Tub Time: Here Comes the "Rain."

We've done a lot of posts over the years featuring actors in the bathtub. You can take a closer look at examples here and here. And then we sometimes focus on one instance, like here. It's been a while because there are only so many that haven't been touched upon already. But today's independently-made movie is so obscure that I couldn't even scare up a copy of its release poster! All there seems to be is this soundtrack album (and, to many folks, the music - most notably the oft-recorded bossa nova title tune - is the most memorable thing about it anyway!) 'Course round these here parts, we go for more than just music. We zero in on the important stuff like flashes of chest. Ha ha! Anyway... The Gentle Rain (1966) is a pretty sappy romance with the benefit of location filming and two attractive, familiar faces in the leading roles.

Christopher George and Lynda Day star as a former architect, now reduced to a draftsman, and a young lady, freshly annulled from her brief marriage. Both have "issues," his being rendered mute from a traumatic experience and hers being frigidity, which led to her marriage breaking apart. 

He is working in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, where she comes to flee her recently broken marital union. After meeting cute at a party, which doesn't end well, they are reunited once more and hit it off better.

As I mentioned, the fantabulous location scenery is a considerable visual asset (though no particularly decent print of the film has seen the light of day as of this writing. The best copy can be found on the WatchTCM website.)

You can't buy a view like this (and while you can now make one, via CGI, no thanks, I'm not interested...)

Here, amid the grandeur of some breathtaking waterfalls, they even are granted a rainbow, courtesy of Mother Nature.

Speaking of... Another benefit comes by way of (the limited) shots along the beach, where gloriously-tan locals frolic in the sand, often in abbreviated swimwear.

I confess I was disappointed, though, when I realized the person behind Day on their stomach is a gal. When you think of this movie being filmed in 1965, not long after Walt Disney beseeched Annette Funicello not to wear a bikini in her Beach Party movies, of someone shown sunbathing topless, it's just a skosh daring.

One of the locals knocks his ball into Day in order to capture her attention, but she's only got eyes for George.

Our first gander at George without his customary shirt and/or suit comes when he's shaving in preparation of his first date with Day. George in real life began as an Eileen Ford male model and, in fact, was featured in a 1962 shaving ad in which he played a groom preparing for his wedding night. The very popular spot got him a lot of attention and may be why this scene is pretty lengthy. (It's also nearly unwatchable for me because it seems to spoof his alleged shaving ability by having him nick his face multiple times!)

Day had been an Eileen Ford model in real life, too, and had first met George when they were dressed as a bride and groom for an ad. This movie marked their reunion, though she was married at the time. (The two fell in love for real and in 1970, she divorced her husband of seven years and married George, thereafter being billed as Lynda Day George.) Here, the couple is grappling with the hurdles of their tenuous romance.

Ultimately, things do take a turn for the better and the wordless George is able to thaw out the frigid Miss Day.

It must be love... And now to the featured topic of our post.

The morning after their tryst, Day is in the kitchen cooking an egg while George is scrubbing up in his claw-foot bathtub. (The bathroom, surely an actual Brazilian apartment, is very rundown and ratty looking!)

This has to be one of the first examples of an "American" film (it was produced and directed by Burt Balaban, whose father ran Paramount Studios from 1936-1964) to depict a bidet! (And how' bout that blue toilet paper.)

Though we cannot see anything, there is no visible evidence of flesh-toned briefs or anything else on George's body. (And we all know from his 1974 Playgirl spread that he was not shy about being naked.)

Finally, Day enters with his breakfast.

It takes a moment before he realizes that she has entered.

Even though they're fresh out of the sack together, he starts frantically trying to find a way to cover himself, eventually using the little yellow washcloth hanging on the side of the tub.

But she aint' havin' it!

She reaches in and snatches it up.

After a moment of being startled...

...he grabs the towel from above and uses that as a shield.

She ain't havin' that, either! Ha ha! But this time he grabs her by the arm.

He drags her into the tub, right onto his lap. If ya can't beat 'em, make 'em join ya!

I cannot recommend The Gentle Rain as a stunning piece of entertainment, but if you like one of both of the stars, it might go down better. And it has the aforementioned scenery and music in its favor. The Georges were very happy from their initial romance through his premature death in 1983 at age 52 from a heart attack (he was almost never without a cigarette or, later, a cigar.) One other reason that this movie seemed to fall through the cracks is that producer-director Balaban died himself prior to its release! He was only 43 and I haven't been able to discern what happened there. Not the world's most uplifting end to this post, I suppose...! 

The End.

Poseidon Quickies: A Sneaking "Suspicion"

If I come off as a "know-it-all" around here sometimes (often? LOL), believe me, I'm not. I learn things during research the same way readers find them out when I unearth the info in my posts. I like to think that I'm really up on certain subjects, though, so when something sneaks by me it can be a big surprise. For example, I know that there have been multiple times when films helmed by "The Master of Suspense" Alfred Hitchcock have been remade. (The most prominent time in recent years coming in 1998 when Gus Van Sant did a virtual shot-for-shot remake of the 1960 classic Psycho.) Even Hitch himself remade one of his hits. The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) was redone by him in 1956. Here is a little round-up of some of the re-dos by other folks (if I've forgotten any, I'm sure someone will make me aware.) 

1951's Strangers on a Train was remade (with a female villain - Carol Lynley wielding a harpoon!) as Once You Kiss a Stranger (1969.)

Somehow foreign release posters always seemed to come up with something a bit more visually arresting... (Ben Affleck attempted another remake of this one with his Gone Girl, 2014, director David Fincher, but the project was abandoned in pre-production in 2015.)

The Lady Vanishes (1938) was given a comedic spin in this 1979 fizzle.

 

Dial M for Murder (1954) was redone for television in 1981.

Some of the cast members "phoning" it in... Ha ha!

One of his box office flops, Under Capricorn (1949), was redone as an Australian miniseries in 1983.

Likewise, the lesser-known Jamaica Inn (1939) was expanded into a British miniseries in 1983 as well.

Hitchcock's personal favorite of his films, Shadow of a Doubt (1943), was remade for TV in 1991 (with "Hitchcock Blonde" Tippi Hedren appearing as a victim.)

This one had already been reworked in 1958 for Step Down to Terror.

In 1992, the classic Cary Grant-Ingrid Bergman thriller Notorious (1946) was remade for TV.

And in 1998, Rear Window (1954) was utilized as a project for Christopher Reeve, who'd been left disabled following a horseback-riding incident.

Needless to say, the vast majority of these remakes were more than pale next to the originals. This might be attributed to lower budgets, the absence of stars of the magnitude with whom Hitchcock preferred to work or just the dilution of (or tired reworking of) story lines that had once held moviegoers in thrall. Or maybe the times had changed a bit much for the plot to still work feasibly. Anyway... I knew that the aforementioned films had been made and I have seen most of them. But one sneaked by me! In no way, shape or form did I have any knowledge of one of Hitchcock's more prominent thrillers having been remade:

1941's Suspicion had Joan Fontaine (of the prior year's smash hit Rebecca) being wooed by a suave Cary Grant who may or may not be planning to do her in! For a 1987 television remake, these iconic, unforgettable stars were replaced by...

...Jane Curtin and Anthony Andrews.

"Dial R for Remake."

In the original, Grant suavely invades Fontaine's first class train compartment and talks his way out of being shunted into the general seating. Grant plays a charming, seemingly well-to-do man of standing while Fontaine is a bookish, very reserved young lady. She's got money, but isn't exactly overflowing with flash.

I realize in the 1940s, when MGM "slums" tended to be cleaner than most suburban streets, that people were always presented looking rather polished, even when they were not meant to be. But my God! Ha ha ha!! Curtin is supposed to turn Andrews' head looking like this? (True, perhaps she's being targeted no matter what, but geesh...!)

When next we see her, she's suddenly Auntie Mame at the hunt. (In an awkward plot adjustment, the flatly American Curtin is explained by her mother being married into a titled British family and her living there with them.)

Andrews can hardly believe it's the same mouse he met on the train. She's made up, is sans eyeglasses (watch out for that ditch!) and she's dolled up in English riding togs.

Soon enough thereafter, she's back to looking like Swamp Thing. In an amusing touch, this bookworm is seen leafing through a coffee table tome on the films of... Alfred Hitchcock!

Curtin's mom in this is played by Betsy Blair, who knew a thing or two about de-glamorization. She played a very plain schoolteacher who wins the heart of Ernest Borgnine in Marty (1955) and was Oscar-nominated for it (losing to Jo Van Fleet in East of Eden.)

Andrews tracks Curtin down and decides to accompany her to church, but at the last moment diverts her to a walk along the cliffs.

As in the original, Curtin mistakes Andrews' actions as threatening and is afraid he's about to send her over the edge. But apparently that's not the case.

In 1941, Grant playfully decides to redo Fontaine's hair and the moment has an amusing little pay-off.

In 1988, Andrews decides he's going to redo Curtin's tresses and it is neither amusing, nor is it an improvement!

Curtin's mother and stepfather (Michael Hordern of 007 movie fame) aren't sure about the company she's keeping. Hordern, in particular, just. does not approve of Andrews at all.

And though Andrews undoubtedly has the veddy British bearing and demeanor down pat for this role, he simply cannot begin to engender the sort of appeal that Grant offered. Grant was a controversial choice for his role in the original because he was known more for light comedy and there was fear that audiences would reject any notion that he might have it in for Fontaine. With Andrews, no such speculation really matters, though one does wonder throughout this update if, 46 years later, audiences might be ready for the source novel's ending (which was not followed for the first film.)

Curtin, on the flip side, was known chiefly for comedy, so she was the one this time who welcomed the opportunity for something different. In striving to avoid 1940s' Hollywood histrionics and the sort of mugging that could occur on a sitcom, she underplays much of her material. This lends an unintentional dullness to the proceedings and she calmly recites the vast majority of her lines.

Anyway, Andrews crashes an elegant party and before long is sweeping Curtin off her feet.

He takes her from the party and for a drive...

...eventually winding up at her estate, where a looming portrait of her (step) father presides over the room. 

Next thing you know, they're married and honeymooning on the Orient Express.

Once back, they move into a (truly hideous 1980s-remodeled) new home.

And while we're never 100% sure exactly what it is Andrews does, he's got a pert young secretary on hand.

Then comes an old pal of Andrews', Beaky Twaite, well cast and adeptly played by Jonathan Lynn.

Nigel Bruce (of Dr. Watson fame) essayed this part the first time.

Thanks to a series of lies and misrepresentations from Andrews, Curtin begins to suspect that Lynn may be the target of Andrews' financial desperation or worse!

Just as her suspicions are near their highest, she and Lynn are playing Scrabble.

She's forming words (apparently no longer needing those pesky eyeglasses!) and as she listens to her husband drone on, her imagination gets hold of her.

This spells trouble... She places the word murder on the board, then collapses from a faint onto the floor! (There is no reason on earth for her to be wearing a huge, voluminous black skirt here except...

That's what Fontaine had on when she hit the floor back in 1941, albeit in a dress. I'll give the director and crew of the remake credit for hitting this visual pretty closely to what happened during the first go 'round.

Things just aren't going well and before it's all said and done, Curtin has taken to her bed.

No one who's ever seen it could forget the sight of Grant coming up the spiral staircase, draped in shadows, with an ominous glass of milk which may or may not be poisoned. (Hitch lit the glass from inside with a battery-operated bulb in order to make it stand out.)

Here, the moment is still given its ominous due, but there was just no way to compete with the original movie's treatment of it.

The 1941 film's frenzied climax occurs with Grant driving like a maniac along a dangerous road with Fontaine fretful of being tossed out to her death. Yes, in this still photo, there are some "big" expressions going on.

But I'll take those over the unintentionally funny ones being offered up in the 1987 edition...

In fact, when it comes to the whole thing, I can't help but prefer the original and can't even grasp why anyone felt the need to remake it, especially if nothing was done along the way to enhance or improve it.

I will stick to the classic rendition. But... If you should wish to experience this, it's available on Tubi, free with ads. I watched the whole thing through, wondering all along if they might update the ending, but I will leave that resolution to those who wish to find out for themselves.

Though more than a few speculated that her loss the prior year for Rebecca (1940) contributed to it, Miss Fontaine took home an Oscar for Suspicion. That's not something that was ever in danger of happening to Curtin.

That's not to suggest that Curtin was a slouch. At the time of Suspicion (which was actually an installment of American Playhouse), she had won two Emmys for her work on Kate & Allie with Susan St. James. (A third nomination was lost to Rue McClanahan of The Golden Girls.) A single Golden Globe nomination was lost to Shelley Long for Cheers.

Prior to that, she'd been nominated twice for her performances on Saturday Night Live. (Losing once to Gilda Radner, the second time as part of the ensemble, she lost to Steve and Eydie Celebrate Irving Berlin!) Miss Curtin is now 77 and continues to work on screen.

Stage actor Andrews appeared on Upstairs, Downstairs, among other programs, but first gained significant fame from costarring with Jeremy Irons in the landmark miniseries Brideshead Revisited. He won a Golden Globe for that and received an Emmy nomination as well, but that went to Mickey Rooney for Bill.

The year after Suspicion, Andrews was put to very good use as Prince Edward (opposite Jane Seymour) in The Woman He Loved, which is most likely where I first saw him.

It practically goes without saying that he is not "my" type, though there are doubtlessly fans who feel otherwise, so I include this pic. Now 77, he retired from the screen in 2020.

Ta ta, for now, darlings!