DVD: Ball of Fire (1941)

Classic movie fans are having a banner year for the hundredth birthday parties of many of their film favorites, even if the honorees are no longer with us to celebrate. Just the past few weeks have marked the hundredth birthdays of actors Katharine Hepburn, Laurence Olivier, John Wayne, and Rosalind Russell. And on July 16th we light 100 candles for the great Barbara Stanwyck.

I'm curious to know what percentage of filmgoers today are even familiar with the work of Stanwyck, especially since she defies easy classification and it appears that her image has gone unexploited by Madison Avenue. Her performances were acclaimed, though she never won a competitive Academy Award, and her roles were mind-boggling in their range -- everything from the ambitious and amoral title character in the pre-Production Code shocker Baby Face to the matriarchs of her late TV work. Just glance at her film and television credits and you'll find Westerns, melodramas, and suspense, including Double Indemnity, in which she played yet another manipulative seductress and more than guaranteed her place in film history.

But due to a stroke of luck and the film schedule at the university student union, I discovered early on that not only could Stanwyck do comedies but that she made some memorable ones. The film that night was Preston Sturges's The Lady Eve, from 1941, in which con woman Stanwyck works her wiles on a clueless and wealthy mark played by Henry Fonda. Notice a pattern here?

Some years later I discovered yet another Stanwyck comedy, also from 1941, Ball of Fire. The great Howard Hawks directed from a screenplay by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett, and the film turns up regularly on Turner Classic Movies. Still, I suspect Ball of Fire enjoys nowhere near the following of other top comedies from the era, such as Bringing Up Baby and Arsenic and Old Lace.

I mean to rectify that, now that the movie's out in a new DVD edition and can be enjoyed at any time -- in "glorious black and white," as they say.

First, a little plot: To write an article on slang for a new encyclopedia, English professor Bertram Potts (Gary Cooper) goes out to conduct a little real-world research and meets up with smart-mouthed nightclub entertainer Katherine "Sugarpuss" O'Shea (Barbara Stanwyck). The next thing he knows, the leggy Sugarpuss is following him back to the house he shares with a team of seven other dusty academicians. The guys are duly thrilled with this interesting new arrival, but the housekeeper, Miss Bragg (Kathleen Howard), has another take on things. "That is the kind of woman," she declares, "that makes whole civilizations topple."

Not surprisingly, Sugarpuss does indeed turn the household upside down, basking in the professors' goofy adoration and rendering the initially resistant Potts a bit hot and bothered himself. But real trouble is not far behind, for Sugarpuss has a few dirty little secrets, including a vicious gangster boyfriend (Dana Andrews) and a pressing need to avoid the local district attorney. But the surefire scheme to gain a temporary hideout takes an unexpected turn as Sugarpuss warms to her nerdy protectors and especially the shy but besotted Potts.

Where do I begin in describing the pleasures of this movie? First there's Stanwyck herself, as sly, assured Sugarpuss, nicely paired with an appropriately starchy Cooper.

Then there's the wacky script, steeped in the slang of the time. You're on your own here, folks, but consider a glossary if you were born after rationing, Sputnik, or the Great Society.

And yes, that is really Gene Krupa, with orchestra, in the nightclub scene. Martha Tilton provided the vocals for Stanwyck.

But my favorite aspect of the film is the casting of so many scene-stealing Hollywood character actors, particularly Cooper's academic posse, made up of Richard Haydn, Oskar Homolka, Leonid Kinskey, Tully Marshall, Aubrey Mather, S.Z. "Cuddles" Sakall, and Henry Travers. Sakall, the much-loved Hungarian Jewish actor, is a particular favorite of mine and practically feels like a member of the family, given that my immigrant grandmother was a fan. But pride of place among the scene-stealers is definitely held by Richard Haydn (The Sound of Music, Young Frankenstein), here playing a timid botanist who attempts to educate Cooper in the ways of women. You won't soon forget that voice.

I won't even attempt to describe the suspenseful and hilarious finale, which pits the professors against the mob. The Sopranos it ain't, though everyone does wind up in New Jersey, and you should never underestimate the cunning and resourcefulness of nerds or your garbageman.

The DVD's special features include a choice of languages (English and Spanish, in stereo or mono) and of course subtitles. The latter might be helpful when you're trying to follow the characters' rapid-fire 1940s slang, particularly when Allen Jenkins, as that friendly neighborhood garbageman, opens his mouth.

By the way, early on and in the closing scenes of Ball of Fire, keep an eye out for a thin, bespectacled man and you'll catch a glimpse of a cast member who is, as of this writing, still with us: Charles Lane. This character actor, who not only worked with Howard Hawks but Frank Capra and other greats, has literally hundreds of film and TV credits. He turned 102 years old in January of this year.