Category: Nominees – 1940s

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Crossfire – 1947

Crossfire was a murder mystery… sort of.  It didn’t take much figuring to understand who-done-it.  But then, what was the conflict, you might ask.  The conflict was: would the police arrest the right guy?  Also: what was his motive?

First, let’s examine the characters.  The film starred three Roberts.  There was Robert Mitchum, Robert Young, and Robert Ryan.  Along with them there was Gloria Grahame, George Cooper, Jaqueline White, Steve Brody, and lest we forget, the murder victim, himself, Sam Levene.  We’ll start there.  Leven played Joseph Samuels.  All you need to know about him was that he was Jewish.  Robert Young was Police Captain Finlay, the man trying to solve the murder.  The rest of the men were all soldiers, recently come home after the war.  That leaves Grahame, a dance hall floosy, and White, Cooper’s wife.

Robert Mitchum played Sgt. Keeley, all around good guy and hero.  George Cooper had the role of Corporal Mitchell, the prime murder suspect for half the film.  Robert Ryan played the anti-Semitic Montgomery, and Steve Brody played his idiot friend, Floyd Bowers.

The plot is simple and can be summed up pretty quickly.  Samuels is murdered and all evidence points to Corporal Mitchell.  After all, he was so drunk at the time of the crime, he couldn’t remember what he had really done.  But the police can’t find him.  Sgt. Keeley, Mitchell’s best friend tries to defend him and finds him before the police do.  It becomes evident, before the film is even half over, that Montgomery did it, though his motives aren’t clear.  Eventually, Keeley, convinced that Mitchell is innocent, tells the cops where to find him.  By then, Captain Finlay knows it wasn’t him.  With the help of another army officer, Leroy, played by William Phipps, they trick Montgomery into giving himself away.  He tries to run and gets gunned down.  The end.

If it were me, I’d have kept it as a true who-done-it for as long as I could.  I’d have misled the audience at every opportunity.  But it seems that wasn’t the point of the film.  The real point was hitting the viewers over the head with anti-Semitism.  It all starts with fear of anything different than ourselves.  That naturally leads to hate.  Hate leads to acts of discrimination.  Discrimination leads to violence.  Violence leads to murder.  We have to stop the hate!

The argument was really driven home in a speech by Captain Finlay, as he is trying to convince Leroy to help them trap Montgomery.  He said, “This business about hating Jews comes in a lot of different sizes. There’s the ‘you can’t join our country club’ kind. The ‘you can’t live around here’ kind. The ‘you can’t work here’ kind. Because we stand for all these, we get Monty’s kind. He grows out of all the rest… Hating is always insane, always senseless.”  In that speech was the real point of the film.

He went on to say, “My grandfather was killed just because he was an Irish Catholic. Hating is always the same, always senseless. One day it kills Irish Catholics, the next day Jews, the next day Protestants, the next day Quakers. It’s hard to stop. It can end up killing people who wear striped neckties.”  Do you see how dangerous hate is?  Did you hear that, audience?

The performances were not bad, but not particularly good, either.  The music didn’t stand out as anything special.  The sets and costumes were all appropriate.  There just wasn’t much about the film that stood out to me as above average

I guess that I just didn’t really get what I wanted.  I was all set up to see a murder mystery, and it had a bit of potential at the beginning.  But it fell flat as soon as it became clear who the real murderer was.  A better film would have kept me guessing longer or at the very least, made the evidence against the wrong suspect stronger, making me doubt what I was being told.  But no.  All the film makers really wanted to do was to say their piece about anti-Semitism.

One of the performances I liked was that of Gloria Grahame.  She actually had a little bit of bitter drama about how much she hated her life as a dance hall girl.  She kept trying to say that there was nothing wrong with what she did.  She protested a bit too much, though, making me think that she was the one who hated it.  Her part was small, but she did a good job.

An interesting little thing I discovered about the film is that in the original novel upon which the movie is based, the issue was not anti-Semitism, but homophobia.  Apparently, the character of Samuels was gay, and that was why he was murdered.  But that pesky Hayes Code considered homosexuality to be a sexual perversion and would not allow any mention of it on the big screen.  So it was changed to a racial issue… stupid Hayes Code.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bishop’s Wife – 1947

This was a film that was cute enough, sure, but it didn’t really go very far beyond that.  It was a bit slow and plodding, but that’s alright.  It never claimed to be fast paced or exciting.  It was a romantic comedy with a wholesome religious angle.  It had a few big names, like Carey Grant, Loretta Young and David Niven.  It even had a few cleverly written scenes.

But it was just a very average film.  For me, there just wasn’t very much about it that stood out as special or unique. The plot focuses pretty evenly on the three main characters, Bishop Henry Brougham, played by Niven, his wife Julia, of course, played by Young, and the mysterious Dudley, played by Grant.

The plot was a remarkably simple one.  Bishop Brougham used to be a nice guy before becoming a Bishop.  But now he is obsessed with building a cathedral.  Having to deal with the difficulties of trying to fund and design the house of worship, he becomes a jerk who makes his wife take a back seat behind his obsession.  He prays to God for guidance, and God sends Dudley, an angel, to guide him through his trials.

Julia is heartbroken that her marriage is not what it once was, and struggles to cope with her estrangement from her husband.  Dudley does little to guide the Bishop through his troubles with the cathedral, and instead focuses on saving his marriage.  By the end of the film, the marriage is saved and the prospect of building a cathedral is removed from the Bishop’s life.  The end.

True, that is a bare-bones synopsis, but there really wasn’t much more than that to the plot.  There were a few sub-plots that were pretty unimportant like Julia’s friend, Professor Wutheridge, played by Monty Woolley, as he is inspired to write a history book, and a cab driver named Sylvester, played by James Gleason, as he is inspired to go skating, which somehow rekindles his belief in the inherent kindness of the human spirit.

There was also a minor plot point involving the primary financial donor for the building of the cathedral, Mrs. Hamilton, played by Gladys Cooper.  She had been in love in her younger days and had refused to marry the man for fear of living in poverty.  Instead, she married a wealthy man whom she did not love.  Now she is old and bitter, and wants the cathedral made to her personal specifications.  When Dudley reminds her of her lost love, she has a change of heart and decides to give her money to needy charities, instead.

The film was a harmless bit of fluff.  But there were a few minor things that I didn’t particularly care for.  One was the idea that heaven is a bureaucracy.  Dudley was an angel assigned to this district, and happened to be available to take the case.  I know I’m being nit-picky, and this isn’t the first academy award nominee to use such a plot device, though while I’m on the subject, I’ll say that I didn’t care for that aspect of 1941’s Here Comes Mr. Jordan, either.  Bureaucracy is always seen as a bad thing and has negative connotations.  Making Dudley part of a district, and implying that heaven might have been too busy to send the help, doesn’t sit very well with me.  Isn’t God is supposed to be without fault and have time for every person?  OK, I’ll get off my soapbox, now.

Still, some of the small miracles that he performed were amusing enough, like decorating the Christmas tree with a wave of his hand, and getting a little girl to throw a snowball like a pro.  They brought a touch of fantasy to the story that I liked.

There was an interesting little scene where Dudley and Julia are talking to the Professor.  He kept refilling the Professor’s brandy glass, using his divine powers.  And even after he left, the Professor was left with a bottle of booze that was always full, no matter how much of it was consumed.  Cute.  Not very profound, since it didn’t have much to do with the main plot, but cute.

As for the performances of the three main actors, I can’t really say much about Grant.  He played himself.  He was easy and charming, like always.  Young did alright, and was pretty enough.  She got to show a bit of acting chops when she played the neglected, depressed wife.  But I think that it was Niven who was the stand-out.  Sure, his character was a selfish, jerk most of the time, but he played the self-righteous anger and frustration perfectly.

There was only one thing I would have done differently.  Throughout the film, everybody kept referring to how wonderful a man the Bishop used to be, a side of the character we never got to see.  It would have made a more interesting film to have him start there, descend into anger and frustration, and then return to the light, so to speak.  But I suppose that if you have a star as big as Carey Grant, you bring him in as soon as possible, not half way through the movie.

The Yearling – 1946

Now, here, finally, we have a film that was completely deserving of the Best Picture nomination that it received.  I’d even go so far as to say that it deserved to win the coveted prize.  The Yearling was perfectly cast, expertly acted, and wonderfully directed.  The sets and costumes were spot on.  The plot was dramatic but not melodramatic.  It worked on multiple levels and had a deep and insightful way of examining a child’s growth from boyhood to manhood.  It was a powerful story that pulled at the heartstrings without being preachy or blunt.  So why didn’t it win?  Simple.  It was up against The Best Years of Our Lives.  There’s no shame in losing to that one.

As the film began, I was put on guard.  Claude Jarman Jr. played the lead, a ten or eleven year old boy, named Jody.  Good child actors are hard to come by, but Jarman really did his job well.  The story took place near Lake Georgia, Florida in 1878.  He is the only living child of his parents, Ezra and Ora Baxter, played by Gregory Peck and Jane Wyman.  They are farmers and hunters in a time when the life of a pioneer was hard and dangerous.

The film spends a fair amount of time in set-up for the real dramatic things that take place in the second half of the movie.  First, we learn that Jody had six siblings who had all died, making Jody’s mother emotionally distant.  Second, we have a loving father who is going out of his way to give his son as much of a childhood as possible.  The result is a boy who knows nothing about responsibility, hardship, hunger, or loss because neither parent is teaching him about such things.

It isn’t until the second half of the film that the faun is introduced.  Jody takes the baby deer into his heart as only a child can, not fully realizing the ramifications of having such an unusual pet.  The bond the boy develops with the faun, who he names Flag, is both powerful and believable because of Jody’s age.  Again, Jarman was incredible in his portrayal.  The scenes of him running through the forests with the wild deer were incredibly well done.

The problem is that the faun grows quickly and is, in all reality, a wild animal.  He continually eats the family’s crops, endangering their very survival.  When Ezra gets sick and cannot farm the land, Jody does a lot of growing up.  He, alone, takes on the responsibility of planting and tending the crops, all the while trying to defend them from Flag.

The coming-of-age theme is a common one in films, and if done right, can be a powerful one.  It is something with which nearly every human being can identify.  It was a time in America’s history where being responsible was a requirement for survival.  People had to start being responsible at a very young age.

Jarman’s character, Jody, was certainly the focus of the plot, and he really turned a wonderful performance, but I would be quite remiss if I didn’t go into Peck and Wyman’s performances, as well.  I think Peck really outdid himself here.  He took on an accent, and kept it up believably.  He also really looked the part of a pioneer farmer.  But what captured me was the wonderful portrayal of the strong, yet gentle archetype.  He was mild mannered, but knew when to stand up for his principles.  The love for his only surviving child was so clear to see that I have to give Peck a lot of respect for his fantastic performance.  Apparently, the academy thought so, too, because he was nominated for Best Actor that year, losing to Fredrick March in The Best Years of Our Lives.  Never-mind the fact that I would consider his to be a supporting role.

Wyman’s performance was also truly inspired, as a woman who had endured incredible loss.  She was often sour, but never mean or spiteful.  But every now and then, her softer side would emerge, and her love for her son became something special to watch.  Wyman was incredible.  The ending scene, where Ora, who has spent three days searching for her own yearling son, discovers that Jody has found his own way home, is the real emotional pay-off of the film.  It was a satisfying emotional release that had been building, really, since the beginning of the film.  Well done Wyman!

The cinematography was also something that needs to be mentioned.  The film was shot in color, bringing out the beauty of the Florida wilderness.  Before I was aware of where the story took place, I was bothered by the fact that there were palm trees all over the place, marking the landscape with their distinctive shapes.  The scenes that took place out in the forests were incredibly well shot and almost magical in their realism.  The flood sequence was spectacular to see on the screen.

The film was directed by Clarence Brown, who was nominated for Best Director, only to lose to, you guessed it, William Wyler for The Best Years of Our Lives.  Sure, the other film seemed to take all the big prizes, but it could have just as easily been The Yearling.  It must have been an incredibly close competition.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Razor’s Edge – 1946

The Razor’s Edge reminded me vaguely of the Magnificent Ambersons, in that it followed the lives of young rich people as they grew, falling in and out of love with each other.  There were victories and tragedies, friends and enemies, both wise and foolish decisions, and a span of years which gave the tales being told a slightly epic feel.  It starred Tyrone Powers, Jean Tierney, John Payne, Ann Baxter, Clifton Webb, and Herbert Marshall, all led by the direction of Edmund Goulding.

Powers played the male lead, Larry, a young man who has inherited a little bit of wealth, but who had plans to be a loafer for the rest of his life.  Opposite him is Tierney, playing the role of Isabel.  She desperately loves Larry, but wants a life of wealth and comfort greater than Larry’s small income will allow.  Baxter plays Larry’s childhood friend, Sophie.  She comes from poor stock but is unashamed of her lower station in life.  Payne plays Gray, the man who loves Isabel and is independently wealthy.  Webb played the role of Templeton, Isabel’s fastidious and obviously gay uncle who, at times, was such an old queen that I was surprised the Hayes Code allowed him to be in the film.  And finally, we have Marshall rounding out the cast as Somerset Maugham, Larry’s long-time friend, who just happened to be the author of the book upon which the Razor’s Edge was based.

The movie did a great job of setting up the audience to believe, in the beginning, that Isabel was sensible and good natured, and that Larry was the shiftless lay-about who was in search of something that seemed to be missing from his life.  For most of the film, Larry’s main motivation was to “find himself”, and by the end of the film, we find that he is really the good and noble man, while Isabel turns out to be evil.  On the whole, the film’s overall message was that there are things in life that are more important than money, like honesty, kindness, generosity, and compassion: a simple message, to be sure, but a good one.

Larry, having left Isabel to travel the world, search for his true self, and find meaning in his existence, ends up in a Himalayan monastery.  There he finds peace and discovers the rewards of a virtuous life.  Actually, the scene where he leaves the monastery was a little cheesy.  As he exits the hut on the top of the mountain, he walks through a shot of glorious clouds with the brilliant rays of the magnificent sun bursting through them.  The overly-dramatic music swelled as he ended his sojourn to return to the life he had abandoned, filled with a new-found respect for the universe.  OK, Goulding, tone it down.

Tierney’s portrayal of Isabell was, to me, a bit lack-luster.  She had the potential for a few juicy, dramatic moments, but for whatever reason, the opportunities were missed.  Even in her final scene, when she realizes that the love of her life is leaving her for the last time, that all her schemes to get him back have failed, she could have had a wonderful break-down, maybe even a fantastic tantrum.  But no.  No tears and fearful acceptance are what we are given.  But this spoke more of the writing and directing than Tierney’s performance.

The film’s real stand-out performance was that of Ann Baxter.  The character of Sophie started as almost a background character, but in the second half of the movie, she took an unexpected left turn.  Her husband and newborn child are killed in a car accident, and she turns into a raging alcoholic.  She is found in a seedy dive, living as a prostitute.  She has several wonderful dramatic scenes that had “Oscar-winning performance” written all over them, and yes, she won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress that year.

The movie seemed to have a split personality that I ultimately didn’t mind: the difference between innocence and experience.  The characters all mature over the years, some into better versions of themselves, others into worse, and it was interesting to follow the unexpected changes in each of them.

This proved true for all the main cast except one which I’d like to mention for a different reason.  From beginning to end, Uncle Templeton is shown as the same prissy homosexual, a fact that could not be explicitly stated.  He was fussy, vain, overly coifed, haughty, and most importantly, an elderly bachelor.  Some of his lines and the way Webb delivered them left little doubt as to the true nature of his character.  He would say things like, “I admit, he is good-looking, and his clothes fit,” or “I do not like the propinquity of the hoi polloi.”  I ask you, what else are we supposed to think?  Everyone knows.  Just don’t put a name to it.

But though the film was well-acted and fairly well-directed, I have to say that I found it an average piece of work.  It was good, but not great.  By the end, I felt no real emotional investment in any of the characters, with the possible exception of the tragic Sophie.  There just wasn’t enough power behind the story-telling.  Not that it didn’t take itself seriously, but maybe it would have benefited from taking itself a little more seriously than it did.  We got drama, but for a Best Picture nominee, I would have liked to see drama!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a Wonderful Life – 1946

Wow!  I have a lot to say about this movie.  I’ll start off by saying that I know that this is probably the most beloved Christmas movie of all time.  But that being said, the fact that the story took place at Christmas time was incidental, so I don’t really consider it a Christmas movie.  There were no messages of holiday cheer, no Santa Clause, no gift-giving, and no Christ Child.  The point of the movie has nothing at all to do with the holiday.

The message of the film is that every life has an impact on the world around them in ways that he can never see.  The lead character, George Bailey, played by James Stewart, is a man who always thinks of others before himself.  He is kind and generous, and willing to give the shirt off his back to anyone who might need it.  When tragedy strikes, and he falls into suicidal despair, he is shown a vision of what the world would have been like if he had never been born.  Christmas just happens to be a coincidence.

Up until now, I have only seen Stewart in light-hearted roles in movies like You Can’t Take It With You, The Philadelphia Story, and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, the latter being the most dramatic example.  But here, Stewart shows us a dark and all too realistic side of his skills as an actor.  There was one scene in particular, in which he comes home to his family and has a violent break-down in front of his wife and young children.  I have to give Stewart a hearty round of applause for his wonderfully disturbing performance.

George’s wife, Mary, is played by Donna Reed, in a performance that makes you fall in love with her.  She wasn’t director, Frank Capra’s, first choice to play the role, but she did an excellent job.  She brought innocence and sweetness paired with confidence and strength to the performance, making her captivating to watch.

The town’s villain was Henry Potter, played by Lionel Barrymore.  He was like Scrooge in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol: rich, greedy, crotchety, and unfeeling, especially when it came to the poor.  Barrymore played his part well, but there was something interesting about the character which I feel is worth mentioning.  Capra was able to sidestep the Hayes Code, which stated that every evil-doer had to be punished by the end of every film.  Potter, who stole money from Bailey’s loan business, causing George to attempt suicide, was never caught.  Sure, his nefarious plan is thwarted as George’s business is saved by all the people he had helped throughout his life, but Potter gets away scot-free.

There were so many things to love about this film.  Like many Americans, I remember watching it nearly every Christmas as a child, but it has probably been about 25 years since I have seen it.  I didn’t remember most of the details shown in the set-up that takes place before the suicide attempt.  Most of what I remembered was from the fantastic alternate reality which makes up the last quarter of the film.

The AS-2 (that’s Angel: Second Class to all of you), George’s guardian angel, Clarence Odbody, is beautifully and memorably played by Henry Travers.  He had a kindly look and a gentle manner which made him instantly likeable.  He is chosen to take George’s case and guide him to a greater understanding of the positive aspects of his life, showing him that suicide would be a mistake because his life of generosity and kindness has really been a wonderful one, not worthy of being thrown away.

The scope of the film was very powerful because Capra took the time to really let us get to know the main character.  He was the every-man, or at least the one we all aspire to be.  He was generous to a fault, and stood up for what he believed to be right.  The film touches on themes of love and romance, hope and joy, with a healthy dose of fantasy and a touch of the divine.  Sure, these words are often used to describe Christmas, but I stand by my claim that it isn’t necessarily a Christmas movie.

Another thing I liked about the movie was its nostalgic feel.  It was a bit of a snapshot of an America that I have never experienced, yet one that I would have liked to.  It is a reminder of a simpler time where people were generally happy and more compassionate to their fellow men.  It was a time of innocence and sincerity, peace and… well not really peace.  Of course Capra had to throw the WWII angle into the script, making George’s brother Harry a celebrated fighter pilot.

Other notable actors in the film were Thomas Mitchell as George’s bumbling uncle Billy, the man who lost the money, Gloria Grahame as Violet Bick, the town’s sexy girl, Sheldon Leonard as Nick the Bartender, H. B. Warner as Mr. Gower, George’s first employer, Frank Faylen as Ernie Bishop, the Cab Driver, and Ward Bond, the Cop.  They all did a fantastic job.

But just as a last thought, I have to ask… Who would actually name their daughter Zuzu?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Henry the Fifth – 1946

Hooray for Technicolor!  Henry the Fifth was new to me.  I’ve never seen any of Shakespeare’s histories, so this was a first.    As I didn’t already know the plot, the Shakespearian language was a little difficult to follow at times, but I think I got the gist of it.

The film starred Lawrence Olivier as Henry, Prince of England.  The plot tells of his ascension to his kingship and his campaign against France during the Hundred Years War, specifically the Battle of Agincourt.  The battle was a fantastic victory for England because they defeated the French Army which was far superior in numbers.

As a result of the victory, Henry married the daughter of the French monarch, King Charles VI, played by Harcourt Williams.  His daughter, Princess Katherine, played by Renee Asherson, strangely enough, was the only woman in France who spoke French, but only because it was a plot point that there be a language barrier between her and King Henry.

And that’s it.  That’s the basics of the plot.  There were a few sub-plots, a few comedic characters, and a few bad-guys who got their just deserts, but these characters were mostly superfluous.  They didn’t really need to be there.  I’m not sure if this is the fault of Olivier’s script, or Shakespeare’s original play, but I suspect the latter.

I’ll explain:  The comic relief was mostly in a character called Ancient Pistol, played by Robert Newton.  He was a drunken coward who was constantly, yet unsuccessfully, trying to find ways to escape the various battles.    He really had nothing to do with the plot, and offered no commentary or unique perspective on anything.  The bad guys violate “the law of arms” by riding behind Henry’s lines and slaughtering all the young squires in Henry’s camp. In retribution and anger, Henry fights and kills the French Constable, played by Leo Genn, the only villain shown doing any fighting on the battlefield.

And while I am focusing on the negative aspects of the film, I have to mention the fact that most of the actors only knew how to deliver their Shakespearian dialogue by shouting.  There was no subtlety to anyone’s performance and it got old pretty quickly.  Sure, much of Olivier’s dialogue needed to be shouted because he was often addressing his court or his troops.  But when the English Earls and Dukes are just conversing with each other, there seemed to be little cause for all the shouting, aside from the actor’s desire to sound impressive.  It is possible that this might have been the result of stage actors doing film work, but I am only guessing on that point.

What really made the film interesting to me was its structure, and its costumes.  The structure was a little disjointed, but it kept me on my toes.  The first scene took place in Henry’s court.  This was filmed as if it were an actual stage production.  Olivier even showed shots of the actors putting on makeup and costumes back-stage, and shots of the audience as they watched the performance.  But once Henry took left for France, the “play” ended and the army of extras were filmed marching through actual fields.  Then, in the end, when Henry and Katherine are wed, we find ourselves back in the playhouse.

I actually hated the costumes… at first.  They looked like stage costumes, which worked for the scenes that took place in the “play”, but once the transition was made to a more realistic setting, I would have liked to see more realistic costumes.  However, I learned that Olivier was basing the costumes on period specific illustrations that were created in Shakespeare’s time.  There were lots of bright colors and no dirt – not realistic, but an artist’s rendering.  In light of that, the silly looking costumes made a certain amount of sense, though every man in those illustrations must have been drawn wearing tights.

There was also a certain scene that I have to mention because it stood out to me as well-written and well-acted.  Before the battle of Agincourt, Henry disguises himself as a common soldier and walks among his men.  He finds that the men are questioning why they fight for a king they have never met, whose cause is not necessarily their own.  Henry tries to defend himself without giving away his identity.  It was a cleverly written little exchange.

I also learned that Olivier intentionally left out some of Henry’s darker aspects like his threat to unleash his troops to rape and pillage Harfleur, or his ruthless beheading of several traitors to the crown, including one of his own friends.  But I guess the omissions are understandable in light of the fact that Winston Churchill asked Olivier to make the film as a propaganda film that would coincide with the invasion of Normandy.  After all, we can’t have our hero doing anything that might appear evil or tyrannical, can we?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spellbound – 1945

Hmmm… There were two sides to this movie. One was very good and the other was very bad.  Spellbound was a collaboration between two very famous men, Alfred Hitchcock and Salvador Dali, both of whom were butting heads with the film’s producer David O. Selznick.  The brief synopsis given on the Netflix website describes Spellbound as one of Hitchcock’s finest films.  I’m sorry, but I beg to differ.

This movie was, in fact, a poor example of Hitchcock, partly because of Selznick’s involvement, and partly because of an unrealistic script.  The producer’s job is with the film’s finances, not its story-telling, its artistic style, or the creative vision that the director brings to the project.  Hitchcock was known as an innovative and brilliant director, well respected in Hollywood.  Dali was one of the most famous surrealistic artists in the world.  One of the best parts of the film was a 20 minute dream sequence that was designed by Dali and directed by Hitchcock.  It was the product of not one, but two geniuses.  Selznick cut it down to two minutes.  Shame on you, Selznick!

Ingrid Bergman once again takes the lead, playing Dr. Constance Peterson, a brilliant and beautiful young psychoanalyst working at Green Manors, a prominent mental hospital.  The hospital’s director, Dr. Murchison, played by Leo G. Carroll, is retiring, though it is clear that he is being forced to step down by the facility’s board of directors.  His replacement, Dr. Anthony Edwards, played by Gregory Peck, arrives and takes up his residence.

Dr. Peterson and Dr. Edwards fall instantly and hopelessly in love by the end of his first day.  But the new administrator is not as he seems.  It turns out that he is not a doctor at all, but a patient posing as one, after having allegedly murdering him.  Sounds like a good set-up for a psychological suspense film, right?

OK, here is where I started to have issues with the film, and I’ll be honest, this wasn’t the producer’s fault.  I know I’m not educated in the field of psychoanalysis, but as I was watching the movie, I was blowing holes in it, left and right.  Then, after the movie was over, I did a little research to see if my issues were justified.  They were.

One thing that my research uncovered which stood out to me as true, was the fact that Freudian psychoanalysis is meant to treat the sane patient, not the insane.  Interpreting the dreams of an amnesiac with a crippling guilt complex which stems from a traumatic childhood experience cannot be helped by dream analysis, especially not in the space of one night.

Let me explain.  Peterson and Edwards’ imposter go on the run.  She inexplicably believes in his complete innocence without a shred of evidence.  She also believes that if she can break through the barriers in his mind, force him to remember the traumatic events of his past, he will remember that he never killed the real Dr. Edwards at all.  Reality be damned.

She ends up taking him to her former mentor and colleague, Dr. Alexander Brulov, excellently played by Russian-born actor Michael Checkov.  She lies to him, telling him that they are married and he invites them to stay at his home for the night.  His character was wonderful in that he saw through her feeble deception and called her on it, saying, “How stupid do you think I am?”

After one night, Edwards recounts his dream to the two doctors, and together, Peterson and Brulov use Freudian analysis to provide an instant cure.  I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way!  True mental illness takes years to treat and it isn’t like following a neatly laid-out trail of bread crumbs – one recovered memory doesn’t lead you to the next.  Also, dream analysis isn’t so specific.  If he sees sloping roof, it doesn’t automatically mean mountains.  If he dreams of the seven of clubs in a game of 21, it isn’t a secret code for a significant event that took place at the 21 Club in New York.  In essence, these doctors are horrible analysts.

Like I said, I’m not educated in the field, but even I know ridiculous and farcical writing when I see it.  However, that being said, the dream sequence, or what was left of it after Selznick cut most of it out of the film, was the most visually interesting part of the movie.  Dali’s surrealistic imagery and Hitchcock’s unique way of bringing the strange images to the screen were visually stunning and fascinating.  Unfortunately, there are no surviving negatives of the missing 18 minutes.

In the end, the film was saved by Hitchcock’s surprise twists and the wonderful score by Miklos Rozsa, for which he won an Oscar.  The movie was tolerable, but was it really Hitchcock’s finest work?  I think not.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mildred Pierce – 1945

Mildred Pierce was a film that was trying very hard to be Double Indemnity, but couldn’t quite get there.  That being said, I’ll also say that it wasn’t a bad movie.  I enjoyed it well enough, and thought that Joan Crawford did a fantastic job.  There was supposed to be a big twist in the end that would really shock the audience, but I had it figured out before the film was half over.

Crawford starred as the lead, Mildred Pierce, an obviously wealthy woman in an expensive fur coat, who is shown driving away from a house after a murder has been committed.  Naturally, we are supposed to think that she is the murderess.  When she is pulled into the police station for questioning, the police apologize for bringing her in, and tell her she is free to go, making us think she would get away with the murder.  They also tell her that her ex-husband was the guilty party, murdering her lover out of jealousy.

But then the meat of the story begins as Mildred tells her story to explain how the accused man is innocent.  The rest of the film is, in a somewhat noir style, told in flashback with voice-over narration.  Mildred and her husband Bert, played by Bruce Bennett, are poor and struggling with two daughters.  The eldest daughter is Veda, played by Ann Blyth.  She is more concerned with money than with honesty.  The younger daughter Kay, played by Jo Ann Marlow, is a tomboy.

Bert’s business associate Wally Fay, played by Jack Carson, who has an attraction to Mildred, is happy when he finds that Bert and Mildred are splitting up.  He wastes no time in hitting on her in a way that is so ridiculous it’s comical.  Apparently, to Wally, ‘no’ means ‘let’s go to my bedroom and have sex.’  Mildred literally has to push him out the door.

Anyway, that’s the set-up, with the exception of Monte Beragon, played by Zachary Scott, the man who we already know will be murdered in the end.  As a drama/suspense film, it had very few overly dramatic or suspenseful scenes.  Most of the movie seemed to be the story of Mildred and her struggles to make insane amounts of money, all to make Veda happy.  But with Veda, too much wealth is never enough.  She even starts trying to steal Mildred’s lover, Monte.

Three guesses as to who the actual murderess is.  It was too easy to figure out, making it a bit of a weak story.  The problem is that I’m not sure how I would have changed things to make it better.  Maybe make it less obvious that Veda was an evil young girl.  Maybe hide the fact that she was after Monte.  Possibly confuse the audience by giving Mildred a more incriminating reason for wanting Monte dead.  Or maybe give Bert a darker character, capable of murder.  I don’t know.

Crawford was the best part of the film, far outshining the rest of the cast.  She handled the full range of emotions that the role demanded with what appeared to be a practiced and steady hand.   Not only that, but the character was well-written and believable.  Mildred had her flaws which made her more human.  She was smart, but didn’t always make wise decisions, and she allowed her evil daughter to manipulate her at every turn.  Crawford’s sharp acting helped to build the film’s otherwise weak tension.

On the down side, the character of Veda was a little one-note.  It was clear very early on that we were not supposed to like her, and she never showed a humanizing, likable side.  Unfortunately, because of how the character was written, her guilt was all too obvious.

One peripheral character that I enjoyed was Mildred’s co-worker and friend, Ida, played by Eve Arden.  She was almost like the comic relief, except she wasn’t written as comedic, just very cynical.  She was intelligent and cared for Mildred, as any good friend should.  Sometimes her sarcastic humor would come close to truth, which was clever.

As far as Mildred Pierce being a film noir, I would say that it missed one crucial element.  My research tells me that a film noir should be told from the point of view of the murderer.  This film didn’t do that.  The story was told from Mildred’s perspective.  Not only that, but the actual murder was not a planned act at all, but a crime of passion.  There was no tension in following the motives and thoughts of the criminal.

It’s not that I didn’t like this movie – I just felt that it was trying too hard to be something it wasn’t.  I think it would have been better if it had been treated as a simple murder mystery by giving more characters believable motives to want the victim’s demise.  Maybe then, Crawford could have been the lead suspect among a cast of characters who all wanted Monte Beragon dead.  Maybe.  Or to make it a true film noir, the entire cast could have been in on an elaborate plan to kill Monte.  Now that would have been an interesting movie.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bells of St. Mary’s  – 1945

The Bells of St. Mary’s was a like a glass of lemonade with so much sugar in it that it turns your stomach.  It was incredibly unrealistic and even ridiculous.  It was nowhere near believable in its treatment of characters and their motivations.  And it was so overwhelmingly wholesome and good, it made Mother Theresa look like Atilla the Nun.

So where do I start?  Well, the film starred Bing Crosby as Father O’Malley, the same character who he played in the previous year’s Best Picture winning film, Going My Way.  He is the newly arrived Catholic Pastor at St. Mary’s School.  There is a group of nuns teaching at the school, headed by Sister Superior, Sister Mary Benedict, played by Ingrid Bergman.

Sister Mary Benedict and Father O’Malley are sometimes at odds with each other about their methods of teaching the young, impressionable minds of the students.  Nothing is ever bitter or mean-spirited, but they do disagree on occasion.  So, because there was no serious conflict, most of the film was pretty bland.

But audiences didn’t care, because the plot epitomized the concept of “ideal Christian behavior.”  It didn’t give us a story that was realistic.  It gave us one that was fabricated to show us an image of what the world should be like.  In a film, the action should serve the plot, but here the plot served the action.  Conservative Christians want to see a grumpy old man become charitable.  Let’s give it to them.  They want to see a father who abandoned his wife and child reunite with them after 13 years, and become a responsible husband and father.  Let’s give them that, too.  How about two boys fighting on the playground, then shaking hands and becoming friends?  Yeah, that’s great!  Throw reality out the window and put that in there, too!

And, of course, you have Bing Crosby, so you also need several songs for him to sing… except that the songs were thrown in at completely random places, and were largely unmemorable, in any case.  True, Crosby had a beautiful voice, but his singing had nothing to do with advancing either the plot or the emotional content of the film.

The Bells of St. Mary’s also broke the cardinal sin of movie-making.  Cute for the sake of cute is never cute.  Never.  There was an entire random scene that had absolutely nothing to do with the plot or any subplot.  A group of first-graders, who looked old enough to be in 3^rd grade, performed a Christmas Pageant for O’Malley and Mary Benedict.  There was no reason for it except to show people how cute children could be.  Get rid of it.

And I’ll also take a moment here to give an example of why O’Malley was a horrible teacher.  When Mary Benedict is forced to fail a student because of low marks, O’Malley puts pressure on her to fudge the results of the child’s test scores so that she can graduate with her class – because he really believes that the young Patricia, played by Joan Carrol, is a good person who just needs to be given the chance to succeed.  No!  First, the failing student learns nothing if she is given good marks she has not earned.  Doing so ultimately hurts the student.  Second, Mary Benedict argues that failing to uphold the school’s educational standards would tarnish the honor of the school.  But O’Malley still tries to get her to lie for the sake of Patricia.

But despite his horrible judgment, his willingness to lie to spare a person’s feelings, and a questionable moral center, he is portrayed as a benevolent hero with a Midas-touch.  He is able to manipulate Horace Bogardus, the grumpy old man who owns the modern building next door, played by Henry Travers, to donate his nice new facility to the church because he discovers the joy of generosity.  That tiger changed his stripes after a lifetime of being selfish.  Good work Father O’Malley!

The film’s only real, genuine emotional content, and consequently its only noteworthy acting, came at the end when Sister Mary Benedict is diagnosed with tuberculosis.  Her doctor says that telling her of her illness will upset her and make her condition worse.  Better to lie to her about her health and transfer her to a drier climate without telling her why.  O’Malley does just that.  Of course, the nun assumes that she is being sent away because of her disagreements with Father O’Malley, with whom she has developed a bond of mutual respect.  She feels betrayed and hurt, and struggles with understanding and accepting the transfer.  Her scene of tearful prayer was well-acted, but that was about the extent of the real drama of the movie.

And finally, I have to mention one little thing I found interesting.  For a film that is overtly Catholic, a little omission was made that I didn’t understand.  When the children are saying the Pledge of Allegiance, they went directly from “One Nation,” to “Indivisible,” skipping the line “Under God.”  But my research set me straight, when I learned that the line wasn’t added to the statement of fealty to the flag until 1954.  Who knew?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anchors Aweigh – 1945

This movie was nice and fluffy, but not Best Picture material.  There was no substance to it.  The plot was vapid and predictable, the characters were shallow and two-dimensional, and the costumes were simplistic and laughable.  All that being said, I liked it well enough.

This film was nothing more than an excuse for Gene Kelly to dance, and for Frank Sinatra and Kathryn Grayson to sing.  But when it comes to that, if you like to watch Kelly dance and listen to Sinatra sing, then you’re going to enjoy the film.  The two men were masterful in their respective art forms.  Just don’t expect any deep drama or funny comedy.

The plot was cute enough and it must have appealed to an America that had just come out of World War II.  Everyone was feeling very patriotic, which the military loved, of course.  So, why not continue to paint the picture of handsome and wholesome sailors in their Navy blues?  Kelly and Sinatra play decorated war heroes, Joe and Clarence, who are on leave in Hollywood, California.  Clarence is terminally shy, and Joe is a lady’s man.

Together, the two of them get ridiculously roped into taking care of a little nine-year-old boy, played by Dean Stockwell, who ran away from home to join the Navy.  Hmmm… dangerously close to breaking the cardinal rule…  While taking the truant home, they meet his Aunt Susie, played by Grayson.  She is an aspiring singer with dreams of getting an audition with world renowned pianist, Jose Iturbi.

Clarence falls instantly in love with her and manipulates Joe into helping him to get a date with her.  So what is their solution?  Why, to lie to her, of course!  They tell her that Clarence is great friends with Iturbi and has gotten her the audition she wants.  But Clarence is so shy that he can’t talk to her on their date.  Joe, on the other hand, finds himself falling for her as well.  In comes the beautiful waitress from Brooklyn, played by Pamela Britton, who is enraptured by Clarence’s singing…

OK, so the movie isn’t even half way over at this point.  There is still more than an hour and twenty minutes to go.  Can you guess how the movie ends?  I could.  Joe ends up with Susie, Clarence ends up with “The Girl from Brooklyn” (that’s the only name she is given in the credits), Susie gets her audition with Iturbi, and she is an instant success!  Yay!  Happy ending!

But like I said, the singing and dancing were incredible.  Gene Kelly always looks like he is really at home on the dance stage.  His moves are free and easy, and he make it all look so simple.  Here are a few things about his dancing in Anchors Aweigh that caught my attention.  First, was the ridiculous dance sequence with Jerry Mouse.

Yes, that’s right.  Tom and Jerry were in the film.  It was an early example of a composited sequence that gave us Gene Kelly dancing with animated cartoon characters.  Of course, the entire dance number, interesting as it was, and technically impressive for a film that came out in 1945, had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the plot of the film.  It was 100% gratuitous.

One other little thing I noticed was during a dance sequence when Joe and Susie finally admit their love for each other.  Kelly, dressed in a Spanish bandito costume, is dancing on a polished red floor.  What caught my attention wasn’t the dancing, but the fact that you could see the scuff marks all over the floor that showed you exactly what his next move was going to be.  The marks must have been made during rehearsals or previous takes.  But there they all were, clear as day.  The floor should have been re-polished between each take.

Sinatra’s singing was superb, especially if you like his style.  His voice was velvety and smooth, though to be honest, I think Bing Crosby had a better voice.  Grayson’s singing was alright, though in her upper range, she sounded a little shrill.

But the performance that truly impressed me was the pianist, Jose Iturbi.  You could easily tell that he was actually playing his instrument, as compared to other films where an actor plays a guitar without moving his fingers along the frets.  Iturbi was the real deal, and he was incredible.  There was one number where he is the lead pianist on the stage of the Hollywood Bowl while 18 other grand pianos, all played by children between 10 and 16 years old, accompanied him.  They played the technically demanding Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2 by Franz Liszt.  That was impressive.  Again, it had nothing to do with the plot, but it was impressive.

But I hold a Best Picture nominee to a higher standard.  A film should have something more than just impressive song and dance numbers to make it to that level.  Anchors Aweigh just didn’t have it.