I began writing this piece in November, thinking I’d post it before the awards season launched in earnest, but it has taken a little longer than I’d expected, and I actually appreciate the extra time for more research and reflection….
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So, there we were, Michael and I, tuning into one of the old movie channels (either TCM or Fox Movies, likely the latter) a few years back as we often do on Saturday mornings. Within a few seconds we were caught up in the bold color palette of 1954’s Black Widow, not to be confused, mind you, with Scarlett Johansson’s Marvel character or 1987’s Black Widow starring Debra Winger and Theresa Russell. Oh, I love that one too, a cross-country suspense melodrama pitting one determined federal agent in a mind game, not to mention a race against time, with a glamorous serial killer. Fun stuff, that–witty and two snappy performances by two charismatic stars. Plus, both films, the ’54 model as well as the ’87 version, carry the 20th Century Fox logo.
Still, to clarify, only the names and the studio are what connect the films.
The 1954 version is a more traditional mystery involving a Broadway producer, portrayed by ever-reliable Van Heflin, whose kindness toward a young aspiring writer–in the person of former Oscar winning child actress Peggy Ann Garner [1]–soon leads to a shocking demise and ever mounting suspicion. The cast is further buoyed by the likes of Gene Tierney (as Heflin’s wife who scoots out of town for a bit, thereby creating conditions that set the plot in motion), George Raft (a driven, no-nonsense police detective), and, perhaps, best of all, Ginger Rogers [2], sublimely cheeky as Tierney’s best friend and the star of Heflin’s current hit play. Her Carlotta (Lottie) is a self-possessed steamrolling fashion plate not unlike, say, All About Eve‘s mercurial Margo Channing–the one and only Bette Davis, and, yes, also a Fox production.
Mustachioed Reginald Gardiner creeps along as Rogers’ simp of a husband while veteran great Cathleen Nesbit steps up as a cleaning woman who works for both showbiz couples. Meanwhile, sharp-eyed fans of vintage TV shows will no doubt spot Bea Benaderret (Petticoat Junction) as a party guest and Mabel Anderson (Mrs. Stephens on Bewitched and scads of other gigs, including What’s Up Doc?) as a club owner. That’s also Dallas’ own Aaron Spelling–and future almighty TV producer–as the lanky “Mr. Oliver,” an aspiring actor who arrives on the scene just in time to help Raft and the others close the case.
Black Widow looks smashing, thanks to Fox’s in-house Deluxe Color (aka Color by Deluxe) per cinematographer Charles Clarke, whose résumé boasts one competitive Oscar (Hello, Frisco, Hello) as well as a technical achievement award and an honorary medal. Clarke is in good company with a production design team that includes legendary Oscar winning art director Lyle Wheeler (Gone with the Wind and The King and I among many, many, others) and one-named costume design sensation Travilla, a previous–shared–Oscar winner for The Adventures of Don Juan, with three additional nominations, but perhaps best known for the full-skirted white dress Marilyn Monroe wears in The Seven Year Itch, oh, and, of course, those blissfully over the top designs for Valley of the Dolls. Black Widow pops with bold strokes of color (lots and lots of blues), widescreen appeal marked by expansive sets and clear, crisp depth of field, along with sleekly authentic Mid-Century Moderne interiors, keeping in mind that the two Manhattan power couples, Heflin and Tierney and Rogers and Gardiner, live in posh high rise dwellings–and that includes an impressive view of the NYC skyline. A fake view, mind you, but bas relief style, so it seems, as opposed to a mere painted backdrop–and with simply mahvelous light cues. The movie is like its own effect.
In spite of its top-flight cast and visual appeal, Black Widow underwhelms in other ways. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love this movie. It works incredibly well on its own terms, providing like-minded viewers a tidy package with a few twists along the way though it does not necessarily succeed as an engrossing mystery. Keep in mind, the DVD is part of Fox’s “Noir” series, and that’s a bit misleading. There’s little noir-ish about it, not, say, compared to Fox’s all-time classic, Laura–starring Tierney in one of her signature roles. For that matter, Tierney’s Oscar nominated–and color saturated–Leave Her to Heaven (also Fox) works better as noir. That noted, I’ll leave it to others to debate whether color films qualify as “noir.” On the other hand, Black Widow, scripted by Nunnally Johnson (who also directs) from a story credited to Hugh Wheeler (using the pen, Patrick Quentin) [3], has more in common with a straightforward Agatha Christie whodunit or an amped-up big screen enhancement of such classic TV shows as Perry Mason or Dragnet. Entertaining enough, sure, but also stage-bound at times, even with snazzy visuals, talky, with perfunctory “Just the facts, ma’am” dialogue that tells as often as it shows while percolating along–make that simmering for those with short attention spans–to its conclusion.
So, there we were that Saturday morning, mesmerized by the colorful tale and then something surprising happened, surprising in the person of Hilda Simms.
Who is Hilda Simms, and why is she so surprising?
Hilda Simms is–was–an African-American actress from Minneapolis whose involvement with the American Negro Theatre Company launched a career that led to a starring role in Anna Lucasta on Broadway in the 1940s, inspired by Eugene O’Neill’s Anna Christie and staged with an all Black cast though not necessarily conceived as such. Per the Internet Broadway Database (IBDb), the play ran for two years, and Simms later travelled across the Atlantic to star in the London production as well. She eventually heeded Hollywood’s call, appearing in a small number of films including 1953’s The Joe Louis Story, as Marva Louis (aka Mrs. Joe Louis).
What’s surprising about Simms’ role in Black Widow is that it’s essentially color-blind. For example, she’s not playing a domestic, a maid, as would have been typical of the time, and no reference is made to the color of her skin. None. In 1954. She’s first seen briefly as a hat-check girl in Mabel Anderson’s watering hole–and, yes, okay, that looks suspiciously like a maid’s uniform. She re-appears later in the film as a cocktail waitress at a neon lit joint in a relatively lengthy scene opposite Heflin’s beleaguered “person of interest.” He’s been played and needs to avoid the police long enough to retrace a few steps and find the missing piece of a perplexing puzzle. Simms, as Anne, might be the one person to turn the investigation. She and Heflin are presented as equals, that is, two smart, seasoned adults trying to pick each other’s brains to arrive at one inevitable truth.
Look closely at director Nunnally Johnson’s staging. In their three minute scene, Simms and Heflin appear facing each other, mostly in a straight-on two-shot, with Heflin slightly slumped against the bar, thereby equalizing the space between them; moreover, Johnson cuts to Simms, from over Heflin’s shoulder (the actor’s back to the camera), at least as many times as he reverses the angle to favor Heflin. See? The characters–and the performers who inhabit them–are treated as equals through the director’s lens.
Simms makes quite an impression, bringing enviable cool to a small role that helps advance the plot. As is often the case with performers who exude star quality, the audience wants to see more of her, but that is not to be in this particular film.
As extraordinary as Simms is, let’s not kid ourselves. Her role, while strongly written, is still a supporting one, barely more than a cameo, and even though she’d scored a Broadway triumph well before The Black Widow, her name is buried deep in the opening credits, nor is she featured in the DVD box art. Also, as a person of color in this enterprise, she’s the exception rather than the norm in an otherwise all-white cast. Face it: then, the 1950s, as now, Hollywood doesn’t often know what to do with women of color. Yes, the situation is improving, in both films and TV, as witnessed by the continued successes of such recent Oscar winners as Regina King (If Beale Street Could Talk, 2018), Viola Davis (Fences, 2016), Lupita Nyong’o (12 Years a Slave, 2013), and Octavia Spencer (The Help, 2011), all, ahem, winners in the Supporting Actress category, along with biggies Kerry Washington, Taraji P. Henson, Angela Bassett, Audra McDonald, ever brilliant Alfre Woodard, the great Debbi Morgan, Jennifer Lewis, Wanda Sykes, Jada Pinkett Smith, Leslie Jones, and the steady rise of Tiffany Haddish, among others [4], sure, but parity is still not the norm. Yet.
Still, Hilda Simms’ brief turn enriches Black Widow with cultural significance beyond its artistic merits, keeping in mind that 1954 also saw the release of the fabelled Carmen Jones, a modern adaptation of Bizet’s opera Carmen (with new lyrics by Richard Rogers, set, to clarify, to Bizet’s original score), with an all-Black cast led by Dorothy Dandridge, who made history as the first African-American, male or female, to earn an Oscar nomination in a leading performance category. And good for her. After all, a dearth of opportunities for Black performers led to an even bigger dearth of representation at the annual Academy awards. For example, prior to Dandridge’s success in Carmen Jones, the Academy had recognized exactly three Black performers: Hattie McDaniel, who famously won 1939’s Best Supporting Actress statuette for Gone with the Wind; James Baskett, the recipient of an honorary award for his role as Uncle Remus in Disney’s Song of the South (1946, by now embarrassingly dated though no fault of charismatic Baskett), and Ethel Waters, portraying the grandmother of a light skinned Black woman (Jeanne Crain) who passes for white in Pinky [5]. The end of the 50s saw Sidney Poitier make history as the first Black Best Actor nominee (The Defiant Ones, 1958) and Juanita Moore’s Oscar nominated turn, supporting, in 1959’s ballyhooed remake of Imitation of Life. Hooray for these actors who made the most of their opportunities, yes, indeed, but their signature roles were not, to put it politely, color-blind. The actors were cast as much for their skin color as for their talent, and that can problematic when the roles were, or are, developed and or scripted by white writers, whose conceptions or depictions of people of color might have been, well, limited by their own white remove. Furthermore, only Poitier graduated to superstardom, starring in, among others, three of 1967’s biggest hits (two Best Picture candidates [6]), and, of course his landmark Best Actor award (Lilies of the Field, 1963). [Of course, Halle Berry made history as the first woman of color to win Best Actress, per 2001’s Monsters Ball, but I digress.]
I might be wrong; after all, I’m not an expert. I have not seen every single movie cranked out by the major Hollywood studios in the 1940s and 1950s. Simms’ turn in The Black Widow might not be quite the “surprise” I perceive it to be. For all I know, Black actors and Black actresses might have been given opportunities to play scads and scads of color-blind roles in dozens upon dozens of films of which I remain woefully ignorant, yet my experience tells me otherwise. A look at some of the era’s top grossing titles reveals movies dominated by whiteness. And, again, the Academy’s choices underscore that lack of representation; after all, even the great Ethel Waters was passed over for a second nod when she recreated her stage success in Member of the Wedding for the movies. Also, don’t forget that the MGM powers-that-be looked to Ava Gardner, not known as a singer, to play the role of bi-racial entertainer Julie in yet another big screen transfer of Show Boat when, again, Lena Horne, who was both gorgeous and an accomplished vocalist, would have been ideal. And I actually like Gardner in Show Boat, all things considered (including the fact that she was at least partially dubbed), but a cheat is a cheat. One possible exception? The great Juanita Hall, a Tony winning Broadway actress, African-American, who was cast as Asian women (one Tonkinese [Vietnamese], the other Chinese-American) in both stage and screen versions of South Pacific and Flower Drum Song, and that’s also problematic, but, again, I digress.
Black Widow did not bowl over the critics in 1954, nor was it a box office biggie, necessarily, though it has attracted followers since then, mainly on the strength of its stunning visuals and the gaiety of Ginger Rogers’s snappy delivery. Seemingly, bland Garner, outmatched by almost every actor in any given scene, shouldered much of those negative reviews though not enough to bring her career to a complete standstill. To be perfectly clear, even with Hilda Simms’ jolt of a turn, the movie did nothing to advance her career in pictures, for sure. Indeed, the IMDb shows only a smattering of credits for Simms, the most famous being, arguably, a 9 episode arc on The Doctors and the Nurses, a serialized drama from the early 1960s. Besides the fact that Hollywood has simply never known what to do with Black actresses, Simms faced additional obstacles due to McCarthyism in the 50s as she refuted accusations that she had ties to the communist party even going so far as to pen an article entitled “I’m No Benedict Arnold.” Even though Hollywood never embraced Simms–and she likely never embraced Hollywood–she remained a vital active woman, hosting her own New York based radio program, starring in plays, including The Madwoman of Chaillot, serving as the Creative Arts Director for the New York Human Right’s Commission, and, importantly becoming a teacher and earning a master’s degree in education. She died in 1994 at the age of 75.
Despite Fox’s marketing strategies, Black Widow barely qualifies as noir, but it amuses as a guessing game, packs a punch as colorfully retro eye candy, delivers Hollywood charisma galore with a star laden cast, and surprises with the inclusion of super-stunning Hilda Simms, a knockout casting move as culturally significant as it is satisfying, and one that bucks 1950s Hollywood-think. And that’s a surprise for the ages.
Thanks for your consideration….
Notes
[1] – Though her honorary statuette for “Outstanding Child Actress of 1945” does not specify a single performance, Garner’s triumph was most likely for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, arguably the more beloved of her three 1945 titles, the others being Nob Hill and Junior Miss. James Dunn won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for playing Garner’s dad in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which marked the feature film debut of Elia Kazan, known at that time for his work in theatre; the movie also earned a nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay, per the collaborative efforts of Tess Slesinger and Frank Davis working from Betty Smith’s popular same-named novel.
[2] – To clarify, both Van Heflin and Ginger Rogers were Oscar winning vets at this point. Heflin won Best Supporting Actor for 1942’s Johnny Eager, starring Robert Taylor and Lana Turner; Rogers snagged Best Actress accolades for 1940’s Kitty Foyle, reinventing herself as a “serious” actress after her streak of successful musicals in the 1930s with Fred Astaire.
[3] – In his day, Johnson ranked as one of the busiest writer-hyphenates in the business, meaning he worked as writer, director, and sometime producer, earning Oscar writing nods per his adaptations of The Grapes of Wrath (1940) and Holy Matrimony (1943) with additional screenwriting credits for the varied likes of How to Marry a Millionaire (1953), Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation (1956), The Dirty Dozen (1962), and 1942’s Roxie Hart (yes, essentially, the basis for Chicago), which starred Ginger Rogers, his Black Widow leading lady–74 writing credits, per the IMDb; additionally, his directorial credits include The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (1956) and The Three Faces of Eve (1957), both of which he also scripted. Meanwhile, Hugh Wheeler was best known for his work in theatre, winning Tony awards for his books (scripts) for the musicals A Little Night Music (’73), Candide (’74; that’s back-to-back wins), and Sweeney Todd (’79). His screen credits include the adaptation of 1972’s Travels with My Aunt. Apparently, “Patrick Quentin” was a common pen name among series detective fiction scribes, not unlike, say, “Carolyn Keene,” credited as the official writer of Nancy Drew books.
[4] – I’m referring to the likes of past and present greats, trailblazers who’ve left their marks on American pop culture, including but not limited to Louise Beavers, Pearl Bailey, Claudia McNeil, Ruby Dee, Beah Richards, Eartha Kitt, Nichelle Nichols, Diahann Carroll, Abbey Lincoln, Gail Fisher, Leslie Uggams, Pam Grier, Tamara Dobson, Teresa Graves, Esther Rolle, Isabel Sanford, Mabel King, Theresa Merrit, Marlene Clark, Phylicia Rashad, Danitra Vance, Loretta Devine, Madge Sinclair, Mary Alice, Rosalind Cash, Lynn Whitfield, S. Epatha Merkerson, CCH Pounder, Lynne Thigpen, Tracy Camilla Johns, Irma P. Hall, Diane Amos, Oscar winners Whoopi Goldberg, Jennifer Hudson, and Mo’Nique, media dynamo Oprah Winfrey, the aforementioned Lena Horne, Diana Ross, and LEGENDARY Cicely Tyson, again, among others.
[5] – Of course, Crain, in spite of her extremely generous Oscar nod, was an especially egregious casting choice. Hello, Lena Horne, anyone? Okay, 30ish Horne might have been a wee old to play girlish Pinky, but she would have been more credible than vanilla Crain.
[6] – In ’67, Poitier starred in Best Picture winner In the Heat of the Night as well as Best Picture also-ran Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, both among the year’s most popular audience draws as well. Additionally, he enjoyed great success with To Sir, with Love in the same year. In spite of all that, a Best Actor nod failed to materialize for the much in-demand actor (for…take your pick?), likely a case of Poitier being too good in too many films in one year, thereby splitting votes with himself. After turning to directing, successfully, btw, Poitier returned to acting with 1988’s Shoot to Kill and Little Nikita. He won a well-deserved Honorary Oscar in the spring of 2002.
SOURCES:
Hilda Simms at BlackPast.org: https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/simms-hilda-1918-1994/
Hilda Simms per Curt Brown for the Star Tribune (Minnesota): http://www.startribune.com/hilda-moses-simms-went-from-st-margaret-s-academy-to-broadway-and-hollywood-blacklists/304005451/
Hilda Simms, per the IMDb: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0799968/
Hilda Simms, per the Internet Broadway Database: https://www.ibdb.com/broadway-cast-staff/hilda-simms-60107
Black Widow at Norish website, per John Grant: https://noirencyclopedia.wordpress.com/2014/10/01/black-widow-1954/
Easy-to-use “List of black Academy Award winners and nominees,” per InterPlanetary File System (IPFS) – Wikipedia (last updated in 2016 but suitable for the purpose of this post):
Juanita Hall at BlackPast.org: https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/hall-juanita-1901-1968/
Thanks, as well, to the National Association of Black Journalists: https://www.nabj.org/page/styleguideA