MILLION DOLLAR MERMAID: Blu-ray (MGM, 1952) Warner Archive

The movie to forever solidify Esther Williams’ reputation as America’s beloved aquatic superstar, and damn near paralyze the actress in the process, director, Mervyn LeRoy’s Million Dollar Mermaid (1952) remains the anomaly in Williams’ pantheon of wet and wild screen spectaculars; the only picture in her MGM repertoire to actually have its roots biographically based. Arguably, the real star of the picture was not Williams, but her alter ego, legendary Australian swimming champion, Annette Kellerman on whose life Everett Freeman’s screenplay was loosely situated, allowing LeRoy to add his usual honeyed touches for a series of ‘nice little scenes’ strung together as a stand-in for Kellerman’s legacy. In many ways, the careers of both Kellerman and Williams had run concurrently; each, a professional athlete with dashed Olympic aspirations, later resurrected as box office sensations at the movies.  Kellermann was the trailblazer here – her first appearance in a one-piece bathing costume (instead of the then-accepted pantaloons) causing a public uproar and her arrest for ‘indecent exposure’ in 1902. The scandal created a sensation but quickly escalated Kellerman’s popularity as a ‘star’ of the, as yet unheard of, sport of synchronized swimming. This notoriety was also rather shrewdly parlayed by Kellerman into her own fashion line, the authorship of a ‘health’ manual, a lucrative business as one of the leading proponents of an early vegan ‘fitness’ craze, and, to culminate in Kellermann’s most audacious move – a segue into the ‘then’ fledgling film industry, appearing nude in A Daughter of the Gods (1916).

To a lesser extent, the debut of Esther Williams in the movies nearly 30-yrs. later marked yet another turning point in Hollywood’s exploitation of what was then laughingly referred to as ‘the novelty act’. Denied her truest aspiration as an Olympian, thanks to Adolph Hitler and the outbreak of WWII in 1940, Williams began her journey into screen immortality as a swimmer in Billy Rose’s lavishly appointed aquacade at the 1939 New York World’s Fair. Seemingly contented thereafter to take a position as a sales girl at a popular downtown Los Angeles’ department store, Williams was instead approached by an MGM talent scout. Williams resisted, the scout insisted, and eventually a deal was inked with the studio, much to the chagrin of its raja, Louis B. Mayer, who frustratingly inquired, “How the hell do you expect me to make pictures in a pool?” Mayer was promptly informed, “The same way Darryl F. Zanuck does with Sonja Henie and ice skates!” The different here, lay in Esther’s native magnetism and plainspoken individuality; even better, in her talent to grasp the finer nuances of playing musical comedy, proving her merits were far more accomplished beyond those mere moments when her screenplays simply called upon her to don a swimsuit and get her hair wet.  Even more encouraging for Mayer, from 1945 to 1949, Esther Williams appeared in at least one movie per annum that came in among the top 20 highest-grossing pictures of the year. Williams’ tenure was foreshortened, perhaps prematurely, by her contemptuous relationship with Mayer’s successor in the executive suite, Dore Schary – who held little regard for her talents, although was not above reaping the profits to be derived from her aquatic outings.  Williams would prove she could do without Schary, appearing in a series of televised specials after her studio contract elapsed in 1956, and, like Kellerman before her, becoming a savvy business woman; her name attached to apparel, swimming pools, instructional videos, and finally, as the commentator for the ‘legitimized’ sport of synchronized swimming at the 1984 summer Olympics in Los Angeles.

Million Dollar Mermaid is neatly situated smack in the middle of Esther’s screen popularity – her bright and breezy public persona effectively to mask an insidious run of bad luck behind the scenes. For starters, the honeymoon phase in Williams’ second marriage to radio singer/announcer, Ben Gage, had miserably fizzled; Gage, a notorious boozer/gambler, syphoning her wealth to keep him in gin and cards. His losing streak would all but bankrupt Williams before their separation and divorce in 1959. For another, Esther’s most recent pic, just prior to Million Dollar Mermaid, 1952’s Skirts Ahoy, had under-performed at the box office.  Had the steam run out of her box office drawing power? Having assumed control at MGM after 1950, Dore Schary cared little for musicals in general, which he believed were a costly strain on the studio’s coffers in the cash-strapped 1950’s. Esther’s brand of escapism in particular irked him. And thus, each regarded the other with a quiet, mounting animosity. Williams, like many, would later blame Schary as the lynch pin in the studio’s ultimate demise. “He just didn’t get it,” Williams reasoned, “He was the head of the biggest and most glamorous studio in Hollywood and all he wanted to do was make those little, ugly ‘message’ pictures!” As Schary’s autonomy at the studio began to erode its reputation from without, while creating a divisive atmosphere from within, Esther began to lose interest in her own career. “For me, the excitement just wasn’t there anymore.”  And ironically, all of this ennui was compounded by the appointment of Mervyn LeRoy to direct Million Dollar Mermaid.

LeRoy, who had begun his Hollywood tenure as a camera assistant for Cecil B. DeMille in 1923, before moving into the director’s chair a scant 4-years later, would go on to become one of the most successful men working in pictures. So, his appointment to Million Dollar Mermaid ought to have been cause for celebration. Indeed, Esther was looking forward to it immensely – that is, until their first day’s collaboration; LeRoy, seemingly disinterested in the project, offering little direction beyond a comment that would inevitably become his stock answer throughout the shoot – “Let’s have a nice little scene.” Even so, Williams respected LeRoy, and not only as his contempt for Schary mirrored her own. Esther later recalled how she first learned LeRoy would be helming the project. “I always drove with the top of my convertible down. One day, a limo pulled up beside me, the tinted window rolled down and Mervyn’s head popped out. ‘Esther’, he shouted, ‘Put the top up! Don’t get too tan for the movie. Let’s take a lunch together soon.” The luncheon never materialized. What did, was a meeting between Williams, LeRoy and the picture’s producer, Arthur Hornblower Jr. on a project as yet titled, ‘One-Piece Bathing Suit’ – the beginnings of Million Dollar Mermaid. Hornblower Jr. was a blue-blooded grandee from back east – old money, and a gentle man. After WWI, he entered the hallowed halls of the picture-making biz by marrying into its nobility, actress, Myrna Loy. But his keen eye for solid box office quickly resulted in a lucrative buzz, with legendary hits to his credit, of which Million Dollar Mermaid would continue his streak of success.

We can almost forgive Mervyn LeRoy his ennui on the set of Million Dollar Mermaid. Possibly, with Freeman’s sleek authorship, choreographer, Busby Berkeley’s brilliant handling of the musical sequences, and the, by then, well-ensconced formula associated with all of Esther’s product, LeRoy felt confident to simply let the production go where it wanted, without investing too much of his own genius. More likely, LeRoy was still smarting from the arduous shoot on Quo Vadis (1951) – a colossus, whose lengthy shoot in Rome had all but drained his creative energies. Nevertheless, Quo Vadis was LeRoy’s biggest bell-ringer to date, with worldwide rentals topping out at $21 million and a Best Picture Oscar nomination. So, the segue from epic to musical provided LeRoy with a much-needed respite, but also, in hindsight, another smash hit - Esther Williams’ most profitable aquacade to date, and, the one to officially crown her as America’s ‘million-dollar mermaid’. For Williams, however, the picture would forever be seared into her memory for three events – only one, later, to be fondly recalled. Victor Mature had been cast as Esther’s leading man. A beloved and carefree star, Mature was known for his considerable physical girth, most recently shown off in a bare-chested turn for DeMille in Samson and Delilah (1949), a movie for which comedian, Groucho Marx later astutely commented more breast tissue was exposed by its leading man than leading lady – Hedy Lamarr. Mature, caught in a loveless marriage, diversified his sexual proclivities by drawing on his charisma and reputation as something of a ‘ladies’ man’ both on and off the screen.

“It might look better here,” Esther later wrote in her memoir, “…if I said that Victor Mature seduced me, or that I didn’t know what I was doing until it was too late, or that he battered down the gates and conquered the city. Nothing of the sort. I knew that he wanted me, and I wanted him. We were on equal terms. We didn’t have to play games.” Perhaps, with even more mental clarity than usually afforded a woman in lust, Williams assumed nothing about the tryst that followed, the co-stars frequently barricading themselves in each other’s dressing rooms between takes to indulge in a little backroom badinage. Williams would later, fondly – jokingly – refer to her co-star as Victor ‘Im-Mature’ – more a term of endearment than criticism for their all-too-brief, if heady affair. If Mature’s participation, both on and off the screen, presented Esther with a diverting reason to fondly recall the picture, Busby Berkeley’s involvement precluded her from actually enjoying it. Berkeley, in fact, had been Esther’s choice to choreograph the lavishly appointed ‘smoke and fountain’ sequences. Mervyn LeRoy was only too happy to hand off these responsibilities to Berkeley, whose creativity knew no bounds. Alas, Berkeley’s genius also frequently put its participants in harm’s way, no more so than on the set of Million Dollar Mermaid. For one sequence, Berkeley conceived of Williams, descending some 55-ft from the rafters on a trapeze, from which she would perform a half gainer into the pool, six stories below. Alas, Berkeley neglected to inform Esther during rehearsals, the resultant stunt would be achieved through a heavy curtain of brightly colored red and mustard smoke, emanating from 400 electrically triggered smudge pots lining the perimeter of the pool. This added impediment meant Williams would be doing her leap virtually blind until she emerged from beyond the veil of smoke, and only then, to realize too late, whether or not she had overshot her mark – to strike water or the pool’s edge cement.

Mercifully, Berkeley’s timing was impeccable here, firing off three cap gunshots to alert Williams of her marks. Pleased with the results the first time out, Berkeley ordered the take to be printed, and Esther breathed a sigh of relief she did not have to attempt the stunt again. Breathing, however, would form the basis of Esther’s first incident during the ‘underwater’ ballet. The scene called for Esther to perform various maneuvers beneath the water’s surface with an over-sized clam, inside it, a large artificial pearl. Story-boarded in 45-second intervals, Williams was required to hold her breath a great deal longer to get to and from the location before actually performing her stunts; the shoot, monitored through large, waterproof glass windows by LeRoy, his cinematographer, George J. Folsey, a script supervisor and sound technician. To make more efficient use of their time, an underwater speaker was installed so LeRoy could ‘direct’ Williams. Esther recalled that the set, affectionate named after her in years yet to follow, was then dubbed ‘pneumonia alley’, since its 80-degree warm water was starkly contrasted by a cool 60-degrees outside, causing anyone shooting there to develop a lung infection. So, Williams, in her desire to complete the sequence ahead of schedule, began to piece together her ‘45-second’ sequences and stay underwater longer and longer. “Then, one day I discovered what divers call ‘the rapture’,” Williams explained, “My lungs collapsed and I started to lose consciousness and drown. And Mervyn LeRoy, unaware of what was going on, got on his mic’ and said, ‘Esther…what the hell are you doing? We can keep you in focus at the bottom of the pool. We’re not lit for that!”  

Eventually, LeRoy realized his star was in trouble and sent the rescue divers in to pull Williams from the water. Alas, the next stunt required of Esther would result in far graver repercussions. In the middle of the pool, Berkeley had rigged a hydraulic lift – a slender pipe atop which Esther was expected to balance herself as she rose like Venus, surrounded by powerful jets of foaming water. The spectacle was further augmented with a stunning costume designed by Helen Rose, made of glittery gold sequins, topped with a turban and crown of sparkling aluminum. Lifted to a height of some 65-ft., Williams was expected to swan dive into the roiling surf below. Regrettably, having popped her eardrums several times in other movies, the dizzying heights now upset Esther’s equilibrium. “I suddenly couldn’t tell if I was leaning or standing straight,” Williams later acknowledged, “Hurtling down…I realized…the gold crown was…a lot stronger and less flexible than my neck.” What followed was utterly terrifying: Williams, striking the water with such force she snapped three vertebrae in her neck, rendering her arms and torso instantly immobile. Worse, unaware of what had occurred, and satisfied with the shot, LeRoy called ‘lunch’ for the crew, who instantly departed the set without waiting for Esther to resurface. Somehow, without the use of her arms, Williams managed to bring her body back to the surface, calling for help from the costume lady, ‘Flossie’ who promptly fetched several men to dive in and save her. For her harrowing ‘near death’ experience, Esther would spend nearly a month in a full body cast, faced with the very real prospect of never being able to have full use of her upper body again. The gradual fusion of her spinal cord left Williams afflicted with chronic headaches for the rest of her life.

Given all the drama behind-the-scenes, the plot of Million Dollar Mermaid is rather tepid by comparison. The picture, set at the turn of the century, begins with a polio-stricken Australian girl, Annette Kellerman (played by Donna Corcoran as a child), who discovers she is able to strengthen her legs via daily excursions to the ocean to practice her swimming. When her father, Frederick (Walter Pidgeon), the owner of a popular music conservatory, finds out, he is at first gravely concerned. However, recognizing the benefits of this ‘therapy’, he encourages Annette to pursue her recovery. When the conservatory fails, Frederick, and his now adult daughter (played by Williams), journey to England where he accepts a teaching position to sustain them. Aboard ship, Annette meets James Sullivan (Victor Mature), a shameless promoter, and, his associate, Doc Cronnol (Jesse White), presently showcasing Sydney, the boxing kangaroo. Although Jimmy is smitten with Annette from the outset, the feelings are not reciprocated. Alas, upon their arrival, the Kellermans learn Frederick’s post has been canceled, due to poor attendance at the college, and Jimmy, aware of Annette’s talents, offers to promote her participation in a 6-mile swim. Knowing her own strengths, Annette proposes a 26-mile swimming exhibition instead. But Annette has underestimated the strong currents in the English Channel and narrowly completes the arduous exercise, suffering near collapse at the end. Nevertheless, news of her accomplishment catches in the press like wild fire and soon, she is considered something of a media darling. Jimmy suggests an even bigger audience awaits them in New York, planning to showcase Annette in a water ballet at the famed Hippodrome.

Regrettably, the Hippodrome’s manager, Alfred Harper (David Brian) fails to recognize Annette’s fame which has not preceded her across the Atlantic. So, Jimmy instead encourages Annette to partake of another swim off the coast of Boston. However, in preparing for this publicity stunt, Annette’s one-piece bathing costume incites a minor riot; America’s slum prudery regarding women’s turn-of-the-century apparel, causing Annette to be arrested for indecent exposure. The scandal proves humiliating, and Annette, having had quite enough of Jimmy’s failed promises, breaks their partnership. Interestingly, Harper now has a change of mind. The girl has spunk. Moreover, her endeavors since her arrest, giving exhibitions that draw crowds, has made her a ‘worthy’ contender for the Hippodrome. In several lavishly appointed shows, Annette wows the Hippodrome audiences. But during one such performance, Frederick, while conducting the orchestra, suffers a fatal heart attack. Now on her own, Annette entertains romantic overtures from Harper who arranges to have her appear in the fledgling art of the movies. On route to Hollywood, Doc implores Annette to help him stop Jimmy from engaging in a daredevil’s flight for $50,000 prize money. Too bad Jimmy is just as proud as ever, leading to a horrible argument between him and Annette. In Hollywood, Harper’s connections secure a plum role for Annette in an underwater extravaganza. Unfortunately, the glass in the tank has not been properly reinforced. It shatters while Annette is still inside it and she suffers a spinal hematoma. With her future in grave jeopardy, Harper, recognizing Jimmy and Annette are still very much in love, magnanimously steps aside, paving the way for their heartfelt reunion.

The real Annette Kellerman was rather indifferent to any bio-pic about her life, leading to one of Esther Williams’ great disappointments. Having desperately desired to become acquainted with Kellerman prior to beginning Million Dollar Mermaid, the ‘chance’ meeting between ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’ came about inauspiciously as Arthur Hornblower turned up on the Hippodrome set one afternoon between takes, unexpectedly chaperoning Kellerman. While impressed with the reconstruction of the Hippodrome, Kellerman registered little - outside of indifference - toward Esther. Reportedly, after posing for publicity pictures, Kellerman simply told Williams, “I just wish you were Australian.” In some ways, I understand her point of view. Kellerman had lived beyond her reputation as a ‘great star’. Even by 1952, much of her own cinematic legacy was already lost to time – the movies, either improperly stored or never actually curated for posterity. In the wake of her waning reputation, Kellerman must have viewed any recreation of her former glories as a champion swimmer as something of a moot point. At the zenith of her career, she had indulged in some fairly risky stunts, like diving 92-ft. from a cliff into the ocean, and 60-ft. into a pool of crocodiles. Now, she was being portrayed in a sanitized, glossy Technicolor pastiche that, by her accounts, paled to the genuine accomplishments made long ago in front of the camera.

And the movie? While it features two of Busby Berkeley’s most marvelous confections – the ‘smoke’ sequence, exporting forty swimmers in addition to Esther, performing a kaleidoscopic homage to Berkeley’s own splashy aquacade from 1933’s Footlight Parade, as well as a spectacular finale with Esther, rising from the sea, framed by a bevy of bathing beauties and a backdrop of gas jet-lit sparklers, Million Dollar Mermaid somehow only comes to life – dramatically, at least – in fits and sparks. The disconnect, I believe is derived chiefly from the fact Million Dollar Mermaid cannot be outright considered ‘a musical’ – not even one in the MGM tradition, as it contains not a single song, and, only three escapist water ballets set to an orchestral underscore by Alexander Courage and Adolph Deutsch. Indeed, this is a bio-pic with its focus squarely on the life and times of Annette Kellerman, applying the old Metro gloss to gild the lily, though never entirely upstage the melodrama that, at times, is laid a tad too thick and treacly. Esther Williams proves a very fine actress. But Victor Mature never takes himself – much less the work – seriously. It’s a thankless part - the romantic heartthrob – and regrettably, Mature plays it with a sort of oafish brutality; the passion shared between Williams and Mature behind closed doors, never entirely to translate into anything but a certain fiery animosity in the movie that occasionally hints at better things to come without, in fact, following up on that promise.

While I would have sincerely preferred the Warner Archive to furnish us with Esther’s debut movie, Bathing Beauty (1944), I certainly cannot argue with the remastering results on Million Dollar Mermaid. It is about time Esther Williams’ found her way to Blu-ray, and this 1080p transfer, derived from original Technicolor negatives, is a major revelation. The DVD release of Million Dollar Mermaid was plagued by some ugly mis-registration issues, resulting in inconsistent, muddy hues and some halo effects. The Blu-ray, from a ‘ground up’ 4K restoration, rectifies virtually all of these oversights. So, prepare yourselves for a sincere treat. Because the Technicolor here positively glows. The entire image shows off George J. Folsey’s cinematography to its very best advantage. Flesh tones are accurately rendered. Contrast is excellent. A light smattering of film grain looks very indigenous to its source. You will be absolutely amazed by how gorgeous this is – a sumptuous feast for the eyes. The 2.0 DTS mono brings the Courage/Deutsch underscore to life. Regrettably, extras are limited to several short subjects, given short shrift and no ‘restoration’ consideration. We also get an audio only bonus, featuring Esther and co-star, Walter Pigeon, plus an original theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Million Dollar Mermaid is a plushily padded bio-pic with some elegant MGM touches that set it apart from most of Esther’s pantheon in aquacade spectaculars. This Blu-ray is the perfect way to ‘get wet’ for the summer. Bottom line: very highly recommended!

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

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

2