Twice in my life I have fought to save someone I love dearly from the ravage edges of suicidal intent and actions. It shook my center, my core foundation. I don’t think I will ever forget those terrifying seconds that sometimes still leaves me with residual PTSD.
As a former teacher, there were many moments of deep discussions and debates while trying to redirect my precious students toward a healthier, mental path. They would often leave my usual optimistic reservoir depleted. I would have to work overtime to get back to my normal. Even in my most desperate hours of grief, after my daughter Ilisa Rae died, I knew I had to go on for the sake of my son and grandchild. My instinct to survive felt intuitive if only to keep her life stories alive for her son and brother.
There are those who cannot think that clearly when surrounded by a black cloud weighing every part of your being down. This is how suicidal seconds have been described to me by my husband. At that instant, nothing else matters, but to stop the unimaginable pain. It is just a way out, so you don’t have to face life’s self-perceived harsh, life hiccups whether or not they are actually based on reality. Recognizing these moments are always very hush/hush topics of conversation. People will say, “Oh, so and so committed suicide last Thursday,” and then move on to another more genteel topic. Who among us is brave enough to start a conversation about this stuff out loud? I am sad to say that not many would dare open Pandora’s Box, that is for sure.
Alcoholism, emotional abuse, lying, cheating, and coming to grips with our own immortality are not topics for discussing around the dinner table, especially in 1933, 93 years ago. Those types of elegant evenings usually were surrounded by small, meaningless banter, exquisite gowns, handsome tuxedoes, gorgeous flowers, and place settings set for an even number of men and women dinner guests within a very formal dining room, complete with an exemplary serving staff.
Ah, those were the days of residing deep within gilded, glass cages never being allowed to utter one word of truth. But there was a breakout film that exploded each of those enclosed containers. DINNER AT EIGHT broke those seals and brought every sordid detail to the surface and still managed to serve a magnificent meal, only a few minutes late, in sharp, black and white frames, while boldly tackling the unspeakable. Bravo to all who dared to attend. What was once safely tucked away and hidden could never be forgotten again.
DINNER AT EIGHT was originally a successful play written by George S. Kaufman (MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG, YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU) and enjoyed a year’s run on Broadway. Its caustic, pointed dialogues seemed to hit a nerve with the public. It was recreated on film with a stand-out, first tier line-up of powerful actors durected by the genius of George Cukor (THE PHILADELPHIA STORY, MY FAIR LADY, GASLIGHT). It was not an Oscar recipient, but the movie made over a million which in those days was considered a goldmine.
The film starred both Lionel and John Barrymore who are the father and uncle of Drew Barrymore. (E.T) Lionel (YOU CAN’T TAKE IT WITH YOU) portrayed Oliver Jordan, a kind man who was coming to grips with his date with death, and trying to save his life’s work. John (GRAND HOTEL) portrayed Larry, a has-been actor who was grappling with booze, womanizing, and suicide. Film can sometimes mirror life’s problems. John was an alcoholic in real life and died from kidney failure while combatting several romance battles similar to his character, Larry. Both were consummate actors. They raised DINNER AT EIGHT to a stellar, masterclass level. Their characterizations of these two men were authentic, honest, and brought me to tears knowing their fates. They both had the ability to make each written word come alive and resonate with our souls. It is a gift this legendary family has maintained for generations.
Marie Dressler (Emma) played Carlotta. She was the comic relief with her quirky mannerisms and over-the-top facial expressions. She presented a strong, no nonsense woman who wasn’t held back by any man, no matter who he was. Every woman should possess a little of Carlotta’s spirit, but I have to thoroughly disagree with her opinions of keeping secrets while in a serious relationship. I am glad women are evolving and are currently working towards acknowledging their inner strengths and value.
The beautiful, sexy Jean Harlow as Kitty was deliciously evil. The studio did not think she could pull it off. What helped tremendously was how much Harlow hated her fake, film husband, Wallace Beery (GRAND HOTEL, TREASURE ISLAND) in real life. Those feisty, screaming dialogues didn’t have to search very far from the truth when they shouted, “I hate you!” to each other. This is what made their scenes together so entertaining. They were brutal and bitchy. They were the couple anyone would not want to have as dinner guests in their home.
Three additional, incredible actors took on highly emotional roles with panache and honesty. Edmund Lowe, Billie Burke, and Madge Evans were marvelous. They brought their what emotional arcs to their highest peaks and then let them topple, crash and burn. Their inane chatter, sobs of despair, narcissistic, and weeping tones kept audiences entranced. It was all a merry chase of disbelief yet necessary for the story content to progress.
This ensemble was mesmerizing. Their abilities to capture the essence and importance of what was being shown on screen was a game changer. I could actually hear the glass ceiling cracking, and it all was filmed in a mere 27 days in mostly chronological order. Cukor did not mess around.
DINNER AT EIGHT was an astounding film for its time. It touched on subjects most did not want to come face to face with especially when the world was just making its way out of the depths of the Great Depression, and Europe was gearing up for another world war. Dangerous, history that showcase a behind-the-scenes look at the rich and powerful. DINNER AT EIGHT highlighted what it felt like to stuff every feeling and emotion until the dams could not hold back. And after that…dinner was gloriously served. How very silly, yet it reinforced the importance of how phenomenal acting and tight, smart directing can create a dramatic classic filled with witty jabs and barbs that made iconic dents in humanity’s armor. Talking about all those elephants in the room had to start somewhere. Has society made enough progress throughout these many decades? I think not, but we as a species are filled with flaws and fault lines. I have hope that our children and children’s children will do better. “That’s the thing about death. Even the young people can’t do anything about it.”
DINNER AT EIGHT is available on TCM.
