I asked myself this question a few years ago, while watching a 2017 reboot of King Kong in which the main female character, unlike Fay Wray in the 1933 original, never screams. Not once. I’ve since noticed this “no-scream” trend with other recent action and horror films (a notable exception being Annabelle Wallis in the surprisingly campy 2021 release Malignant). Is it that today the Scream Queen is considered un-PC? Do filmmakers worry that showing a woman character screaming will render her weak and helpless? If so, this kind of thinking is nothing more than misogyny disguised as feminism.
What I lack in bodily strength, I make up for in lung power. My scream has frightened off would-be attackers. My scream saved me (once) from being raped. My scream is not shameful. My scream is a weapon. My scream is powerful.
So without further adieu, all hail The Soda Fountain’s Top Five Hollywood Scream Queens of alltime. Distressed Dames, yes. Damsels in Distress? Never.
Last week, my partner and I visited beautiful Niagara Falls. Staying over for four nights, we had the opportunity to go exploring past the tourist hotspots and discovered that there are indeed many forgotten treasures to be found beyond the Horseshoe.
Unlike Toronto which, to rephrase Joni Mitchell, paved paradise to put up a condo lot, Niagara Falls has held on to its many interesting historical buildings, such as the vacant Toronto Power Generating System, which despite its name is located along the Niagara River. Built in 1906, the plant shut down operations in 1974 but the impressive, Beaux-Arts style building still stands. We also spotted an iron scow, above the Falls, that has been there since 1918 after a historic rescue.
It was the abandoned Inn on the Niagara Parkway Motel however, which captivated my interest and imagination the most. We spotted this Hitchcock-ian relic on our drive home and I insisted on stopping to take some photos.
Perhaps due to its mouthful of a name (is it an Inn or a Motel? Pick one!), there is frustratingly little information to be found online. The sign and building look to my untrained eyes to be from the 1950s or 1960s and according to AbandonedCanada.com, it seems to have been closed for sometime. In April of 2019, there was a fire at the abandoned inn but I can’t seem to find the cause of it.
Once a quiet and cozy get-away for Niagara sightseers, the Inn on the Niagara Parkway Motel is now a hideaway for tired ghosts.
Addendum and Update May 5th, 2021: Thank you to two local readers who advised me that sadly, there was another fire at the abandoned Inn on Saturday, May 1st, 2021. For more information on the Inn on the Niagara Parkway Motel, please see this great article by the Niagara Falls Review, which reports on the recent fire and also provides some interesting background info on the Inn itself. According to this article, the Inn on the Niagara Parkway Motel opened its doors in June of 1959 and at the time boasted both a restaurant and a dairy bar (mmmm…ice cream!).
The odd one out in a sea of perfect cheekbones and symmetrical faces, Bette Davis was the closest thing to an “every-woman” that classic Hollywood ever got. Dismissed early on in her career by studio heads who didn’t find her “sexy” enough, the feisty trailblazing Davis went on to become one of the most popular, iconic and enduring figures of film and pop culture.
In some ways, Davis was the female Lon Chaney, “The Man of a Thousand Faces”. In films like Of Human Bondage (1934), Mr. Skeffington (1944) and What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962), she portrayed unlikable characters with a relish that bordered on sadomasochism and insisted on using “ugly” make-up to look more hideous than her directors thought necessary. In her breakout role as Mildred Rogers, the vile wretch who cruelly toys with poor, sensitive Philip Carey (Leslie Howard) in Of Human Bondage (1934), Bette, in her own words, “made it pretty clear that Mildred was not going to die of a dread disease looking as if a deb had missed her noon nap.” During the filming of Mr. Skeffington (1944), when her director Vincent Sherman balked at the over-the-top make-up she insisted on wearing to play Fanny Skeffington, a deteriorating socialite who has lost her looks to diphtheria, Bette shrugged. “My audience likes to see me do this kind of thing,” she replied.
Those large, infamous eyes were like that of a doe but onscreen Bette Davis often possessed the look of a startled rattlesnake. Like a razor blade hidden inside a tube of pink lipstick, her kiss – and words – had plenty of bite. In films such as The Letter (1940) and All About Eve (1950), Davis delivered cutting and suggestive lines with her own signature blend of caustic sensuality. Here is a look at some of Bette’s most unforgettable on-screen quotes (with a fabulous off-screen one thrown in for good measure):
There is a scene in Some Like It Hot (1959) which never fails to elicit rapturous sighs from both my boyfriend and I:
On the run after accidentally witnessing a gangland massacre, musicians Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Jack Lemmon) are going undercover as “Josephine” and “Daphne”, the newest (and the most stylish) members of an all-girl jazz band. They’re about to board their train to Florida when they spot Sugar (Marilyn Monroe), the band’s voluptuous lead singer and ukulele player. “Look at that! Look how she moves,” Daphne whispers, admiring Sugar’s sumptuous strut. “It’s just like jello on springs!”
My boyfriend’s awe is directed at the devilish wiggle and angelic beauty of Marilyn Monroe, and while I certainly can understand (and share) his admiration, my own sighs are reserved for the gorgeous outfits adorned by Curtis’ haughty and elegant Josephine and Lemmon’s sassy jazz-baby Daphne.
In a 2001 interview with Leonard Maltin, Tony Curtis, who based the refined Josephine on his mother and Grace Kelly, revealed that after he and Jack had unsuccessfully tried on the cast-off dresses of Debbie Reynolds and Norma Shearer, he approached the film’s director/producer Billy Wilder and asked if the famed costume and gown designer Orry-Kelly could custom make their wardrobe. The results were breathtakingly fabulous. Continue reading “Burning Up the Motion Picture Production Code: Some Like It Hot (1959)”→