Author: Snugglecub

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The More the Merrier – 1943

I have to be honest.  This was a fairly weak example of a screwball comedy.  It had its amusing moments, but they seemed to be few and far between.  True, the movie had its virtues, but its failings seemed to outnumber them.  I’ll be upfront about it.  This shouldn’t have been nominated for Best Picture.

It is a fine movie if you just want to turn your brain off.  It was fluff and nothing more.  It had silly characters doing silly things that were mildly amusing, but the comedy simply wasn’t that funny.  Then, at times, they served up a competent romance story, but the confusing ending tossed all that out the window.  They had a couple of OK actors, but the lead female, Jean Arthur, just wasn’t a very good actress.  Sure, she looked pretty, but there were times when she seemed to be struggling with her lines.

The story was a simple one.  Due to a housing shortage in Washington D. C. on account of WWII, Constance (Connie) Milligan, played by Arthur, decides to rent out half of her apartment in an effort to “do her part” for the war effort.  See that?  See how they couldn’t help throwing us that patriotic, pro-war angle?

The movie’s most talented actor, Charles Coburn, played Benjamin Dingle, an amoral and amusingly dishonest old fuddy-duddy.  He lies and forces his way into the apartment, showing that the character makes his way through life by being cleverer then the average joe-on-the-street.  Coburn had some of the funniest lines in the film, which isn’t saying much.  At least he was charming in a mischievous sort of way.  He played his part well.  Without him, the film would have really fallen on its face.

After manipulating and intimidating the weak-willed Connie into letting him have the rental, he meets Joel McRae, playing the part of Joe Carter, an army officer in D. C. waiting to go off on assignment in Africa.  Dingle sublets half of his half of the apartment to Joe without telling Connie, the apartment’s owner.  And with the three of them there, together, hijinks ensues.

McCrae seemed like he didn’t really want to be in the movie.  There were times when he seemed like he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing.  I was expecting more from him.  I wanted to see him react more to the action taking place around him.  But he just looked bored and uninvolved.  Maybe he was trying to imitate Gary Cooper’s strong, silent guy persona.  I don’t know.  But he just looked sleepy.

Also, I can’t help but look at the film with my modern eyes.  Would a woman in the 1940s really run to her room and sob into her pillow because she caught a man reading her diary?  Would a woman breaking an engagement really be cause enough for her to move away to another state because of the scandal?  Maybe a rich socialite woman, but not a woman as common and unimportant as the character of Connie.

And while I am bagging the film, I have to mention a couple of logistical issues I noticed.  First, when McCrae is in the shower, he neglects to close the shower curtain because we needed to see the action going on outside the bathroom door.  But not only would he have gotten water all over the bathroom, especially the way he was splashing water all over himself, but the people outside the bathroom would have gotten to see the Full Monty.  It just felt like the director, George Stevens, was being lazy rather than finding a different way to show what needed to be shown.

Second, near the end, when Dingle has an entire wall ripped out of the apartment so that the questionably happy couple would have not two bedrooms, but one, I had to protest!  Construction of that nature takes more than mere ours, and it creates a huge mess.  Not only that, but Dingle didn’t own the building, and any contractor who did the work would get sued in a heartbeat.  Sure it’s a silly comedy, but can we at least give a nod to reality in a Best Picture nominee?

Still, the film did have one relatively strong point.  As I have already mentioned, the romance scenes were well done.  Here is where McCrae looked like he was in the moment.  He was animated enough to make him seem credible as a romantic lead.  And really, he was a very attractive man.  Even Arthur did alright when her dialogue didn’t have to be delivered too quickly.  The scenes were cleverly written with a surprising amount of subtlety.

But the ending baffled me.  Connie and Sergeant Carter get married, though neither of them were happy about it.  But there was no reason they shouldn’t have been.  It was already established that they loved each other, but Connie couldn’t stop crying, and Joe was doing nothing to comfort her.  It made no sense.  Oh well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Madam Curie – 1943

This came dangerously close to being a silly movie.  I was expecting, or at least hoping for, a biopic about Marie Curie, a female scientist in a male dominated world who surpassed all her peers and discovered the elusive element radium.  Instead, what I got was a sappy romantic drama with poorly written dialogue.  I mean, really.  Some of the dialogue was distractingly bad.  Unfortunately, the Hollywood machine of the 1940s turned what could have been an interesting story into a typical, predictable, cookie-cutter film.

The movie spent most of its 2 hour length focusing on the fictionalized romance between the Polish born Marie Sklodowska, played by Greer Garson, and the Frenchman, Pierre Curie, played by, of course, Walter Pidgeon.  She was the brilliant and stunningly beautiful student who didn’t have enough money to buy food.  He was the dashing and handsome professor who thought that all women were vapid and distracting.  And they weren’t the only characters who were portrayed as walking stereotypes.

Pierre’s lab assistant, David, played by Robert Walker, was ridiculous.  Pierre, regretting that he had made the mistake of allowing a woman to work in his lab, says that women are either empty-headed nuisances or distractions.  David replies that female scientists are ugly as well.  But when the beautiful Marie arrives, David turns into a cartoon character, falling all over himself to make her notice him.  And apparently, when a man whistles, it means he is stupidly falling in love with a woman.

The ridiculous proposal scene really demonstrated the awful dialogue.  Pierre was positively silly as he asked Marie to marry him, saying things like, “You have a wonderful scientific mind.  I likewise have a scientific mind.  Our subsequent marriage would be one based on our mutual search for knowledge.  Love will be a secondary concern.  Would you consent to this arrangement?”  Unfortunately, I did not write down the actual dialogue, but I don’t think I’m that far off.  I’m sorry, but in reality, that kind of a man would be called a moron.

And that is just one example of how bad the dialogue was.  Here’s another approximation.  Marie and Pierre have drawn a black curtain around their experiment because it apparently requires lower light levels.  The camera stays focused on the evaporating bowl but we hear Pierre speaking to his wife from behind the curtain.  “Now all we have to do is wait, Marie.  Here, why don’t you sit down in this chair?  I’ll place this shawl around your shoulders to help keep you warm.”  After that, I expected to hear him say something like, “Now, I’m going to put my own chair next to yours so that we’ll be sitting close to each other.”

If only the film had cut out the forced sentimentality of the romance and stayed closer to the true story of Madame Curie, it would have been a much more interesting film.  The movie completely omitted several crucial facts about the extraordinary woman.  For example, Madame Curie actually discovered 2 elements, not just radium in 1898.  She also discovered polonium in the same year.  Also, her Nobel Prize in Physics, won in 1903, was shared with her husband.  But she earned her own Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 1911, 5 years after Pierre’s death in 1906.

Now, I don’t want it to sound like I hated the film.  On the contrary, it was entertaining enough, if, as I said before, a bit predictable.  Garson had some really strong moments in the film.  The film ended much like several of her other films like Blossoms in the Dust, where the last few minutes of the film are a heartfelt and inspirational speech about the importance of her character’s work and the importance of striving to become more than what you are.

I also liked Henry Travers, who most people know as Clarence Odbody, the Guardian Angel from the 1946 Classic, It’s A Wonderful Life, and Dame May Whitty who played Pierre’s parents.  They were both portrayed as a kindly couple, even if Eugene could get a bit cantankerous at times.  Marie and Pierre’s two daughters were almost throw-away characters.  The film barely mentioned them in passing until the last half hour of the film when they could be brought in for a little contrast to Marie’s depression over believing her experiment had failed.

All in all, the movie was mildly entertaining, but I believe it had the potential to be much more.  They just focused too much on the romance and not enough on the actual career of Marie Curie.  If you go into it expecting a biography, you will be disappointed.  It was really a romance, plain and simple.  But that being said, I have to agree that Garson and Pidgeon had a really good on-screen… chemistry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Which We Serve – 1943

This was another war-time propaganda film, as if the title hadn’t already given that away.  But this one was a bit different from the majority of the other examples I’ve seen for a few reasons.  First, it was definitely a British-made film, made from a decidedly British point of view.  It was about the stories of ordinary men and women from different classes, all of whom served in the Second World War with bravery and distinction in the Battle of Crete in 1941.

It was written by celebrated playwright, Noel Coward.  More than that, he directed and starred in the film as well.  This surprised me, because I have only ever known him as a playwright and not as an actor.  As is typical in Coward’s plays, much of the dialogue is fast, smart, and witty.  I suppose that is just his style.  In fact, that would be one of my criticisms of the movie.  Sometimes, the actors delivered their lines so fast that I had difficulty understanding what was being said.

The second thing that set this movie apart from most propaganda films of the era is the fact that it wasn’t your stereotypical Hollywood war-time action film with your attractive cast and extras.  Not to put too much emphasis on the looks of the actors, but it caught my attention that the actors, from the first to the last, had very average faces.  I found that little point to be significant because the lack of glamor made the stories being told more real to me than watching handsome Gary Cooper and gorgeous Ingrid Bergman fighting Germans in Spain, as in the fellow 1943 nominee, For Whom the Bell Tolls, or even watching the stunning Greer Garson and the attractive Walter Pidgeon in the 1942 Best Picture Winner, Mrs. Miniver.  After all, an actor or actress’s beauty is what sets them apart from the rest of us.  Take that away and they are just like us.

The film is about the British destroyer, the HMS Torrin, and the crew that manned her.  Coward, himself, played Captain Kinross, and I thought he did a fine job, though, again, he needed to slow down some of his dialogue.  In the first ten minutes or so of the movie, the Torrin is sunk by a barrage of German bombers.  Kinross and the men under his command are forced to abandon ship.  He and several of his crew, swim to a raft, though they are by no means out of danger.  The main body of the film is now told in flashbacks as the various men recall their loved ones.  This is where we are introduced to Mrs. Alix Kinross, played by Celia Johnson, and her children.  Their story represented the upper class.

Also on the raft is Chief Petty Officer Walter Hardy, played by Bernard Miles.  His memories focus on his wife Kath, played by Joyce Carey, and his aging mother-in-law, played by Dora Gregory.  Their story is an important one because the two women are killed in a raid.  It was a difficult scene to watch because the film did a good job of showing just how in love with each other Walter and Kath were, making the tragedy very poignant.  Their story represented the middle-class.

And lastly, representing the lower class, was Ordinary Seaman Shorty Blake, played by John Mills.  His back story recounts his meeting and subsequent marriage to Freda, played by Kay Walsh.  While at her husband is at sea, Freda gives birth to a son.  Mills actually stood out to me as one of the better actors in the film, though when it comes to it, the entire cast did a good job.

As the surviving men cling to the raft, they are slowly picked off, one by one, by gunfire from German planes, until they are rescued by another British destroyer.  The final scene in which Captain Kinross address the surviving members of his crew is both emotional and restrained in that stoic, British way.  The men are split up to replace killed crew members from other ships.  At this point in the film, I would have liked to have seen some epilogues, telling the eventual fates of the three men, but none were given, except for one.  It is revealed that Kinross goes on to command a battleship, though it never told whether or not he survived the war.  I’d like to think he and the other two men did.

Much of the film’s good acting was delivered by the women.  The scene where Kath Hardy and her mother are killed was particularly well done.  There is an inherent tension that builds in a scene where you can hear bombs dropping in the background.  The sounds gets closer and closer until the house starts to shake.   By then, the sound is pretty loud, and the characters have to acknowledge that they could be killed at any moment.  Then, when the moment came, it happened quickly and I was caught off guard, despite the build-up.

And, of course, the message of the film was shouted loud and clear.  If anyone dear to us has been killed in the war, we should only be inspired to fight harder and with more passion.  And at that time, who hadn’t lost someone dear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Human Comedy – 1943

OK, stop trying to pretend that you are a movie and just give me the essays on what it means to be an American – because that was all this movie really was.  I understand why this movie was made, and it wasn’t for cinematic greatness.  America was in the middle of World War II, and our soldiers, our sons and husbands, were fighting and dying in a foreign land.    I get it.

However, I can’t help but look at the film objectively.  It was terrible.  It was an obvious excuse to give a series essays on what it means to live in a free world, what it means to live side by side with your fellow human beings, the real nature of tyrants, how to deal with the death of a loved one, why it is important to do what you can for the cause of freedom, and the like.  These flowery speeches would crop up over the course of the movie at seemingly random moments, delivered by random characters.

The movie’s only real saving grace was its lead actor, Mickey Rooney.  He knew how to act, and did a good enough job with the script he was given.  He played Homer Macauley, a high school student who was the model young citizen.  He always did his homework, always excelled in athletics, loved his mother, respected his elders, prayed before every meal, had a job after school to help support his poor family since his father was dead and his older brother had gone off to war.

And that, right there, was the main plot.  The rest of the film was a series of character sketches and random scenes, made up of the peripheral people in his life.  Fay Bainter played his mother.  Frank Morgan played his kindly old co-worker at the telegraph station.  Van Johnson played his brother, Marcus.  James Craig played his boss, Mr. Spangler.  Donna Reed played his sister, Bess.  And the list goes on.

Each person, at one time or another, has a poetic essay to give that effectively interrupts the, admittedly, sparse narrative in an attempt to either inspire the audience to join the war effort, or, at the very least, feel a pang or two of patriotism.  On top of that, throw in a few traditional church hymns, sung by the US Army soldiers, and we’re done.

There just wasn’t any cohesion at all in the plot.  There were entire scenes that made no sense, and characters who would show up from out of nowhere and then disappear just as quickly once their essay had been delivered.  What little story there was seemed forced and predictable.  And the ultra-conservative, “Golly-gee-whiz” dialogue was enough to make me roll my eyes.  It was like they were going out of their way to show us a picture of what a fine, upstanding, church-going community should look like.  Nobody was mean.  Everybody was bursting at the seams to do their part for God and country.  It was “model-citizen” overload.

But two things about the film really got really stuck in my craw.  First was that it broke the cardinal rule.  It committed one of the biggest sins of film-making.  Cute for the sake of cute is never cute.  Never.  Homer’s little brother, Ulysses, played by Jack Jenkins, was a horrible actor.  Not only that, but he wasn’t even cute.  I have no doubt that he was supposed to be, but I’ll be honest – at first, I was afraid that his character was mentally handicapped.  He always had a slack face with a vacant expression.  I know he was only five years old or so, but from his first appearance on the screen, I was annoyed by his high-pitched voice, his dead eyes, and his moronic attempts to be as cute as he could for the cameras.

Second, I have to go over what I’d like the call the ridiculous “It’s a Small World” scene.  There was actually a scene in which Mr. Spangler and his new bride, Diana, played by Marsha Hunt, are driving through the park.  As they slowly cruise along the road, they pass a number of happy, singing, cultural stereotypes, dressed in traditional garb from their native lands, dancing to ethnic tunes.  First were the Greeks, all wearing their fez hats.  Next came the Mexicans, dancing the Flamenco.  “Viva Mexico!” proclaims Diana, like a gringo.  After that came the Armenians, identified by the “priests and the children, because that’s what they believe in.”  Next, the car slowly wheeled past the Russians, who looked like they were dancing straight out of Siberia.  Finally came the Swedes, bouncing around a maypole.  See?  We accept everybody in America.  Funny, but I noticed that there were no Japanese kimonos or German lederhosen to be seen.  “Ok, honey.  Ride’s over.  Why don’t we go to Space Mountain next?”

Good grief!  I honestly can’t think of anything about The Human Comedy that made it worthy of being nominated for Best Picture.  I’m sure it served its purpose as a propaganda film, but I found it ridiculous as anything but a clumsy and heavy-handed plea from Hollywood to join the war effort.  There were even signs in the backgrounds (or sometimes the fore-grounds) of many scenes that said “Buy War Bonds for Victory!”  Next time, chuck the story and just read me the essays.  Best Picture?  I think not!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heaven Can Wait – 1943

This was Ernst Lubitsch’s first color film and he really did a fine job.  Not only was it good to see a competent example of an early color movie, but it had a cute plot that didn’t take itself too seriously, and a good cast of actors.  The main protagonist was played by a young Don Ameche.  Opposite him was the beautiful Gene Tierney, with Spring Byington, Charles Coburn, Marjorie Main, and Eugene Pallette rounding out the supporting cast.

The film was a farce that doubled as a romantic comedy.  The characters were silly and the one-liner jokes were plentiful.  The whole thing started out in a way that made it instantly clear that that the humor would not be very intellectual, nor would it be remotely realistic.  As soon as the annoying old biddy got sucked down to hell for being “naughty” and showing off her old lady legs, I knew I was in for an enjoyable and light-hearted movie

Ameche played Mr. Henry Van Cleve, a kind old man who arrives in Hell’s reception area, asking to be admitted.  The receptionist, His Excellency, played by Laird Cregar, asks Henry why he should be allowed to go to hell, as if it is the hot-spot of the afterlife.  “Would you be good enough to mention, for instance, some outstanding crime you’ve committed?”  Henry responds, “Crime?  Crime?  I’m afraid I can’t think of any, but I can safely say my whole life was one continuous misdemeanor.”

What he means is that he believed himself to be a womanizer, which, of course, was not at all true.  But this is a farce, so we’ll go with it.  Then the main story begins as he tells his life’s story.  In fact, Henry leads a fairly blameless life, but dates a lot of different girls when he reaches his young adulthood.  He develops a habit of hanging out by stage doors and carousing with actresses, which is scandalous, because everyone knows what kind of women those actresses are.

But when he meets the love of his life, Martha, played by Tierney, his womanizing seems to stop.  In fact, he is so crazy about her that he steals her out of her own engagement party and carries her off to elope, much to his cousin the groom’s chagrin.  The two marry and spend many happy years together.  In the end, she dies of some unknown illness, which the film glosses over in the space of five or six seconds.

Henry, now an old man, returns to his old ways, carousing with younger women and actresses.  He dies at the ripe old age of seventy.  Hell’s receptionist turns him away for having led too good a life, saying this his wife and beloved grandfather are waiting for him in “the other place.”  The end.

The film was cute enough, and even had a few great moments that had me laughing out loud.  For example, a quick line delivered from Grandpa Van Cleve, Henry’s Grandfather and mischievous kindred spirit, wonderfully played by Charles Coburn, as he listens to the story of how Henry had been misbehaving.  He had apparently dropped a nickel into the cleavage of an aristocratic old lady as he was trying to impress a young woman.  Grandpa said something like, “I know Mrs. Alister.  We’ll never see that nickel again,” implying either that Mrs. Alister was such a money-grubber that she would never return it to Henry, or that Mrs. Alister’s cleavage was so voluminous that nobody would ever find it.  Either way, I was left laughing.

Now, there was one thing about the plot that I was a little unsure of.  At one point in the film, after the main couple had been together for ten years, Martha leaves him over suspicions that he had been cheating on her.  But when it came to that, it was unclear whether he actually had or not.  She had found a receipt for an expensive bracelet and said that she had never received the jewelry.  It implies that he had cheated, but the film also went out of its way to show how head-over-heels he was for her.  If that was the case, cheating would be out of the question.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Spring Byington playing the part of Henry’s mother, Bertha Van Cleve.  She was silly and blithely ridiculous.  The fact that her son was not feeling well caused her to go into fits of wild tears as if the boy was dying.  As it turned out, he wasn’t even ill.  He was just love-struck, as any young man might be.  Her boohoos got even worse when she found out he was in love with one of those horrible stage actresses.  Byington always does a good job.

The movie was delightful to watch because on top of all the good things I have already mentioned, it didn’t take itself too seriously.  There were sad parts but they were not dwelled upon.  The light-hearted atmosphere and the happy ending were a great contrast to all the serious dramas of the early 1940s, which was, of course, the WWII era.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Whom the Bell Tolls – 1943

On the one hand… Yay Technicolor!  On the other, maybe we should hold off until we get it right.  I know how completely irrational that statement is.  After all, they would never have gotten it right without going through these beginning steps.  It was a necessary process that had to happen before the art of color films could become what they are today.  But all that being said, there were definitely issues with the color.

Just as in the 1937 Best Picture nominee, A Star is Born, everything was too dark unless it was being filmed in direct sunlight.  Much of the film took place either inside a cave or during the hours between dusk and dawn.  It seemed that the filmmakers didn’t really understand the concept of backlighting.  There were times when the actors were nearly too dark to see, though the mountains in the background stood out like a photo-negative.

The film starred Academy Award nominee veteran, Gary Cooper as Roberto Jordan, an American fighting in the Spanish Civil War during the late 1930s.  He is a demolitions expert who is assigned to blow up a strategically valuable bridge.  He is ordered to meet with a republican guerrilla unit in the mountains surrounding the bridge three days before the deed is to take place.  It is supposed to coincide with an air raid by the Soviet Union.

So far, it sounds like an exciting concept that promises plenty of action and suspense.  But I think that Hollywood must have had a hand in what the majority of the film spent time on.  Living with the rebels in their cave is Maria, played by Ingrid Bergman.  She is a young girl who had been gang raped by men of the fascist coalition at the outbreak of the war.

Bergman did a fantastic job portraying the emotions of the damaged Maria.  The scene in which she tells of the deaths of her parents, the humiliation of having her head shaved, and the rape was surprisingly well done.  I really felt for her character.  But her failing was her accent.  She was supposed to be Spanish, and she tried to play her part with an appropriate accent, but her dialogue came out muddled and inconsistent.

However, I’m sorry to say that I thought Cooper to be the film’s weakest link.  I have a feeling that one of the things that made him such a popular actor was his ability to portray the strong, silent type.  He displayed little emotion and always did the right thing, no matter how difficult.  But in this role, I wanted to see something more.  An actor needs to know how to use his facial expressions to make the emotions of the character clear to the audience.  Sure, one could go overboard, as was necessary in the silent era of film making, but his performance was like the opposite extreme.  He was so stone-faced that I got nothing from him at all.

On the flip-side, I really liked two other characters that were integral to the plot.  The leaders of the guerrilla unit were Pablo and his common-law wife, Pilar, brilliantly played by Akim Tamiroff and Katina Paxinou, respectively.  They both did such a fantastic job that in my book, they completely made up for Cooper’s lack of emotion and Bergman’s bad Spanish accent.

Pablo was the weak-willed drunkard who led the rebel band.  Pilar was the homely tower of strength that wrested control from her traitorous husband.  At first I didn’t like Tamiroff, but I eventually realized that it was his character that I didn’t like, and that the actor did a wonderful job of playing the bad guy role.

But it was Paxinou that really stole the show or me.  She was strong, wise, practical, passionate about her position in the war, and able to kick butt with the best of them when the fighting started.  The actress was really memorable and her performance was amazing.  In fact, she won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress that year, an honor that was well deserved.

The first two-thirds of the movie dealt with Roberto’s integration into the guerrilla camp, the romance between Roberto and Maria, and Pablo’s various betrayals.  Everything was character driven, and not much really happened.  But the final third of the movie really kicked up the action.  There were gun fights, air raids, tank battles, and, of course, an exploding bridge, which was exciting to watch.

And as a little afterthought, I need to mention the character of Rafael, the devil-may-care gypsy member of the guerrilla rebels, played by Mikhail Rasumny.  He played a very fun and likable roll.  After all, he was the comic relief and had some amusing moments.  However, the manner of his death ultimately made him out to be a moron.  Watch the film and you’ll see what I mean.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yankee Doodle Dandy – 1942

This was another example of a shameless propaganda movie.  As films go, it had its good points and its bad points, but was completely unapologetic about all of them.  James Cagney played the leading role of George M. Cohan, about whom the film was made.  It was a both a biography and a musical about the man who is often called the father of the American Musical Comedy.

Cohan started performing at a very young age as a singer and dancer on the stages of Vaudeville.  He was clearly a talent to be reckoned with, often out-shining the other three members of The Four Cohans, his father Jerry, played by Walter Huston, his mother Nellie, played by Rosemary DeCamp, and his sister Josie, played by Cagney’s real-life sister, Jeanne Cagney.

It is also clear that he has an ego to match his talent.  His boasting and bravado is so out of control that he ruins one opportunity after another for his family to move on to better stages.  During his teen years, he meets, falls in love with, and nearly ruins the career of the beautiful Mary, played by Joan Leslie.  Despite this, they marry, giving her the opportunity to bring his ego in check.  That accomplished, his career takes off.

He partners up with playwright Sam Harris, played by Richard Whorf.  Their collaborations are very successful and they both become very rich men.  Eventually, The Four Cohans break up their act and George goes solo.  He continues to write one hit song after another, many of them, like the song Yankee Doodle Dandy, having very patriotic themes.  More fame and more money comes his way.  WWI arrives and he writes patriotic anthems that inspire the nation.

In the end, his partnership with Harris dissolves amicably, both men ready to go their separate ways.  George retires with his wife to live in the country, away from the public eye, that is, until Harris asks him for help by starring in his latest play.  He accepts, and returns to the stage.  And that’s the movie, in a nutshell.

But here’s the trick.  The entire movie actually started with that performance, in which he played the current President, FDR.  After the opening night’s curtain falls, he is mysteriously summoned to the White House by the “real” Roosevelt and asked to tell the story of his life.  So the movie is really a flash-back.  I didn’t mind that so much, except that the actor who played President Roosevelt got on my nerves.  His lines were all delivered like the voice-over guy that you hear on all the action trailers of movies in the 1930s and 40s.  His tone and inflection stood out to me as unnatural and distracting.  Apparently, impressionist Art Gilmore provided that voice, which makes me wonder if FDR really sounded like that.  If he did, I just want to hear the former President say, “Come see the greatest film of the year!  Thrills, chills and spills!”

And while I’m on the subject of things that I didn’t like about the film, I have to mention Cagney himself.  I’ll admit that this is the first movie I have ever seen starring James Cagney, and I have to say that I didn’t particularly care for his dancing style or his singing style.  However, I learned that not only was it not his fault, he actually did a remarkable job.

Here’s why: Cagney’s dancing looked a bit ridiculous to my modern eyes.  There was a bit of tap, which I didn’t mind, and a lot of moves done where he bent forward at the waist without bending his knees.  It was a style that made him appear to move like a marionette puppet without strings.  It made his dancing look stiff and jerky.  His singing was also very minimal.  He spoke his way through most of the songs in an annoying, high-pitched voice.

But in my research, I found that he was, in both ways, imitating the real George Cohan’s style.  Apparently he imitated the famous vaudeville trained performer very well, so I have to give Cagney’s performance my approval, even though I didn’t care for the style itself.  In fact, Cagney won the Academy Award for Best Actor that year.

Aside from that, I liked Richard Whorf and Jeanne Cagney.  They stood out to me as good actors in their respective roles.  I also liked a number of the songs, which were, for the most part, the songs that the real George Cohan was famous for writing: songs like Yankee Doodle Dandy, Over There, While Strolling Through the Park One Day, and You’re a Grand Old Flag.  The film and the songs were designed to overflow with patriotism.  Unfortunately, it sometimes felt a little forced, but I guess I can be forgiving.  After all, the production on the film had barely begun when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wake Island – 1942

This was a film of contradictions.  There were some really awesome things, but at the same time, there were some incredibly stupid things.  Some of the characters were great while others were idiotic.  Some were characters and others were caricatures.  But overall, the filmmakers told a good story.  The scenes of war and battle were exciting enough and well-executed.

The film is a war film that told a fictionalized story of the men who defended Wake Island, a tiny island in the Pacific near Guam and Hawaii.  It was occupied by American forces at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor.  During the narration at the beginning of the movie, the filmmakers went out of their way to announce to the audience that the events in the film are as accurate as they could be, and except for the ending, they were pretty accurate.

According to the film, the same day as the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the Japanese sent ships and fighter planes to attack Wake Island.  The men defending the island really proved their superior toughness as they defended the military outpost, one attack after another, day after day, week after week.  They withstood everything the Japanese forces could throw at them, fighting to the death to the last man.

However, in reality, there was only one bombing on December 8, one battle on December 11, and the American surrender on December 23.  Though the defending garrison really put up an incredible fight, they were overwhelmed by superior numbers.  They repelled several ground assaults before being overrun.  But by the end of the battle, the Americans had no choice but to surrender.

Now, here is what was really impressive about the real battle.  According to Wikipedia, “The American casualties numbered 52 military personnel and approximately 70 civilians killed.  The Japanese losses exceeded 700 dead with some estimates ranging as high as 1,000.  Wake’s defenders sank two Japanese destroyers and one submarine, and shot down 24 Japanese aircraft.”

Granted, a lot of that was shown, though the impressive numbers were not.  The film spent too much time trying to humanize the plot.  Instead of concentrating on the exciting fighting or the real aftermath of the conflict, they gave us the stories of 4 different men.  There was the vapid story about Pvt. Randall, a dumb brawler with a patriotic heart, played by William Bendix, and his friend, Pvt. Doyle, played by a very young Robert Preston.  There was the story of the civilian construction worker, Shad McClosky, played by Albert Dekker, a man who wouldn’t take orders from any military personnel, but showed his true red, white, and blue colors when the fighting started.  And finally there was the story of Major Caton, played by Brian Donlevy, the officer who shouldered the burden of command and inspired his troops to achieve greatness.

Randall’s story wasn’t believable.  He was a former wrestler whose answer to every personal conflict was to start a fist fight, and Doyle wasn’t much better.  The real Marine Corps would not tolerate that kind of behavior and he would be arrested after the first incident.  McClosky’s story was more palatable.  Sure, he was a civilian, resistant to taking orders, but when it came down to it, he died fighting like everyone else.  But it was really the character of Major Caton that gave the film its best drama.  As the commanding officer, it must have been difficult to stand strong in the path of the enemy, knowing that defeat was a certainty.  Donlevy did a great job in the roll, giving the performance a sense of gravitas and unwavering patriotism.

I mean, think about it.  The film was released in 1942.  WWII was still in full swing.  The real events of Wake Island had only taken place 9 months earlier.  This film was meant to inspire people to support the war effort, plain and simple.  If I had any complaints about the movie, it would only be about something that offended my modern sensibilities, though in 1942 it must have been effective as anti-Japanese propaganda.  The Japanese people were portrayed as sinister, evil villains.  I found myself rolling my eyes at Rudy Robles’ portrayal of Triunfo, the Japanese ambassador who professed peace with his exaggerated squinty eyes and buck teeth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Talk of the Town – 1942

Here is another example of a film that I watched without knowing anything about the plot.  All I knew was that it starred Carrey Grant, and that was good, because I generally like him as an actor.  He has a very carefree charm and a disarming smile.  I knew that it also had Ronald Coleman who has done a fair bit of acting in previous Best Picture nominees like A Tale of Two Cities and Lost Horizon.

But I’m sorry to say that this, without putting too fine a point on it, was a very dumb movie.  The plot was ridiculous, the character development was non-existent, the characters themselves were all morons and completely un-believable, the acting was iffy, at best, and the directing was horrible.  How this ever got nominated for the coveted Best Picture award is beyond me.  I know, those are some pretty strong words, but I can site example after example to illustrate why everything I said is true.  But where to start?

OK, I understand that the film was trying to be a screwball comedy, but it took itself far too seriously for that.  I couldn’t say it was a drama because it was too farcical and silly.  It had small moments of being preachy and even smaller moments of being suspenseful.  I don’t think the director, George Stevens, really had a clear idea of what kind of film he was trying to make.  And the only clear message that I got out of the film was that it was a philosophical study of the age old argument between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law.  But even that point was muddled.  Add to that the fact that there was an obvious line flub or two that were not edited out or re-shot.  It just looked to me like poor directing.

Carrey Grant played escaped convict Leopold Dilg.  Dilg was supposed to have been a smart man who made a habit of using his head to think with his heart, if that makes sense.  In other words, he was an intellectual who had passionate views about how there are times that strict adherence to the letter of the law is cold and unfeeling to the human beings it is supposed to protect.  Laws are detrimental to society when they are not tempered with compassion.

Coleman played Professor Michael Lightcap, a scholar of the law that believed in strict adherence to the letter of the law, even if doing so might convict an innocent man to death.  Without such a staunch attitude, society would crumble into utter chaos.  When Dilg hides in the attic of a house which the Professor has rented, the two opposing sides clash.

But I’ll need to back-up for a moment, lest I forget Jean Arthur.  She played the woman from whom the house is being rented, Nora Shelly.  She knows of her childhood friend, Dilg, who is hiding-out in the attic.

OK, here is where the plot and the characters really started to stand out as preposterous.  Dilg is supposed to be an escaped convict and there is an active man-hunt under way.  He behaves as if he is on a summer holiday.  He wakes up and stands at his window slapping his chest, smelling the air of a free man.  Wrong!  He is on the run from the law!  A smart man would avoid windows!  Then, he reveals himself to Professor Lightcap, posing as the gardner.  Of course, there is no way Lightcap might see his picture on the front page of the local newspaper, right?

Miss shelly was just a dumb woman with a penchant for lying from the very beginning, though both men inexplicably wanted to marry the bimbo by the end of the film.  The only explanation I can think of for that is that the studio wanted their romance, and they got it, whether it made sense or not.

And the character of Lightcap was the most farcical one of all.  During the film, he is informed that he is going to be asked by the President of the United States to become the next Supreme Court Judge.  He has a spotless record behind him, and all he has to do is avoid scandal until he gets his appointment.  So what does he do?  Because he grows to like both Dilg and the lovely Miss Shelly, he lies to the police, investigates Dilg’s bogus case, finds him innocent, and helps him avoid being caught by the police again.

But that’s not all.  He also becomes an armed vigilante, captures the real criminal at gunpoint, and forces him into the courtroom during Dilg’s mock trial.  To get the attention of the angry mob that is out for Dilg’s blood, he FIRES THE GUN IN THE COURTROOM!  HE IS STANDING A FEW FEET AWAY FROM THE JUDGE!  WRONG! WRONG!  He would be probably be tackled by armed security guards, arrested and his career as a Supreme Court Judge would be at an end before it even started.  But you know that would never happen in Hollywood-land!  He is appointed anyway.

A good screwball comedy should still have its roots firmly based in reality while strange and funny things happen.  It allows the characters to react to zany situations believably.  This wasn’t even close.  Oh well.  They can’t all be winners.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Random Harvest – 1942

I must admit to having my doubts about this one.  Before watching the film, I read only the following synopsis:  “Wounded World War I soldier Charles has no memory of his past, and when he meets Paula, he’s certain she’s the one for him. They marry, but Charles is hit by a car, regains his memory of his life before Paula, and loses all memory of Paula. He returns to his wealthy relatives, and a desperate Paula takes a job as his secretary to be near him in this tragic romantic drama.”

The first thought that came to me was that complete amnesia caused by head trauma is an extremely rare thing.  Second, more head trauma can only cause more damage to the brain, not produce a miraculous cure.  Third, the complete amnesia would have to effectively occur twice if he completely forgets the “second” life he created for himself after the first injury.  The entire scenario just sounded utterly farcical.

But I watched the film anyway, deciding to give Ronald Coleman and Greer Garson a chance.  As long as you can throw reality out the window, you will be able to enjoy the film.  Coleman and Garson both did a good job with the script they were given.  After all, the movie wasn’t about the scientific nature of extreme brain injuries and the long term effects of retrograde amnesia.

It was a romance, first and foremost.  And as romances go, I liked the way their relationship was slowly built and gently portrayed.  By the end of the movie, I found myself emotionally invested in the characters, hoping that they would find their ways back to each other.  Of course, they did, though only seconds before the movie ended.

In particular, I liked Ronald Coleman’s performance as the amnesic Charles Rainier, especially in the beginning.  The way he seemed to struggle with confusion, emotional stress, and social anxiety was particularly well acted.  After meeting Paula, played by Garson, he begins to slowly gain the confidence he needs to face the outside world again, though it didn’t happen all at once.  If I had any complaints about him, it would be that he seemed just a little too old for the part, but it didn’t bother me that much.

Garson also did a fine job.  She was gorgeous and had a magnificent poise about her.  However, I have a little problem with her character.  Garson acted the part just fine, but the writer needed to explain things a bit more to make Paula’s willingness to abandon her career for a stranger who can barely bring himself to speak to her, let alone anyone else.  Did she have a history of having a soft spot for men in need of help, or was it simply love at first sight?  Why did she feel such a strong emotional connection with this man whom she had just met?

After watching the film, I did a little more research, and found that there were several significant changes between the original novel, written by James Hilton, and the film.  Only one of these changes had any bearing on the character of Paula, and it is a pretty understandable one.  In the novel, it isn’t revealed until the very end, that Paula and Margaret Hanson are the same woman.  Such a thing couldn’t be done in a movie because the audience would see the same actress in both roles.

But I’ll be honest, I think that this change improved the story dramatically.  As the audience, we are aware that they are the same woman, and thus we see exactly what kind of emotional roller-coaster her character has to go through as Charles’s secretary and then political wife, before Charles finally remembers her as Paula in the end.  It made me feel for her character so much more deeply than I would have had I not known.

Another change was concerning the character of Kitty, played by Susan Peters.  In the film, Charles remembers who he is and forgets Paula and his baby.  He meets and nearly marries a young woman named Kitty.  But less than a day before the wedding, she looks into his eyes as he hears the music played when he had wed Paula.  Though he cannot understand why the music sounds so familiar to him, he nonetheless feels that there is something still missing in his life.  In his eyes, Kitty recognizes the doubt and longing for something that isn’t her.  She calls the wedding off and leaves him.  In the novel, she still leaves him but is also subsequently killed off.

I enjoyed the romantic aspect of this film, and I thought the two leads both did a good job.  Just remember that reality needs to be left behind.  The name of the game is, “suspension of disbelief.”  And just as an afterthought, suspension of disbelief is a phrase that can also easily apply to Greer Garson’s dancing in her stage show.  We can pretend that she was a good dancer for the sake of the plot.  At least she had great legs and a short skirt.