FOXFIRE: Blu-ray (Universal International, 1955) Kino Lorber

Ah, me – how Hollywood has changed. Sexpot Jane Russell and stud du jour, Jeff Chandler turn up the sizzle; her feline femininity pitted against his rawer animal magnetism in director, Joseph Pevney’s Foxfire (1955). Historically noted as the very last movie to be shot in 3-strip Technicolor, as escalating budgets forced Tinsel Town en masse to embrace the more cost-cutting, though depressingly less vibrant Eastman color single emulsion process, Foxfire is about as sexy as Hollywood dared transgress under the auspices of its self-imposed Production Code for fear of reprisals from the Catholic League of Decency. And it is saying much that just the sight of Russell and Chandler locked in a clinch is quite enough to suggest there were more than a few rough-ridden patches, hot and heavy behind closed doors. The lady wasn’t smilin’ the day after her vows for nothin’! Foxfire is based on Anya Seton’s novel (written in 1949, but unpublished until ’51). Seton, whose family were in mining, did her legwork, spending time inside gold mines and Indian reservations in Gila County, Arizona, to add authenticity to her prose. The novel was a popular read and Universal elected to buy the rights to produce it in 1953.   Updating the story’s timeline from the Great Depression to post-WWII, likely to cut down on expenses for period recreation, but also, to promote Russell’s obvious physical assets in the more form-fitted style of the fifties, Ketti Frings’ screenplay has retained the novel’s desolate and dirty locales and central characters, but jettisoned virtually all of its subplot. Gone are the novel’s villains – three embittered treasure seekers – replaced by a somewhat colorless quest for gold in them thar hills. Hence, character motivation and even content of character itself is deeply depleted. Foxfire is not interested in the holy of holies, but in telling a marginally incendiary tale of lust in the dust in an all but forgotten Arizona mining outpost. Still, a lot can happen in the middle of nowhere when you take two sticks of brittle kindling and rub them together.  

The original plan was to case June Allyson as Amanda Lawrence. In truth, Allyson’s demeanor, as America’s sweetheart and the girl next door, better fit Seton’s description of the heroine. Only Allyson’s sex appeal was limited. I will even go so far as to state she had none at all. Some gals smell of sex; Allyson, merely of soap. And Universal was not going for wholesome and fresh-faced. So, Allyson was out and Jane Russell in; the actress, paid a then whopping $200,000, plus the rights to draw on Chandler’s services for a film later to be made by her own production company. Chandler, who co-authored the rather clumsy title tune with Henry Mancini, also warbling it in fine voice under the main titles, was to regard Foxfire – the movie – warmly, telling an interviewer, “I don't have to be so darned monosyllabic in this one.” Indeed, Chandler’s early appearances in films had been relegated to a series of statuesque – if manly – cameos where he decidedly looked the part of the hunk but had precious little to do or say; Universal, promoting him as the proverbial ‘strong and silent’ type. And, in truth, Chandler’s Jonathan Dartland in Foxfire does not go very far beyond this prototype; still, brooding, burly and butch as the mining engineer who instantly fires Amanda’s heart, chiefly by just standing still.  Nevertheless, when reviews for Foxfire came out, Chandler received the best notices yet. Indeed, there remains a strange quality of boyish reluctance about Chandler’s otherwise imperious ‘Dart’; difficult to pinpoint, but immediately palpable and easy to empathize.

As for his costar, Jane Russell – described by Variety as ‘a fine figure of a woman’ (well, duh!), a lot of reviewers then, as now, have easily overlooked the fact Russell was, for a time, a very fine actress too. She could play intelligent sass and razor-back comedy seemingly without effort, and, on occasion, intense drama to its hilt. In Foxfire, Russell feigns empathy, a virtue only slightly impeded by her otherwise genial, bright and breezy attitude. And although the screenplay promotes Russell as the sultry socialite, not of Seton’s novel, clothing Amanda in an impossibly posh assortment of glittery gowns and slinky negligees designed by Bill Thomas (in an era when costumers knew how to dress stars as stars), Russell’s take on Amanda Lawrence reveals a surprisingly forthright solid citizen with a stout heart and good head on those shoulders. The other noteworthy talent in Foxfire is Dan Duryea, cast as the drunkard, Hugh Slater. Duryea, who first came to our attentions in 1940’s The Little Foxes (in a role that forever branded him ‘the heel with sex appeal’), would go on playing a variety of unscrupulous ne’er-do-wells throughout the next two decades; roles that belied the private man - devoted husband and father, married for 35 years until his wife’s death in 1968. Tragically, Duryea would follow her only one year later, dead of cancer at age, 61. Speaking of his objectives to gossip maven, Hedda Hopper shortly before the making of Foxfire, Duryea had no illusions about his life in pictures. “I knew with my ‘puss’ and 155-pound weakling body, I couldn't pass for a leading man…so, I chose to be the meanest s.o.b. in the movies ... strictly against my mild nature.”

Foxfire is an intelligently played, though largely forgettable entertainment. Frankly, I cannot understand it. Yet, even while preparing this review I had to go back to my notes to recall certain pertinent details to include herein. A good movie should stick with you. But Foxfire lacks this fundamental staying power, despite the efforts of Jane Russell and Jeff Chandler, who have great chemistry; her ginger sexuality, perfectly matched by his intermittently volatile magnetism. Russell and Chandler click as a convincing couple too; real people, plagued by racial divisiveness - some real, some imagined.  Russell’s wardrobe is a bit over the top for just such a rugged occasion. But she is diverting eye-candy with more than ample acting chops: so much more than a fashion plate on parade. Chandler reveals an intuitive fragility that never shatters his appeal as the rugged individualist. Jonathan Dartland’s Achilles' Heel is he thinks too much: chiefly, of himself, first and foremost, as the lesser in their marriage; his rich Native American heritage, a hurdle he cannot embrace or overcome.  If he could just let the feather headdress slip a little, our Johnny would discover a woman of genuine flesh and blood eager to embrace him as he is. Dan Duryea provides an uncharacteristically sympathetic crutch for this perennially unhappy couple. His ‘guy on the side’, who would prefer to be so much more, is enough of a gentleman not to press the point. Having only known Duryea from his formidable rogue's gallery of scumbags, I sincerely enjoyed this refreshing departure from typecasting. Virtually all of Foxfire was shot on location, either at Apple Valley, California or Oatman, Arizona, with cast and crew enduring soaring temperatures that caused makeup to run and, on one occasion, as yet unexposed film to cook in the camera.

After Chandler’s warbling of the title tune under the main titles, Foxfire opens with Amanda Lawrence getting a flat tire along a desolate stretch of Arizona desert highway. Encountering a weather-beaten pickup truck loaded with local Native Americans, Amanda is unable to explain her situation, and admonishes them as they drive off as just a bunch of ignorant Indians. Soon, however, Amanda will meet one Native American in particular, sure to alter her prejudices for the better. That amiable fellow is Jonathan Dartland, a mining engineer, who along with his inebriated friend, Hugh Slater, give Amanda a lift back to the hotel where she is visiting with her mother (Frieda Inescort). Seems mama is hosting a little soiree that evening. So, even after discovering ‘Dart’ to be of Apache blood, Amanda willfully invites him as her guest. Hugh accepts on their behalf, but arrives alone – squiring Amanda around the dance floor in soberer condition. Sheepishly, Dart appears in his white dinner jacket. Looking dapper as ever, he gains Amanda’s ear, and rather inauspiciously, shortly thereafter, also her heart. The whirlwind romance that follows, culminating in a hurried marriage, startles Mrs. Lawrence, who, nevertheless, can see why her daughter has fallen for Dart. He’s young, sexy and self-sufficient. Hugh is disappointed. Meanwhile, Maria (Mara Corday), the sultry nurse working at Hugh’s meager clinic, is sorely disappointed at her boss’ lack of imagination. After all, she has been pining for him for some time.   

Mrs. Lawrence is displeased to discover Dart's mother Princess Saba (Celia Lovsky), after having wed a Boston college professor, has since left her husband to reclaim her Apache name and heritage and live on the nearby reservation. Having abstained from attending her son’s wedding, Saba is sought out by Amanda. Earlier, Amanda pried open a chest belonging to Dart, containing his personal diary as well as family heirlooms attesting to his Apache youth. From these artifacts, Amanda learns all she can about the man she married: his childhood and proud ancestry. Dart foolishly believes Amanda’s curiosity will lead to their breakup; a possibility hastened by his silent apprehensions over the burgeoning – but otherwise totally innocent – friendship she has with Hugh.

Learning of Dart’s ambition to reopen an abandoned ‘foxfire’ mine on land currently owned by his present employers, Amanda is determined to see that her husband’s passion is taken seriously by his boss, Ernest Tyson (Robert F. Simon), despite the constant discrediting offered by Dart’s foreman, Jim Mablett (Barton MacLane). Tyson is the sensible sort, however, and willing to take the $10,000 gamble; Dart, hiring local native workers to aid in the project after hours and beyond his regular work schedule. Although supportive, Amanda reminds Dart, that should he be successful, he may consider the venture all his own. Despite her plush past as a New York glamour gal, Amanda is perfectly contented to rough it in Lodestone without many creature comforts. Taking a casual dislike to Mablett’s wife (Charlotte Wynters) – an opinionated busybody – Amanda nevertheless feels incredibly devalued when Dart repeatedly reveals he has no plans to start a family. He still believes Amanda will one day leave him – if not for Hugh – then certainly, some other purebred white guy.  Mablett’s wife helps fan these flames by inferring an affair brewing between Hugh and Amanda; the rumors, quite enough to make Maria bitterly jealous.

Keeping her recent pregnancy secret from Dart, Amanda seeks out Princess Saba to get a better handle on the man she married. Saba explains her son’s prejudices: Dart, of the firm belief that all love is temporary at best; also, that fathers do not acknowledge their sons until they come of age and abandon their mothers. Meanwhile, having heard the ugly rumors about Amanda and Hugh, Dart is further misdirected by Maria to believe there may be a lot more to his wife’s friendship than first meets the eye. Getting quietly drunk in her absence, Dart is confrontational when Amanda arrives home later that afternoon. She bluntly denies the rumors. Momentarily contrite, Dart again doubts his wife’s fidelity after she refuses to accept his slovenly sexual advances. A dizzy spell from all the excitement, Amanda falls and suffers a miscarriage. Still unaware she was ever pregnant in the first place, Dart is dissuaded by Hugh from attending Amanda in hospital. When at last, the couple are reunited, Amanda is wounded and bitter, accusing Dart of treating her like ‘a squaw’ and informing him she plans to return home with her mother immediately. Investing himself in his work at the mine, Dart is seen to reason after the shaft collapses during his inspection, exposing a rich vein of gold. Although he has injured his hands, Dart is otherwise unharmed and safe; reawakening to the possibilities of true love. Maria hurries to the airport to fetch Amanda. Upon learning of his miraculous conversion, Amanda rushes to her husband’s side, while at the mine a new ‘Foxfire Gold Company’ sign is being erected.  

Foxfire is ably stitched together with some good solid performances. It’s ‘message’ about racial (in)tolerance gets buried under the melodramatic romantic elements, but otherwise, the story is more than serviceable and, at times, has a lot to say about such prejudicial perceptions vs. the truth; also, quite astute on the sanctity of marriage and what a good woman, stirring a basically good man to the realities of life that only a woman’s touch can provide, can do for his ego, loins and emotional outlook in tandem. Not bad for what is essentially just another minor programmer tricked out in Technicolor. Were that Hollywood today had stars as fetching and fun to look at as Jane Russell and Jeff Chandler, and, paid as much attention to entertaining us with their philosophizing of the less heavy-handed ilk, then indeed, it would be a very interesting time to be going to the movies. The 1950’s in film-lore are generally judged as an era of button-down conservatism run amok. There is little to deny the studio-bound contingent for wholesome entertainment prevailed, with a resurgence of the Bible-fiction epic, period costume drama, gay romantic comedy, glamorous musical, and sprawling western. Yet, Foxfire fits into none of these categories. Instead, it is a steamy little tug-o-war, sanctified by the Code, as we never get to see our mated lovebirds in bed together. But oh, the ferocity on display in those clinches and kisses, expertly timed so as not to break precedence with the Code, but otherwise generate considerable heat on the screen. Movies today spell sex out in all its frenzied and sweat-laden thrashing. But movies like Foxfire remind us men and women can still be sexy, find passion and look damn near immaculate while indulging their naughtier intensions. Eye candy is still eye candy, and Jane Russell is eye candy-plus.  

Foxfire arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s recent licensing agreement with Universal Home Video. I sincerely wish someone would convince Uni to be more proactive in their archival preservation efforts. Foxfire was their final 3-strip Technicolor feature, and, as such, is plagued by some disastrous mis-alignment of these independent negatives, resulting in intermittent, but as disturbing halos of color that really distract from our viewing pleasure. When the records are perfectly matched, William H. Daniel’s gorgeous cinematography stuns with its lush and painterly hues. However, it is more than a little off-putting to sit through a movie where the image indiscriminately toggles between almost pristine and horrendously out of focus. Also, flesh tones occasionally veer into unnatural reddish tones. Contrast is excellent. A light smattering of film grain, looking indigenous to its source is most welcome. The audio is 2.0 DTS mono and adequate for this presentation. The only extra is a modest audio commentary by Kat Ellinger – okay, but not great – plus, trailers for this and other product Kino Lorber is distributing. Bottom line: Foxfire is a passable flick with less than perfect image quality achieved on this Blu. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

1