Category: Best Supporting Actor

1943 – J Carrol Naish

Sahara

Honestly, I have never heard of this actor before.  I have no idea what other films he’s been in, even though Wikipedia says he was in over 200 films in the Golden Age of Hollywood.  But I have to say, he did a fine job in this movie.  He played an Italian POW during WWII named Giuseppe.  The actor was American-born, but he seemed to be able to speak fluent Italian, and his heavy Italian accent, when he spoke English, was constituent and believable.

Even though he was a supporting character, he had a few pretty dramatic moments that made him stand out.  He even had the movie’s big anti-war speech.  Despite what Mussolini tells us, I have no hate in my heart for Americans, which is a great sentiment to remember.  He delivered that little monologue with a fair amount of passion and it sounded honest.  After he delivers his speech to an evil Nazi who says he will denounce him as a traitor, he says he’d rather spend his remaining days as a POW in a prison than kill men he does not hate.  He is murdered for his principles, but before he dies, he warns the movie’s heroes about the escaping Nazi, saving all their lives.  That was definitely his big moment, but it wasn’t his only moment.  I liked the one where he begs not to be left in the desert to die.

Naish really seemed to take his role seriously.  This must have been a difficult movie to film.  Everything took place in a desert and you could tell it wasn’t a set.  You could practically feel the heat through the screen.  Apparently, the makeup artist were able to make the men appear to be heavily perspiring by coating the actors’ faces with Vaseline and spraying them with water.  Naish had a great close-up where the sweat looked real.  But he, like all the dedicated actors, had to deal with sunburns and sandstorm, typical of filming in a desert location.

So despite being an Italian, who was supposed to be one of the enemies in the war, Naish did his job well and created a likeable character that probably helped to show Americans that the Italians were not the real bad guys.  They were just ordinary people who happened to be on the wrong side of the fighting, most of whom were just obeying their leader.  I appreciated the different perspective, and I liked Naish.

1943 – Charles Bickford

The Song of Bernadette

This movie had an incredible script, so much so that no matter what character you look at, it was kind of hard to go wrong.  But if that’s true, then why do I have so many misgivings about Charles Bickford’s performance?  Was he good?  Yes, but he was not great.  I’d call his performance adequate.  He only had one facial expression in the entire film.  He was stoic, and that was it.  Even when he needed to be skeptical, unsure, loving, kindly, angry, or even priestly and forgiving, he was nothing more than stoic.  I don’t know if he deserved his Oscar nomination.

I mean, I looked up a photo of the actor in a publicity picture, one where he is wearing a suit and tie instead of the robes of a clergyman.  The expression on his face in that pic is exactly the same as in this film.  No smile, no expressive emotion, nothing but sternness.  But then I have to ask, did this lack of emotion serve the character, or did it detract from the performance?  And I suppose, in certain scenes, it did.  But there were times I wanted more.

Bickford played Abbé Dominique Peyramale, the parish priest of Lourdes.  At first he is a doubter of Bernadette’s visions, then a curious skeptic, then a believer, and finally a true advocate.  I’m not saying the actor did a terrible job.  I wouldn’t say he stood out as a bad actor.  He did just fine.  He looked the part, seemed to be age appropriate, and had a good speaking voice.  But if I’m being picky, then I’ll also say that there was no softness to him.  There was very little about him that felt inviting or intimate.  I wasn’t drawn in by his fatherly relationship with Bernadette. 

I think his best scene was the one where he says goodbye to Bernadette as she is leaving to join the Sisters of Charity of Nevers.  But I think this had just as much to do with the script as it did with the actor.  But here, at least, he displayed a modicum of kindness, and perhaps even sympathy for the girl, though you wouldn’t know it looking at Bickford’s face.  It was exactly the same as it was every other time he was on the screen.  And just as an interesting note, his character embodied one of the few historical inaccuracies in the movie.  The real Peryamale never visited Bernadette on her deathbed.  He’d actually died several years before her.

1943 – Charles Coburn

The More the Merrier

I have mixed feelings about Charles Coburn in this film.  For one thing, I don’t particularly care for the film.  I didn’t like the character Coburn played, Mr. Dingle.  And yet, he played it the way the script demanded.  He was a bully, a manipulative old con-artist, and yet, I think I was supposed to like him.  Yes, I get that it was a silly romantic comedy, but the character of Mr. Dingle just raised my hackles, and it was partly the fault of the script, and partly the fault of the actor.

Mr. Dingle is a businessman who is in Washington for a short time.  He lies to a crowd of strangers so that they won’t be competition for occupancy of the spare bedroom in Miss Milligan’s apartment.  And we’re supposed to like how clever he is.  Then when she tries to tell him no, that she wanted a female roommate, he brushes past her into the apartment and completely ignores her protestations.  I keep trying to tell myself that it’s just supposed to be a silly comedy, but my modern sensibilities are offended by the very premise of the movie in the character of Mr. Dingle.  She should have called the police and had him arrested, but against her better judgement, she agreed to let him stay, instead.

Then the very next day, he invites a complete stranger into her home as another tenant, because he thinks he will make Miss Milligan a good husband, as if he had any right to arrange her life in that way.  And the rom-com nature of the film says that I’m supposed to like the match-making old meddler because he has good intentions and the attractive young couple are obviously meant to be together. 

But here’s the thing.  Coburn played it just like the script said he needed to.  So was he a good actor, in that respect?  Yes, he was.  But I didn’t like the character that was created, and I think I was supposed to.  So what does that say about the actor?  Did he do a good job?  On the one hand, yes, because he did what the script needed.  But on the other hand, a good actor should have made me like Mr. Dingle, despite him being a bully and a charlatan, and in this, Coburn failed, and I really don’t know if any actor could have done it.  But the Academy voters clearly didn’t agree with me.  Coburn took home the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

1943 – Claude Rains

Casablanca

My goodness!  Was there a movie in that era of old Hollywood that didn’t feature Claude Rains?  He was in everything!  And he was always good!  And Casablanca is no exception.  He did a fantastic job of playing a true supporting role.  He was charming, charismatic, and handsome, easily keeping up with the film’s leading man, Humphrey Bogart.  He looked the part and acted the hell out of it.

As Captain Renault of the French Police in the city of Casablanca, he was wonderful and memorable.  He was as corrupt as he could be, and completely unapologetic about it, almost wore it as a badge of honor.  He gladly served the Nazi officers in search of Victor Lazlo, even to the point of betraying his friend Rick to the bad guys in the film’s climax, and then ended up betraying them when the opportunity presented itself.  He created such a despicable, and yet likeable character.

I loved how Rains completely understood the character, how he was happily subservient to the Nazi occupiers, took bribes and money from Rick’s gambling tables in fixed games, and having all the alcohol he wanted while never paying for any of it.  But strangely enough, he also seemed to be good at his job, catching the murderous criminal, Signor Ugarte to show off for Major Strasser of the Third Reich.  As an actor, Rains had the confidence and charisma to show that Renault was intelligent and absolutely amoral in his dealings with friends and enemies alike. 

The scene in which Rains stood out to me was fantastic.  When Strasser is embarrassed because the French citizens started singing their own National Anthem, La Marseillaise, over the German’s in the Café, who were singing Die Wacht am Rhein, the Nazi orders Renault to close the café.  He protests once, but when the order is reiterated, he immediately blows his whistle and closes the establishment.  Rains was great in that scene.  When Rick asks why his business is being closed by the police, Renault answers, “I’m shocked! Shocked to find that gambling is going on in here.” Someone gives him money, saying, “Your winnings, sir.”  Then he finishes up with, “Oh, thank you very much.  Everybody out at once!”  Rains was perfect, and I loved his performance.

1943 – Akim Tamiroff

For Whom the Bell Tolls

I first learned who Akim Tamiroff was when I watched him in the 1936 film, The General Died at Dawn, for which he earned himself a Best Supporting Actor nomination.  I‘ve now seen him in several other Oscar nominated films.  He keeps showing up where I least expect him, and he always does a great job.  This movie was no exception.  And He usually plays a foreign character.  Here, he plays Pablo, the leader of an anti-fascist guerilla resistance cell in Spain during the Spanish Civil War.  He spends most of the film as a man who was once daring and brave, but has grown into an overly-cautious drunkard that bordered on cowardice.  But by the end of the movie, he regains some of his old fire.

Pablo was a complex character.  He cared for his people deeply, and yet he seemed to have forgotten what they were resisting, what they were fighting for.  One minute he was betraying them, the next he was fighting beside them.  One minute he was against violence because it might bring their enemies down upon them, the next he was mowing the enemy armies down with a machine gun.  It was often hard to tell what he stood for, what his passions would lead him to do.  But in the end, he remained true to the cause.  Tamiroff had to play these dualities believably.

He had several scenes that stood out to me, and must have been a challenge for him.  There was one in which his woman, Pilar, stood up to the weakness of his will and wrested the leadership of the group from him.  The drunken shame on his face was perfect.  Another was when he allowed one of his ben to repeatedly punch him in the mouth because he’d mocked the American who had come to help his people.  Tamiroff was great in that scene.  And yet another scene, where he callously murdered, in cold blood, the men he brought to help in the fighting, so that his own men could have their horses to escape from the fascist army after the mission.

The only thing I didn’t like about the character wasn’t even Tamiroff’s fault.  His makeup.  This was the early days of Technicolor, and they didn’t seem to have color down yet.  At times the skin of his face looked a weird gray.  Was that intentional, or just the filmmakers trying to figure out the color of a dirty Spaniard?

1942 – Frank Morgan

Tortilla Flat

I’ve been trying to decide whether or not I liked this movie.  But what has not been in question is that I loved Frank Morgan’s performance.  He was amazing.  First of all, I’ve never seen him play this kind of a role.  It was a completely new side of the actor for me.  He played a dirty old hermit called The Pirate, whose only friends are dogs.  He lives in a smelly bird-coop, and wasn’t quite sane.  He is either touched, or blessed, and I think the character was a bit of both.

Morgan played The Pirate as a simpleton who is a good man at heart, a religious man.  He once had a vision of Saint Francis who healed one of his dogs, and as payment for the miracle, he dedicated his life to buying an expensive candlestick for the church.  I was surprised how well Morgan inhabited the crazy but harmless old man.  He didn’t even show up until the second half of the film.  Until then, we had been following the character of Pilon, played by Spencer Tracy.  Pilon was a lazy vagabond, and manipulative con artist.  And when he set his sights on the money The Pirate had secretly been saving to buy the golden candlestick, my heart began to sink.  But The Pirate’s story about Saint Francis and his promise moved even the unscrupulous heart of Pilon into not stealing his hard-earned cash. 

Morgan had two scenes that stood out to me.  The first took place after one of Pilon’s friends moved his stash of money to a different hiding place, and The Pirate almost had a breakdown when he thinks it has been stolen.  Morgan’s cries of abject despair were heart-wrenching.  He really sold the moment with his wailing and the look of utter devastation on his face.  The second was a little bit later when he is in the woods, giving thanks to Saint Francis with his dogs, and he has a second vision of the saint.  A light shines through the trees, illuminating the altar he has constructed.  Several emotions showed on his face.  There was humility, fear, wonder, and exultation, all in equal measure.  Morgan played it perfectly. I think he absolutely deserved his Oscar nomination, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d given the winner, Van Heflin in Johnny Eager, a real run for his money.  Morgan really looked the part, and gave us a wonderfully memorable performance.

1942 – William Bendix

Wake Island

Ok, I’ll say it.  This is one of those acting nominations that I don’t get.  This was a serious movie about the brave men, both soldiers and civilians, who fought and died on Wake Island in WWII.  Bendix played Private Aloysius K. Randall, a goofy palooka who was like the comic relief in the dangerous situation.  He, and his friend, played by Robert Preston, were consistently making wise-cracks and getting into fist fights.  But I don’t feel the character added much to the plot, and unfortunately, I don’t feel that Bendix did much to add to the character.

As the comic relief, he wasn’t very funny.  As a soldier in battle, he didn’t really do much.  His only distinction was in the script.  When Randall had the chance to get on the last boat to safety as a civilian, he turned it down and asked to be reinstated as a soldier, even though it was most likely a death sentence, which I suppose might have appealed to the propaganda angle of the film.  Bendix was like the common man, and the filmmakers wanted to persuade common American men to fight in the war, and risk death in the service of their country.  It was a noble and honorable sentiment, and I suppose Bendix did that well enough.

So was Bendix perfect for the role?  Yes, he was, as it was written.  Was the role worth an Oscar nomination?  I don’t think so.  There just wasn’t much to it.  And unfortunately, I don’t know what Bendix could have done to elevate the character.  Maybe he could have played it a little more seriously, given the character of Randall more gravitas, more somberness, or even a sense of impending doom.  Maybe he could have been more earnest in his desire to fight, and when he was in battle, been tougher, more feral.  But even there, he was too much the gentle giant.

I don’t know.  I just didn’t get any fierceness from him, neither in battle, nor in his desire to fight for his country.  But that’s just me trying to turn him into a tragic character, a dramatic character, and that’s not how Randall was written.  He was supposed to be a loveable palooka, short on smarts, but not in heart.  Still, maybe there might have been a way for Bendix to be the goofball, but still give the character more weight.  But that didn’t happen, and more’s the pity.

1942 – Van Heflin

Johnny Eager

How do you win an Oscar for playing a chronic drunkard for an entire movie?  I don’t know, but Van Heflin did it, and he did it wonderfully.  From his first appearance on the screen to nearly his last, the character of Jeff Hartnett, the right hand man of notorious gangster Johnny Eager.  Jeff is an intellectual man, but a complete raging alcoholic.  His role in the narrative seemed to be that of Johnny’s conscience, and his only true friend.  He willingly helped Johnny in his criminal schemes and hated himself for doing it.

So really, Jeff was a weak-willed man who drank because he was riddled with guilt over his ongoing part in Johnny’s life of crime.  But as long as Johnny kept being his friend and providing the booze, he would continue to do his job.  Believably drunk is not always easy to play, but Heflin was up to the challenge.  For the most part, he played Jeff as sleepy, like he was only a few minutes away from passing out on the floor, though he never did.  And he was constantly jonesing for a drink, never turning down a shot whenever one was offered.  At times he was nearly shaking with need.  The only other movie that had that kind of a character was The Lost Weekend, and I think Heflin did a better job than Ray Milland.

Van had a few scenes that packed emotional punches, and allowed him to show off his acting skills.  In one, he admits to Johnny that he nearly had a moment of clarity where he intended to go to the police to tell them all about Johnny’s crimes before committing suicide.  Fortunately, he found that he was a coward, and decided to crawl into a bottle instead.  The other was the climax of the film, where he holds the dying Johnny in his arms and sheds real tears over the death of his friend.  Both were powerful moments and Heflin really earned his Oscar.

But there were also a few scenes in the movie where Jeff actually seemed sober, or mostly sober.  He seemed likeable enough, but even then, there was that underlying alcohol-soaked demeanor, the slow movements, the difficult speech, the shaky countenance. Heflin did an amazing job, and I thoroughly enjoyed his performance. Now, I’m curious to know what else he was in.

1942 – Henry Travers

Mrs. Miniver

Henry Travers was a good actor.  I believe he is most famously known as Clarence from It’s A Wonderful Life, but he did a fantastic job here, too.  He had a very gentle manner about him that permeated his character.  He played Mr. Ballard, the local stationmaster, and one of the bell-ringers at the church.  His whole sub-plot in the film was a nice one.  He played the part of the common peace-loving man.  He was also a gardener who had grown a rose so beautiful that it rivaled the roses of the snotty aristocrat, Lady Beldon, which he names after the kind Mrs. Miniver.

Travers didn’t have a lot of screen time, but he made the most of what he had.  Right from his first appearance on the screen, he shows us a man who is meek and kind-hearted.  His manner is mild and polite.  He is the kind of man anyone would love to know.  And I have to think that this wasn’t just the way the character of Mr. Ballard was written.  Much of that came from the actor, and must certainly have been the way the man really was.  It seemed so natural for him.

His big scene was the one in which Lady Beldon is convinced that his rose deserves the top prize at a flower show, even though she has never lost since the flower show began.  When she announces his name as the winner of the silver cup, his surprise and disbelief rendered him speechless, and he could only stand when his friends propped him up.  As he slowly approached the dais, he was nearly in tears, and his abject humility as he accepts the cup was very touching.  Travers really did a great job in that scene.  I really believed his disbelief.

I’ve seen the film several times now, but this time I caught something I hadn’t remembered from previous viewings.  The final scene where the priest is naming off some of those who have died in the bombings, Ballard’s name is mentioned.  Apparently, his character died only two hours after winning the top prize in the flower show.  It made the ending of the film just that much more powerful and poignant.  Really paying attention to his performance in Mrs. Miniver makes me wonder what other kind of character Travers ever played in his career.  He was a good actor, and this was the perfect kind of role to earn him an Oscar nomination.

1942 – Walter Huston

Yankee Doodle Dandy

I’ve been seeing this actor’s name pop up a lot more than I thought I would, and he always does a fine job. After seeing him in other films like The Devil and Daniel Webster and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, I am coming to know him as an actor who is able to inhabit the characters he plays.  He transforms into each role, creating unique and distinct characters that are always appropriate and usually memorable.  This script didn’t exactly give him anything dynamic to work with, but he does show another side of his performance skills.  He sings and dances, something I’ve never seen him do, though his dancing wasn’t as energetic or intense as his costar, James Cagney.

Here he played Jerry Cohan, the patriarch of a Vaudeville acting family.  His wife and two children were all there willingly and gladly.  They all loved performing on the stage and they loved performing as a family act.  In this, he played the part of a good father, supporting his children in their endeavors, and taking joy in their successes, while still maintaining a healthy ego, claiming that he was a better actor than his son, George Cohen.  He played Jerry as a kind man who loved his family.

There was one memorable scene where he needed to physically punish his son for messing up a golden opportunity for the family’s act.  It was a conscientious decision, which made me like the character even more.  And when his wife chimed in, saying, “Not on the hand, he has to play the violin!” and then, “Not on the mouth, he has to sing!”  He listened, saying, “”Here’s one place without any talent!” and proceeded to spank his bottom.  That was a fun scene.

And even though the script didn’t give him a lot of opportunity to be dramatic, I have to mention his death-bed scene.  He is old and dying, and his mind has taken him back to his younger days when they were all pounding the Vaudeville circuit.  He was delirious and Huston really sold the scene beautifully.  It was a sad and dramatic scene, probably the most dramatic scene in the movie, and Huston made me feel for Jerry in his final moment.  Huston did a fantastic job and he was clearly an actor that the Academy loved, as this was his third Oscar nomination, though it wouldn’t be his last.  His winning nomination would come six years later in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.