Two Girls and a Sailor

During this past February, I had an experience I look forward to every year. During the lead-up to the Oscars, the most wonderful channel on television, Turner Classic Movies, runs their popular 31 Days of Oscar where each day is dedicated to a variety of Academy Award-themed classics. In 2003, the first year I started watching, a day was built around an Oscar category, such as Art Direction, Best Actor, Best Score, with nominations and wins from the show's 70+ year history adorning the small screen.

This year, the format was changed greatly, as to go with TCM's regular gimmick of connecting each subsequent movie to the one before, whether it be through actor, director, producer, etc. This led for more of a disjointed feeling than I was used to during February, as in 2003 I could dedicate entire days to the categories I felt I wanted to explore--e.g. If I wanted to see the best-looking movies of all time I had somehow missed during all my years, I could tune into a day of nominated cinematographers and take in beauty.

I did not fret, however, and put aside my Netflix queue for an entire month as I indulged in film history that was never granted to me during my four-year tenure as a film production major at Loyola Marymount University. Cimarillon, My Man Godfrey, The Bad and the Beautiful, The Americanization of Emily, The Thief of Baghdad, The Princess and the Pirate, Road to Utopia, Topper & Topper Returns (which, along with its television spin-off, is prime for a remake), The Philadelphia Story & High Society (one is a musical remake of the other), She Done Him Wrong, etc.

However, two stood out for me above all others--Two Girls and a Sailor and Executive Suite. Neither of the movies are really that fantastic--the former mostly notable for being the first time I've seen Jimmy Durante and not merely heard him on the Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack, the latter just a way for me to indulge in my knowledge that Robert Wise was the most various director of his day along with William Wyler.

No, what stood out for me was a beauty I hadn't had the pleasure of beforehand--June Allyson--who had parts of varying importance in these two movies. Really, I should just be discussing Two Girls and a Sailor, as she is one of the titular girls. Here was this early 1940s less-annoying Renee Zellweger, her of the scrunched face and scratchy voice, and I was enamored. Who was this woman and why hadn't I heard of her? I found out later she was Jo in the classic version of Little Women, but I felt as if I had discovered something of pure joy. She was not of the drop-dead bombshell look that belonged to so many of her contemporaries. She was the girl-next-door, and that is why she was loved. I wholeheartedly rooted for her to attain the love of said sailor, and while I cannot even remember which of the two showgirls the sailor picks at the end of the film, I'd like to believe it was June Allyson. She was the one to take home to mom.

June Allyson died three days ago at her home in Ojai, California of pulmonary respiratory failure at the age of 88. Her grace and beauty had not withered, and you could still feel the smile behind her eyes even during her late commercial appearances. There was difficulties in her life, to be sure, but she blew it off with a subtle nod of the head or curl of the lip. She could not be phased, even during the bad publicity she received during her marriage to 13-years-her-senior Dick Powell.

During the climax of Two Girls and a Sailor, a wonderous dream sequence takes place that, much like An American in Paris, summarizes the plot up to that point in conceptual and breathtaking dance. As the two showgirls gracefully battle over their mutual attraction, the set becomes a symbol of their occupation at their night club--they jump from literal note to note amidst a grand, sparkling city, Jimmy Durante prances around comically and backs up both of their emotions, and the sailor appears to be a treasure, somewhere in the distance and yet still attainable.

This dream sequence is what I imagine June Allyson's heaven-to-be. There was no greater sight during the entire month of February this year on TCM, and there wasn't during her career. This belongs to her.

A star has dimmed over Hollywood, and I wish her a whole new generation of fans.