Martin Ritt: Hud

Dave Kehr in the nytimes of 11/24/08 wrote

It’s hard to deduce from either of these releases that Ritt — the director of “Hud” (1963), “The Front” (1976) and “Norma Rae” (1979) — was once considered a major Hollywood filmmaker. He isn’t mentioned on the front cover of either disc. Like so many filmmakers who racked up awards and earned sterling reviews during their careers, he seems to have been forgotten by history, perhaps because his movies were so deeply embedded in the times in which they were made. They draw on or react against contemporary events to such a degree that, once their contexts have been taken away, they no longer mean what they once did. Ritt, who died in 1990 not long after directing Robert De Niro and Jane Fonda in the sincere but maladroit working-class romance “Stanley & Iris,” might not have been the most able stylist in the world, but he deserves better than oblivion.

Ritt certainly deserves better than that. What films being made now are better than his? Hud is one of my favorites. The scene of Melvyn Douglas singing his heart out in the movie theater is great

Hud is a 1963 film which tells the story of a self-centered, modern-day cowboy. It stars Paul Newman, Melvyn Douglas, Patricia Neal, Brandon De Wilde and Whit Bissell. The movie was primarily filmed in Claude, Texas.
The movie was adapted by Harriet Frank Jr. and Irving Ravetch from the novel Horseman, Pass By by Larry McMurtry and was directed by Martin Ritt.
It won Academy Awards for Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Melvyn Douglas, who won against Bobby Darin in Captain Newman, M.D.), Best Actress in a Leading Role (Patricia Neal) and Best Cinematography, Black-and-White (James Wong Howe). It was nominated for Best Actor in a Leading Role (Paul Newman), Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Black-and-White, Best Director and Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium.
Hud Bannon (Paul Newman) is an unscrupulous, arrogant, brash, and self-centered man. He has few interests other than enjoying himself and avoiding responsibility. His life is limited to drinking, starting barroom brawls, joyriding in his sporty pink Cadillac, and sleeping with women (married or otherwise). Although his elderly rancher-father Homer (Melvyn Douglas) is a deeply principled man, none of his ethics have rubbed off on Hud. Homer uses every opportunity to remind Hud of what a disappointment he is.
Also living at the Bannon Ranch is Hud's teenage nephew Lonnie (Brandon De Wilde), the son of Hud's deceased brother who died as a result of Hud's recklessness. Hud believes that his brother's death is the primary cause of Homer's anger and resentment toward him. However, Homer reveals that his disappointment runs deeper than that, saying that Hud cares about no one but himself and is unprincipled. Hud says, "My mama loved me, but then she died." (In McMurtry's novel, Hud's mother - Homer's second wife - is still alive.)
Lonnie and Hud are both attracted to the Bannons' middle-aged housekeeper, Alma (Patricia Neal), and Hud is as crude and insulting to her as Lonnie is protective. Although Hud's fondness for her is (at first) somewhat mutual, Alma keeps her distance because she has already been "around the block" with macho womanizers like Hud. (Alma comments to Hud, at one point during the film, "I've done my time with one cold-blooded bastard, I'm not looking for another.")
Homer buys some cheap Mexican cattle which have foot-and-mouth disease and his entire herd becomes infected. Hud recommends they quickly sell them to someone else before word gets out. But Homer will not resort to such unethical tactics; he calls in a state veterinarian. The cattle are quarantined by the vet, who ultimately rules the entire herd must be destroyed so as not to spread the infection. Although this will likely bankrupt the Bannons, Homer complies rather than risk spreading the disease or passing the problem onto unsuspecting ranchers. Hud is angry that his inheritance has been eroded; he attempts to have Homer declared legally incompetent, so he can usurp control of their ranch.
In a drunken rage, Hud forces himself sexually onto Alma. Lonnie comes to Alma's aid. She abruptly flees the ranch, disgusted and demoralized at Hud's brutishness. After Lonnie drops her off at the bus station, Hud happens by as she is waiting. He apologizes for his drunken assault, but not for his attraction to her. Driving back to the ranch, Lonnie spots his grandfather at the roadside. Homer has fallen off his horse during a survey of his property. Hud pulls up behind Lonnie, and both try to help Homer, but he does not survive. At the very end, Homer accuses Hud of being eager for him to die.
Although Lonnie initially idealized Hud for his charm and liveliness, he has become disgusted at Hud's treatment of Homer and Alma. After Homer's funeral, Lonnie leaves the ranch to get away from Hud, not sure if he will ever return. Lonnie tells Hud to put his half of their inheritance in the bank, then walks off. For a moment, Hud feels the emptiness of his life, which he has created by driving everyone who loved him away. But after a swig of beer and a moment's thought, he dismisses Lonnie's departure with a deprecating wave and a smile of indifference and goes back into the Bannon house, alone.

Who's Almost Who In Knickerbocker Village History: Martin Ritt

above in 1958 directing Ina Balin in Black Orchid

Born In NYC and in 1920 I found him at 140 E. 7th Street, right across the street from Tompkins Square Park. His father was a union organizer thus the strong attraction to Norma Rae

Martin Ritt (March 2, 1914–December 8, 1990) was an American director, actor, and playwright who worked in both film and theater. He was born in New York City. Ritt originally attended and played football for Elon College in North Carolina. The stark contrasts of the depression-era South, against his New York City upbringing, instilled in him a passion for expressing the struggles of inequality, which is apparent in the films he directed. After leaving St. John's University, Ritt found work with a theater group, and began acting in plays. His first performance was as Crown in Porgy and Bess. After his performance drew favorable reviews, Ritt concluded that he could "only be happy in the theater." Ritt then went to work with the Roosevelt administration's New Deal Works Progress Administration as a playwright for the Federal Theater Project, a federal government-funded theater support program.
With work hard to find and the Depression in full effect, many WPA theater performers, directors, and writers became heavily influenced by the radical left and Communism, and Ritt was no exception. Years later, Ritt would state that he had never been a member of the Communist Party, although he considered himself a leftist and found common ground with some Marxist principles.
Ritt moved on from the WPA to the Theater of Arts, then to the Group Theater of New York City. It was at the Group Theater that he met Elia Kazan. Kazan cast Ritt as an understudy to his play Golden Boy. Ritt’s social consciousness and political views continued to mature during his time with the Group Theater, and would influence the social and political viewpoint that Ritt would later express in his films.
During World War II, Ritt served with the U.S. Army Air Forces and appeared as an actor in the Air Forces' Broadway play and film Winged Victory. During the Broadway run of the play, Ritt directed a production of Sidney Kingsley's play Yellow Jack, using actors from Winged Victory and rehearsing between midnight and 3 a.m. after Winged Victory performances. The play had a brief Broadway run and was performed again in Los Angeles when the Winged Victory troupe moved there to make the film version.
After working as a playwright with the Works Progress Administration, acting on stage, and directing hundreds of plays, Ritt became a successful television director.
In 1952, Ritt was acting, directing, and producing teleplays and television programs when he was caught up by the Red Scare and investigations of communist influence in Hollywood and the movie industry. Although not directly named by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), Ritt was mentioned in an anti-communist newsletter called Counterattack, published by American Business Consultants, a group formed by three former FBI agents.
Counterattack alleged that Ritt had helped Communist Party-affiliated locals of the New York-based Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union stage their annual show. Also cited was a show he had directed for Russian War Relief at Madison Square Garden. His associations with the Group Theater, founded on a Russian model, and the Federal Theater Project (which Congress had stopped funding in 1939 because of what some anti-New Deal congressmen claimed to be a left-wing political tone to some productions), were also known to HUAC. He was finally blacklisted by the television industry when a Syracuse grocer charged him with donating money to Communist China in 1951.
Unable to work in the television industry, Ritt returned to the theater for several years. By 1956, the Red Scare had decreased in intensity, and he turned to film directing. His first film as director was Edge of the City, an important film for Ritt and an opportunity to give voice to his experiences. Based on the story of a union dock worker who faces intimidation by a corrupt boss, the film is a virtual laundry list of themes influencing Ritt over the years: corruption, racism, intimidation of the individual by the group, defense of the individual against government oppression, and most notable, the redeeming quality of mercy and the value of shielding others from evil, including sacrificing one's own reputation, career, and even life if necessary.
Ritt went on to direct 25 more films.
Ritt's 1964 film The Outrage, is an American retelling of the Kurosawa film Rashomon, and stars Laurence Harvey, Paul Newman, Claire Bloom, Edward G. Robinson, Howard Da Silva, and William Shatner. The film uses the Western genre to tell the same story as the Japanese movie. Like the original Kurosawa film, this film contrasts the stories of various witnesses to a crime. Shatner and Robinson listen to four different versions of a rape/murder, told alternatively by Harvey, Bloom, Newman and Da Silva. Harvey is the one murdered, but tells his story through an Indian medicine man. Each story is a biased opinion of what happened, and the movie never resolves which story is true (if any). Like the Kurosawa original, Ritt's film is an example of nonlinear storytelling.
In 1976, Ritt made the one of the first dramatic feature films about the blacklist, The Front, starring Woody Allen. The Front satirizes the use of front men, men and women who (either as a personal favor or in exchange for payment) allowed their names to be listed as writers for scripts actually authored by blacklisted writers. The film was based on the experiences of, and written by, one of Ritt's closest friends, screenwriter Walter Bernstein, who was blacklisted for eight years beginning in 1950.
In 1987, Ritt again utilized extensive flashback and nonlinear storytelling techniques in the film Nuts, a film about a strong-willed, high-class call girl (Barbra Streisand) who kills a customer in self-defense. To avoid scandal, her parents try to have her declared mentally incompetent. Not helping matters is that she is distrustful of everybody, including her court-appointed attorney (Richard Dreyfuss), and is disruptive during her court hearings. The movie is based on a stage play by the same name, written by Tom Topor. The film was considered a box office disappointment in relation to its budget, although it did not actually lose money.
* Edge of the City (1957)
* The Long Hot Summer (1958)
* Hud (1963)
* The Outrage (1964)
* The Spy Who Came In from the Cold (1965)
* Hombre (1967)
* The Great White Hope (1970)
* The Molly Maguires (1970)
* Sounder (1972)
* The Front (1976)
* Norma Rae (1979)
* Murphy's Romance (1985)
* Nuts (1987)
* Stanley and Iris (1990)

Let's Have A Union: Norma Rae

The director of this movie was Martin Ritt and guess what?
from wikipedia

Norma Rae is a 1979 film which tells the story of a woman from a small town in the Southern United States who becomes involved in the labor union activities at the textile factory where she works. It stars Sally Field, Beau Bridges, Ron Leibman, Pat Hingle, Barbara Baxley, Gail Strickland and Noble Willingham.
The movie was written by Harriet Frank Jr. and Irving Ravetch, and was directed by Martin Ritt. It is based on the true story of Crystal Lee Sutton.
It won Academy Awards for Best Actress in a Leading Role (Sally Field) and Best Original Song (for David Shire and Norman Gimbel for "It Goes Like It Goes"). It was also nominated for Best Picture and for Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium. The film was also nominated to the Palme d'Or (Golden Palm) at the 1979 Cannes Film Festival and Field was awarded Best Actress for her performance.

from the nation, by Robert Nathan and Jo-Ann Mort

Remembering Norma Rae: Why does Hollywood render unions and the working class invisible?
Ladies and gentlemen, the textile industry, in which you are spending your lives and your substance...is the only industry in the whole length and breadth of these United States of America that is not unionized. Therefore, they are free to exploit you, to lie to you, to cheat you and to take away from you what is rightfully yours--your health, a decent wage, a fit place to work.
"Unionized" isn't a word you hear in many American movies. "A decent wage," now there's a phrase that doesn't crop up too often. As for the evocative "your lives and your substance," poetic descriptions of the human condition aren't generally found in contemporary entertainment.
This speech is from Martin Ritt's classic 1979 film Norma Rae, delivered in an impassioned sermon by Ron Leibman in the role of an organizer for the Textile Workers Union of America, a real union at the time and a predecessor to the current trade union UNITE HERE. Norma Rae is an aberration in recent Hollywood history. The movie portrays a realistic union-organizing campaign and the fierce corporate response at the fictional O.P. Henley textile mill in the fictional town of Henleyville. As everyone knew at the time, the mill and the town were unambiguous stand-ins for J.P. Stevens and its sixteen-year war against union organizers in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina, and the movie accurately depicted the state of American labor in 1979.
The situation has not improved much since. The only remaining Stevens factory in the United States (owned by its successor company, Westpoint Home) is a unionized blanket mill in Maine. In other industries, union organizers are battling adversaries as unyielding as any in the days of Norma Rae. According to the labor advocacy group American Rights at Work, last year more than 23,000 Americans were fired or penalized for legal union activity.
On a human level, Norma Rae is the story of one woman, played by Sally Field, who finds redemption risking her life for economic justice, and of factory workers demanding to be treated as more than slaves. In the realm of the political, it is virtually the only American movie of the modern era to deal substantially with any of these subjects. Even today it remains iconic--a major studio movie about the lives of working people with a profound and, for its time, disturbing political message: The little guy may have a prayer of getting social justice, but he'll have to fight desperately to get it. Try to think of a contemporary American film with a similar message or a political statement anywhere near that blunt. The closest thing to a message in this year's crop of Oscar nominees for Best Picture can be found in Babel, which poses the rather mild question, Why can't we all just get along?
European filmmakers, like England's Ken Loach and Mike Leigh, don't shy from the subject of class. Loach's Bread and Roses dramatized the 1990 Service Employees International Union's Justice for Janitors campaign in Los Angeles, and Leigh's entire career is virtually a paean to the working class. This is not to say that American studios don't make topical mainstream films. A kind of renaissance seemed to be blossoming in 2005, with material as varied as Good Night, and Good Luck and The Constant Gardener. But Blood Diamond--about the 1990s civil war in Sierra Leone partly sparked by international diamond speculators--was perhaps this season's only major studio picture that could be called politically daring, and it was a box-office disappointment. In the end, of course, financially successful or not, such movies don't fundamentally threaten the established order. They're well-crafted stories delivering conventional wisdom with considerable artistic skill.
Norma Rae was different. Its subject matter, never mind its politics, was enough to make a studio executive cringe: a movie about a union. On top of that, it was a story of platonic love between a Jewish intellectual and a factory worker; in Hollywood love stories, the audience wants the heroes to end up in bed. Even with a trio of creative giants--Ritt and his writers, Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank Jr.--this was no easy sell. Casting could have helped; stars get movies made. But several leading actresses, among them Jane Fonda and Jill Clayburgh, turned down the title role. Creative issues aside, there was the problem of location. Where would you shoot the movie? Because of J.P. Stevens's influence, taking the production to most Southern towns would be impossible, and building your own textile mill, prohibitively costly. (With help from the union, Ritt found a unionized mill in Opelika, Alabama, where management agreed to let him shoot, with mill workers as extras playing themselves.) Finally, after overcoming all the odds, when released the movie was anything but an instant hit, and only after Sally Field won Best Actress at Cannes did it gradually go from dud to box-office success.