Category: Best Supporting Actress

1939 – Geraldine Fitzgerald

Wuthering Heights

Geraldine Fitzgerald played a small but pivotal role in this film.  Besides a few brief seconds of screen-time at the beginning, before the main story of the film, which was all a flashback, she didn’t even show up until the last third of the film, and her character didn’t really have a huge influence on the main plot.  But she did provide a bit of much-needed character development for the film’s leading man.  She brought to light just how cruel he could be, and how low he was willing to sink in his pursuit of the woman with whom he was obsessed.

She played the part of Isabella Linton, a young girl full of innocence and naiveté: innocent because of her inexperience with the world, and naïve because of her believe in the inherent goodness of all men.  This is what Fitzgerald had to work with.  She played the part as a young woman fascinated with an obviously bad man, willfully ignoring the council of her brother and her sister-in-law.  Her first introduction to Heathcliff was hearing him unapologetically tell the tale of how he underhandedly took possession of his rival’s land and title, all for the purpose of revenge.  But she ignores his vengeful intentions, and calls him misunderstood. 

So how did Fitzgerald bring this across?  Well, she certainly had a beautiful and youthful appearance.  The first time we see her, she has the look of a child in her teens.  Isabella was played as pleasant enough, but willful and petulant, contradicting her elders simply because they were her elders.  But by the end, her youthfulness seems to fade just enough to show that her childish ideals have been revealed as lies.  Her innocence has vanished, and Heathcliff’s insincerity and indifference toward her is fully revealed.  She is clearly still young, but broken.  And yet, even though she knows her marriage to him was his way of being close to his beloved Cathy, she continues to throw herself at him, begging him to love her. 

There was some real emotion to the character, and Fitzgerald played it all with sincerity.  In fact, at the end, I’d almost that she was the same haggard woman we saw in the very beginning of the movie.  Broken and worn, inside and out.  I’d say her Best Supporting Actress nomination was well-deserved. 

1939 – Hattie McDaniel (WINNER)

Gone With the Wind

Hattie McDaniel was the first black woman to ever win an Oscar.  We all know how monumental and historic her win was.  It was deserved and it was important for more than just what it was.  It was official recognition of not only a black person, but a black woman, and in 1939, that was significant.  Such a recognition would have been important in any kind of an event, but in something that was so highly visible as the Academy Awards, it was phenomenal.

But just to put it into a little perspective, here are a few Academy Award facts.  McDaniel was the first black person, man or woman, who was ever even nominated for an acting Oscar.  After her, the next black actor or actress to earn a nomination was ten years later in 1949, when Ethel Waters was nominated for a supporting role in the movie Pinky.   The next black actor to actually win an Oscar was fifteen years after that in 1963, when Sidney Poitier won for Lilies of the Field.  Hattie’s win was a start, but the battle for equal representation was only beginning.

In Gone With the Wind, she played Mammy, a slave on the O’Hara cotton plantation.  She served as nurse to the O’Hara women for several generations, and as the “head woman” of the plantation.  She is gruff but well-meaning, and the way McDaniel played her, she is incredibly likeable nonetheless.  It is clear that though she is a slave, she cares deeply for the family she serves.  After the Civil War is over, she continues on as Scarlet and Rhett’s servant, though I assume she now gets paid for her labors.

Honestly, there wasn’t much to the role, but I’m still glad she won.  The significance of her nomination and her win outweighed the fact that the role itself might not have been worthy of all the attention, especially when objectively compared to the rest of the women nominated for Best Supporting Actress that year.  There was one scene in particular, in which McDaniel got to flex her acting chops a bit.  When Rhett and Scarlett’s daughter is killed in a horse-riding accident, the bitter tears she shed were real and heart-felt.  McDaniel was really beautiful in that moment, and I suspect that was the scene that earned her the Oscar.

1939 – Olivia De Havilland

Gone With the Wind

De Havilland was a skilled actress, and though I do not begrudge her nomination in any way, I have seen her in other films, in which she played characters of far more complexity and weight.  I’m only saying that though she was good in Gone With the Wind, she was incredible in other films like The Snake Pit in 1948.  Just sayin’.

If I had to sum up her character in only three words, they would be sweet, frail, and loving.  And that was it.  That was about all there was to her character.  She loved her husband, she loved Scarlett, and she loved her son.  She was sweet and loving to everyone.  And she was physically weak, especially when compared to the story’s main heroine, Scarlett.  She seemed to get sick at the drop of a hat, and she also lacked her sister-in-law’s iron will.  But she was unwavering in her loyalty to Scarlett, never believing all the terrible things that were said about her.

At least, that was my initial impression of the character of Melanie Wilkes, as De Havilland played her.  But upon watching the movie again, I was reminded of two scenes that showed a different side to her, both of which were excellently played by De Havilland.  The first was the one in which she is still recovering from giving birth to her son.  When a Union Soldier sneaks into Tera intent on stealing whatever he can find, Scarlett murders him.  But Melanie had actually gotten out of her sick bed and was approaching the scene with a sword in her hand.  Then she offers to dispose of the body.  The other is when she lied to the police to defend her husband from arrest.  In those scenes, it was clear that there was a little fire in her after all.  And on top of that, I am reminded that her sicknesses were always because of complications with pregnancies, something that was not uncommon in those days.

But all that being said, even though her character was a little one-note, she was still likable and that was in great part due to De Havilland’s solid performance.  There was a gentleness about the character of Melanie that was clearly a part of the actress’s own personality, a trait that was important to the role.  I think she did the part justice with the subtlety of her performance.  It was clear she could act, even though the roll didn’t seem to demand that much from her.

1939 – Edna May Oliver

Drums Along the Mohawk

The first movie I ever remember seeing Edna May Oliver in was 1930’s Cimarron, where she played a crotchety, but good natured old lady.  Well, here, she played the exact same character.  But darn if she didn’t embody that character so perfectly.  She had the right look, the right sound, the right temperament, and the right mannerisms.  She was gruff, but generous, cantankerous, but likeable.  I understand it was a bit of a contradiction, but somehow, she could pull it off.

And I get it.  I agree that her performance in this movie was worthy of an Oscar nomination.  She played the part of Sarah McKlennar, the old widow who is, as I said, gruff and almost grouchy, but who is actually kind-hearted and well-meaning, helping others around her.  Not only that, but she had enough spunk to take up a gun and fight alongside the men defending the fort from the Loyalists and their Native American allies.  Unfortunately, during the battle, she is mortally wounded and has her own little dramatic death scene.

But I liked that there were multiple facets to her character.  At one point, she is drinking and partying during a village celebration.  She becomes flirtatious with a man who is clearly affectionate towards her.  And there was an almost comedic scene where Native American raiders break into her house and begin to burn it down.  Instead of running in fear, she starts yelling at the attackers, and attempts to shoo them out of her home.  Even after the walls are set ablaze, she sits on her bed and refuses to leave until the man who is sweet on her picks her up and carries her to safety over his shoulder.  I think it was done for laughs, but it actually said something about her character at the same time.

But there is one scene that stood out to me as deeper and more intense than others.  It is when Mrs. McKlennar shows true empathy for a respected member of the community as he faces the prospect of having one of his legs amputated.  And the sadness and despair she feels, when we learn that he has bled out and died, was incredibly real and very in-the-moment.  All these things and more were perfectly brought to life by the exceptional performance of Edna May Oliver.

1938 – Spring Byington

You Can’t Take It With You

Spring Byington is one of those actresses who you don’t often think of, but who shows up everywhere in movies of all genres.  Here she is in a screwball comedy, playing a rather ditsy woman, but playing her to perfection.  She was not a caricature, she wasn’t over-the-top, and she wasn’t in your face.  But neither was she subtle or understated.  She was perfect.  That’s what can happen when you have a skilled actor on the job.

Byington played the part of Penny Sycamore, mother of the film’s leading lady.  She is sweet, kind-hearted, loving, slightly dotty, and altogether charming and wonderful.  The kind of mom we all wish we could have.  On the one hand, her head seems to be grounded in reality, though every once in a while, she’ll say something or do something that makes you question that.  She, like the rest of her eccentric family, spends her time doing whatever makes her happy.  She writes plays, though it is implied that she isn’t very good at it.  She paints, though again, without much skill.  But that is inconsequential.  She enjoys her hobbies, and that’s all that matters.   Sounds like a nice life to live, if you ask me.

But Byington also had to play a few scenes with some more serious emotion in them.  For example, when Grandpa sells the house to Mr. Kirby, and she is being forced to move, she sheds a few tears.  Or when she reads a letter from her daughter Alice, about how unhappy she is, and how she cries herself to sleep, Byington got to use her dramatic skills a little.

But I think that was the problem.  As much as I liked Byington in this roll, I don’t think her performance was Oscar-worthy.  But it wasn’t Spring’s fault.  The roll just wasn’t that notable.  There wasn’t much depth or weight to the character as it was written.  Maybe if they’d kept the character’s more racy attributes from the original play, Penny might have been a more interesting supporting character.  In the source material, the plays she was writing were adventure and sex-filled melodramas.  And during the Kirby’s visit, she actually got them to talk about their sex lives.  Now that would have been risqué for 1938!

1938 – Billie Burke

Merrily We Live

I’m starting to think that Billie Burke was a one-trick pony.  I’ve only seen her in a few films, but she seems to play the exact same character every time.  But darn if she doesn’t do it so well.  She played the ditzy mother figure.  From The Wizard of Oz to Topper, to Merrily We Live, it all seems to be variations on a theme.  But that‘s just it.  She wasn’t unattractive, and she was fairly adept at comedy.  This was a fast-paced screwball comedy, and the dialogue was quick and witty.  Burk proved that she could keep up with the best of them.

But because of the wildly silly nature of this one, she turned the scatterbrained matriarch into overdrive.  She played Emily Kilbourne as a blithely vague and cheery woman who had a penchant for reforming tramps and hobos.  The roll required stream of consciousness patter with a loveable disposition.  You see, as a screwball comedy, I expected the entire cast to be silly in one way or another, but she seemed to lead the charge.  It just seemed so natural for her. 

There was only one scene in the movie where she showed a negative emotion, and that was near the beginning, when she learns that the most recent tramp has abandoned the family, stealing all the silver, among other things.  She breaks into crocodile tears and flees the scene.  But even that was done in a perfectly comedic way.  And within the hour, when a new tramp shows up at the door, she is all smiles and sunshine once again.  She was actually a delight to watch in this light-hearted film and so why not give her an Oscar nod.

But I suppose I should expect no less from her.  She was a veteran actress, having started on Broadway in 1907, doing silent films from 1914 to 1921, and after several years in radio, getting into sound films in 1929.  But the few roles I’ve seen her play have all been supporting roles.  I’ve never seen her take the lead, though I have read that she did in some of her silent films.  And apparently her final film appearance was in 1960, so she still had a long career ahead of her.  But I wonder how she would have done in a serious drama.  Comedians usually do incredibly well.  As I’ve said before, you often have to get the comedy to deliver the drama.

1938 – Beulah Bondi

Of Human Hearts

It’s a good thing I’m judging this based on Bondi’s excellent performance, and not the ridiculous script.  I’m sorry, but Abraham Lincoln, in the middle of the Civil War, had more important things do to than illegally threaten to court-marshal an army medic for being a dick to his mother, though according to legend, that actually might have happened, or something close to it.

His mother, played by Bondi, was listed as a supporting character, and I agree with that assessment.  But since her relationship with her ungrateful son was really the central theme of the film, put next to the boy’s relationship with his father, I’d have understood a Best Actress nod instead.  She arguably had the most screen time of the entire cast.  And she embodied the central theme of the movie, which was that nobody should ever take their parents for granted, especially their mothers.

Bondi played Mary Wilkins, a woman who was used to a somewhat affluent life, but who agreed to take on a life of poverty because of her husband’s calling and work as a preacher in an impoverished rural community.  But her rebellious son did not appreciate her sacrifices, and constantly asks for more and more money.  And because she loves her son, she sells everything she can, becoming the poorest of the poor, to give him everything he asks for.  She does so without complaint, with no thought of herself.  She only wants her boy to be happy.

But when her son joins the Union Army, and fails to even write to her, casting doubt in her mind whether or not he is even alive, Beulah’s talent as a wonderful actress was really given a chance to shine.  Keeping in line with the character, who was humble to a fault, she played the part in such a way as to not draw attention to herself.  But the character of Mary Wilkins was written so as to keep her in the forefront of the narrative, shouldering most of the emotional drama of the film.  There was a subtle gravitas about her that was unmistakable.  She was a long-suffering wife and mother who didn’t seem to mind her suffering.  And she handled the scene where her husband died particularly well.  There’s no doubt that she was a skilled actress, and I’m glad that she was once again recognized for her work.

1938 – Miliza Korjus

The Great Waltz

I’ll start this review off by saying that I didn’t particularly care for Miliza Korjus’s performance, and I have two reasons why.  She wasn’t terrible, but she wasn’t great, and sadly not worthy of her nomination.  I’m not going to say she couldn’t act, but I’ve seen better.   And I’m not going to say she couldn’t sing, but again, I’ve heard better.  But I will give her one thing.  She was absolutely gorgeous.

So let’s look at those two points a little more closely.  First was her acting.  As I said, she wasn’t bad.  But her performance seemed to lack passion and conviction for me.  The role she played was that of a vain opera star who is won over by the music of Strauss.  In stereotypical fashion, she was used to getting her way all the time.  But if you are going to play the spoiled diva, then play it.  Give us a little more energy, more drama.  Be more grandiose and more animated.  She had these qualities, but I think that they were a bit too subtle.  It felt to me like she was holding back, almost as if her command of the English language affected her self-confidence.  I don’t know if that was true, but that’s what it felt like.

And then there was her singing.  Now, this might not have been her fault, but that was why she was in the movie.  She was there to look pretty and to sing.  Maybe it was a bad sound recording, but she sounded shrill and unpleasant to listen to.  I have no doubt that she sounded fantastic if you were listening to her in a live performance, but in this film, her soprano voice became a little piercing.  She sounded a little like Snow White, in the first Disney animated feature, and thus fit for a cartoon character.  Her occasional staccato melismas were awful.  Granted, there were times where she sounded alright, especially when she was singing in a lower register, but her high notes were just not pleasing to the ear.

But there was one scene in particular that I actually liked her performance a lot.  It was the scene in which she first hears Strauss’s Tales From the Vienna Woods, and finds herself falling in love with him.  She was properly mesmerized by the beautiful music, entranced by the grandeur of the lovely melody. In that moment, I believed her.  But if that was the highlight of her performance, I think I wanted more.

1938 – Fay Bainter

Jezebel

This was Fay Bainter’s second Oscar nomination, but her first in a supporting role.  For some reason, in my mind, I am constantly confusing her with Spring Byington, and have sometimes made the joke that they must be the same person, since you never see them on the screen at the same time.  But here, that theory is debunked.  Bainter’s performance as Miss Julie’s Aunt Belle was more than competent, and she stood out, even against the accomplished Byington.

The character of Aunt Belle, to be honest, was a little one note.  For the most part, her job was to stand in the background and look worried because of how horrible Julie was being.  But she did have a few moments, especially in the latter half of the movie, where she showed a deeper side.  She showed some fear when the rumors of Yellow Fever began to circulate.  She has a scene where she was horrified at the idea of Preston being taken to a leper colony, observing that he would have no chance of survival there.

So, Bainter played the character of Julie’s Aunt, but the film never explained where her parents were.  Julie was described as spoiled, so I have to think that it was Aunt Belle who did the spoiling.  She certainly did nothing to discipline the girl, but granted, at the time the movie takes place, Julie was old enough that she was beyond being disciplined, though it might have indicated an indulgent upbringing.

So was it Aunt Belle’s fault that Julie was so spoiled?  Maybe.  Could Aunt Belle have put her foot down and insisted that Julie wear white to the Olympus Ball?  Possibly.  Should she then have been at least a little bit responsible for the catastrophe that followed? And did these things come through, even a little bit, in Bainter’s performance?  I think maybe they did.  I think there was a little shame in the constant worry, and that was what Fay Bainter brought to the character.

So, I found Bainter’s performance good, but not great.  It was clear that this wasn’t her first rodeo, but I’m not certain if the performance was strong enough for an Oscar win.  I’ll have to watch the other nominees, and judge for myself.

1937 – Andrea Leeds

Stage Door

Spoiler alert – Andrea Leeds did just fine in her role as the out-of-work actress who can’t get a part, and who ends up committing suicide.  She carried an air of depression with her every time she appeared on the screen.  That was her job, and she played the part for all it was worth.  In fact that characteristic of melancholy was the defining quality of the role. 

You see, even when she was supposed to be happy in a scene that carried a bit of levity, she couldn’t shake that obvious depression.  At first I thought that made the part, and the way Leeds portrayed it, as uninteresting because it was always the same thing.  But the more I think about it, the more I begin to see the complexities of the character.  If someone is dealing with clinical depression, being in light-hearted company and situations is actually hard.  It is difficult both emotionally and physically.  I know that depression can make me actually sick to my stomach, and the more I think about Leeds’ performance, the more I have to acknowledge how that crippling emotion that hovered over her every appearance was expertly played.  And the fact that her character had a habit of starving herself certainly didn’t help.

But I will say this for Leeds.  She had the task of carrying the lion’s share of the emotional content of the film.  She was the only actress in the cast who had to break down into tears and sobbing, which happened several times in the narrative.  The birthday scene was especially heartbreaking to watch, and Leeds gave us a powerful performance.  You could see her trying to hold back the tears, and ultimately failing.  Her Best Supporting Actress nomination was well deserved.

And ok, that final scene was a bit over-played.  So she has a mental break-down and kills herself.  It was really over-the-top that she is visibly taken over by a madness that drives her to throw herself out a window.  The way she goes from depressed and self-pitying to wide-eyed, loony-bin crazy was a little jarring and had no subtlety at all.  But that was the fault of the script, not the actress.  It came dangerously close to comical, not in what happened to the tragic character, but in how it was written and filmed, and consequently, how it had to be acted.