Mann was born in 1920 in Kansas to two teachers (his father was a university sociology professor) but after several moves, the family landed in Nashville. He was the leader of his high drama club when he met Fred Coe who would become a lifelong friend, mentor and the man responsible for Mann's directing career. Mann graduated from Vanderbilt University with a degree in political science and then served in the Air Army Corps during WWII.
After leaving the military he got a master's fine arts degree in directing from the Yale School of Drama and followed that up by
securing directing gigs in stock productions. He was on his way.
Coe gave him his big break in television in New York doing those prestigious live shows such as Repertory Theater, Goodyear Playhouse, Producers' Showcase, Playhouse 90, Ford Star Jubilee, Philco Television Playhouse and others. It was an exciting time for all participants... actors, directors, writers, etc. They all knew they were involved in something heady and innovative.
Mann would have the good fortune to link up with playwright Paddy Chayefsky who was regarded as the father of the kitchen sink realism movement in American television. (I called it Italian cinema without the Italians.) His writing was stark, incisive and about ordinary people in ordinary situations. I didn't care for his early stuff but when it got to The Americanization of Emily and Network and The Hospital, I couldn't stay away.
Mann directed the television productions of Chayefsky's Marty and The Bachelor Party which would, in turn, because his first two films. He would enter the movies at the very top of his game so, of course, there was nowhere to go from there but down. Pity.
Marty (1955) is the downbeat story of a decent hard-working Bronx butcher who is longing for the love of a good woman. It was brought to the screen by the producing partnership of Burt Lancaster and Harold Hecht. They didn't see it as having a whole lot of appeal and were planning on using it as a tax-write off.
Rod Steiger, who starred in the television version, said no to the movie version because he wanted no connection with Lancaster. (I think that's another posting.) Lancaster, in turn, thought highly of Ernest Borgnine with whom he'd worked in From Here to Eternity (1953) and Vera Cruz (1954). Marty would provide Borgnine with two big career moves... it would be his first starring role and his first sympathetic part.
Well, hey, glory hallelujah, this little film caught on like wildfire... first with the critics who took to their dictionaries and thesauruses looking for praise to heap on Lancaster's little discard. And the public followed suit and then came the awards. Oscar nominations totaled six with for four huge wins... Chayefsky for his writing, Borgnine, Mann and the film itself. These days the raves are still there, perhaps chiefly because it is now regarded as the first indie film.
As for my take, well, hey, gee, to each his own. It'd be horrible if we all liked the same things and I assure you I would go kicking and screaming to Marvel stuff. I thought the glimpse into the average life of an average guy was just plain dull. I was, however, happy for Borgnine who had already paid his dues and was a very good actor.
How funny that I wasn't enthralled with The Bachelor Party (1957) either although a decided preference over Marty. It's about five bookkeeping coworkers out on the town to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of one of them. On the upbeat side there is riveting performances from Don Murray and Jack Warden and Carolyn Jones was so watchable. There was also something to be gained from the story but... and it's a huge one... it is so caustic. The film was clearly the Glengarry Glen Ross of its day.
Then came the wretched Desire Under the Elms (1958). I shouldn't even mention it because I have nothing good to say. It is sometimes called overcooked Eugene O'Neill and that'll do. It concerns an overwrought New England farm family and the fight and jealousy over inheriting the property. It also ventures into a stepmother's rather inappropriate relationship with her stepson. I've always thought the casting was so wrong. Sophia Loren is the stepmother, Burl Ives her husband (huh?) and Tony Perkins the son/stepson (I could get his facial tics just thinking of it).
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| Mann (center) and his esteemed Separate Tables cast |
My first Mann film, Separate Tables (1958), was a big favorite although a bit adult at the time. I could even get where someone would call it dull. I, however, was lured by a quartet of stars that I found dazzling... Rita Hayworth, Deborah Kerr, David Niven and Burt Lancaster. It introduced me to Wendy Hiller whom I've held in awe ever since. I knew of the crisp Gladys Cooper who kind of scared my young soul. And mmmm, even Rod Taylor had his own table. Yes, they sat at their separate tables but it was their various stories that held the promise and these actors to propel them forward.
So, I started off liking Mann's work. Then a few years later I caught the first three and thought, hmmm, I'll have to stay tuned. If you've forgotten or didn't know, even as a young person, I started following the work of directors I admired even without knowing what exactly it was I liked about them.
Relationship-exploring is something I most definitely love about dramatic films and Middle of the Night (1959) was just that. It concerns an upper middle-aged garment manufacturer's obsession with one of his employees. It was the third collaboration of Mann and Chayefsky and starred another unlikely screen pairing in the form of Kim Novak and Fredric March. Some people thought Novak was all wrong (again!) but I thought it was March. He needed to be more attractive somehow. I could just never get behind March in a romantic leading man way. Novak considered it her best work and she may be right. I don't regard it as anyone else's best. It was hardly a great hit.
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| Preston and McGuire trying to work it out |
On the other hand, The Dark at the Top of the Stairs (1960), has long been one of my favorite films of all-time and I waxed rhapsodic about some years back. The story of the Flood family greatly appealed to me. In 1920's Oklahoma the father has just been fired, the mother is frigid trying to make ends meet, the teen daughter is going out on her first date, the young son is a mama's boy, a fussy aunt is coming to visit and a hairdresser is in love with the husband. Based on a autobiographical William Inge work (he is the son), the film stars Robert Preston, Dorothy McGuire, Eva Arden and Angela Lansbury, all at the top of their games. Damn, I loved this movie. For his steering of this one, I forgive Mann for the ones I didn't care for.
Up to this point, Mann only directed films that were prior television programs or Broadway shows or both. With The Outsider (1961), he lucked out with a good story. Ira Hayes was a Pima Indian who fought his way through life and the military all the way to help raise the American flag on Iwo Jima. It was a new genre for Mann but he acquitted himself and guided Tony Curtis to one of his best roles.
Mann branched out again with romantic comedy. Two Doris Day flicks, Lover Come Back (1961) and That Touch of Mink (1962) were big crowd pleasers. The former is the better film, her third and least successful pairing with Rock Hudson. To this day I laugh myself stupider thinking of her slapping him while he's sleeping. I was surprised that her pairing with Cary Grant in the latter wasn't as exciting as I anticipated it would be. They seemed an ideal pairing in the what-took-so-long vein.
Rock Hudson occasionally broke away from his insipid comedies and what better way than to butch it up for a war film. He was impressive as a flyboy, along with Rod Taylor, in A Gathering of Eagles (1963). It was pretty, good, and another war film for Mann.
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| Geraldine Page and Glenn Ford finding romance |
Geraldine Page and I had something in common. We weren't fond of romantic comedy. Thank goodness we each made an exception for Dear Heart (1964). It is a light-hearted look at loneliness which takes place at a hotel jammed with conventions. Page falls for a womanizer (Glenn Ford) who is about to become engaged (to Angela Lansbury). As each experiences a new view of life, audiences were charmed and in on the fun. It was better than the director's two Day comedies. It didn't hurt that Jack Jones and Andy Williams had huge hits with the Henry Mancini title song.
Making Mister Buddwing (1966) was a mistake and I made one by seeing it. But what movie buff wouldn't be seduced by a cast like James Garner, Jean Simmons, Suzanne Pleshette, Katharine Ross and Lansbury? Why a man on a search for his identity had to do so in such a boring manner is beyond me. Didn't anyone want it to be a success? It was so horrible, my friends, that Mann high-tailed it back to television, where for the most part, he stayed.
He became the unofficial king of directors for television movies, several of them prestigious. In 1982 he returned to the big screen for the final time with Disney's Night Crossing which I liked. Two families making plans to escape East Germany via hot-air balloons made for a few edge-of-the-seat moments. Fine acting came from John Hurt, Jane Alexander, Beau Bridges and Glynnis O'Connor.
Mann was well-liked by his actors and crews. Many of them worked with him on a number of films and that speaks volumes. Angela Lansbury holds the movie acting crown with three films with Mann. He was never known for any personal issues (we did hear about his daughter dying in a car accident) and he avoided the Hollywood limelight. He was simply a dedicated craftsman.
As with any director, he liked to have his way and he handled it in a most professional way. That way seemed to indicate that he preferred working in television. The great side of that is he brought us the wonderful works he did.
Delbert Mann died of pneumonia in 2007 in Los Angeles. He was 87 years old.
Next posting:
Guilty Pleasures
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