January typically inspires (requires?) reviews of the previous year — rankings of its best and worst films, performances or whatever; lists of snubs and upsets at award shows; necrologies of all the movie people who passed away during the year.
Having watched scores of older films on TCM and on-demand channels recently, though, I was inspired to survey the objects and behaviors that have disappeared from movies since the 1950s and earlier (except of course in contemporary films that are set in the past).
Obviously, it doesn’t need to be pointed out that phones have changed the most radically over the decades, and many older thrillers would have been a lot shorter if hero or victim were carrying a cellphone rather than having to hunt up a rotary-dial landline. But the concomitant disappearance of wood-and-glass phone booths (often in drugstores) meant one less place to conceal oneself (or change into one’s superhero costume), and it also eliminated the familiar scene of an informer calling in a tip to the police (and likely getting gunned down there, too).
Fashions in clothing constantly change in the real world, and in films as well, of course — mainly women’s. Men’s, not so much. But there are articles of men’s clothing that have completely disappeared. Spats (spatterdashes, originally) went out of style in the 1920s but lingered in films into the 1930s. The white cloth coverings worn over ankle and instep were originally intended to protect shoes and stockings from splashes and mud (and other things in the days of horse-drawn carriages), though why they were white becomes something of a mystery. Also in those older films, you can see men’s garters holding up their stockings (before the days of socks with elastic tops).
At the other end of the male body, it’s behavior that has changed. Well into the 1940s and 1950s, most men in films set in contemporary times wore hats. And they usually did not take them off indoors. Today’s professional poker players often affect baseball caps and hoodies to hide their faces during games. Actual fedoras and derbies (and even top hats) were the order of business back in the day — though, granted, the business was most often reporting, detecting or crime. Men’s hats then signified manliness and confidence.
Typical ancillary behaviors for women in movies at that time have also disappeared, such as applying lipstick in public, noticeably chewing gum or fainting. And as a result, smelling salts to revive them have also vanished.
Other objects you can see in older movies but not in real life these days and thus not in contemporary films include seltzer bottles (to add fizz to your highball) and suitcases that you actually carry rather than roll along. Large streamer trunks carrying your entire wardrobe for that long ocean voyage and tour of Europe have also disappeared, by and large.
Of course, cigarettes now can appear only in period films. Their ban from contemporary film actually meant a considerable loss for cinema (and not just in product placement). The deficit was not so much in the object itself (except, say, where a cigarette or its ashes could serve as a clue for the police), but in the behavior surrounding the act of smoking.
Typical scenes revealing character in older films include lighting a cigarette for a lover or a femme fatale as a romantic or at least sexual overture, hurling a cigarette or stamping on it to evoke anger, blowing smoke rings to show nonchalance, blowing smoke contemptuously into an adversary’s face, flipping a cigarette into one’s mouth to display dexterity, or even just thoughtfully staring at a cigarette one is holding.
Characters could double down on such behaviors in the simple lighting of a cigarette by additional business with a lighter or matches (again, always also serviceable as clues in mysteries). And back then you could strike a wooden match on virtually anything, even your jeans.
One thing from 1930s and 1940s films I don’t understand, though, is the way people would get into (and out of) their automobiles. All cars had bench seats then, and at least 80 percent of the time, I would guess, the driver would get in on the passenger side and slide over behind the steering wheel. And when two people did approach the car from the driver’s side, the passenger would likely get in and slide over. Exiting the auto would reverse that process.
That just doesn’t seem reasonable to me. I can’t figure out if it was simply reflecting contemporary real-life behavior of the time or if it somehow made getting the shot easier (though I don’t see how that would work). If anyone knows for certain, please pass along the story.
This post was originally published on here
