We’ve lost some major figures lately. Though they made their
mark in a variety of fields, their public personas were large enough to ensure
that they’d show up in popular movies. Fidel Castro of course appeared in Cuban
films, usually as himself. I was also nonplussed to learn, via the invaluable
Internet Movie Database, that in 1946 he performed as an extra in a 1946 MGM
musical called Holiday in Mexico, in
which the U.S. Ambassador's daughter (Jane Powell) falls for a Mexican pianist
(Jose Iturbi) old enough to be her grandfather. Who knew? (Castro does not
appear in Joe Dante’s 1993 Cuban Missile Crisis comedy, Matinee, but his aura hangs over the film like an invisible
apparition.)
Then there’s John Glenn, by far the most telegenic of all
the American astronauts. Glenn, as astronaut and as public servant, was no
stranger to the movie screen. I can think, right off the bat, of three movies
in which he was featured. But Glenn, who was memorialized in Columbus, Ohio on
Saturday, deserves a post of his own. Which is why I’ll move on to the death of
someone quite a bit more obscure: Ever hear of E.R. Braithwaite?
Braithwaite, who just passed away at the ripe old age of
104, had a busy life, serving as an educator, an author, and a diplomat. Born
in what was then British Guinea in 1912, he was a pilot in the Royal Air Force
during World War II, and graduated from posh Cambridge University with a degree
in physics. It was while job-hunting that he – a black man -- first became
aware of institutionalized racism in Britain. Struggling to find a job and a place to live, he ended up accepting a
teaching post in a decrepit secondary school in the East End of London. His
students, though mostly white, were a down-at-the-heels bunch, many of them
hostile to blacks, but over the nine years of his teaching career he gradually
earned their respect. Out of that experience came a memoir, 1959’s To Sir, With Love.
Naturally, there was a Hollywood ending. In the Sixties,
audiences were hungry for films in which a noble black man (usually Sidney
Poitier) finds love and respect. To Sir,
With Love became one of three hit films that made Poitier the hottest box
office attraction of the year 1967. In Guess
Who’s Coming to Dinner, he found love with a beautiful young white woman,
and earned her father’s blessing for the interracial union. In the Heat of the Night (1967’s Best
Picture winner) showed him, as a Philly police detective, solving a murder case
in a backwards Southern town, and then winning the respect of the good-ol’-boy local
sheriff. To Sir, With Love, by far
the sappiest of the three, gave him the opportunity to tame a roomful of young
British hooligans by teaching fair play, manners, and how to make a salad. (The
film also spawned a pop hit, sung by the then-popular Lulu, who played one of
the students.)
Author Braithwaite was by no means enamored of the film version of his
story. According to his obituary, he was annoyed that the film played down his
interracial romance with a fellow teacher. And he understandably found Poitier’s
approach to his students in the film overly simplistic. Though the film
character based on his life wins over students by such stunts as taking them on
an impromptu museum trip, Braithwaite was quoted as griping that “the movie
made it look like fun and games." But that’s what Hollywood is about: fun
and games, right?
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