Alice Faye, Raymond Queneau, and Me

Today sees the release of 20th Century Fox's excellent, extra-filled box The Alice Faye Collection, featuring four films starring the great Fox musical star, whose reputation has in recent years fallen into what I consider a very puzzling neglect. My friend and fellow fan Ed Hulse believes the set will win her new fans; Faye, who passed away in 1998, obviously doesn't need them herself—no, the pleasure and gratification will be on the part of those who discover her unique charm. The pictures in the box are the 1937 On the Avenue, also starring the now-forgotten (some would say justifiably) comedy team The Ritz Brothers; 1940's Lillian Russell, with Faye portraying a showbiz legend of a previous era in a picture said to be her personal favorite; the colorful 1941 That Night In Rio, and my personal favorite, Busby Berkeley's ravishing The Gang's All Here (from which the image below, which depicts Faye singing the great Warren/Robin torch song "No Love, No Nothin'", derives).

Back in 1993 I had the great privilege of bodyguarding Miss Faye. Sort of...

I got an offer from some friends who were involved in the Cinecon Classic Film Festival that year: my accomodations would be comped if I were to perform some duties for the fest, one of which would be providing some security for Miss Faye, who would be doing a few Q and As and signings. The Cinecon crowd was, and I presume still is, very passionate about its stars, and Miss Faye's appearance was the biggest of the several big deals going on that year. (The great Francis Dee of I Walked WIth A Zombie fame was another. I recall that Jody McCrea—her son with Joel McCrea and the originator of the "Bonehead" character in the Annette-and-Frankie beach party movies wasn't too thrilled to be there with her. And then there was Marie Windsor, who was asked at a dinner what it was like kissing Elisha Cook, Jr. in The Killing. "Better than it would be kissing him today!" she guffawed of the then 92-year-old.)

One of the luminaries who showed up to pay tribute to Miss Faye—who was still lovely and full of life and happy to be greeting her public—was none other than Hugh Hefner, with his pal Chuck McCann in tow. He told Faye in reverent tones of his schoolboy crush on her when he watched her in movie palaces in the '30s and '40s. "You and 200 other people on this line, sir. Now move it along if you don't mind," I told him. No, I didn't.

One of the many others who have shared Hefner's infatuation, it so happens, was the French novelist, philosopher and polymath Raymond Queneau, author of Zazie dans le Metro, founder of the innovative literary quasi-movement Oulipo, and an all-around intellectual titan who's worshipped as a god in France but not very well known here. The heroine of Queneau's Pierrot mon Ami is patterned after Faye, and at one point in the book its hero goes to le cinema to see the Faye-starring In Old Chicago. Going that one better, the main female in Queneau's Saint Glinglin is actually named "Alice Phaye."

Now one technique I've honed as an interviewer is dropping a piece of special knowledge I have about a figure (this only works, obviously, if I actually have a piece of special knowledge) so's as to better, you know, bond, or something. I can recall Avery Brooks, for instance, loosening up a lot when I mentioned his work in a production of the Harry Partch opera Revelation in the Courthouse Square. (Given that I was interviewing him apropos Star Trek: Deep Space Nine at the time, I imagine his appreciation ran quite deep.) While I wasn't interviewing Miss Faye or, but I thought she might be appreciative of this esoteric little tidbit about her. "You know, Miss Faye," I began, "You have followers in some interesting circles. There's this French novelist and philosopher..." and so I went on.

When I finished the spiel, she muttered something along the lines of, "Well, isn't that nice." And looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

"It could've been worse," a friend said after I had crestfallenly related the tale to him. "She could've said, 'Honey, I'm big everywhere.'"

UPDATE: About that "excellent" characterization of the Faye box: in the Feb. 20 New York Times, the very discerning Dave Kehr provides the sad history of Gang's negative and slams the image quality of the digitally boosted disc. It's a review that brought to mind the old Chico Marx line "Who you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?" Here's my perspective: nothing's ever likely to touch the UCLA-created IB Technicolor print of Gang I saw at the above-cited Cinecon in '93. Nevertheless, I was pretty pleasantly surprised by the image quality of the Fox disc. (The image at the top of this entry is a screen grab directly from the disc, incidentally.) It was certainly a far sight better than the darkened Eastmancolor print that was screened at the Avon Theater in Stamford for my recent Critic's Choice sojourn there. (That print, much to my shock, really wowed the crowd, which just goes to prove that these days we're really starved for Technicolor on earth as well as heaven.) The generally unforgiving DVD Beaver is also favorably impressed with Gang. I note this not to gainsay Dave, but to point out there are some differences of opinion on this matter.

Comments

[Dave Kehr]

Glen,
That probably WAS the same print shown at your Critics Choice screening that Fox used for the transfer, since that's the only one they possess. It seems to have been digitally "brightened," which only makes the highlighted colors look more artificial and pasted-on. Fox has done quite well with color films in the past, like "Leave Her to Heaven." But they blew it big time on this one. You owe it to yourself to see some more vintage Technicolor on a big screen. There is quite a difference.

all best

Dave

[Fabricio Cumming]

Hi Friend,

I see you watch the Alice Faye collection dvds, Can yu help me with an information??? In The Gang´s All Here DVd have a Ed Sullivan show with Carmen Miranda like guest star???