MR. HOBBS TAKES A VACATION: Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox 1962) Twilight Time
Billed as a
featherweight family comedy, Henry Koster’s Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation (1962) is actually a transitional piece
in American cinema; straddling the chasm between light-headed cornball
silliness, typified by the all-American shag-carpeted conservatism of the
Eisenhower generation, while foreshadowing the moribund mores in America’s soon
to be moth-eaten social fabric. Had banker, Roger Hobbs (James Stewart)
bothered to look in his rear view, he might have seen this bittersweet implosion
fast approaching. Just so we’re clear: this isn’t Father of the Bride (1950); the tale of a turbulent – if, temporary
– chaos, brought upon by a disruptive event: a wedding.
No - author,
Edward Streeter, who wrote both novels on which each film is based, has more
revealing subtleties in mind this time around. So do Academy Award-winning
screenwriter, Nunnally Johnson and director Koster, who carefully balance Mr. Hobbs’ homespun charm with a more
unvarnished critique – or rather, farewell to that quaint ‘Leave It To Beaver’/Father Knows
Best’ epoch, slowly fading into obscurity. Unlike the Banks family in Father of the Bride, the Hobbs clan is
suffering from an internal malaise; agitated by a generational gap of
tug-o-war, with tinges of the so called sexual revolution peppered in for good
measure.
In James
Stewart, both Streeter and Koster have found their embodiment of Roger Hobbs:
Stewart, having graduated the ranks of movie-land stardom; now, of a sufficient
age to pull off this amiable curmudgeon, whose heart is in the right place,
even if, presumably, the rest of him would rather be somewhere else. And it’s quite a good show to sit back and
watch Stewart’s harried husband – usually the calm and collected man of
integrity and action, suddenly lose his cool; almost fantasizing he could take
his pint-sized grandson, Peter (Peter Oliphant) - who keeps shouting “I hate Bompa!” – down to the woodshed
for a good ole fashion thrashing; suddenly careworn and flippant, mouthing, “Aw…to hell with it!” when the cottage’s
mechanical pump chronically dies on him; confused by the huffed exodus of the
family’s beloved Swedish housekeeper, Brenda (Minerva Urecal), who riotously
mistakes Roger’s invite to get some ‘sun
on the beach’ as a personal insult; or deliciously allowing himself the
thirty second ogle of the oversexed sun worshipper, Marika Carter (Valerie
Varga).
Even before
the show gets underway, we can sincerely empathize with Roger Hobbs, dictating a
rather morbid letter to his secretary (Maida Severn), to be opened upon his
death and presumably read aloud to his wife and unappreciative offspring; a
final chastisement from beyond the grave and/or sweet revenge for having
endured – and survived – this imposed family vacation, for which another, more
private getaway seems rather heartfelt, necessary and justifiably in order. The
embers of Stewart’s penchant for wily comedy (a skill honed during his early
days as the male beauty) are still very much alive beneath his frosty mantle of
graying hair. But to Hobbs, Stewart brings so much more; the sage and sobering
wisdom of a man gone through the war; and even flashes of that spookier
misanthrope given full flourish for the likes of directors Alfred Hitchcock and
Anthony Mann. Yes, Roger Hobbs is an uncannily well-rounded characterization; made
skeptical and evasive, and just a tad chary about his own children, whom he
unexpectedly comes to regard as complete strangers.
And yet,
Stewart’s stalwart really has no one to blame but himself. In his zeal to provide
all the monetary luxuries his family could possibly desire, Roger Hobbs has
forsaken his paternal responsibilities to mold and guide the next generation.
Even at the start of Mr. Hobbs Takes a
Vacation, the most Roger can hope for is parental damage control; his feeble
attempts to stave off this self-inflicted dry rot (pretending to support one
estranged son-in-law in order to delay his inevitable separation from eldest
daughter, Susan while, planting the seeds of doubt in another son-in-law’s head
about the buxom beach bunny with whom he’s contemplating a casual fling) are
Band-Aid solutions at best to problems far more psychologically complex than
anything allowed to proliferate within the context of the actual movie.
Arguably, the ‘vacation’ Mr. Hobbs takes is the ‘quiet’ before the real storm,
never entirely addressed herein. Indeed, rough times are ahead. But after all, Mr. Hobbs Takes A Vacation is meant to
be charming – and it is: all about this benevolent family guy and his doting
wife, Peggy (magnificently breathed life by the perennially elegant, Maureen
O’Hara); byproducts from the ‘greatest generation’, not entirely willing or
even ready to relinquish their ensconced ultra-buttoned down conservatism to
this new ‘let it all hang out’ breed.
And a good
thing too – at least, as far as Streeter’s own middle-class morality is
concerned. For the movie, as well as the novel on which it is based, is not as
pessimistic as all that about the future of the American family. The Hobbs household
is not going the way of the dodo any time soon. Not so long as they are open to
change – at least, in small increments. And change is coming – charging up the weather-beaten and prematurely-aged
front stoop of their leased summer home along an isolated stretch of Laguna
Beach; the Gothic manor guaranteed to make even the likes of Charles Addams
blush; complete with creaky steps and a loose newel post knob; the latter a
fairly obvious homage to the reoccurring sight gag played on Stewart’s George
Bailey in Frank Capra’s beloved It’s A
Wonderful Life (1946); arguably the turning point in Jimmy Stewart’s movie
career.
For all his
bungling as the head of this disconnected flock, Roger Hobbs, like his
counterpoint, George Bailey in the aforementioned Capra classic, happens onto
unlikely solutions to his familial problems; either from sheer desperation or,
more often, by lucky coincidence. It is perhaps far more fascinating to critique
Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation from the
vantage of all the seismic shifts having shaken, eroded, and rebuilt our
impressions of the American family since; the image of the strong, supportive
male figure (a main staple in Hollywood, circa the 1930’s) already ground down into
quaint hypocrisy in movies like Life
With Father (1947) by the end of the 1940’s. Hollywood’s patriarchal
impressions leading up to Mr. Hobbs
are further marginalized by an increasing parade of lovably obtuse and mildly
out of touch, crotchety old buggers, pulled back from the brink of making
complete fools of themselves by the proverbial ‘good woman’ at their side.
Roger Hobbs does indeed have a very good woman standing next to his. However,
this being James Stewart, his alter ego asserts a fairly solid head on his shoulders
from time to time. Point blank: Roger doesn’t need the ‘little wife’ to solve
every crisis. She helps, but that’s about all.
Take the
moment at the yacht club, as a perfect example; Hobbs determined to recast his
youngest wallflower, Katey (Lauri Peters) from reluctant debutante to belle of
the ball; paying prospective suitors five dollars a head to sashay her around
the dance floor. It’s a temporary fix at best, designed to momentarily quell
Katey’s adolescent insecurities about her unattractive braces. Yet, both the
girl and her father are spared abject humiliation when one of the boys in the
queue, Joe Carmady (played by the ever-affable teen heartthrob, Fabian) just
happens to be the sort of upstanding citizen Hobbs would ideally wish for;
returning the fiver and, thereafter, pursuing a very meaningful puppy love
romance (complete with prerequisite serenade to Henry Mancini’s toss-away tune,
‘Cream Puff’).
Hobbs also has
considerable success reconnecting with his pre-teen son, Danny (Michael Burns);
an inveterate television junkie who cannot even carry on a conversation with
Roger at the beginning of our story, but rediscovers what a great man his
father used to be – or rather, still is – after a sailing expedition goes
horribly awry. Learning of Roger’s days as a mate on a champion schooner, Danny
– whose TV has died (those pesky vacuum tubes of yore) – encourages him to rent
a sail boat, so they can witness the solar eclipse. However, it’s been a very
long time since Roger’s handled a rudder. Despite a few near mishaps on the
open waters, Danny is having the time of his life – that is, until a dense fog
rolls in. Forced to concede they might be lost at sea, Roger feigns superior
navigation skills, pretending to have the matter well in hand. Miraculously,
his blind faith is rewarded when the fog lifts, revealing the shoreline very
close by.
Roger is less
successful at salvaging his daughters foundering marriages; eldest Susan’s
(Natalie Trundy) already on the brink of a bitter divorce from her unemployed
hubby, Stan Carver (Josh Peine), while middle child, Janie (Lili Gentle) is
about to unintentionally push her stuffy college professor/husband, Byron Grant
(John Saxon) into the arms of Marika Carter – a deliciously flirtatious
octopus. Employing tricks rather than sound judgment, Roger manages to save the
day. But in this war on love the likelihood of any serious or lasting détente
between Stan and Sue/Janie and Byron, is sincere wish fulfillment on Hobb’s
part.
Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation opens with a
riotous prologue; a glimpse of a rocket propelled into outer space, Hobb’s
voice over suggesting that man’s grasp has exceeded his reach, if for no other
reason, than to escape his own folly of mechanized transportation here on
earth. We see Hobbs in his car,
sandwiched between four trucks on the Santa Monica freeway; the exhaust of the
lumber hauler preceding him, suddenly obstructing his view and, inadvertently
inhaled by the car’s fresh air exchange, causing him a bit of distress. As
Hobbs drives through a tunnel, Henry Mancini’s jazzy rifts take over,
complimented by some DeLuxe colorful credits that make no mistake we are about
to be treated to a comedy or errors.
Returning to
his place of work, Hobbs instructs his secretary to take a letter, his
dictation growing increasingly acrimonious as he recalls the ruination of his
summer holidays. We regress, in
flashback, to the Hobbs family home. Son, Danny is absorbed in a western TV
serial, unable to even acknowledge his father, except to ask him to step out of
the way so he can finish watching the predictable episode. Upstairs, wife Peggy has a very unwelcome
surprise. She’s been on the telephone to their adult children, orchestrating
the particulars of a family reunion at a beach house rented by a mutual friend.
Daughter Katey, away at a high-priced finishing school, thinks it positively
silly. She’d much prefer a trip to Paris with her two housemates. So would Hobbs,
who had collected a host of brochures for a European holiday he planned to take
with Peggy – alone!
She reminds
Hobbs of the importance of family; how this may be his last chance to bring the
whole darn clan back together under one roof. Reluctantly, Hobbs gives in;
packing up Katey, Danny, Peg and their housekeeper, Brenda into the ole station
wagon. They’re off to Laguna Beach. But any hope for a serene holiday by the
sea is immediately dashed upon the family’s first glimpse of the house; a
brooding, weather-beaten Victorian nightmare that, as Hobbs puts it “was good enough for Edgar Allen Poe!” Look
closely and you’ll see an artifact from another Fox spook story hanging in the
front hall – Rex Harrison’s portrait as Capt. Gregg from The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947).The house has no antenna for Danny’s
TV. No running water, either, unless someone can figure out how to start the
mechanical pump housed in a nearby shed.
Hobbs is
introduced to sultry kitten, Marika. She asks him about his book, Tolstoy’s War
and Peace, and even runs out to buy her own copy so they will have
something in common to talk about. Peg isn’t jealous – not really…just mildly amused. Regrettably,
there is nothing mild or amusing about the arrival of the family’s eldest child,
Susan – already tear-stained as she exits the car; her husband, Stan even more
cold and aloof; their two young children carrying on like a pair of wild Indians.
Seems Stan and Sue don’t believe in disciplining their offspring; the sixties
slant on child psychology rearing its ugly head and running counterintuitive to
Hobbs own objections about their miserable behavior. The outlook for the family
circle grows even less promising with the arrival of Janie and Byron. Hobbs
attempts to offer a toast to their strength in numbers; a declaration
repeatedly interrupted as each of the participants finds something else –
though arguably, not something better – to do with their time. Katey refuses to
leave the house, moping over her ugly braces. Meanwhile, Bryon and Marika hit
it off. She isn’t so much interested in his mind as his sleek and rippled
muscularity in a wet bathing suit.
A reprieve of
sorts materializes when Hobbs learns of a dance at the nearby yacht club; a
well-heeled affair, chaperoned for the local young people to mix and mingle. Peggy
befriends the commodore, Reggie (Reginald Gardiner) who, recalling Hobbs’ days
as a champion mate in a regatta, encourages the prospect to rent him a
sailboat. Alas, it seems none of the young men want to dance with Katey. After
a few failed attempts, she asks to be taken back to the cottage. Instead, Hobbs
sneaks off, hiring a small battalion of fresh-faced boys with a quick five
bucks if they’ll pretend to like his girl. Happy chance for Hobbs one of them,
Joe Carmody, actually takes a sincere shine to Katey. After spending the entire
evening in Joe’s arms, Katey is smitten. Joe quietly returns the fiver to
Hobbs, adding “not for her, sir” and
thereafter pursues a wholesome romance at Pizza Heaven; the local teen hangout.
Hobbs, Peggy
and Katey return home; Hobbs comforted by the fact that at least his youngest
girl will have a memorable summer holiday. However, averting one crisis
inevitably leads to another…actually two. First, Brenda leaves – following a
disastrous confrontation with the water pump. Then, Stan announces his hasty
departure; Susan’s tears and Stan’s “don’t
forget daddy” farewell to his kids, suggesting it’s the end of the line for
their marriage. Marika and Byron become something of an item as Janie
helplessly looks on. Things begin to gel for Hobbs after Danny announces with
great sadness that his beloved TV has died. A new vacuum tube will need to be
ordered. In the meantime, Danny reveals his interest in a solar eclipse that
can only be seen at sea; encouraged by Peggy’s stories of Hobb’s sailing days
and coaxing dear ole dad to rent the sailboat from Reggie.
After some
rough maneuvering, Hobbs gets his sea legs back, charting a course for the open
waters where he and Danny enjoy a little father/son time together. Hobbs shares
a few stories about baseball – another of Danny’s passions – and then a few
more about sailing. Everything is going according to plan until an unexpected
fog bank suddenly turns and engulfs the sail boat. In this dense pea soup it is
impossible to know where shore is. The pair floats aimlessly for hours, Danny
growing more frightened despite Hobb’s gentle, comforting way. But even he has
concerns they might have drifted miles away from the coast. All this comes to
not when the fog lifts, the coast suddenly materializing directly before them.
Upon their return home, Danny invites his father to join him for TV once the
new vacuum tube has arrived.
Sometime later,
Stan phones to say he just might have a job prospect with an ultra-conservative
research firm. Hobbs is rather infuriated Stan has stayed away for so long but,
goaded by Peggy and encouraged by Susan’s hopefulness, he feigns excitement and
even agrees to entertain Stan’s prospective boss, Martin Turner (John McGiver)
and his wife, Emily (Marie Wilson), who will be passing through Laguna Beach.
The mood turns from cool to suspicious when the Turners arrive; a pair of very
stuffy teetotalers. While in the shower, Emily is overcome by the steam and
shouts for help. Rushing to her aid, Hobbs becomes trapped inside the bathroom
when the door knob falls off. Martin is enraged, assuming of course, that Hobbs
and Emily are up to no good when left to their own accord. Hobbs, who has had
just about enough of these two very odd people, attempts to explain to Martin,
who instead engages Hobbs in a fist fight. Martin loses, Hobbs leaving his
opponent bloody and indignant. In the morning, the Turners depart without even
so much as a goodbye. Hobbs now worries that he has ruined Stan’s chances for
advancement, and, by extension, Susan’s for marital happiness.
Not to worry,
though. A short while later Stan arrives, informing the family the Turners were
excited about his joining their firm and even speaking highly of their brief
stay with the family. Stan has the job and Susan has her fella back where he
belongs. Planting the idea in Byron’s head that Marika is psychologically
disturbed – in effect, using reverse psychology on Byron to achieve his own
ends – immediately puts him off of her for good, much to Janie’s relief. As
Hobbs packs his family into their station wagon for the trip back home he
suddenly breathes a sigh of relief – all except for Katey, who has been
patiently waiting for Joe to say a proper farewell. Showing up a few moments
too late, Joe drives his roadster at breakneck speed after the Hobbs, catching
up to the car and promising Katey he will write her regularly. Can it be love? We
return to the present, Hobbs instructing his secretary to tear up his letter of
condemnation. After all, it wasn’t such a bad summer holiday after all. And
consider this…he’s already agreed to take the same cottage, to repeat this
exercise again next year!
Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation concludes on
this note of extreme irony, as baffling and implausible as some of the vignettes
populating its run time. And yet, nothing seems out of place or beyond our
scope of acceptance. Such was the craftsmanship of golden age Hollywood,
lingering beyond and arguably, throughout most of the 1960’s. Frequently, I am reminded of the enormous chasm
separating such classically trained stars as James Stewart and today’s roster
of celebrities. Each time today’s talents attempt to resurrect a premise from
this bygone era for a remake the results are almost uniformly disastrous. It
can’t be these same scenarios just don’t work their magic on an audience
anymore, because movies like Mr. Hobbs
Takes a Vacation retain their effervescence and joie de vivre whenever and wherever
they are shown. The fault must therefore lay in the artisan’s craft; our
strange inability to will a simpler, happier time from the compost of our
present-day and decidedly dower movie-going experiences.
Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation is hardly a
stellar example of the old Hollywood machinery at work. Not all the pistons are
firing. Nunnally Johnson’s screenplay has a tendency to get sloppy in spots,
meandering from one screwball inspired vignette to the next with the most
threadbare narrative linkage between them. And the show unequivocally belongs
to James Stewart. Without him, there isn’t much going on; the supporting
players all competent but marginalized in the screenplay. Of course, the real
coup is having a heavyweight like Stewart in total command; his formidable
strengths as an actor and as a star readily on display and instantly
heartwarming. There’s palpable chemistry between Stewart and co-star, Maureen O’Hara
too – not romantic, per say, but very much cut from that ilk that says married
people don’t really have – or even desire a sexual relationship once they’ve
had their children. It’s a myth, of course, but nicely adhered to without the
added sanctimonious imposition by the Catholic League of Decency for separate
single beds in the same room.
Don’t let’s
read too much into the back stories; they’re modestly compelling at best and
begrudgingly serviceable at their worst. But they do move the story along
without too much consternation about what the future might bring. Indeed, in a
few short years such comedy offerings would become scarce to practically
nonexistent on the big screen as the last gasps of the old Hollywood
establishment moved on and into producing lavish road shows; television,
ironically, picking up the slack with such family friendly sitcoms as The Dick Van Dyke Show and Hazel. Viewed from this vantage, Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation really is the last of its kind. It’s
hardly a dinosaur; more like a beloved tome to another time and place in the
American tapestry of life that ironically, seems to find perennial renewal with
fans on home video, perhaps briefly wishing life itself could occasionally mirror
the perfection witnessed on the screen.
Fox Home Video’s
Blu-ray release via Twilight Time is mostly a winner with minor caveats. Photographed in the studio’s expansive
Cinemascope, this transfer reveals some minor fading – particularly during
transitional dissolves and some slight speckles of dirt and other age-related
artifacts. Scenes shot against a blue-screen reveal more severe color fading,
flesh adopting a disturbingly ruddy orange or pasty pink hue. Now, for the good
news. Apart from the aforementioned
anomalies, color is very robust throughout this presentation; ditto for spot on
contrast and a light smattering of natural-looking film grain. Better still,
the image is very crisp without appearing to have sustained any undue
tinkering; no digitized ‘processed’ look to the visuals and virtually no compression
artifacts for a very smooth and ultimately pleasing experience.
The Blu-ray
DTS audio is mono. I’m not exactly certain of the original audio specs for this
catalogue title. While a goodly number of Fox’s Cinemascope movies sported 6-track
magnetic stereo (one of its big selling features), I’ve also seen Cinemascope
titles originally shot in mono, presumably to cut costs. Also, when the former
regime at Fox in the mid-1970’s went on their ‘junking spree’ – dumping,
destroying or otherwise ditching many of their original archival masters
(presumably because they could see no resale value in any of this hidden
treasure) they might have deliberately disposed of a stereo soundtrack for this
movie. Not sure, as I say. But what’s here sounds very good indeed; solid
clarity – though, obviously, not much depth. Henry Mancini’s score is breezy
and cheesy: in short, perfect. Alas,
apart from TT’s usual commitment to offering an isolated score – in stereo – and
a badly worn theatrical trailer that, inexcusably, misrepresents the movie – we
get NO extras. Bottom line: recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
1
Comments