ROSS HUNTER: The Gay Movie Producer for the Masses

Many may be shocked at the notion of labeling Imitation of Life a melodramatic popcorn film, but as Robin Wood, author and psychoanalyst of the genre, says, “One might say that the true subject of the melodrama genre is the struggle for differentiating between all that our civilization actually is and what we wish it to be.” The producer of Imitation of Life – and many other melodramas for the masses -- Ross Hunter, is the subject of this essay, which seeks to illustrate not only how Hunter was the key “author” of most of his films, but also how his juxtaposition of lushness, romance, and fashion created the melodramas that audiences wish their lives were, and made him a producer for the masses. After all, as Hunter himself once said of his own films, "They weren't great, but they weren't supposed to be ... I gave the public what they wanted - a chance to dream, to live vicariously, to see beautiful women, jewels, gorgeous clothes, melodrama."

Ross Hunter, born Martin Fuss in Ohio in 1920, first entered the Hollywood stage when he signed a contract with Columbia Pictures as an actor, after serving as an intelligence officer in World War II. He acted in a number of B movies, but found true success only after he transitioned to being a producer on staff at Universal in 1953. For Universal, he produced a number of films, many of which (like Imitation of Life) were directed by Douglas Sirk, and starred Doris Day, Debbie Reynolds, and Julie Andrews. Hunter was as openly gay as was possible in Hollywood at the time, and was a life partner of 40 years (longer than most Hollywood relationships) to fellow producer, Jacques Mapes. Hunter and Mapes produced together Hunter’s most successful film, Airport (1970), which garnered him his first and only Oscar nomination, but which was followed by the flop, Lost Horizon (1973), which essentially halted Hunter’s film career and sent him to Paramount where he finished his life producing TV movies.

As mentioned above, this essay will discuss Hunter’s authorial style (luxurious melodrama), and argue -- due to the fact that this style appears in all of his famous films -- that Hunter was indeed the originator of these celebrated movies. Furthermore, it will investigate how Hunter’s consistent and repeated hiring of key artistic talent was his modus operandi for achieving the “Hunter look.” Using celebrated and aesthetic elements of Imitation of Life and comparing them to similar elements in Hunter’s other films, this essay will show that Hunter was responsible for the look and messages of his films, and though forgotten to most today, he should be remembered.

CONSISTENT & REPEATED PACKAGING
Perhaps the most striking proof that Hunter was the originator of most of his films is the fact that he endlessly brought together the same group of actors, directors, and key artistic talent.

In three years, Hunter produced ten films, which Douglas Sirk directed, between 1957 and 1959. Hunter made seven films starring Rock Hudson, essentially building the giant’s career. Hunter worked with his lover, Jacques Mapes, on nearly half his films, for which Mapes was responsible for the art direction, a huge aspect of the authorship of a film. Rich and lush costumes are also a hallmark of Hunter’s films, and Hunter originated this aspect of his work by continually hiring costumers Bill Thomas and Jean Louis, with whom he made six films.

Furthermore, Hunter’s authorial clout can be seen in his repeated success with turning stage hits into film hits. Flower Drum Song, The Chalk Garden, Rosie, Louisiana Hayride, Ever Since Venus, and The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi, were all Broadway bows that made the Cineplex cash registers ring. Interestingly, Hunter was also the original producer of Sweet Charity (1969), but was forced to drop out after a conflict with director Bob Fosse over how to handle the racy story line – proving Hunter’s devotion to the creative origination of his films.

NARRATIVE HINGING DEVICES
Hunter’s films also repeatedly use similar narrative hinging devices. The use of the telephone is integral in Hunter’s Imitation of Life, and powerfully informs the story and propels the narrative. When Lora and Archer (Imitation) are first about to kiss, the phone rings. The sound separates them – contrasts their desire to be together with the reality that they won’t -- for Lora answers the phone, and leaves Archer alone. They never kiss. Early in the second half of the film, when we first hear Annie and Lora talking about Annie’s “sickness,” again the phone rings, and Lora’s career once again comes between her and her relationships.

Compare this with an alternate use of the phone in Hunter’s 1959 film, Pillow Talk, starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson. Pillow Talk’s narrative also hinges on the telephone, but in this case, it doesn’t separate the characters, but brings them together. This is literally illustrated by the use of split screen to actually juxtapose in space Day and Hudson as they talk on the phone, though they’re actually miles apart.



STRUCTURE
Hunter’s 1959 version of Imitation of Life spans a narrative time frame of a little over a decade. To cover this large span, the film is cleaved into two parts: the first half of the film (1947), followed by a montage elipsing ten years, then the second half (1957). In the first half of Imitation, Lorna is a struggling actress. During the montage she catapults to success, and in the second half, keeping her career alive requires her to sacrifice her dignity, loved ones, and more.

Compare this to the structure of another Hunter film, Back Street (1961). In this film, an ambitious but thwarted, Rae Smith meets handsome Paul Saxon, (of the Saxon department store chain), as he passes through Lincoln, Nebraska, on his way home from World War II. There's a definite spark between them but circumstances intervene and he leaves town without her. Many years later (an ellipse, just like in Imitation) she learns he's married. Determined to make it as a fashion designer, Rae moves to New York and becomes a great success (just like the Lorna character). One day she runs into Paul and again there's that spark; but he's still married so, as a form of escape, Rae moves to Rome to set up shop. Once again she meets Paul and finally they begin an actual affair since Paul's shrewish, drunken wife, Liz, won't give him a divorce. Time passes, the affair continues whenever time and place permit, but then, Paul's young son finds out about Rae and Rae's back-street world begins to crumble – another ending of lost love, just like Imitation.

It’s no accident that both of these Hunter films – Imitation of Life and Back Street – have such similar plot structure. Indeed, for both films, Hunter deliberately tapped screen scribe Eleanore Griffin for her ability to carry stories across decades. Again, this is an example of how Hunter’s purposeful hiring of key creatives resulted in his authorship of two films.


MISE-EN-SCENE and ART DIRECTION/WARDROBE
Certain visual themes permeate Hunter’s Imitation of Life, and each expresses a deeper, richer notion of the film’s messages. First, for example, is the theme of reflections. Hunter (with set decorator Mapes) wisely places mirrors, windows, and jewels (the diamonds during the opening title sequence) to amplify the notion of the characters (and America) being caught up in the hollow value of surfaces – especially the surface of the skin and its color. When Frankie confronts Sarah Jane and hits her, we see Sarah Jane’s reflection in the storefront window, heightening her inability to escape her surface.

Hunter (and costumer Bill Thomas, with whom Hunter worked on six films, and again, Mapes) also uses a very deliberate color palette to communicate the contrasts of the film. In the first scene, when Lora and Annie meet, they are surrounded by millions of colors in the form of beach umbrellas. This multi-colored scene speaks to the initial irrelevance of skin color to the characters. As the film progresses, the colors get more and more contrasting, and in many cases, they become overtly black and white. In the second half of the film, for example, Lora’s new home has a white piano, white furniture, and a black bar-top and barstools behind which Annie (the Black maid) frequently stands. The new home’s kitchen, where Lora and Annie most often come together, features a black and white checkered floor. This increasing contrast magnifies the increasing separation of the characters. Of course, this contrast is reconciled when at Annie’s funeral, after we see a white casket and hearse; mourning within a black limousine finally equalizes the characters.

This deliberate use of color is clearly the result of Hunter’s decision to once again bring Mapes and Thomas in on the project. And, immediately following the success of Imitation, Hunter called again on star Lana Turner, Mapes, and Thomas to glam-it-up in Portrait in Black. Turner plays the wife of a San Francisco shipping magnet who's having an affair with her hubby's doctor. Lush and beautiful sets, locations, and costuming – as we expect from Hunter -- again play a huge role in the message of the film. Our setting (ostensibly selected again by Jacques Mapes) is upper crust Nob Hill in San Francisco. The Cabot home, with the exception of the library being inexplicably painted black, is breathtaking. But its richness and lavishness only add the incarcerated feeling of the Turner character, emphasizing her inability to leave to tryst with her lover. The gorgeously decorated home very deliberately becomes a gilded cage in which the well-pruned bird of Turner is trapped. Lana Turner is stunning, and of course immaculately outfitted in high class fashions, shoes, hats, furs, and jewels at all times – a result of Bill Thomas, and a hallmark of Hunter’s gratuitous style.

ONE OF A KIND
Hunter’s greatest successes were during the decade spanning 1960 to 1970. Hunter wanted to make films for the masses, and he did. Although only Airport was a box office winner, Hunter’s films followed (or set) the trend of fun, fashionable films that were making big bucks during the time. Films like The Sound of Music (with Julie Andrews, a Hunter favorite), Mary Poppins, and The Jungle Book were the big successes of the decade. And like them, Hunter strove to produce films equally vibrant in color, style, and melodrama.

It worked. He received a Best Dramatic Award presented in the name of the Film Buyers of the Motion Picture Industry, and also came in at ninth place for the Top Producer Golden Laurel. It was his first appearance in the Laurel Awards. He would be nominated for the Top Producer Golden Laurel each year from 1959 to 1968, in 1970 and 1971, finally winning the award in 1968.

Most cinema in the 1960s, however, reflected the rock 'n' roll, tremendous social changes (the civil rights era and marches), and transitional cultural values of the time. This was a turbulent decade of monumental changes, tragedies, cultural events, assassinations and deaths, and advancements. Other producers of the time like Bert Schneider and Peter Fonda (Easy Rider), Billy Wilder (The Apartment), Stanley Kramer (Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner), and Jerome Hellman (Midnight Cowboy) were more interested in making films about the ever-changing societal views on hippies, alcoholism, race, and prostitution, respectively.


Suffice it to say that Hunter was not interested in such social commentary. In fact, Hunter was never interested in reflecting real life in his films at all, and since none of them do so, this is yet another piece of evidence that Hunter was indeed the originator of his works. As Hunter said once, "The way life looks in my pictures is the way I want life to be. I don't to hold a mirror up to life as it is. I just want to show the part which is attractive.” By maintaining a consistent stable of artistic talent like Mapes, Thomas, Louis, Hudson, Day, and Andrew, he did just that.