Category: Nominees – 1940s

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blossoms in the Dust – 1941

This was a heavy-handed movie with a plot that, especially by today’s standards, was pretty ridiculous.  But it was based on a true story.  It was about the career of a woman named Edna Gladney.  Who was Mrs. Gladney, and what did she do?  She was a woman who lived in the late 1800s, and was a powerful advocate for children’s rights.  She ran day-care nurseries, adoption agencies, and child care services.  She, herself, had been born of a woman who was not married, and thus had to live with the stigma of being an illegitimate child.  This led her to fight for important legislation changes in the state of Texas to have the word illegitimate removed from birth records and legal documents.

But according to the film, Edna Gladney, played by Greer Garson, was a woman who was deeply affected by her adopted sister’s suicide.  Unfortunately this was the most contrived and unbelievable part of the whole film, but it was made out to be one of the main driving forces of her career.  That, and the fact that her own child died in an accident at a very young age.

These two things were completely fictitious and it felt like it.  Let’s look at them both, one at a time.  The movie began as a young Edna and her sister, Charlotte, played by Marsha Hunt, were preparing to marry their fiancés.  The entire opening sequence had my eyes rolling because the mood and the dialogue was laughably sappy.  “I love you, my dearest sister.”  “And I love you for loving me!”  “And I am ever so happy to be in love!”  “Oh, my darling, so am I!”  “Isn’t being in love so lovely?”  Ugh!

Charlotte’s fiancé’s parents, seeing the birth records that were needed for their son’s impending marriage, find out that before being adopted, Charlotte’s mother had not been married.  Oh, the scandal!  But though they oppose the wedding, their son loves her enough to ignore her shame.  But Charlotte, within moments of her perspective mother-in-law’s admonition, goes to her room and blows her brains out.  Don’t worry.  It happens off-camera.  Really?  Was the stigma that shameful?

Second, Edna meets Sam Gladney, played by Walter Pidgeon.  “Hi.  You don’t know me, but I’ve decided that you are going to leave your fiancé and be my wife.  Why?  You just are.” And it worked.  And there I sat, rolling my eyes again.  So they are deliriously happy and rich for a while, but after their son is born, the doctor says that she cannot have any more children.  Then, when the young boy is killed in an accident, Edna becomes a cold and passionless woman.  That is, until Sam brings home a foundling girl and convinces Edna to adopt.

But after that, the rest of the movie was hard to watch because it shamelessly broke the cardinal rule of movie-making.  Cute for the sake of cute is never cute.  Never.  There was a long stretch in the film that just showed babies.  Babies laughing, babies crying, babies sucking on their fingers, babies sleeping, and babies doing anything that might make them look cute.  And they only did it to pull at the heart-strings of the movie going audiences.

In the final part of the movie, the memory of her sister Charlotte inspires Edna to fight the Texan Congress to get the word illegitimate taken off of birth records.  She is opposed by evil, hoity-toity old ladies who care more about proper breeding and status than about innocent children.  This may have been true, but I was bludgeoned over the head with the message.  The impromptu speech Edna delivers to the politicians was ridiculously contrived to be inspirational and moving.

“Life can be made so much more beautiful by love, by sympathy, and Understanding than it ever can by intolerant rules, and laws, and regulations.  I’ve seen hearts broken.  I’ve seen a pure and innocent young life destroyed by the inhumanity of this… this man-made law.  For it IS man-made.  God has placed no dishonor on these innocent and helpless victims.  Oh, believe me gentlemen!  There are no illegitimate babies.  There are only illegitimate PARENTS!”  Cue the wild cheering.  Wow.  She might be right… but wow.  Preachy and heavy-handed.

Aside from that, there were a few uninteresting sub-plots that were all contrived to drive home different aspects of the same point.  Oh, and they treated black people as nothing more than ignorant, buffoonish servants, showing how wonderful it was to be rich and white.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Philadelphia Story – 1940

This was a screwball comedy done right, plain and simple.  It starred Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and James Stewart at the three leads.  They each did a fantastic job, although if I had to pick one of the trio to be a weak link, it would have to be Stewart.  Grant and Hepburn both have such strong and captivating personalities.  They draw focus without even trying.  But Stewart played his character as he played most of his characters in other films, quieter and softer-spoken.  Next to Grant and Hepburn, he sometimes seemed to fade into the background.

The story was about a rich Philadelphia socialite named Tracy Lords, played by Hepburn, who was engaged to be married to a nouveau riche “man of the people”, George Kitteredge, played by John Howard.  But the situation is complicated by a scheme hatched by her ex-husband, Dexter Haven, played by Grant.  He is a wealthy playboy on the same social level as Tracy.  He, along with sleazy Spy Magazine publisher, Sidney Kidd, have the means to blackmail Tracy’s family, thus tarnishing the family name.

Kidd wants an article covering the impending wedding.  Dexter seems to want something else.  The two enlist the help of Mike Connor, a talented author who is reduced to writing for the disreputable magazine in order to pay the bills, played by Stewart, and a photographer who is secretly in love with him, Liz Imbrie, wonderfully played by Ruth Hussey.

So there’s the set-up and hijinks ensues.  The script and the dialogue is clever and witty.  The characters are real and entertaining.  They each have their flaws and their endearing qualities as well, making them complete characters.  The cast of supporting actors was perfect, especially Ruth Hussey, who stood out to me as a great actress with a wonderful sense of comedic timing.  In fact Hussey was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, though she did not win.

In all, the film was nominated for 6 awards, though it only won two.  Stewart took home an Oscar for Best Actor, as did film’s screenwriter Donald Ogden Stewart.  In my research, I learned that Stewart didn’t expect to win the Award and was not planning on going to the Award Ceremony.  However, he was contacted and strongly advised to attend.

The film was delightful to watch and easy to enjoy.  It had something that many great films from that era of movie-making had.  It had the flavor of high-society.  People have always loved seeing films about wealth and style.  The Philadelphia Story had that in spades.  In the words of Stewart’s character, Mike Connor, “The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges.”  Truer words were never spoken.

One of the things that make this movie such fun to watch is the quick-witted banter between the characters.  The actors spouted their tricky dialogue with what seemed like ease.  But it was the back-and-forth quips and bickering between Hepburn and Grant that really took center stage in my book.  The two of them had a natural on-screen chemistry that was captivating.

Another fun thing about the dialogue was the little snide background comments from characters who were not engaged in the main conversations taking place.  For example, Tracy and Dexter would be talking in a room full of people, but Liz would throw in a quick little snapper, playing off what they were saying.  It was well done and kept the audience on its toes.  It also had the benefit of reminding the audience that there were other people in the scene.

Now, though this is a screwball comedy, there were a few moments of real heart that seamlessly fit into the fabric of the film.  One of the several reasons why Tracy and Dexter had been divorced was that Tracy was such a blue-blood with her nose in the air, such a spoiled rich girl, that she had no tolerance for imperfections in anybody, least of all herself.  Nobody could ever live up to her standards.

But as all comedies do, it had a happy ending.  Everybody ended up with the right people, making all the funny zaniness worth it.  The movie had a feel-good ending and made me smile.  So well done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our Town – 1940

I have to admit, right off the bat, that I had a slightly biased opinion about this film before going into it.  The reason is that before it was a movie, it was a play, a play that was good enough to survive until modern times.  And when I was in high school, I was fortunate enough to be in this play.  I remember it as being so full of itself and almost silly at times that I never really took it too seriously.

But that was me, looking at the story through the eyes of a teenager who didn’t really understand the point.  Now, having seen this film as an adult, with 25 or so more years of life experience, I can easily say that I get it now.  Sure, the plot was a little slow, but it had a definite message and a point of view that was poignant enough to reach my heart and make me think.  The gorgeous score by composer Aaron Copeland didn’t hurt either.

Watching the film also had the added benefit of making me remember the stage production in which I played the part of Howie Newsome, the Milk Man.  It was a small part, though not the smallest, and I couldn’t help but pay special attention to the actor who played him in this film, Stuart Erwin.  I approved of his easy and relaxed performance.  Also, the character of the Stage Manager, played by Frank Craven, did a good job narrating the story and guiding the audience through the portrait of the small American town of Grover’s Corners.

But the mail plot focused on two neighbors:  The Webb family and the Gibb family.  More specifically, it focused on six individuals.  The parents of each household and their oldest children.  Fay Bainter played the part of Mrs. Gibbs while wonderful character actor Thomas Mitchell played her husband Dr. Gibbs.  Their son George Gibbs was played by a very young William Holden.  Mrs. Webb was played by Beulah Bondi, with one of my personal favorites, Guy Kibbee, playing her husband.  Their daughter was played by Martha Scott.

These six people did a great job and together they made up the heart of the film.  The plot is slow but not plodding.  The characters are well written, which is a testament to the original play’s author, Thornton Wilder.  They each have their own personalities.  The first two thirds of the story follows the two young children, Emily and George, as they grow into adulthood.  They fall in love and eventually marry.

Then, while giving birth to their second child, Emily dies.  The final third of the film, enters the graveyard and looks in on the afterlives of the characters who have died over the years.  This is where the show becomes very serious and insightful, telling the audience to treasure every moment of life.  Not just the special times, but every moment of every day.  Treasure the people you love and never forget how wondrous the miracle of life really is.  The days of life are fleeting and should never be taken for granted.  According to Wilder’s script, it is only the dead who understand this concept.  When Emily tries to relive a day in her life, but finds it too painful to bear.

Now, here is where the film deviates from the stage play.  In the film, it is shown that Emily’s death was just a near death.  She wakes in her bed with her newborn baby and her adoring husband at her side.  In other words, she lives.

But the ending of the original play was quite different.  To demonstrate this difference, I will quote the Wikipedia article which said it quite eloquently.  “Emily decides to return to Earth to re-live just one day, her 12th birthday. She finally finds it too painful, and realizes just how much life should be valued, “every, every minute.” Poignantly, she asks the Stage Manager whether anyone realizes life while they live it, and is told, “No. The saints and poets, maybe – they do some.” She then returns to her grave, beside Mrs. Gibbs, watching impassively as George kneels weeping at her graveside.”

Oh my goodness!  Tear my heart out!!  But if the film had any failings, it was this audience friendly ending.  The image of George weeping at Emily’s grave is so much more meaningful, powerful, and yes, even disturbing.  It is an ending that sticks with you and really makes you think about the nature of death and mortality.  Never-mind that Thornton Wilder, himself, helped the film’s producer Sol Lesser to create these changes.  If you ask me, it should have been left alone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Long Voyage Home – 1940

This was an average movie that had a very poignant ending.  It was an ending that put me in mind of the 1967 musical, Hair, but I’ll get to that in  a bit.  One man goes to death in the place of his friend.  The film starred John Wayne and Thomas Mitchell.  Wayne was passable, but only barely.  Mitchell, as always, was fantastic.

First, I’ll talk about why John Wayne didn’t do so well.  It was the wrong role for him.  He played the part of Ole Olsen, a Swedish sailor aboard a British cargo ship called the SS Glencairn.  He was supposed to be the strong, silent type, the kind of character that John Wayne was known for.  He was the honest farm-boy that had a good heart and a clear head.

Everything was just fine until he had to speak.  His dialogue was written in broken English, as if he didn’t have a full grasp of the language.  But on top of that, they also tried to give him a Swedish accent.  Wayne’s accent was terrible and, though I am sorry to say it, he came off as sounding like someone who is mentally challenged.  It took me out of the story at a time where it was crucial to be invested in the plot.

Thomas Mitchell, on the other hand, portrayed the character of Driscoll, an Irish man who had lived the life of a sailor for many years.  He seemed to hold the position of the unspoken leader of the tight-knit crew.  He was a little low on smarts but big on heart.  When there was a problem, it was Driscoll to whom they all turned.

Mitchell was also given a heavy Irish accent, which he delivered perfectly well, never letting it slip or sound forced.  He had the big emotional scene in which his long-time shipmate died, giving me one of the longest death scenes since Regis Toomey’s in the 1928/1929 Best Picture Nominee, Alibi.

Though there didn’t seem to be a lead character who was clearly defined, the plot revolved around Ole’s final voyage as a sailor before returning to his family in Stockholm.  Of course, what would a movie made in 1942 do without the threat of the Germans ruining everything?  While sailing from the West Indies, to Baltimore, and then on to England, they encounter deadly weather and German fighter planes, each of which claims the life of a crew member.

The real surprise came, like I mentioned, at the end, and here is where I was vaguely reminded of the ending of the Broadway Musical, Hair.  The Glencairn finally arrives in England and the crew goes ashore, determined to a man not to go to sea again after their dangerous voyage.  As they are walking away from the docks, the captain of another ship calls down to the sailors  , saying that they are short a crew-man and asks for a volunteer.

Driscoll recognizes the ship, the Amindra, and warns the men to stay away, saying that he had once sailed with the ship and was treated horribly by its cruel Captain.  They laugh and walk away.  They find a bar and spend their money getting drunk.  During the revelries, Ole is drugged and kidnapped by the men of the Amindra.

When the inebriated crew of the Glencairn learn of his misfortune, they raid the ship, led by Driscoll, and rescue Ole.  But as they are leaving, Driscoll is knocked unconscious and left behind in the confusion.  The Amindra has its extra crew man and leaves port.  The next scene is of the men, minus Ole, boarding the Glencairn with their heads held low.  A newspaper is dropped into the ocean, revealing that Amindra was sunk by German torpedoes and that there were no survivors.

The ending was profound in its own way, but I felt like the rest of the movie took its own sweet time getting there.  The sub-plots of Smitty’s alcoholism and tragic death, and of the Glencairn’s final cargo of dynamite had only a vague relevance to the main plot, of which I admit, there wasn’t much to begin with.  However, I did like the different and distinct personalities of the individual members of the crew.  I liked the obvious bonds of friendship that existed between them.  But though those relationships enhanced the plot, they could not create it.

Two other actors whom I enjoyed were Barry Fitzgerald and John Qualen, playing the parts of the steward, Cocky, and deck-hand, Axel.  Both men stood out to me as good actors portraying likeable characters.  Also, there were a few scenes in which Ian Hunter, playing the part of Smitty, got to do some dramatic brooding, bringing a small amount of pathos to otherwise dry script.

But Best Picture nomination?  I’m skeptical.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Letter – 1940

I went into this film knowing very little about it.  I knew that it starred Bette Davis, but that was about it.  But I made the mistake, or so I thought, of logging-on to Wikipedia to read the production notes.  What caught my attention instead was a picture of Bette Davis pointing a gun at a man who appeared to be dead on the ground.  Aaargh!  I just spoiled the plot for myself.  Davis’s character was obviously a murderess!  But as luck would have it, that picture gave away absolutely nothing because it was a still from the first minute of the movie.  Nothing about the plot was given away prematurely.

The film starts off as Leslie Crosby, played by Davis, shoots and kills a man on the front porch of her house somewhere in the tropics.  Not only does she murder him in full sight of several witnesses, she empties the gun and continues trying to fire after the tell-tail click can be heard.

The story followed Leslie as she is interrogated by the police, arrested, and made to stand trial.  The question wasn’t whether or not she killed the man, but whether or not the shooting was pre-meditated.

Leslie’s initial story had been that the victim, Geoff Hammond, had tried to rape her and that she had killed him in self-defense.  Her adoring husband Robert, excellently played by Herbert Marshall, believed her innocence without question or doubt.  At first, so did the police, but the mysterious appearance of a letter, written from Leslie to Hammond on the night of the murder, changed everything.

The film’s director, William Wyler, did a fine job of making the audience doubt her story as well.  However, I had my doubts even before the arrival of the letter.  There was one thing about her story that didn’t hold water for me, and I understand that I could only make this argument as an outside observer.  Her story was that they had struggled as he tried to force himself on her.  But when she had initially been shown shooting Hammond, her hair was perfectly in place and her loose robe wasn’t even the slightest bit disheveled.  If they had struggled as Leslie had claimed, she would have been rumpled.

But what gave away her true motivations were the contents of the letter and the identity of the letter’s owner.  That woman was Mrs. Hammond, the deceased man’s widow, played by Gale Sondergaard.  Portrayed as a dangerous dragon-lady, complete with dark and ominous music whenever she appeared on the screen, she was the one who had possession of the letter which was an invitation for Hammond to come to Leslie.  You see, the two had been having an affair which Hammond was trying to end.

The plot was actually an engaging one and it kept my interest quite easily.  The lengths to which Leslie and her attorney, Howard Joyce, played by James Stephenson, go to in order to obtain the letter from Mrs. Hammond, the trial, and Leslie’s inevitable downfall were all believable and satisfying to watch.

Keep in mind, though, that this movie came out in 1940.  The Production Code Administration was still in control of American-made films.  According to them, a woman who committed adultery and/or murdered anyone in a film could not go unpunished.  Apparently the original draft of the script had Leslie getting away with her crime of passion.  However, the PCA rejected the screenplay and refused to allow the movie to be made until a new ending was written in which Leslie is killed, thus punishing her.  Another little change that I found interesting was that Mrs. Hammond, Leslie’s eventual murderer, was originally Hammond’s Chinese mistress.  However, the Hayes Office had the character changed to Hammond’s Eurasian wife.  Never-mind the fact that the film ironically ended with a murderess going unpunished.

Davis played her part well enough, though her performance was nothing to write home about.  The actor that really caught my attention was Herbert Marshall.  He played his part with some real depth and believable pathos, especially in the end when the truth about his wife is revealed to him.  Add to that the plot point that all his life savings were gone because they were used to purchase and bury the incriminating letter before the trial, and you not only have a weighty character, but an interesting plot as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kitty Foyle – 1940

I knew next to nothing before going into this movie and I was pleasantly surprised by two things in particular.  First was the wonderful performance of Ginger Rogers in the title role of Kitty Foyle.  Second was the mature nature of the plot.  This was a movie that had several prominent themes, one of which was the role of a new kind of person in the 1930s, the single working woman.

The film started off with a cute but insightful little bit about how women were treated around the turn of the century.  They were, in general, attractive things to be put up on pedestals.  Men would stand when they walked into the room and offer them their seats on the trollies.  They would marry them and take them to a house which they would have little reason to ever leave except to shop and visit with their other female friends.

But as the world progressed, things changed.  No longer did men treat them as ladies, but as women, if I might make the subtle distinction.  Women became independent and wanted to be treated as equals, and they got what they wanted.  They were ignored on the bus and nobody stood when they entered a room.

Kitty Foyle was a woman from a lower class family who got a white collar job to take care of her aging father.  But though she was good at her job, I noticed that she still held the position of the secretary, the subordinate role.  The gender and class roles in the workplace were more equal than they had been in the past, but still not truly equal.  And she dealt with a problem that any modern viewer can clearly see still exists today.  She was treated as a sexualized object by her male boss, in this case, Wyn Stratford VI, played by Dennis Morgan.

And though women, in general, were moving away from the idea that a husband was necessary for a successful life, it was a notion that was still rather prominent.  A great quote from the film which epitomizes the idea is this:  “What’s the difference between men bachelors and girl bachelors?  Men bachelors are that way on purpose.”  Even though Wyn treated Kitty in a way that would be considered blatant sexual harassment in today’s world, she allowed it and even said yes when he asked her out on a date.

Now, here is where the movie took a bit of a left turn.  It began to focus not on the position of the working woman, but on the difficulties of Kitty’s romantic life.  Wynn loved her but could not be seen with her around Philadelphia, where his snooty upper-class family and friends lived.  And the film took it in an interesting direction.  Wyn loved her enough to actually defy his family and marry her.  He was actually ready and willing to give up his life of privilege and all his wealth, and move to New York to be with her.  But she knew that to do so would make him unhappy, so she left him, choosing to be alone rather than forcing him to give up his inheritance.

She meets a common man, Dr. Mark Eisen, played by James Craig, who is as poor as her, but who falls hopelessly in love with her.  She doesn’t seem to love him at first, but she continues to see him.  Well, you can see how the plight of the single working woman in society has nearly been forgotten, overshadowed by the Hollywood love triangle.  Will she end up with the man she loves or the man who loves her?

Rogers was incredibly good and she actually won the Academy Award for Best Actress that year.  Most people know her from her dance musicals and her association with Fred Astaire.  But here she proved that she was even more talented an actress than anyone knew.  She was particularly good in portraying the character’s pregnancy and the stillborn child.

The two men, Morgan and Craig, did just fine, but in my eyes, they were both overshadowed by Rogers.  Morgan was very handsome and had an adorable smile.  Kitty’s two roommates, played by Mary Treen and K. T. Stevens, were there for a bit of comic relief and also to help illustrate the difference in the social classes between Wyn’s upper-class lifestyle and Kitty’s lower class one.

This was a good movie and I enjoyed watching it.  Rogers was a delight to watch, proving that she was much more than just a good dancer.  She truly was a Hollywood starlet and a darn good actress.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Great Dictator – 1940

This was a remarkable and important film on a number of levels.  It was the heavily political nature of the film and its complete lack of subtlety that was the key to its success.  It is billed as a comedy/drama starring, written, produced, scored and directed by Charlie Chaplin.  It is also notable that this was Chaplin’s first talking film, which surprised me because it was made in 1940.  Talkies had become the norm in the late 1920s, so what was Chaplin doing making silent films for over ten years after they had gone out of fashion?

The film was an obvious parody of Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Regime.  But it was rather unique as a Best Picture nominee.  It was a comedy.  But it wasn’t just any kind of comedy.  By today’s standards, it was like a combination of several well-known styles: The Three Stooges, Chaplin’s silent films, of course, Monty Python, and a healthy dose of the Zucker Brothers.  It had some really funny moments that had me laughing out loud.

Chaplin played two characters, the Jewish Barber and The Phooey (Furher), Adenoid Hynkel.  I’ll start with the Barber.  The character has often been compared to Chaplin’s immensely famous character from his silent films, The Tramp.  There has actually been some debate as to whether or not the character was The Tramp, or at least a version of him.  Chaplin denied that they were the same, but the similarities are hard to ignore.  They each had the same look and even some of the same mannerisms.  The Barber is a bumbling soldier fighting for the Central Powers during WWI.  He saves the life of a Tomanian soldier, Commander Schultz, played by Reginald Gardiner.  After doing so, he develops amnesia for ten years.

The Barber’s love interest is Hannah, a Jewish washer-woman, played by Chaplin’s wife, Paulette Goddard.  On the one hand, she was sweet and shy, but on the other, she was not afraid to fight the Storm Troopers oppressing her people.  She was very pretty and did a good job.

Adenoid Hynkel is the Tomanian dictator who goes out of his way to oppress the Jews.  Chaplin portrayed Hynkel as a complete buffoon.  In remarkably accurate Hitler style, he gives fiery speeches to his cheering supporters.  Most of what he actually says is gibberish which is punctuated with recognizable words like wenerschnitzel, sauerkraut, Leberwurst, and blitzkrieg.  From what I have read, these speeches were improvised by Chaplin.

In particular, there was a fantastic scene in which Hynkel dances to the Overture of Wagner’s Lohengrin with a balloon globe, which he tosses and spins on his finger.  The dance is elaborate and flamboyant.  It is representative of his fantasy about being the dictator of the world.  At the end of the dance, the balloon pops in his hands.

In a surprisingly memorable performance, Jack Oakie plays Hynkel’s rival, Benzino Napoloni, Dictator of Bacteria.  This was an obvious parody of Mussolini.  The comic scene between the two tyrants that ended in a food-fight over who got to invade and conquer the neighboring country of Osterlich was particularly funny.

The film and Chaplin’s portrayal of Hynkel was incredibly bold.  He was openly making fun of one of history’s greatest monsters before much of the world believed that he was a monster.  America didn’t even get involved in WWII until 1941.  Many people knew of the Nazis but didn’t believe that they represented any real kind of threat.  Chaplin’s film was his attempt to raise public awareness.  He was encouraged by President Roosevelt to make the film as propaganda.  And like I said, there were some very funny moments.

But at the end of the film, all thoughts of comedy were abandoned.  Because of their similar looks, the Jewish Barber and Hynkel are mistaken for each other.  Hynkel is arrested by his own Storm Troopers and the Barber is made to give a speech to the masses.  Chaplin speaks directly to the people of the world in a 5 or 6 minute speech, telling them not to give in to the tyrants and dictators of the world.  He says that love and kindness toward ones fellow men is a goal to be strived for.  It was actually a very bold statement at a very dangerous time in the world’s history.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Grapes of Wrath – 1940

This is one of those films which I expected to be good and I was not disappointed.  It was historically accurate, though it was fiction.  It was serious and dramatic with moments of tenderness and deep emotion.  The acting was very good and the story was engaging.  It takes place during the era of The Great Depression and is almost like a snapshot of the terrible period of American history.  And it was made at a time when movies were generally fantasies about rich and beautiful people.  Director John Ford took us in the opposite direction.

It starred Henry Fonda as Tom Joad, a man who has just gotten out of prison.  He returns to his Oklahoma farming family only to discover the house in which he grew up to be deserted.  He runs into Jim Casey played by John Caradine, an ex-preacher who is now a homeless vagabond.  Together they find Tom’s family staying at an uncle’s home.  They are about to pack up everything they own and move to California where there was supposed to be work.

Here we meet his extended family of twelve.  Most notable are his mother and father, Ma and Pa Joad, played by Jane Darwell and Russell Simpson.  They all did well and really seemed like authentic people of that time period.  Fonda himself did a great job.  He had an intensity about him that was subtle and yet effective.  There was a keenness in his eyes and a passionate edge to his acting.  His character was a difficult one to figure out completely.  On the surface, Tom Jaod just wanted to be left alone to take care of his family.  But underneath, and not very far underneath, there was a man who was not opposed to violence to defend what is right or attack what is wrong.

But it was his mother that was the real powerhouse.  Jane Darwell’s portrayal of Ma Joad earned her the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress that year, and I think she really deserved it.  Ma Joad was the glue that held the family together.  She was strong and determined to keep everyone going.  She took everything the world had to give, all the hardships, the pain, the sacrifices, and all the grief, and she never let it beat her.  She did what she had to do to make sure that the family survived.

The first time I really saw her skills as an actress shine was in a simple and yet startlingly touching scene when the Joad family is preparing to leave their farm.  She is taking old mementos, photographs, and postcards that spoke of happier times and burning them.  It was like she was letting go of the past in order to prepare herself for an uncertain future.  At one point she finds a pair of fancy earrings that you would never see on a poor farmer’s wife.  Obviously, she had worn them in her youth, a time when there was plenty of work, plenty of food, plenty of gaiety and laughter.  She holds them up to her ears and looks into a mirror, remembering, but you could just see the heartbreaking sadness in her eyes.

Along the way to California, both Grandma and Grandpa Joad die and the children often go without food.  Not only was the nation facing financial difficulties and hellish dry weather that prevented crops from growing, but it also faced incredible social injustices.  Rich people ate well and cared nothing for the poor and starving people.  They were treated like animals and forced to live on scraps.

And when people like Jim Casey tried to speak out against the social injustice, those in authority went out of their way to silence him… permanently.  Tom sees Jim murdered and retaliates by murdering someone himself.  He escapes unseen and returns to his family.  But eventually the law catches up with him, so he does the only thing he can do.  He leaves.

The scene in which he says his last goodbye to his mother was particularly well-acted.  But it was Ma Joad’s little speech at the end that really caught my attention and bears repeating here.  She said, “I ain’t never gonna be scared no more. I was, though. For a while it looked as though we was beat. Good and beat. Looked like we didn’t have nobody in the whole wide world but enemies. Like nobody was friendly no more. Made me feel kinda bad and scared too, like we was lost and nobody cared…. Rich fellas come up and they die, and their kids ain’t no good and they die out, but we keep a-coming. We’re the people that live. They can’t wipe us out, they can’t lick us. We’ll go on forever, Pa, cos we’re the people.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Foreign Correspondent – 1940

You can rarely go wrong with Hitchcock and Foreign Correspondent is no exception.  First of all, the man was a genius.  This movie had special effects, which I never saw.  And that is the point of a special effect.  If you notice it for what it is, it hasn’t done its job properly.  He was great at casting and knew how to use the camera and the lighting to wonderful effect.

The DVD came with a few documentaries which I watched.  One was about Hitchcock’s visual effects, but the other was about propaganda films during WWII.  Both were interesting to watch and I learned a few fascinating facts.  For example, during the Second World War, the US Government never demanded that Hollywood make propaganda films, but it did ask very politely.

I only mention this fact because Hitchcock, while he grew up in England, was an American film maker.  When the government wanted movies to promote involvement in the war, especially after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Hitchcock knew that he did not want to make a propaganda film.  However, many people consider Foreign Correspondent to be his most overt example of one.

I happen to think that they are right, but it was subtle most of the time, so I didn’t really notice it on a conscious level.  The story took place right before the start of the war.  American journalist, Johnny Jones, played by Joel McCrae, is given the assignment to travel to London and find out what was really happening, and whether or not there would really be war.

The point is made that he knows nothing of the events taking place in Europe, which is the singular quality that made him the right man for the job.  His boss has him change his pen name to a more sellable one, Huntley Haverstock.  He is to meet with Steven Fisher, head of the Universal Peace Party, wonderfully played by Herbert Marshall.

At an event in honor of Dutch diplomat Van Meer, played by Albert Bassermann, Haverstock meets Fisher’s daughter, Carol, played by Laraine Day.  He immediately falls completely in love with her.  When Van Meer is murdered in public, Carol’s friend Scott Ffolliott, a British reporter played by George Sanders, shows up to help Johnny solve the case.

What follows is a wonderful and engaging spy story full of assassination attempts, overheard conversations, lies, deceptions, romance, car chases, a plane crash, and the start of a world war.  The spy story was strong enough to stand on its own, meaning that it didn’t revolve around the beginning of the war.  And yet, it was an ever present danger that loomed over the entire thing, casting its ominous shadow on each of the characters.  The character of Jones is transformed from an apathetic average American to a passionate activist, doing his part to help the Allies in the world-wide conflict.

The final scene was the most overtly propagandistic.  The war has begun and Jones is now doing a radio broadcast from a British radio studio.  During his speech, sirens begin to sound and bombs can be heard exploding all around the studio.  The lights flicker out, and still Johnny stays at his post, telling the world to become aware of what Germany is doing and urging his listeners to get involved.

I mentioned the special effects earlier, but I’d like to go into two of them that were amazingly done in innovative ways that surprised me for a movie made in 1940.  First, there was the scene where a car drove off into the distance in a field containing two windmills.  But apparently, the background was a matte painting.  What really sold the illusion was the fact that the windmills were turning!  How was that done?  Easy.  The turning windmills were stuck through the painting.  The cars were filmed driving away from the camera, and the painting was composited over the studio lot or wherever the car was being filmed.

Second, there was a shot from the cockpit of an airplane as it crashed into the Atlantic Ocean.  For this shot, a mock-up of a cockpit was built. In front of it was a rear-projection screen made of rice paper playing footage of a stunt pilot diving straight at the water.  Right when the plane would have hit the surface, water was shot through the screen and into the cockpit.  It happened so quickly and was timed so perfectly, that you didn’t see the paper screen being ripped apart.  Genius.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All This, and Heaven Too – 1940

Well, here we are in a new year and a new decade.  We start off with All This and Heaven, Too, Starring Bette Davis and Charles Boyer.  It was a period piece that took place in 1845, which is saying a lot.  It took place nearly 100 years before the film was made.

It was a charming little story about forbidden love, utter lunacy, and murder.  It had potential, but for me, it failed, and here’s why.  The movie was about 2 and a half hours long, but it could have easily been told in an hour and a half.  There was just so much build up and character development that didn’t all seem necessary.

OK, in brief, Mademoiselle Deluzy-Desportes, played by Davis, applies for a job as a governess in the house of Charles, the Duc De Praslin, played by Boyer.  Charles’ rich but insane wife is the Frances, the Duchess de Praslin, played by Barbara O’Neil.  She is mentally, physically, and emotionally abusive to her husband and children.  She is obsessive, possessive, jealous, and emotionally unstable.  Mademoiselle is hired to care for and educate the 3 girls, and the young boy.

The crazy wife takes an immediate dislike to the new governess, claiming that she is turning her children against her.  Of course, Mademoiselle goes out of her way to try to bring them together, but the Duchess is not completely in touch with reality.  On top of that imagined betrayal, she believes that the young governess is also stealing the affections of her husband.  But as chance would have it, this one turned out to be true, though the growing affection between Charles and Mademoiselle is never acted upon.

In the end, the Duchess dismisses Mademoiselle and vows eternal hatred for her.  In an anger and a madness all his own, the Charles murders Frances.  Mademoiselle is arrested in connection with the murder, but Charles takes his own life before admitting his love for her, thus confirming a motive.  She bravely denies her love for him and is released, though publicly disgraced.  Still, she has the courage to go on with her life.  The end.

Davis did just fine, though it was interesting to see her play a character that didn’t have a mean or vicious bone in her body.  She seemed to be a victim in several different ways: a victim of love, a victim of hate, and a victim of scandal.  But for me, her character seemed almost too sweet to be real.

Boyer was also alright, though he was supposed to be charming, and I didn’t find him so.  But one thing about his performance that I liked was the fact that as melancholy and almost creepy as he was most of the time, he lit up in wonderful joy whenever he interacted with his children.

And speaking of the children, I have to mention something that really annoyed me.  The older girls were just fine, but the little boy, Reynald played by child actor Richard Nichols, was getting on my nerves.  Sure, the entire movie took place in France, and Boyer was the only one with a French accent, but Reynald’s words actually came out with a distinctly southern drawl.  What?!?!  Oh well.

I can forgive the children for not being able to pull off a French accent.  But Barbara O’Neil didn’t even try.  The character would have been more authentic if they had hired a French actress.  Still, O’Neil played the emotionally unstable woman well.  Her performance earned her a nomination for Best Supporting Actress, though she did not win.  Her death scene was actually chilling to watch.

To the screenplay’s credit, the long build-up to the end did have the effect of making the forbidden love between Mademoiselle and Charles believable.  However, I still think it could have been done in less time.  So, all in all, I’m not saying that All This and Heaven, Too was a bad movie.  It was just a long, slow one.

And finally, I’d like to make special mention of the eldest daughter, Isabelle because she was played by an actress that would go on to have a long and impressive career.  June Lockhart, who was best known for her television roles on Lassie, Lost in Space and Petticoat Junction, did a good job, and actually stood out to me as a better child actress than the others.