Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1959)

FVW EXCELLENT VERY ROOD kV GOOD \/ FAIR A— ADULTS F — FAMILY NOW PLAYING For fuller reviews, see Photoplay for the months indicated. For full reviews this month, see contents page. irWi/ BIG COUNTRY, THE— U.A.; Technirama. Technicolor: The greatest parlor trick, western-wise since “Shane,” as director William Wyler takes a very old story, adds Gregory Peck, Jean Simmons, Carroll Baker, Charlton Heston, Burl Ives, Chuck Connors, acres of breathtaking scenery, technicolor — and emerges with a highly entertaining film. (F) September pV BARBARIAN AND THE GEISHA, THE — 20th; CinemaSeope, Deluxe Color: John Wayne versus the Japanese — pictorially thrilling, historically interesting, dramatically insipid. (F) December CASE OF DR. LAURENT, THE— Trans-Lux: The case for natural childbirth — stated simply, movingly and in exceptional good taste. Jean Gabin, Nicole Courcel. French; English titles. (A) November yyy DEFIANT ONES, THE— U.A.: Tense and compelling saga of white and negro escaped convicts, shackled together, who grow from mutual hatred to respect and admiration for each other. Fine acting by Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier. (F) November kVkV HOUSEBOAT— Paramount; VistaVision, Technicolor: Cary Grant, Sophia Loren, three children and some friendly termites set up housekeeping on the Potomac in the year’s most charmingly unlikely story. (F) November IN LOVE AND WAR— 20th; CinemaScope, Deluxe Color: From the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of San Francisco with Robert Wagner, Jeffrey Hunter and Bradford Dillman as leathernecks on the loose. A threestar picture with a four-star performance by Dana Wynter. (A) December MARDI GRAS — 20th; CinemaSeope, Deluxe Color: Pat Boone, Gary Crosby, Tommy Sands and a couple of hundred VMI cadets in a raffle — with Christine Carere as the prize. (F) December V'V'V'/ MATCHMAKER, THE— Paramount ; VistaVision: Ably aided by Tony Perkins and Shirley MacLaine, Shirley Booth takes expert aim on another Oscar in the year's funniest film: a fast and furious game of romantic musical chairB. (F> September V'V'V'V' OLD MAN AND THE SEA, THE— Warners; Warnercolor: Amid scenes of magnificent pictorial splendor, Spencer Tracey gives a powerfully low-keyed one man show in the year’s most unusual film experience. (F) September l/pV TUNNEL OF LOVE, THE— M-G-M: How To Have A Baby, in several hilarious reels, with Doris Day, Richard Widmark. Gig Young, Elisabeth Fraser. Expert direction by Gene Kelly. (A) December Jellinek that the party was definitely set for 5:30 p.m. on Tuesday, October 8th. Then he and Gary had a glass of milk and went to sleep. Back in New York, General Sarnoff was already at work. He authorized the expenditure of $100,000 to transform Lakeville into a television relay station. Swarms of technicians were sent into the area and power lines were erected almost overnight. Meanwhile, Henry Bosworth of the Herald went to the sanitorium and interviewed the medical staff, the patients, and Little Boy Blue. Then he went back to his office and wrote the story of the dying boy who just wanted a few birthday cards. And the article appeared in the paper. The results were immediate and overwhelming. The wire services picked up the story and it appeared in newspapers all over the world. Thousands of cards poured into Lakeville. A trainload of toys came from Germany. Birthday cakes arrived by mail, by express. and were delivered by hand. Letters flowed in — many of them containing money — so that a special trust fund had to be set up in Francis’ name. Francis was unaware of all the commotion. He just lay in bed and stared into space. Out in Hollywood, Jerry Lewis had cleared his calendar. Twenty-four hours before the special telecast was to go on, he sat down with songwriter Sammy Cahn to write the songs, the parodies, the orchestral arrangements, and the special sketches. They worked through the night. Gary refused to go to bed. He brought them coffee and sandwiches. He copied over the routines. He helped in every way that he could. At dawn, the last word was put on paper. Then Jerry and Sammy went through the whole show, playing all the parts, singing all the songs. Gary sat there, trying to think and feel and react like Little Boy Blue would think, feel, and react. At the end he was smiling and clapping. “Great,” he said, “great. He’ll love it.” And he went over and hugged his father. At 10 a.m. some of the most famous names in show busines gathered on the TV sound stage. Jerry, who had just taken enough time out to shave and shower, stood before them. Gary sat sleepily in a corner. “You all know why you’re here, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,” Jerry said. “I just want to tell you that I thank you, Gary thanks you, and Little Boy Blue thanks you. End of speech. Let’s go to work.” In Lakeville, Francis had found out he was going to have a party. Too much was going on to keep the secret. Cards were suspended on strings in the auditorium. Balloons hung from the walls. Huge TV sets were placed around the room. Mrs. Leo Gibbons, party supervisor, and her helpers, women from nearby Middleboro, set the punch, ice cream and fruit out on tables. Four huge birthday cakes were arranged against a floral design of bronze chrysanthemums and huckleberries. Volunteers were still working on the 147 mail sacks — literally two tons of mail, containing 200,000 cards and letters, and more than $10,000 in cash. Yes, Little Boy Blue had found out. Proudly he invited the other eighty children and the hospital staff to be his guests. When he was told about all the gifts, his eyes widened and he said, “Good. Now it can be everybody’s birthday. Let’s all share everything.” Four hundred GI’s in Alaska sent 400 presents. And 400 more came from GI’s in North Africa. Fifty smaller cakes and enough toys for more than a hundred kids waited in the auditorium. Ted Williams sent an autographed baseball; a model jet plane and a jet pilot helmet were personally delivered by three Otis Air Force Base pilots; a football signed by the Boston College squad and a special record cut by Tennessee Ernie Ford — “For Francis from Old Ern”— were on one of the tables. At three p.m. the eighty youngsters were wheeled in beds or chairs to the auditorium. The last to arrive was Francis. Mrs. Reynolds wheeled him through the rows of happy children while they sang, “Happy Birthday to You.” He was excited, pink and shiny. Francis’s first birthday party had begun. Now came the rustle and rip of tearing boxes, then the squeals of delight followed. Suddenly it was like Christmas in October. The punch, ice cream and fruit came next. Around five the harried staff straggled in. By five-thirty, Francis X could hardly restrain his joy. He stared at the TV screen. Here, any minute, would be Jerry Lewis putting on a birthday show just for him. The lonely little boy who thought nobody loved him leaned forward eagerly in the wheel chair, his heart pounding. His gay pink party cap and Halloween half-mask were still in place. Suddenly Jerry was on the screen dedicating the all-star show to “my one boy audience.” Francis drew a sharp breath. It was true. As the show unfolded — directly to and for him, his excitement was almost too much to watch. For the first time in his nine years, he was really somebody, he really counted. He grabbed the arms of his wheel chair tight with excitement and as Dinah Shore came on and sang “Davy Crockett,” he clapped his hands and hugged them tight. For the next hour and a half the greats of show business sang directly, right off the TV screen, to a little boy who the day before didn’t think he had a friend. One by one they came out: Mary Costa, Eddie Cantor, Pinky Lee, the Mouseketeers, Eddie Fisher, Tennessee Ernie Ford, George Gobel, Jim Arness, Hugh O’Brian, Jerry Lewis and his son. And when at the end, everyone joined in both on the screen and in the hospital with “Happy Birthday to You,” Francis’ pale little face was transformed with such a look of glowing happiness that, for an instant, Mrs. Reynolds was possessed of the wild hope that he would live, that this was not just the most memorable event of a too-short life. As the image on the screen faded away, Francis X sat quite still. For the first time in his life he felt the fierce desire to live. To get well. Somebody cared. This all happened more than a year ago, on October 8th, 1957. Miraculously, as this is being written, Francis X is still alive. As Dr. Jellinek said, “Before the party, Francis couldn’t respond, he didn’t respond. And suddenly, he had the will to live.” This year Little Boy Blue had a very simple birthday. A few cards, some presents from people in the immediate vicinity of the sanitorium, and, of course, something from Jerry Lewis and his son Gary. Nobody knows how many more birthdays there will be. They can but wait . . and hope . . . Yet for one magical afternoon, Little Boy Blue was like every other little boy in the world, only more so. He was remembered, he was loved. And that love has sustained him ever since, and God willing, will do so a little longer. The End WATCH FOR JERRY ON “THE JERRY LEWIS SHOW.” WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10TH AT 9 P.M. E.S.T. ON NBC-TV. HE ALSO APPEARS IN PARAMOUNT’S “THE GEISHA BOY.” pVW cat on a hot tin roof— M-G-M; Metrocolor: Tennessee Williams’ explosive tale of a squabbling Southern family makes an absorbing session as Elizabeth Taylor takes her final step to full film maturity, with an invaluable assist from Paul Newman. (A) October