My OF MICE AND MEN Story
As a young teenager (1974) I was a late member of "Monster Culture" and was a particular fan of the classic Universal horror films of the 1930's and 40's. THE WOLF MAN (1940) was a special favorite and I loved Lon Chaney Jr. in the role of sad, sweet werewolf Lawrence Talbot.
This led to a particular fondness for Chaney and I sought out all of his horror, mystery and fantasy films. Everything I read about him singled out his performance as the mentally-handicapped giant Lennie in OF MICE AND MEN (1939) but the film was never available.
One day I was paging through a recently-acquired back issue of Castle of Frankenstein (despite the title, an intelligent magazine aimed at a young-collegiate readership) and came upon a full-page photograph of Chaney as Lennie.
The shock of emotion that went through me was so great, it was as though I were struck by lightning. All the power and pathos of the character shone out from Chaney's face, captured in that single image.
Something came over me such as has never occurred before or since. I ran out to buy a paperback copy of John Steinbeck's little book and read it straight through that afternoon sitting on the edge my bed. The profound sadness I had felt in encountering the picture of Lon as Lennie gripped me from page one.
As has been noted, Steinbeck does not treat the story's outcome as a secret or a surprise. The more I read and the more I could see the tragic end in sight -- as vividly as poor Lennie could see the "little place" and the rabbits -- I was overcome with emotion and found myself sobbing "No, no, no..." in a vain attempt to somehow stop the inevitable from happening. But of course I could not, and was utterly shattered upon finishing the book.
No other story has ever had that kind of effect on me, and I hope never will, because OF MICE AND MEN took from my life and soul as much as it gave. I developed a fixation with the story and characters. This stemmed originally from my love of Lon Chaney Jr. but went far beyond that as I re-read the book again and again, more and more living the story and characters. Somehow the story touched a deep well-spring of sadness in me that I hadn't known before.
No more than a month into this very personal experience I was browsing in the soundtracks section of a record store and was dumbfounded to come across what must have been a bootleg edition -- a two-LP set containing all of the overwhelming Aaron Copland music and most of the dialogue from the film. As the film was then out of circulation, this gold-strike was the closest one could get to experiencing the movie itself. All the vocal performances and their nuances were there and taken on its own the recording served as a first-class audio adaptation. By now I was deep in MICE mania and listened to the record almost daily for months.
One would think that this chain of events could go no further. But a friend told me that he was leaving his job at a local stage theater and had recommended me as a replacement. Again I was astonished when he told me that the upcoming play was OF MICE AND MEN. By taking this job, I was enabled to see EVERY PERFORMANCE (eight shows a week, two matinees) of a highest-caliber professional production that ran for over two months. More than that, my supportive enthusiasm made this kid a welcome fixture in the green-room and I was able to socialize after-hours with cast and crew. (I even gave a cast party at my home). I had a particular friendship with "Curley" (nicest guy in the world) and his real-life wife, and with the actor who played George who told me many tales of experiences as an actor. I thought that no version of the story could challenge the 1939 film but this fine production was its equal in every way -- perfectly cast with (most importantly) an ideal Lennie who was not entirely unlike Chaney but very much his own, powerful characterization. He also put on a delightful one-man show. (His name was Frederick Coffin and you can look up his page on IMDb.) Among my treasures are a set of advertising 8x10 photos from this production.
Via this experience I became more aware that Steinbeck originally wrote OF MICE AND MEN as a stage play which debuted on Broadway with the young Broderick Crawford as Lennie. When the West Coast production opened later that year, Creighton Chaney (who had recently adopted his father Lon's name after a decade in movies) was miraculously cast as Lennie. I acquired a copy of the play of which the novel is a very close adaptation. Except for a few minor changes, the screenplay for the 1939 film is almost identical.
Eventually the absorption wore off and I've never quite solved the mystery of the story and film's hold on me. I keep a drawer full of my treasured MICE memorabilia. I still love Lon Jr. despite his personal and professional decline. His Lennie is forever within me and the film one of my favorites. I've had to stay away from it for decades, though. It is just so terribly depressing. I've got the DVD, of course, but haven't watched it yet.
But, having read the reviews here and written this, I have to watch it now.
Here I go.
Doctor Mabuse, Evil Genius, King of Crime