"Savage" Boulevard

My last post around Halloween focused on some shockers that I have enjoyed watching many times over the years. I didn't intend to dive back into that genre right away, but the mention of Savage Intruder (1970), which I had never seen, left me little choice. I had to see what in the world was going on in this late-stage installment of the "psycho biddy" or "horror hag" trend of the 1960s, in which once glamorous leading ladies were put through all sorts of hell on the big screen for the salivating pleasure of curious viewers. This time it was Miriam Hopkins' turn to be paraded out for a series of scares.

Hopkins was not quite the household name that Davis, Crawford and de Havilland were, but she did have a substantial movie career. She starred in the first three-strip Technicolor film Becky Sharp (1935), for which she was Oscar-nominated (losing to Bette Davis in Dangerous) and enjoyed starring in classics like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931), Trouble in Paradise (1932), Design for Living (1933), These Three (1936) and quite a few others. Her early-'30s efforts were notable for pushing the envelope in a variety of ways until the Hays Code began to shape what Hollywood could offer. Thus, she was perfect for her role in this campy exercise in decay, which fed off (better) projects from Sunset Boulevard (1950) to Psycho (1960.)

The film kicks off with a montage of Old Hollywood (including moments from, of all things, Singin' in the Rain, 1952!) and flashing pics of Ms. Hopkins from her days as a star so that contemporary viewers are sure to know who they're about to see.

Exemplifying Tinseltown's degradation, we're shown up close shots of the dilapidated HOLLYWOOD sign as it appeared at that time. It had by this time fallen into shocking disrepair (and would only get worse over the next few years.)

Exposed nails and broken pieces give us a glimpse of the erosion of the sign (and the place.)

At the foot of the sign, we find one of a series of middle-aged women who've been slaughtered by a deranged serial killer!

And now we meet one more potential victim. On her way home from a local bar, this tired soul is trudging home (followed by a figure in white slacks and a hat.)

The gal (Dorothy Kingston) settles in for one more beer (in the bathroom?) before a club-wielding manic konks her on the head!

Then, in an apparent effort to save time and manpower, the culprit plugs in an electric knife (Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!) and proceeds to take her apart...!

Next we find one of those famed tour buses of movie star homes driven by Joe Besser. (Besser had a long, busy career as a comedian in movies and on TV, but is often recalled as a replacement for Shemp Howard in mid-1950s The Three Stooges shorts.)

Hanging off the back is one David Garfield, an aimless hippie. He hops off the bus at the gate of this mansion. (In real life, this place had been the estate of silent film star Norma Talmadge.)

The inside of the mansion is chock full of figurines and statuary, a recurring motif throughout Savage Intruder. In the portrait is Hopkins during the 1930s...

...and here is Hopkins in 1970! Having herself a drink or five, she's fussing around in preparation for a party.

Sashaying about in a tulle party gown, she startles even herself when she realizes how much vodka she's put away.

Note all the statues in the home, who serve as silent observers of all the goings-on (and provide an audience for the now-faded star, who's mostly holed up in her mansion.)

The place provides a great setting for this tale of Old Hollywood gone to seed.

And right on cue, Hopkins takes a tumble down the stairs, flipping her wig and, more importantly, breaking her leg!

We soon meet her staff; live-in personal secretary Gale Sondergaard, live-in maid Florence Lake and her attorney, Lester Matthews.

Matthews orders any pills and liquor to be kept from Hopkins during her recovery. He also orders a nurse from a registry to come and care for her since she'll be in a wheelchair.

Cue the arrival of Garfield. A skeptical Lake offers her disdain for the young people of today, yet assumes he's a legitimate representative from the agency and doesn't check for any proof. He even gives the ludicrous name "Laurel Anhardy" or some such...!

For reasons unknown, Garfield wears a horrible wig for these scenes. Reference is made to him needing a haircut but his hair is no shorter once the wig is finally ditched. It's bizarre. Also, there seems to be a continuity or editing issue since he was already seen arriving at the mansion BEFORE Hopkins had her fall, yet here he is, ready to assume nursing duties?

Anyway, Sondergaard is no more diligent about looking into his qualifications than Lake was. It's just assumed that he is the nurse! I did love the hourglass prop on her desk, though. Most film buffs know that she was the original choice for the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz (1939) until they opted to make the character scary rather than glamorously menacing (a la the Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937.)

Hopkins is horrified when she sees who has been assigned to her recovery.

But after a period of being wheeled around the grounds by him, she starts to loosen up. He even insults her while picking her up to place her on a chaise, referring to her as "Fatty Arbuckle" and she merely cackles.

Garfield is revealed to be a heroin addict and during one trip he experiences a hallucinogenic flashback to his childhood when he walked in on his mother in the midst of a crazed orgy. I would truly love to know who selected her partners for this and why!

Garfield has developed an association with another staff member of Hopkins', Virginia Wing. One night, they slink into a section of the house that's been closed down ever since Hopkins' husband died.

They're startled to find a pair of mannequins that closely resemble Hopkins in her prime, each bearing a costume from one of her long-ago film triumphs.

Here, he confesses his mother's sordid past while simultaneously seducing Wing.

The next day (back in that awful wig again!) he is entertaining Hopkins with pratfalls from her wheelchair.

His funny guy routine must be working because soon she invites him to join her on her bed. She tells him to say "something lovely" to her and when he asks, "like what?," she plants a big kiss on him and presumably more...!

The next morning, Hopkins is markedly brighter and more bushy-tailed as she watches Garfield swimming in the newly-reopened pool. (I didn't even bother trying to capture that. It's very brief and not worth the trouble... He ain't all that. LOL) Sondergaard isn't as enthusiastic about the guy's presence as her boss is.

The rejuvenated Hopkins has declared that she wants rid of all her old clothes in exchange for new ones, she wants to throw a dinner party and she even plans to come back to the public eye, either on TV or in the Hollywood Christmas Parade. This sequence is capped off with Hopkins crooning croaking "Taking a Chance on Love!"

Under the, um, vocals, we see that Garfield is getting a whole new wardrobe himself, including a huge fur coat all his own.

Both of them now outfitted in their new duds, Hopkins treats Garfield to a viewing of one of her old hits (in reality, her own film Wise Girl from 1937.)

Garfield is still seeing Wing on the side. While at a psychedelic hangout of his, he encourages her to take a pill to make her less of "a pain." Still photos of their lovemaking segue into the next scene...

No. No one's making pizza...

Garfield is giving his employer a vigorous massage! She regales him with the plot line of one of her old pictures opposite George Brent.

When she begins picking on him over his manners with the big dinner party coming up that evening, his massage goes from vigorous to violent, causing her to call a halt to it. Here, Ms. Hopkins does something that no other "horror hag" that I'm aware of ever dared...

She gets up from the massage table and allows the camera to capture most of one, then the other pendulous 68 year-old breast! She soon forgives him and they begin kissing again.

At the glitzy dinner, you'll never guess who's in attendance! Right there in the pale blue - Poseidon's Underworld's favorite extra, Leoda Richards. The woman was in everything!

It's not exactly a wild and woolly shindig. This man is asleep! Sondergaard does wear some fun earrings at least.

Nothing says "elegant" like Jell-O for dessert...!

This poor soul had to fight for face time with a silver urn and another person's head, then finally got to emerge but with a feather arrangement behind her that gave off a showgirl effect! But what's fun is that this is silent film comedienne Minta Durfee. Durfee was the wife of Fatty Arbuckle and despite their separation she stood by him throughout his trial and defended him ever after. She enjoyed a long career as a bit player prior to her death in 1975.

After being informed by Sondergaard that Garfield is having an affair with the mistress of the house, Wing is understandably furious. He denies it, but she knows he's lying. She then reveals to him that she is knocked up!

After a scuffle with Garfield, Wing runs back to Sondergaard and turns in her resignation.

"I (Don't) Enjoy Being a Girl!"

Next we're treated to another Garfield flashback.

Mom is still having her fun with (apparently) half the neighborhood.

This time, though, it ends abruptly!

Hopkins has witnessed Garfield's confrontation with Wing over their romance and her pregnancy and she is NOT happy.

He manages to draw her out of her snit, however, by taking her on a drive, punctuated by a "little drink." Since she's been dry ever since falling and breaking her leg, this sounds pretty good.

That night Hopkins is enjoying a trip down memory lane (actually Sunset Strip!) when Garfield suggests they go to a party.

The party, however, is hardly the soiree she had in mind! It's at the hippie hangout, filled to the brim with spaced-out revelers. Having been offered every drug under the sun, she lets them know that the only trips she takes are to Europe!

This gaggle of partygoers is portrayed by something called The Synergy Trust, presumably a group of improvisational performers. It's your typically whacked-out, groovy '60s scene.

Back at the mansion, Sondergaard is awakened from her comfortable night's sleep.

Oh lawd... the gang's all here!

Garfield and Hopkins have invited the inhabitants of the bar to come to the mansion to continue the revelry!

Suddenly, Hopkins realizes that Garfield is nowhere to be found! She passes out before she can find out where he's gone.

During all the shenanigans, Sondergaard uses the opportunity to search Garfield's room. Why be alarmed by a shit-ton of Satanic memorabilia or the odd stolen piece of silver...?!

Soon enough, she's discovered by Garfield, who informs her that he is there to stay as he satisfies all of his employer's needs.

Now we have a ringside seat at the Santa Claus Lane Parade, an actual occurrence. Fans of Tinseltown, especially those who've been there, will surely love the period shots of the street and its storefronts.

Spliced in is Ms. Hopkins, atop a huge float and waving to her fans/subjects below as Queen of the Parade.

Speaking of queens, get a load of the two "gals" on the far left.

A thoroughly sloshed Hopkins gives an interview to a reporter and makes a perfect fool of herself (though the scene is a scream to witness as a hammy Hopkins rails against hoodlums and queers and the place going "daahhhwwnheeeell" while a sudden southern accent pops up!)

The stately Sondergaard informs her employer that she was quite drunk on TV the night before. Hopkins tries to take comfort in the fact that at least she didn't fall off the float!

Lake bemoans the fact that so much trouble seems to have come at the same time as Garfield. Note the placement of the figures on either side.

Hopkins invites Garfield in and begins offering up some more inducements to him. But it turns out she is testing him. And he fails... She orders him to get out! (But, as you can imagine, he doesn't.)

Later, after he has tried to tempt her with vodka bottles strewn about her room, he punches her out (!) and injects vodka into her system with a syringe! Then he forces her to imbibe more and to begin singing loudly.

Sondergaard, unaware of exactly what is happening, can only listen to the caterwauling in disgust. (Note Hermes pointing the way upstairs.)

Garfield has installed himself as the man of the house, condescendingly ordering Lake around.

Sensing disaster, Sondergaard calls Matthews to come over, but his wife Reza Royce will have none of it. She'd just been slighted by Hopkins at that fancy dinner of hers not long ago.

Garfield keeps Hopkins under the influence so that she can't prevent him from sponging off of her.

This great shot of her in despair reminded me of Gloria Swanson amid the ruins of the Roxy Theatre.

Sondergaard and Lake are virtually powerless against the manipulative young man.

...and the killings are far from over either! All under the watchful eye of the statues.

This mannequin, which does resemble a young Hopkins, figures into the plot line, though I won't divulge any more of it as I don't like to spoil.

As I've noted along the way, the cast of Savage Intruder is dotted with notable old school performers. Royce is yet one more. As a young lady, she'd worked in some silent movies before marrying no less than Josef Von Sternberg! The union only lasted three years. She became a frequent TV performer in the 1950s and acted in such horror movies as House of Wax (1950) and The Bat (1959.) She retired in 1976, passing away in 1980 of a heart attack at age 77.

English-born Matthews began working in movies in 1931, keeping very busy in supporting parts for decades after. He also was a very frequent TV actor, recurring on The Ann Sothern Show and The Beverly Hillbillies. Some of the films in which he appeared are The Raven (1935), The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), The Three Musketeers (1939), Now, Voyager (1942), Niagra (1953) and many others. He died in 1975 at the age of 75.

Wing had begun appearing as a guest on television in the early-'60s. Needless to say, opportunities at that time for an Asian actress tended to be limited. In this, her movie debut, there are at least two references to her ethnicity that would set today's tongues a-wagging, though it's something of an advancement that generally the relationship between Garfield and her raises no eyebrows. She continued to work on TV and in movies mostly in character parts, but worked on two short films just last year. She is 84 now.

Lake was the child of Vaudevillians and performed with them as a youth. By 1929 she was acting in movies, often as a high-voiced scatterbrain, particularly in a series of comic shorts in which she played the feather-brained mother of a family by the name of Kennedy (from 1931-1948.) Her younger brother was Arthur Lake, who found his own success in a series of Blondie movies. Always in demand, she worked up until 1977, passing away in 1980 at the age of 75.

Sondergaard was a stage actress from the late-1920s who made her film debut in Anthony Adverse (1936.) For her trouble, she was granted the Academy Award, the first one offered for Supporting Actress. She continued steadily in a wide variety of parts until the Hollywood Blacklist of the late 1940s ended her movie career (her husband had been named one of the Hollywood Ten.) Two decades later, she resumed her screen career on TV and in this film. She was a wondrously articulate performer whose voice could always be understood. Clearly averse to any sort of cosmetic augmentation, she was an elegant and bright person (you can watch a 1980 interview with her here.) She retired in 1982 and passed away in 1985 at age 86, following a series of strokes.

Examples of Ms. Sondergaard in her hey-day.

I haven't mentioned it yet, but you may have guessed. David Garfield was John David Garfield, the son of far more notable actor John Garfield. Heretofore having played mostly bit roles like "Police Surgeon" and "Ticket Seller" in movies, this was a big leap in terms of role prominence. His voice was very much like his father, and he was quite a bit taller than his dad, but the overall screen charisma just wasn't there. Soon after this, he was back to parts like "Party Guest" and "Customer."

His famous father was, like Sondergaard, greatly affected by the blacklist and died of a heart attack at age 39 as a result of the stress and trauma of it. When film roles of any sort petered out, the younger Garfield segued into film editing (with All the Right Moves, 1983, and The Karate Kid II, 1986, among his credits.) Sadly, he passed away from a heart attack as well at only age 51 in 1994.

Hopkins had enjoyed great success in the early-1930s, but her popularity began to slip a bit by the time the 1940s dawned. She'd been Margaret Mitchell's choice to play Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind (1939) and did test for it, but it was not to be. By the time she did The Old Maid (1939), costar Bette Davis had eclipsed her in terms of star power and billing. First, she'd seen Davis win an Oscar over her. Then she witnessed Davis win another Oscar for Jezebel (1938), a part Hopkins had created on Broadway! Add in the murmurings that Davis had enjoyed an affair with Hopkins' husband, director Anatole Litvak, and the two were dead set enemies. The were paired again in Old Acquaintance (1943) wherein Hopkins drove Davis mad, but the chemistry was captivating.

Like Davis, Hopkins was a chain smoker and it did take its toll on her beauty (as well as her teeth.) But she retained her palpable on-screen energy. She departed films for 6 years, doing some Broadway, until returning in 1949 to a supporting role in The Heiress while also embarking on a prolific career in the new medium of live television.

But by the time Davis had scored in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) and Hush, Hush... Sweet Charlotte (1964), there was no way Hopkins wasn't going to throw her hat into the ring as well. She attacked her role in Savage Intruder with gusto. There are even times when Hopkins brings Davis to mind in her performance. Unfortunately, the movie suffers from continuity issues and a lack of overall vision, though it's quite watchable nonetheless. One minute it's stylish and grand looking, the next it appears cheap-jack and disjointed!

Despite Hopkins' and Sondergaard's best efforts, Savage Intruder never even got a proper release. It was generally held back from circulation until 1974 when it came out as "Hollywood Horror House." By that time, Ms. Hopkins was no longer with us. Having been diagnosed with heart trouble, she defied doctors' orders and flew to a gala event and a screening of her classic hit The Story of Temple Drake (1933) in 1972, perishing in her hotel room soon after. She was 69.

This tacky lobby card from a foreign (Mexican?) release uses the movie's original title. It also, hilariously, depicts a scene not to be found in the movie with scantily-clad Wing running around with her nipples out...!

Most of the time Hopkins' name is mentioned these days, it's in regard to her combative relationship with Davis. (The two were "in" on the joke when it came to their feud, not that it wasn't based on some degree of reality!) Before her death, Davis went on a talk show tour and delighted in bringing up compatibility issues with Joan Crawford, Faye Dunaway and Miriam Hopkins. And remember, Davis' chief (and duplicitous) antagonist in Hush, Hush... was named "Miriam!"

 

Savage Intruder can be seen here.