climax that “explains” Lylah’s mysterious death is beyond absurd. The film within a film finale at the premiere is a major eye roll. And the gun-wielding Rossella watching a deranged dog food commercial in the last scene is beyond “what the hell?!”

Kim Novak as Lylah Clare in her swan song... dive. Lylah dies with her tiara intact!

Gossip girl Molly Luther asks Zorken, “Aren't you borrowing from Sunset Boulevard?” Yes, and Vertigo, and Baby Jane, too. And as usual, Aldrich’s film is at least 15 minutes too long.

Rossella and director Louis' reaction to Lylah's bio pic! Bingo to the "BS" logo!

That insane soundtrack by DeVol, especially the theme, is like being put on hold by ‘60s showbiz hell. The music seems more suitable for a sitcom or romantic comedy, not a Hollywood horror story.

I loved all the paintings of Kim as Lylah Clare, which makes me wonder if artist Novak got to keep any mementos. Jaroslav Gebr is the same artist who did the paintings for the Night Gallery pilot, including the famous Joan Crawford painting, and the nostalgic title cards for The Sting.

Artist Jaroslav Gebr with his collection of Kim as Lylah Clare paintings.

Director Robert Aldrich deserves credit for owning up to this debacle and for his mishandling of Kim Novak. Classic film fans will probably find The Legend of Lylah Clare fascinating to watch. More casual movie fans will probably reach for the remote!

Kim at the "Lylah" premiere, channeling more Lylah than Elsa!

FYI: I put all the movie overflow on my public FB  movie page. 

Check it out & join!  https://www.facebook.com/groups/178488909366865/

Like many movie paintings, I wonder who owns Kim's "Lylah Clare" portrait now?