Introduction
Irving Thalberg might not be a household name. But when it comes to film history, he played a major role in shaping cinema as the dominant art form of the 20th century. What’s even more remarkable is that he wasn’t a star, a director, a writer, or even a studio head.
Despite his monumental achievements, Thalberg only worked in the film industry for a scant 15 years. And somewhat shockingly, was only thirty-seven years old when he passed away. Yet he was probably more responsible than anyone else for setting the quality standards for what became known as a “Hollywood film.”
“A Bag of Bones…”
Irving Thalberg’s story began during the early 1920s at Universal Studios. There, he landed a job as a personal assistant to Carl Laemmle, who ran the studio as a small, family-oriented operation. Carl realized some of his relatives weren’t exactly cut out for the movie business, so he asked the 21-year-old Thalberg for help in managing some of the various film projects that threatened to run out of control.
Thalberg was a shy young man and even though he was incredibly bright, was ill at ease around others. He also contracted rheumatic fever as a child which left him with a bad heart. Various other ailments left him sickly and weak. As a child, doctors had told his parents he would spend the rest of his life in bed.
But Thalberg was ambitious, persistent, and hard-working. He ignored his doctor’s advice and set out to accomplish something in the time he had been given. One person described him as:
“a bag of bones held together by sheer determination”
Erich von Stroheim
Thalberg needed all this determination to tackle one of the first projects he inherited: 1922’s Foolish Wives. Directed by Erich von Stroheim, and costing nearly $1 million, it was on track to become the most expensive film made up until that time by a Hollywood studio. Largely because of Stroheim’s legendary obsession with detail.
The director insisted that every prop, costume, and building in the picture be as authentic as possible. For an establishing shot of Monte Carlo, Stroheim demanded a replica of the actual casino be built to scale on the Universal Studio backlot. Even though only the front of the building was seen on film for only a few seconds. Von Stroheim also ordained that all the film’s cast members eat actual caviar on screen.
Von Stroheim wanted to make a movie that was six to ten hours long. Further, he had no respect for the young man who was tasked with keeping tabs on the production. Von Stroheim was reported to have grumbled:
“Since when does a boy supervise a genius?”
A Foot Fetish
At one screening, Thalberg sat with the director for five straight minutes while they observed a never-ending closeup of marching feet. Exasperated, Thalberg turned to von Stroheim and asked if the shot was ever going to end. Von Stroheim replied tersely:
“I’m trying to show that the character has a foot fetish,”
Thalberg retorted:
“And YOU have a fetish for footage!”
Eventually, the production was finished, but only after Thalberg wrestled control away from the detail-obsessed director. Foolish Wives opened to generally favorable reviews. As a consequence, Thalberg earned the respect of others on the Universal lot. People began to call him the “Boy Wonder.” It was a label that would stick with him for the rest of his life.
Irving Thalberg Arrives at MGM
Meanwhile, a new studio named Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer had been formed from three different production companies. There, a gentleman named Louis B. Mayer was in charge. Needing someone to handle the day-to-day operations, Mayer hired Thalberg as Vice President of Production based on the latter’s reputation at Universal.
The two men couldn’t have been more different. Mayer was a swaggering, egotistical, and brutal man who didn’t tolerate dissent. He also nursed a strong conservative streak and had no patience for the moral excesses of Tinseltown. Thalberg’s more cultured and sensitive approach was alien to Mayer.
Yet the two of them turned out to be a very effective team. For MGM’s logo, they chose footage of a lion named Leo who resided at the Bronx Zoo in New York. Their motto? Ars Gratia Artis (Art for Art’s Sake).
A Movie a Week…
Thalberg and Mayer set for themselves an extremely ambitious goal: to turn out a full-length motion picture every week. That added up to an astonishing 52 movies per year. To accomplish this, they began to hire filmmakers and craftsmen at an accelerated rate. This precipitated a major building boom in Culver City, the home of MGM Studios. It was the beginning of the greatest film empire ever known.
Among the pictures that Thalberg oversaw during those first years of MGM were several that represented the pinnacle of achievement in silent cinema. One was Ben Hur: A Tale of the Christ (1925) which had been filmed in Italy for months.
Thalberg brought the out-of-control production back to Culver City and successfully brought it to closure. But not before the associated stress brought on the first of several major heart attacks. Despite the doctor’s orders, the young man climbed out of bed to attend the premiere of the picture, which was met with almost universal acclaim.
Greed
On a more sour note, Thalberg found that the studio merger had also put him in charge of another production being directed by his nemesis, Erich von Stroheim. It was the film Greed (1925). Based on the book McTeague, tells the story of a second-rate dentist whose wife wins the lottery…only to see their lives destroyed by greed, lust, and desire.
When von Stroheim sat down to make the movie, he didn’t have a finished script. Instead, he just opened up the book to page one of McTeague and started filming. He intended to shoot every page of the novel, in order, without any changes whatsoever. What he finally delivered was a film that was nine and a half hours long.
Thalberg was appalled. He demanded that von Stroheim cut it down. The director reluctantly complied until he had a movie that ran over three hours. Thalberg still wasn’t satisfied and took control. His editors then worked to create a version that ran just under 100 minutes.
But then one night, in one of the greatest tragedies in film history, a janitor accidentally threw out the remaining footage thinking they were just scraps. Film historians have always been enthralled by the power and artistry of what survives of Greed. Still, to this day, it’s widely considered to be perhaps the greatest lost masterpiece in the history of cinema.
Boy Wonder Indeed
Despite this misstep, Thalberg began to solidify his position at MGM. Many people didn’t know what to make of the “Boy Wonder.” Quiet, intimidating, mysterious… these were some of the adjectives used to describe him.
A natural introvert, Thalberg preferred to stay away from actual movie sets. But when forced to make an appearance, a hush would fall over the set when he entered. Such was the power and respect he commanded.
One day, one of MGM’s newest actresses, Norma Shearer, arrived on the lot to meet with Thalberg to discuss a new contract. She ran into him in the lobby of one of the administrative buildings. Mistaking the young man for an office boy, she asked him if he could point the way to Irving Thalberg’s office.
He responded by politely taking her there. Then, upon walking into the room, he turned to her and said, “I’m Irving Thalberg. Now, what can I do for you?” Shearer was deeply embarrassed. But took an instant liking to this unassuming executive. A year later, the two were married.
It All Starts With a Good Story
To Irving Thalberg, the story was king. Toward that end, he spared no expense in securing the services of the country’s top writers. His preferred way of working was to sit at a long table with 20 or more movie scripts laid out in front of him. Thalberg would then go through each and make notes on ways to improve the movie. As one screenwriter noted:
“He doesn’t know how to rest, play, or even breathe without a script in his hand.”
Soon, people began to associate the word “quality” with the product that MGM was turning out. Indeed, partly as a result of Thalberg’s efforts, MGM was the only Hollywood studio to consistently remain in the black during The Great Depression.
Jean Harlow
However, one MGM star that gave both Mayer and Thalberg fits during this time was Jean Harlow. A born flirt, Harlow scandalized the Hollywood community by flaunting her sexuality and was constantly rumored to be sharing a bed with various prominent individuals around town.
But eyebrows shot up when Jean Harlow married Paul Bern, an MGM producer who was some 20 years her senior. The couple seemed a very odd match. What’s more, Bern’s doctor was on the MGM payroll, and it was through him that Mayer learned that Harlow’s new husband had some major physical shortcomings. Below the belt — so to speak.
Two months after Harlow and Bern exchanged wedding vows, Mayer and Thalberg received a phone call from the studio. It was September 5th, 1932, and Harlow’s gardener had found Bern dead at the couple’s home. It’s a testament to the power of MGM at the time that when the servant found the body, he didn’t call the police. He didn’t notify the victim’s family. Instead, his first response was to phone the studio.
Suicide?
When Mayer and Thalberg arrived on the scene, they found Harlow in hysterics and Bern dead on the bathroom floor with a gunshot wound to the head.
History doesn’t record what they discussed. But amazingly the police weren’t even called until later that afternoon. When they finally showed up, Mayer presented them with the following suicide note:
Dearest Dear:
Unfortunately, this is the only way to make good the frightful wrong I have done you and to wipe out my abject humiliation. I love you.
Paul.
You understand that last night was only a comedy.
An inquiry found that Bern had committed suicide after an incidence of impotence. But Harlow refused to discuss the subject. Several people later claimed that Harlow had murdered her husband and Mayer had tampered with the crime scene to make it look like a suicide.
The sad fact is that we’ll probably never know the entire truth. Harlow herself died of uremic poisoning five years later without ever revealing the details of what happened that fateful evening. The Bern scandal to this day remains one of the all-time great Hollywood mysteries.
Clash of the Titans
There were other signs of trouble brewing in the MGM family. While Louis B. Mayer was only too happy to leave the day-to-day management of individual productions to Thalberg, he was often exasperated by the latter’s choice of subject matter.
Mayer preferred big splashy family entertainment. From his perspective, realism and movies didn’t mix. Mayer wanted to avoid any stories that contained references to sex, poverty, crime, conflict, or anything else that reflected the real world.
For his part, Thalberg didn’t believe in that approach. If it was a good story and adhered to the production code of the time, he went with it. As a result, clashes between Thalberg and Mayer began to occur more frequently.
Preview Screenings
Getting a major picture out the door every week utterly consumed Irving Thalberg. But the people who worked for him loved his work ethic and sense of commitment. At least once a week, Thalberg would gather a team of editors, scriptwriters, and publicity people. Together, they would climb aboard a plush trolley car and journey to one of Los Angeles’ outer suburbs. Once there, they would then screen several MGM pictures for a private preview audience.
They would hand out comment cards for feedback and measure the audience’s reaction. Then, the group would go back to the studio and make whatever changes were called for. While these types of pre-screenings are a common practice today, Thalberg helped pioneer this approach to filmmaking. “MGM doesn’t make bad pictures” was what Thalberg’s team liked to say. And for the most part, it was completely true.
But Thalberg’s success and popularity didn’t sit well with Mayer. He began to search for ways to undercut his potential rival. He got his chance in late 1933. While returning from a company Christmas party, Thalberg suffered another major heart attack. The long stressful hours had taken their toll on his frail body and his doctors told him he was lucky to be alive. They mandated that he take several months off to recover. Thalberg agreed, and along with his wife and a few close friends, went on an extended European cruise.
“MGM is Thalberg’s Studio”
While Thalberg was away from the studio, Mayer replaced him with a team of established producers. This included an up-and-coming executive named David O. Selznick – who also just happened to be Mayer’s son-in-law.
Selznick had a different style from his predecessor. While Thalberg was content with a “hands-off” approach, Selznick made it a habit of being involved in every aspect of studio productions. A born micro-manager, he didn’t hesitate to give his opinion on a variety of subjects. Among the rank and file, a wisecrack began to circulate: “The Son-in-Law also rises.”
Selznick became frustrated at what he perceived to be a lack of cooperation and finally resigned. In his resignation letter to Mayer, he bitterly complained about the loyalty Thalberg continued to enjoy even while absent. He wrote:
“MGM is Thalberg’s studio. “I am just an interloper.”
After Thalberg had sufficiently recovered, Mayer was forced to give him his old job back. But it wasn’t long until he had resumed his usual workaholic habits.
Irving Thalberg and The Marx Brothers
Thalberg next oversaw a vehicle for the Marx Brothers called A Night at the Opera (1935). Groucho, Chico, and Harpo had hit a dead-end over at Paramount when their previous film, Duck Soup (1933), had flopped at the box office. Thalberg suggested bringing in the best writers and creating a “complete” movie that featured top-of-the-line writing, set design, music, and of course, comedic gags. The result was a classic that saved The Marx Brother’s careers.
Years later, Groucho told an interesting story that illustrated what it was like working with Irving Thalberg. The Brothers would have a meeting with him to discuss the film project. But every 10 minutes, someone would burst into Thalberg’s office with some sort of emergency that demanded his attention. Thalberg would subsequently leave the room, keeping his guests waiting for hours on end.
After this happened several times, the Marx Brothers got slightly annoyed. So, one day, while waiting for Thalberg, they stripped down to their underwear, built a huge fire in his fireplace, and proceeded to roast several potatoes right there in his office. When Thalberg returned, he was slightly upset but had to agree it was bad form to keep running out on meetings.
For his part, Thalberg loved Groucho. He once wrote a letter that contained an oft-repeated quote:
“The world would not be in such a snarl if Marx had been Groucho instead of Karl.”
“It Wasn’t Fair…”
A Night at the Opera was a gigantic success. But it was one of the last productions that Thalberg lived to see to completion. On Labor Day weekend in 1936, he took a short vacation at a lodge in Northern California. There, he came down with a simple cold which quickly developed into pneumonia. Within two weeks, Irving Thalberg was dead. The “Boy Wonder” was only 37 years old.
Everyone knew that Thalberg’s health had always been suspect, but the news devastated the film community. People had gotten used to his frail condition. But to lose him so suddenly was a tremendous shock.
MGM film editor Margaret Booth, whose own career in Hollywood spanned an incredible 60 years remembered what it was like:
“It was terrible. Appalling. So sudden…and not right. It wasn’t fair. It was a shocking thing…because he was a genius. And there isn’t anyone today to equal him. And there never will be.”
Hollywood Mourns
Irving Thalberg was laid to rest on September 16th, 1936. MGM Studios announced they were closing their doors for the day. Paramount, Warner Brothers, Fox, RKO, Universal, and all the other studios followed suit. It was the first and only time in the history of Hollywood that’s ever happened. Because even the rival studios realized what Thalberg meant to the industry. His death marked a watershed moment. And all of Hollywood mourned.
Perhaps the only person who didn’t feel bad about Thalberg’s passing was Louis B. Mayer. As he was driven away from the funeral, he elbowed an associate in the ribs, and smiling said:
“Ain’t God good to me…”
With Thalberg gone, Mayer became the undisputed head of MGM. And as such, he began emphasizing wholesome family entertainment. By World War II, the majority of MGM’s output was big-budget musicals and films like Lassie Come Home (1943) and The Yearling (1946).
While these kinds of “safe” films helped fill the studio’s coffers during the war years, they left it poorly positioned to adapt to shifts in the public mood during the late 1940s. Which eventually led to Mayer’s fall from power in the early 1950s.
The Legacy of Irving Thalberg
Under Irving Thalberg movies finally “grew up” and left their novelty status behind forever. Never again would anyone equate film with nickelodeons and gimmicky carnival attractions. It emerged as a fully legitimate and literate art form. One that would come to dominate as the most popular medium of mass entertainment for the rest of the century.
All of this can be traced back to the early 1930s. It was then that an extremely gifted young executive set the bar for what came to be known as the “Hollywood Film.” Which to this day remains the envy of the world.
