Destry Rides Again (1939) dir. George Marshall
Starring: James Stewart, Marlene Dietrich, Mischa Auerm, Brian Donlevy, Samuel S. Hinds

***½

By Alan Bacchus

Destry Rides Again showcases Jimmy Stewart in one of his earliest starring roles. As a spry 29-year-old, Mr. Aw Shucks is as amiable, compelling and undeniably a star as he ever was.

The film portrays a typical situation in the western genre. A corrupt frontier town (appropriately called ‘Bottleneck’) has difficulty maintaining law and order. The local sheriff is completely ineffective and is beholden to the local criminal syndicate. Even the mayor is under the corruptive influence of the malfeasants. Marlene Dietrich plays Frenchy, the local saloon owner who quietly helps the criminals cheat and steal their way to money and power.

When the new Sheriff is knocked off by a cheating gangster, Kent (Brian Dunlevy), Mayor Slade gives the badge to the town drunk, Washington Dimsdale. Instead of doing Slade and Kent’s bidding, Dimsdale considers the appointment as an opportunity to make something of his life. And so he hires an old friend and the son of a legendary lawman, Tom Destry Jr. (James Stewart). Destry arrives in town gunless and is ridiculed for his passivity toward armed violence. But beneath his easy-going demeanour is a stone cold hombre who refuses to back down against the local tyranny.

The film takes its time establishing the situation. In fact, Jimmy Stewart doesn’t appear until 30 minutes into the film. George Marshall, a stock studio director with over 150 directing credits but few classic titles, directs the film with the utmost of studio perfection. Watch the scenes from the opening titles to just after Destry arrives in town. Though most of the film takes place in the saloon through camera movement, shot selection and creative staging, Marshall manages to sustain 45 minutes of high cinema energy and action.

After Destry's introduction, Marshall stages one of the all-time great cat-fights in cinema history. It’s Marlene Dietrich as Frenchy versus Una Merkel, who plays the wife of a husband who was cheated out of his money. The fight starts out as a fall-down, hair-pulling match between the gals, but when Destry breaks it up Frenchy continues to battle the new deputy for a total of 5 minutes of bottle-throwing and chair-smashing action. The sequence is a lengthy but exciting and inspired duel of wills. Of course, it’s played for humour, but Marshall’s staging is invisible to the extensive stunts required to make the scene look real.

Though Stewart refuses to carry a gun and uses intelligence to best his opponents, the filmmakers are clear to tell us that Destry is no sissy. In fact, he’s a crack shot with a gun. At one point he picks up a pistol and nonchalantly shoots six targets with his six bullets. But in a genre where the attitudes toward violence are defined by the liberal 'western code of honour', Destry's 'non-violent' approach is a smart nod toward pacifism. These themes would be reworked and remade a number of times after Destry. Marshall would remake the film again in 1954 with Audie Murphy, and Support Your Local Sheriff with James Garner borrows its central concept of a lawman with guns. Enjoy.

Destry Rides Again is available on the James Stewart Westerns Collection from Universal Studios Home Entertainment.

Oher related postings: THE FAR COUNTRY

Here's the classic catfight scene:

Now, Voyager (1942) dir. Irving Rapper
Starring: Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Gladys Cooper, Bonita Granville

****

By Alan Bacchus

Now, Voyager is an astonishingly emotional and epic melodrama of the highest order. Todd Haynes’ Mildred Pierce is running on HBO right now. It’s a decent re-imagining of the novel that was turned into the now classic Warner Bros. Joan Crawford vehicle in 1945. Now, Voyager, however, dramatizes a character arc so grand and powerful, in terms of shear emotional distance it trumps both versions of Mildred Pierce.

Poor Charlotte Vale (Davis) lives a privileged life as the youngest daughter of an old wealthy widow, Mrs. Vale (Cooper). While she stands to inherit the family fortune as her mother’s unwanted child, Charlotte become the runt of the family, indentured by her tyrannical mother to be husbandless, childless and a broken down mirror of her sad mother.

When a good natured and concerned psychiatrist, Dr. Jaquith (Rains), comes along, the ugly duckling is given a chance to break out of her shell and blossom into a real woman. After a period in the doctor’s solitary care, Charlotte’s new social skills are tested when she’s sent on a vacation cruise to Brazil. The exotic locale and social freedom become a transformative experience, especially when she finds love with a handsome fellow traveller, Jerry Durrence (Henreid). Unfortunately, Jerry’s married, though unhappily. This is just one complication in the epic journey for Charlotte. Battling the near psychotic, passive-aggressive evils of her mother, her desire to become an independent woman and find true love with a man seem to run counter to each other.

It’s a landmark role for Davis, the epitome of the strong female lead roles which were commonplace in the Hollywood heydey but gradually disappeared. Just the physical transformation from the dowdy and depressed homebody she’s introduced as to the strikingly beautiful, sophisticated socialite she becomes is astonishing, let alone the subtlety of her posture, rhythm of speech, walking gait and emotional confidence.

In the Todd Haynes version of Mildred Pierce, he seems to have attempted to strip out the melodramatic tone, instead plugging in a new kind of modern realism. Without this filter, much is lost. The Hollywood melodramatic filter applied to Now, Voyager is the stuff of great storytelling and pure cinema. The core conflicts are identifiable to all of us. Whether or not we are the child in a wealthy family, the power and control a mother has over her child is a fundamental conflict with which we can identify.

Director Rapper directs Charlotte’s mother into such extremes that she becomes a pure kind of evil – that Lady Macbeth or Iago kind of evil, so diabolically manipulative we can’t help but yearn for Charlotte’s escape. We’re always rooting for Charlotte to transform her life from the outset.

Even Jerry Durrance, who represents the pull away from her mother, is not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. When it appears that Jerry and Charlotte could be together, Rapper and his writers throw even more obstacles in front of her attaining complete satisfaction. By the end, Charlotte’s victories are earth-shatteringly triumphant and her losses severely tragic. Moving so boldly and quickly through these extremes is what makes melodrama so effective and entertaining.

And this is one of the greats.

Now, Voyager is available on the Bette Davis 4-Film Collection, along with Dark Victory, Old Acquaintance and Jezebel from Warner Home Entertainment/Turner Classic Movies.

Gilda (1946) dir. Charles Vidor
Starring: Glenn Ford, Rita Hayworth, George MacCready

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

The Hollywood "Production Code", the 38-year filter for all things ‘inappropriate’ in Hollywood cinema, was in effect during the making of Gilda – Charles Vidor’s classic sexually-charged nourish melodrama, which serves as a great example of how films of the era both benefited from and were hindered by these restraints.

Vidor and his writers establish a Casablanca-type insular world in Gilda. It’s Buenos Aires, Argentina, and Glenn Ford plays Johnnie Farrell, a professional gambler hired by businessman Ballin Munson (George MacCready, the bombastic General in Paths of Glory) to use his skills to manage his casino. Johnnie makes good with his job commanding the reigns with the same confidence as Rick Blaine in Casablanca.

But when Munson comes back from a business trip with a new wife, it’s a red flag for Johnnie. And when he first catches sight of the seductress mantrap Munson's found, he can only see danger. The luscious Rita Hayworth plays Gilda with mouthwatering allure. Immediately we sense a connection between her and Johnnie. Do they know each other? Perhaps not, but Johnnie knows a dame in this business is never good. As Johnnie tries to curb Gilda’s flirtations, they become inexorably drawn to each other. But a love triangle with big money at stake can only result in disaster.

In this "Production Code" era, a distinct style of metaphorical filmmaking resulted from the inability of filmmakers to show or tell us some of the more immoral aspects of their films overtly. Many films benefited from this restraint – a film like The Big Sleep, in which much of the lewd and subversive elements were put deep into the background and subtext of the story.

Few, if any, films compare to the sexual tension Charles Vidor manages to ring out from Johnnie’s relationship with Gilda. For much of the film they hate each other's guts, often spelling it out clearly with lines like, “I hated her so I couldn't get her out of my mind for a minute,” or “I hate you so much I think I'm going to die from it." Yet Vidor’s framing of Hayworth and Ford and the close-ups he lingers on suggest more. Their back story is only hinted at and never fully explained. I still don’t know for certain whether Johnnie and Gilda had a relationship prior to meeting at the Casino, and if so, where did it start and what caused its demise?

It's part of the big tease Vidor holds on us for two-thirds of the picture until finally the two tempestuous ex-lovers break the barrier and kiss. This scene, which occurs in Gilda’s bedroom on the evening of the Carnival celebration, is dripping with sexual tension. Hayworth closes in on Ford so slowly we can feel the carnal urges of his character trying not to do what his libido is telling him to. Johnnie eventually does succumb to Gilda’s advances, at which point a sweaty sex scene would be in order. Of course, we don’t ever see it. Instead, the film jumps forward to a marriage between the two.

A marriage between these characters, under the "Production Code", perhaps wouldn’t have been allowed. After all, the two heroes of the film kissing and (likely) going to bed together without getting married was a no-no. And so, in the final act, the film plays out a scattered plot divergence of this marriage between Gilda and Johnnie. Unfortunately, it’s a dreadful finale to an otherwise pitch-perfect picture.

I can forgive this unhealthy digression in the film because of the 90 minutes of perfection the film achieves before it. Vidor’s keen cinematic eye and Rudolph Mate’s stylish cinematography embellishes all the texture established by the performances. In the history of cinema, few leading ladies have been lit better than Mate’s work on Rita Hayworth. It’s the finest example of lighting used to express the mood and desires of a character. Hayworth’s opening shot, of course, is famous. As Johnnie is introduced to Gilda, we see her pop up into frame in a soft close-up flopping her hair back with a cool flirtatious attitude. But watch Hayworth's movement throughout her scenes, as a strong backlight always seems to follow her (and only her) wherever she goes. At all times she’s glowing like a beacon or a siren tempting us over to her dark side of carnality.

With today's eyes, perhaps it's a sexist view of women as the object of desire with an ability to turn men into mouthwatering dogs at the mercy of their sexuality. Maybe not much has changed, but no film has done it better than Gilda.

True Grit (1969) dir. Henry Hathaway
Starring: John Wayne, Kim Darby, Glen Campbell, Robert Duvall, Strother Martin

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

Before the Coen Bros remake, True Grit was known as the film which won John Wayne an Oscar. I’m sure the public consensus back in ’69 was that the win was one of those soft victories recognized more for his body of work than being the best performance of the year. The movie survives surprisingly well with today’s eyes though. Despite having an old studio director (Henry Hathaway) in his 70's directing a film in a time when the Hollywood rules were being broken by its ambitious youth, it doesn’t feel at all old fashioned. And John Wayne fits in perfectly with the times, playing against his diametically opposite in Kim Darby.

Wayne plays the aged Rooster Cogburn, an alcoholic Marshall who’s hired by a young but determined girl looking to track down the killer of her father. It was John Wayne’s only Academy nomination, but was it the best performance of that year? No. Was it even the best performance of his career? Probably yes, as there’s some magic and charisma in Wayne which few other actors, ever in cinema, can lay claim to.

The heart and soul of the film and the reason the film is not only watchable but supremely entertaining is Kim Darby who plays the spunky Mattie Ross, a teenager who comes to town looking to hire Cogburn to track the killer of his father because she’s heard he has ‘grit’. Darby is so magnetic, lovable and inspiring she’s a minor miracle. Her diminutive stature, boyish haircut and Christian innoncence contrasts perfectly against Cogburn’s eye patch and haggard appearance.

Every frame of the film is full of life and energy. The intergenerational conflict between Ross and Cogburn never slows down and if that were to get predictable there’s the character of Leboeuf (Glen Campbell), the handsome opportunist looking to make some money off of the warrant issued on the killer. The common thread between three characters is their mutual appreciation for the values and rules of the Old West.

Henry Hathaway, was aged 71 when True Grit was made and compared to the late career output of other directors his age, such as Hitchcock, Ford, Hawks, this film is best of these other directors' latter films. The on location work throughout the mountains and valley of Oregan is simply stunning. Little if any process studio work was used and so, Hathaway delivers a film which seems as visually vibrant and modern as say the youthful and stylish ‘Butch Cassady and the Sundance Kid’ which also came out that year.

It’s no surprise this material teased the pallette of the Coen Bros. They’ve always been drawn to films with a journey and there’s plenty of warm and wonderful supporting characters the heroes meet along the way makes this a highly updatable and reworkable old film.

True Grit is available on Blu-Ray from Paramount Home Entertainment

Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) dir. Frank Lloyd
Starring: Clark Gable, Charles Laughton, Franchot Tone, Eddie Quillan, Dudley Digges

****

By Alan Bacchus

High seas adventure cinema par excellence. Three big screen versions of this story have been made and there’s no doubt this version is the best. Five Academy Awards nominations including a winner for best picture doesn't lie, but watching Clark Gable in his prime squaring off against Charles Laughton is undeniably powerful and exciting cinema.

It's 1789, the Fletcher Christian (Gable), is scouring the port for sailors and midshipmen to pilot the HMS Bounty, a King's ship assigned to a mission to Tahiti. It's two year expedition, a lengthy journey which frightens some, but it's the Captain, William Bligh (Laughton) who strikes the fear of God in the men.

Bligh lives by the code of leadership by fear. Fear of the brutal punishment which Bligh continually inflicts on his men. Whether it's whipping with a cat 'o' nine tails or keel hauling, the crew take beating after beating. Christian watches in horror but knows Bligh's orders are condoned by the laws of the King. After arriving at Tahiti and enjoying three months of tropical bliss, once back on the ship Christian just can't take it anymore and fights back against Bligh, engineering the most famous mutiny in sailing history.

Charles Laughton and Clark Gable are a terrific match. Two of the great adversaries ever on film. One American, arguably the biggest star in the world, and the other one of Britain's best actors. Though Laughton is shorter and considerably less handsome, he is an imposing presence on screen. It’s interesting to note Clark Gable using his usual American accent to play a Briton. Strangely it doesn’t matter. All it takes is Gable’s personification of honour and poise which makes him believable as an upper classman of Britain.

It was a big production then and even 80+ years later the production value is still stunning and realistic. The castoff scene for instance which launches the Bounty is staged magnificently by director Lloyd, full of epic grandeur. If anything many of the Tahiti scenes, shot on a sound stage with rear projected palm trees, look fake and betrays the realism of the sailing sequences.

But in all versions of the story, and this one included, the weakest moments all seem to be the Tahiti sequences wherein the crew of the Bounty make stay on the island for 3 months collecting fruit, sunbathing in skimpy bathing suits, bedding the native women and in general living high on the hog. While this sequence in this picture is unabashedly sentimental and conflict free the period of rest is necessary for the audience. For when the crew eventually gets back on the ship and into the cauldron of punishment from the Captain it seems even more intense and cruel. And thus, the eventual Mutiny in the second half becomes even more cathartic.

The fact is when Bligh and Christian are on board together at sea, it’s a cinematic dynamo of tension and conflict. The actual mutiny scene seems to come as an afterthought, and based on the intense build up, the scene is, if anything, under whelming. Despite the faults of the 1962 version, the calmer more reluctant muniteer as portrayed by Brando and under the direction of Lewis Milestone executes his mutiny with more panache , but at nearly 3 hours, it's simply too long to hold our attention before this scene. At 130 mins, the 1935 seems just right.

'The Mutiny on the Bounty" is available on Blu-Ray from Warner Home Video

Swing Time (1936) dir. George Stevens
Starring: Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

The Warner Bros four-pack (The Gay Divorcee, Top Hat, Swing Time and Shall We Dance) acts like a four part time capsule of one of the legendary eras of the studio system - the Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers song and dance team. Three of the pictures were directed by the same man, Mark Sandrich and this fourth one, Swing Time, arguably the most celebrated picture of the bunch, directed by the great George Stevens.

As usual there’s a scheme and a whole lot of disreputable behaviour going on. Lucky Garnett (Astaire) is mostly despicable in his journey, playing a gambler who needs to make $25,000 in order to appease his father in law to be to marry his daughter. After he moves to New York he meets his dance partner Penny (Ginger Rogers) who holds the key to his success as an dancer in the big city, Problem is he falls in love with her thus complicating his desire to make money and his obligation to go back home and marry his girlfriend. And so, there's a whole bunch of scheming, Lucky lying to Penny, his girlfriend, and himself and at the same time gambling his way into debt. Also, his unconditional hatred for Ricky Romero the latino bandleader is slightly racist.

As traditional for these types of movies in the 30's, it's classic screwball plotting taking us through the silly hijinx in between main dance set pieces.

It takes 30mins before we see Astaire and Rogers in action, and when they get going, they are both electric. Astaire's effortless style makes him look like he’s floating on air, gliding across the dance floor with ease and elegance. There’s also a clever smirk on his face, a cocky look and recognition of his immense talent. And Rogers, she's nimble and athletic and doing it all in heels.

These films aren’t really traditional musicals, but dance pictures with the occasional song. In Swing Time we don’t get a song until 25mins in and a second until the very end. But there's four stunning dance set pieces, each one distinct and unique and a classic in the annals of cinema history.

The final ballroom set design is magnificent and the stuff of the great Bubsy Berkeley pictures. Stevens stages the last numbers with great pizazz, dressing the set with a great black staircase and a luscious sparkly walled backdrop. And the reflective floor is perhaps borrowed from Berkeley's trademark design - and who knows maybe even borrowed from another Warner Bros set.

The Bo Jangles number is the best though, deservedly celebrated, Astaire's performance, a stunning solo tap dance backed up by three different shadow versions of himself projected as giants in the background. And we barely even notice that Astaire is in blackface.

"Swing Time" is available on DVD from Warner Bros Home Video via the TCM/Warner Astraire-Rogers Collection

Dames (1934) dir. Ray Enright
Starring: Dick Powell, Joan Blondell, Ruby Keelor, Guy Kibbee, Zasu Pitts, Hugh Herbert

***

By Alan Bacchus

Warner Bros has packaged yet another fabulous, reasonably priced four pack of Hollywood classics under their label association with Turner Classic Movies, this time, the films of Busby Berkeley, the unique choreographer/director/magician/showman renowned for visually inventive dance sequences.

Dames, a film Berkeley only directed the musical sequences for, finds his usual leading man Dick Powell playing Jimmy Hughes, a broadway actor and producer looking to 'put on a show', but lacking the financial backing to make it happen. Remember this was the time of Great Depression and many of these populist movies pitted big business vs. the common working man. In this case, Jimmy targets his rich Uncle Ezra Ounce (Hugh Herbert) for the cash. Problem is Ezra is a right wing boob and thinks anything to do with the arts, especially shows with 'dames' as immoral. And so the scheme is on to free Ounce's money from his tight reins and to put it to good use, that is, a lavish Busby Berkeley revue full of scantily clad ladies with pretty smiles and long legs.

Like most of the Berkeley pictures, it's 60mins of screwball plotting and one long 30mins musical sequence wherein our young hero finally gets a chance to put his work on the stage. In this case, Ray Enright's direction in especially stodgy compared to when Berkeley's whirling dervish of a camera takes over.

Berkeley wasn't a dancer by trade, in fact he couldn't dance at all. But his eye for design and patterns and composition is what put him in the business of Hollywood musicals. Once Jimmy's show starts, it's truly a magical experience, something no other director then or now could recreate. Even Berkeley would admit the dancing of each individual is not perfect, but watching all the dancers elegantly move in time with one another is majestic.

Two numbers anchor the big grand finale, which of course, takes place in a theatre. The "I Only Have Eyes For You" sequence has Jimmy in song confessing his love to Ruby Keelor's character on a journey through the streets of New York and aboard a subway ride, intercut with expressive fantasy sequences visualizing Keelor's eyes and head in Berekley's grand kaleidoscope style.

The other song, is shamelessly sexist, “What Do We Go For? Beautiful Dames!”, which is Jimmy's answer to a question asked in a dramatized financial meeting in the story within the story. To visualize Jimmy's theory, Berkeley has his camera travelling through the lilly white legs of a hundred dames wearing nighties, and then having them lather up their naked bodies in a hundred bubble baths.

Who can resist that? Luckily the new TCM set has four of these pictures, and even better ones than this gem, specifically 42nd Street, Footlight Parade featuring James Cagney, and The Golddiggers of 1937. More coverage on these pictures to come. Enjoy.

The Wizard of Oz (1939) dir. Victor Fleming
Starring: Judy Garland, Bert Lahr, Frank Morgan, Ray Bolger, Jack Haley, Margaret Hamilton, Billie Burke

****

By Alan Bacchus

If someone were to ask me what the most widely seen movies ever made. Not just based on box office figures but on TV and DVD I’d probably only put ‘Star Wars’ and ‘The Wizard of Oz’ on top that list with much space to the next one down. Both movies transcend time and are invisible to their age.

Like 'Gone With the Wind', ‘The Wizard of Oz’ is a producer’s picture, not a director’s picture. In fact there were four directors all of whom left or got fired for one reason or another. Including the only credited man, Victor Fleming, would also go on to direct portions of Selnick’s picture and get sole credit as well.

The opening Kansas sequence, shot famously in black & white and timed for sepia tone, evokes a cinematic period before 1939. By 1939, black & white was so sophisticated, cinematographers could manipulate light and shadows to do anything. So the sepia tone and obviously stagey studio set opening is meant to bring us back to a simpler time even before the relatively simple times of 1939 cinema. Perhaps the anachronistic opening was meant to enhance the great transition to Technicolor which announces itself so grandly when Dorothy exits her tornado-transported home and into Munchkinland.

Rare for its time “Oz” seems to have an awareness of itself.

As a strictly studio picture, ‘The Wizard of Oz’ is not much more than a theatrically staged telling of the Frank L. Baum story. Some might describe the choreography as stagey, as there’s an awareness of the interior studio setting at all times. The painted backdrops looks like, well, painted backdrops. The flowers look fake. The colours are overly saturated and unrealistic. The edges and falseness the costumes and makeup worn by the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion are made visible by the bright, unsympathetic lighting. Like a the front row patrons of a Broadway show, there's very little hidden from the audience in Oz.

Even within the constraints of the studio iconic imagery is everywhere. The mere sight of Dorothy and her three costumed companions skipping down the yellow brick road toward the Emerald City is as grand a composition as there ever was in the movies. The foursome framed at the bottom of the screen, with the converging lines of the road creating the sense of depth and the deco design of the castle at the top of the frame is a brilliantly fantastical work of art.

'The Wizard of Oz' is a work of pure and inspiring fantasy. The classical structure of the fairytale hits every beat so precisely in hindsight it’s a template for all fantasy cinema made after. Dorothy’s journey is not unlike Frodo’s in 'Lord of the Rings' or Alice in Wonderland, so innocent and fragile, dainty in her pretty dress and her constant follower, Toto. Even her empty basket which she refuses to put down even in the most dangerous of situations stays on her arm. Dorothy as a farm girl, doesn’t know it but her congeniality and resourcefulness is about to save the world from the tyranny of the wicked witches. Well, Glinda knows it. We can see it on her face when she first introduces herself in Munchkinland, she will be the saviour.

The late second act action sequence in Wicked Witch’s castle is frightening. Not just Margaret Hamilton’s snarling performance as the Witch, but her army of Russian Army-coat wearing minions and flying demon monkeys. The grey and gothic tones of these scenes provoke a truly dark and threatening hazard in Dorothy’s journey.

My favourite performance, no doubt, is Bert Lahr’s Lion – a character of vaudevillian extremes, with an exaggerated New York accent which, of Dorothy’s three sidekicks, best represents the trio’s slapstick comedy.

“The Wizard of Oz” is invisible to it age because, if the film were made now – or perhaps before the age of CG – under a producer as smart as Mervyn LeRoy would likely (or should) look exactly the same. Look at the 1971 version of ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory’ for instance, a film made 32 years after Oz but with the same visual and tonal sensibilities. No wonder that film is also a timeless classic.

The 70th Anniversary of ‘The Wizard of Oz’ is available on DVD and Blu-Ray from Warner Bros. Home Video. The special features on the two-disc set are adequate, but mostly older featurettes which unfortunately show their age – especially the Angela Lansbury-hosted 1990 feature, ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz: The Making of a Movie Classic’ urggh.

Find Wizard of Oz Collectables Here

Roman Holiday (1953) dir. William Wyler
Starring: Audrey Hepburn, Gregory Peck, Eddie Albert

***

By Alan Bacchus

Like the breezing feeling of driving around the Roman Portico on a Vespa, such is the experience of watching Roman Holiday, the delightful romantic comedy and screen debut of Audrey Hepburn and accidental advertising campaign for Vespa scooters.

Miss Hepburn in first major screen role at the age of 24, plays Princess Ann, a royal from an unspecified country, likely patterned after then youthful princess Elizabeth II who was inaugurated as the Queen the year before. Ann’s come to Rome on an official visit, which means endless days of bows, curtsies, pomp and ceremony. As she watches the vivacious energy of the common people in the streets she desperately yearns to experience the city this way. The night before she’s due to leave Rome she escapes from the room and lands herself in the middle of Rome at night.

Sleepy-headed and thus out of sorts, she falls into the company of a handsome journalist Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck), and winds up sleeping on his couch. The next morning, Joe and Princess Ann gallivant around the city riding Vespas, getting her hair done, sight seeing etc. Only Joe knows it’s actually the Princess and hides the fact that he’s a journalist in order to get an exclusive story. Even though they fall in love her royal duties prevent her from being with Joe, but not before Princess Ann admonishes her affection for him in a coy speech to the press in the film’s finale.

Roman Holiday feels like a template film for modern romantic comedies – specifically 'Notting Hill', and virtually every romcom made by Garry Marshall. Despite being a royal of privilege and wealth her character is written as a porcelain doll unable to experience the real joys in life – only the fake, manufactured life of being a public figure to be gawked at like an ornament on the mantelpiece. Thus the audience feels empowered to see the upper class in a position of superiority. But it’s really fairytale stuff, a reverse Cinderella/Pygmalion story which isn’t all the original in the first place.

Conflict is kept to a minimum for the most part, as Joe is never really taken to task for his deception of Ann. There’s also some laughable lapses in cinema logic – specifically the idea that the Princess can walk around Rome not noticed. Or even that by cutting her hair she would be rendered completely invisible. But there’s no such thing as common sense in cinema as long as it fits into the formalized structure of the genre. And this screenplay is crafted to genre-perfection.

The screenplay, written by then blacklisted Dalton Trumbo, who couldn’t take credit for the work, was originally packaged for Elizabeth Taylor and Cary Grant. When Hepburn replaced Taylor Grant bowed out for fear of being upstaged by the meatier role and Hepburn’s innate on screen charm. Peck admirably shares the screen and the starring credit, furthering his reputation as a Hollywood nice guy. Hepburn even won an Oscar for the work.

In 1953, the on location setting was new and fresh, and even with today’s eyes Rome in the 1950’s is rendered impossibly romantic. And with Peck and Hepburn searing the screen it justly remains a classic today, a dreamy romcom par excellence.

Informer (1935) dir. John Ford
Starring: Victor McLaglen, Heather Angel, Preston Foster, Margot Grahame

****

By Alan Bacchus

John Ford was, of course, best known for later pictures, namely his westerns for John Wayne, in addition to his award-winning non-westerns Grapes of Wrath (1940), How Green Was My Valley (1941) and The Quiet Man (1952). These films are part of his post Stagecoach (1939) career, which is indeed remarkable. He unequivocally earns his aura as a legendary studio auteur, a director with an unmistakable style and vision . There’s also an almost fairytale like simplicity to his stories, crystal clear themes of honour, brotherhood, redemption which resulting in a remarkably consistent body of work across 50+ years of filmmaking.

I haven’t seen all of John Ford’s pictures, and it would take a lifetime to do that (he made 75 pictured BEFORE The Informer), but if there were one to recommend starting with 1935’s The Informer would be it.

What we traditionally know as a ‘John Ford’ picture, an elegant combination of pathos, machoism and sentimentality, arguably began with The Informer, a character piece set in Ireland (Ford’s homeland) during the Irish fight for Independence in 1922.

Victor McLaglen plays the larger than life brutish Gypo Nolan whom we see at the opening of the film wrestling with a decision to rat out or ‘inform’ on his best friend Frankie McPhillip to the British. What’s the only thing that could come in between brotherhood? Love. In this case £20 which was a lot of money and enough for Nolan to pay for he and his girlfriend Katie to sail abroad to America for better opportunities. And so Ford, in a matter of minutes has presented his audience with all he needs to wring out his emotionally charged personal story of redemption.

Having ratted out Frankie, and subsequently seen him killed during his capture Nolan devolves into a lengthy depression fueled by an extended drunken bender. Even though his payout money is supposed to be for his girlfriend the money quickly burns a mighty big hole in his pocket. His guilty conscience takes over and he spends wildly, buying drinks and food for his village lads, a spree which soon puts him as a key suspect in Frankie’s capture and death. The farther down Nolan goes into despair the grander his eventual redemption will become.

Through the entire film we feel the weight of repression and depression of Nolan and his people. Ford’s rendering of the poverty stricken Dublin is dripping with moody texture. Ford’s fog filled streets and cobblestone roads wet from the permanent Irish mist creates some of his most beautiful and expressive compositions. It’s gloomy and murky but there’s still a liveliness among the people, an optimism which pushes through the brutal poverty and British subjugation. I was recently in Ireland and I felt this everywhere I went. And so with this feeling of cultural pride which every Irish man and woman holds for themselves, the gravitas of Nolan’s betrayal is made even more severe. And of course, the Catholic Church provides even another and even more impenetrable layer of guilt on Nolan. Nolan is doomed, but not before a final confrontation with Frankie’s family becomes the confession he needs to ascend into heaven and be accepted by God.

Perhaps this is a flowery way to write a review, but this is the feeling Ford brings forth through Victor McLaglen's performance. Nolan’s redemption is so powerful on a fundamental level of base moral conviction, it plays out like a cathartic religious experience, a thunderstorm of deeply affecting Hollywood melodrama and perhaps THE quintessential John Ford picture.

Gunga Din (1939) dir. George Stevens
Starring: Cary Grant, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Victor McLaglen

**

By Alan Bacchus

Over the past year Turner Classic Movies & Warner Bros Home Video have packaged a number of surprisingly decent movie 4-pks of specific genres as a single DVD purchase. Normally, when I see distributors packaging two or three movies together for a volume discount there’s little value added. But there’s something about these TCM packages that feels like a surprisingly astound programming. For example, their ‘Sci-Fi’ package a few months ago, packaged together a quartet of interesting selections, including Them and The Beast From 10,000 Fathoms. Not all the films were great, but as a program of four films to watch it gave a good broad overview of sci-fi B-movies.

In their ‘War’ package Warner puts together: Battle of the Bulge (1961), The Dawn Patrol (1938), Operation Pacific (1951) and Gunga Din (1939). For me Gunga Din was the main attraction to this package – one of the revered classics from ‘Hollywood’s Greatest Year’ – 1939.
Unfortunately, apologies to old studio enthusiasts and Gunga Din fans, but the film just doesn’t survive too well over the years. The revered action/adventure tale, once one of the inspirations for the Indiana Jones movies, at one time looked like a rousing and exotic escapism entertainment, but with today’s eyes, it’s still a big expensive picture, though now thoroughly dull and limp.

The Indian legend of the Kali warriors gets its first cinematic treatment. This story has been done a little bit better in The Stranglers of Bombay, the 1960 Hammer picture starring Guy Rolfe, and of course Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. In this picture, the infamous ‘Thugs’, sadistic killers and bloodthirsty worshippers of the goddess Kali has just attacked a British outpost, thus breaking the line in communication for the occupying colonists. British Colonel Weed dispatches a trio of soldiers to investigate.

There’s Cutter (Cary Grant) a fist-fighting rabble-rouser, the muscle-man sweetheart MacChesney (Victor McLaglen) and the reluctant softy Ballantine (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) whose recently been engaged but desperately wants to join his buddies on the adventure. Tagging along is their affable Indian guide and wannabe soldier Gunga Din (Sam Jaffe). The team discovers an old Indian cult called the Thugees who worship a goddess named Kali who strangle their victims to death.

While the film does features a number of big sprawling action scenes, the forward movement of the journey and thus the intensity of the action is stifled at every turn with its rather silly comedic side plotting. Sure some decent banter between Cary Grant and Victor McLaglen, but the amount of running time devoted to these scenes diffuses the excitement of the adventure. Specifically Ballantine troubles with his fiancé is given much too much attention, and feels like a romantic comedy dynamic shoehorned into a disposable b-movie cliff hanger serial.

Hopefully the other entries in this set will be more exciting than the dated Gunga Din.

Gunga Din is available in the TCM 'War' 4pk from Warner Home Video

El Cid (1961) dir. Anthony Mann
Starring: Charlton Heston, Sophia Loren

***1/2

By Alan Bacchus

“El Cid” was made at the height of the epic-period in Hollywood. In the early 60’s with the increasing popularity of TV Hollywood endeavoured to make bigger and longer movies to get audiences out of their homes and back into the theatres for an experience they couldn’t get on the small screen (hmm, things haven’t changed much since then). This caused a trend in making giant, expensive, lengthy blockbusters, with huge casts, huge running times, with widescreen photography. This golden age lasted approximately from 1956 – 1964 and saw the annual smut of epics that included “Ben Hur”, “Spartacus”, Lawrence of Arabia”, “King of Kings”, “Around the World in 80 Days” and “Cleopatra” - some were great, some were mediocre and of course, many were bad. One of the best and under appreciated was “El Cid” – a non Hollywood film – financed and produced entirely with European money by super-producer Samuel Bronston.

In medieval Spain 1000+AD Spain is under constant conflict with the aggressive Moors – the Muslim Africans– both living in Spain and those across the Atlantic. Charlton Heston plays Rodrigo Diaz, one of Spain’s great knights. Diaz falls out of favour of Ferdinand’s royal court when he frees a group of captured Moors. But Diaz’s kindness and civility with the Moors creates a groundswell of support for the exiled warrior, and from the eyes of people Diaz becomes ‘El Cid’ (the Lord). Diaz redeems himself with the royals and leads the patriotic charge against the oncoming Moor Army from the south.

Diaz is the typical hero – inadvertently drawn into conflict and battle, but resolute in his commitment to his people and country. Much of the conflict is between his fiancé/wife (Sophia Loren), who wishes to live a humble life with Diaz. But the genre demands a hero who goes from ordinary man to legend to martyr and finally to myth. Diaz moves through all these stages and finishes the film with a rousing send off worthy of any of the aforementioned battle epics.

Nothing frustrates me more than an epic that extends its running time with uninteresting sword & sandal dialogue cooped up in studio interior scenes. The wideangle frame constantly craves the big scale and big spectacle. “Spartacus” and “Ben Hur” often suffer from this. But “El Cid” rarely stays in the same location and rarely stays indoors. For most of the time Heston is outside on his horse against deep vistas of expansive lands.

It’s refreshing to watch tangible productive value on the screen, as opposed to post-production CGI which is now a cost-effective way of tricking us. Mann stages a dozen major set pieces featuring hundred, if not thousands, of extras. The attack on Valencia occurs on a long stretch of beach against the backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea and a grand castle on a hilltop in the background. There’s no doubting the castle, the water, the horses and the warriors are all real and no amount of CGI will ever replace the real thing. Another glorious scene is Diaz’s dramatic joust to the death set against another magnificent medieval castle. “El Cid” isn’t without its banal dialogue scenes, but it’s kept to the bare minimum to push the story through to the set pieces, which drives the story.

On the downside, I don’t know if it’s the cinematography or the DVD transfer but the film looks aged – too aged and dated for a 70mm film. This era of colour photography often had problems with contrasty imaging and lack of depth and detailing. “El Cid” is big and has fine composition, but it never looks beautiful, as say, “Lawrence of Arabia”, which was made one year later.

It’s fitting the new DVD box set is as big as the movie. Alliance Films' 3-DVD set looks impressive on my DVD shelf. The sand-textured box, which matches well my “Lawrence of Arabia” set, contains two books, authentically recreated original production notes and a graphic novel (comic strip in those days) version of the film. Also included is a well-written essay from Martin Scorsese and a set of ‘lobby’ cards (what do you with these DVD lobby cards, anyway?)

You'll be doing yourself a disservice if you get caught up in the political correctness or try to find parallels to today's global political climate. Don't judge the filmmakers on who they chose to be the 'good guys' and the 'bad guys'. "El Cid" is not to be over-intellectualized - just watch the film.

“El Cid 3-Disc Set” is available on DVD from Alliance Films.

Random Harvest (1942) dir. Mervyn LeRoy
Starring: Ronald Colman, Greer Garson, Philip Dorn, Susan Peters

**1/2

Alan Bacchus

I know don’t much about amnesia other than some personal moments of memory loss after a heavy night of boozing. But if you look at the frequency and severity at which amnesia occurs in cinema it would seem like a frequent ailment. I don’t know anyone who has had amnesia, but it certainly makes for a great device for storytellers and the perfect solution for many screenwriting dilemmas.

In ‘Random Harvest’, Ronald Colman is introduced as a British soldier in the First World War who wakes up as a John Doe in a military hospital in England, without his memory. He’s not just without any memories, but he’s barely even able to speak. During his time in the hospital he eventually relearns to talk, and when an opportunity to leave the hospital presents itself, he wanders out into the streets. There he befriends a lovely and kind dancer/performer Paula (Greer Garson) who she names ‘Smithy’. But when she finds out he’s an escapee from the hospital, having develops an interest in him, she hides him. A romantic relationship blossoms and they progress toward marriage, and a settled life together.

But on a trip to Liverpool by himself, Smithy is hit by a bus and thrown back into hospital, with all his memories back of before the war, but without his memories of his life with Paula.

And so, Smithy lives out his former life as Charles Rainier, a wealthy businessman without ever bringing back the old memories of Paula. He’s courted by a young family friend who confesses her love for him and they begin their own settled relationship. But what ever happened to Paula? Years later, after an exhaustive search for Smithy shows up as his new secretary. Having been told by a psychotherapist that Smithy has to discover his memories by himself she is forced to work with him without revealing their previous love affair with each other. What torture!

Much like ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ and Michael Winterbottom’s sci-fi romance ‘Code 46.’, losing memories, fate and love work hand in hand and will draw people back together. But if you’re going to use a cinematically contrived concept as amnesia, might as well milk it for all its worth. The contrived situation serves to examine the subliminal power of love which extends deeper in the mind and body beyond conscious memory.

Despite the contrived set up the film doesn't quite wring all the drama. The threat of the authorities finding the John Doe from the insane asylum isn't exploited enough. And the opportunity for dual lovers competing in the mind of Rainier is lost. As a result there's little conflict. It takes him 12 years to even contemplate the common sense test of retracing his steps in Liverpool to try and draw back his memories. Boyer in both his Rainier and his Smithy characters are consistently inactive with both Kitty and Paula, the women, taking the initiative in establishing the relationships. In fact, Paula has to remind Smith to kiss her after he proposes.

While poking holes in the common sense logic might seem like shooting fish in a barrel, with its fairytale-like simplicity and soap opera melodrama, the picture works on the level of Hollywood escapism and the ‘amnesia’ sub-genre of movies.

Spartacus (1960) dir Stanley Kubrick
Starring: Kirk Douglas, Lawrence Olivier, Peter Ustinov, Jean Simmons, Tony Curtis, Charles Laughton

***½

By Alan Bacchus

Sure ‘Spartacus’ is not a ‘Stanley Kubrick’ picture. It has none of his usual visual hallmarks, hell there’s nary a wideangle tracking shot anywhere in the picture. But ‘Spartacus’ represents a great achievement for the great director man nonetheless, one of the benchmarks of his career, and arguably one of his best pictures.

The story behind the making of the picture is well known, the vehicle for Kirk Douglas, serving as star and executive producer of the legendary story of the Roman slave who rose up against the his tyrannical captors, united his fellow slaves and fought against the powerful Roman army. The first director Anthony Mann, a fine director in his own right, displeased Douglas for his ‘lack of scope’ and thus was fired a week into principal photography. Douglas, having established a good working relationship with Stanley Kubrick on ‘Paths of Glory’, hired Kubrick, then 30 years old, to step in and direct the picture.

Thinking back, the idea of Stanley Kubrick as a hired gun, parachuted into a studio picture and working completely under the auspices of is ridiculous. And indeed Kubrick famously quarrelled with Douglas and didn’t get to have the full command and final cut of his film. But it was a learning experience and since then Kubrick famously worked independently, outside Hollywood, as his own producer and always with complete control of the film.

So what would have Kubrick changed of ‘Spartacus’ if he had control? Apparently some gory battle scenes were cut out. I’d also wager he would have plunked much of Alex North’s music. Despite the acclaim, it’s hit and miss score. In the great montage scenes and the aggressive fight and battle sequence, North provides a rousing rhythmic build up, while in the love scenes, hammers home a whiney overwrought tenderness. Of course Kubrick doing tender romance has never been his strong suit - in fact, he’s never tried it since - and so it makes for the weakest elements of the film.

The best personalities exist on the Roman side of the field. Peter Ustinov is loveable as the foppish slave trader and gladiatorial trainer, especiall his banter with crass and cruel Charles Laughton. And Lawrence Olivier relishes his ambiguously gay legion commander role converting all that homosexuality into typical evilness - as is customary in Hollywood.

As for the heroes, Kirk Douglas plays Spartacus with such godlike deification, and lacking any edge, flaws or internal conflict. Same with Jean Simmons as the devoted wife, Varinia, as mentioned a role softened like melted butter by Alex North’s syrupy leitmotif. Even Tony Curtis who plays the former slave whose skills only include juggling and singing songs is monotone and dull throughout. And so in the final act without action we only have these personalities to drive the picture to its finale. Instead it sputters to a mere whimper.

Such is the trap of many of these epics, especially the ones which present its money shot at the end of the second act. The best moments in the third act include the heroic ‘I am Spartacus’ scene and the heroic fight between Antoninus and Spartacus wherein, the ‘winner’ gets crucified! I still have trouble trying to figure out the motivations in that scene.

So the final act is a stinker. The previous two and a half hours provide some of the most rousing sword and sandal entertainment ever produced in the Hollywood. The entire opening gladiator camp sequence is a truly magnificently extended sequence. The gladiatorial training, led by the gruff-voiced Marcellus (Charles McGraw), shows the fuel for Spartacus’s anger and inhuman barbarism of the Romans. Though, it’s Woody Strode, as the silent Ethiopian who wants to keep to himself and eventually heroically sacrifices his life for Spartacus who steals everyone’s scenes. He’s arguably, the most ‘Kubrick’ of any of the characters.

And of course, when it comes to the climatic confrontation between the Gracchus’ army and Spartacus’ there’s few if any battle scenes hyped up and delivered with more cinematic awesomeness. And to think it was all conceived and choreographed by a 30 year Hollywood outsider with only two comparatively smaller features under his belt. To have and disown a film like this on one’s resume is one of the great anomalous asterixes in Hollywood history.

The Heiress (1949) dir. William Wyler
Starring: Olivia De Havilland, Montgomery Clift, Ralph Richardson

***½

By Alan Bacchus

The story of a frumpy spinster and wealthy Heiress, unlucky in love, finds her soul mate in penniless gentleman and fights to keep him against the wishes of her controlling and oppressive father, would seem like ripe material for a triumph of love over money. William Wyler’s adaptation of Augustus Goetz’ play, itself a refashioning of Henry James’ Washington Square is one of the most unexpectedly cynical takes romance in studio Hollywood.

It's the story of love from the angle of the courtship ritual - in this case the Victorian way - a brutal class system transported to America fits like a square peg in a round hole. Olivia De Havilland, one of the most radiant movie stars to ever grace our screens plays the dowdy, shy, and believe it or not, unattractive spinster Catherine Sloper. She's the heiress to a family fortune, but only if she can find a husband to marry. Her knight in shining armour appears to her at a party, a polite gentleman, Mr. Townsend (Clift) who courts her adhering to all the rules of the Victorian aristocracy. It’s a very specific procedure, articulately with precision by Wyler, of dance, calling upon, formal greetings, and most importantly paternal approval.

Ralph Richardson plays the father, a successful and wealthy doctor with a very doubting eye. He’s characterized early as an oppressive figure with expectations too high but in general disappointed in his daughter’s inability to fit into the social culture of his 'class'. While he can be a complete shit and disrespectful at times we do feel he has his daughter’s best interests. And so for much of the film he walks a fine line between fatherly and overprotective.

Montgomery Clift plays Townsend with his usual sympathy. He pours out his love for Catherine so quickly. It’s romantic and honourable until Catherine’s father starts poking holes in his character. And the judge of character were never more important in this society, as tender as currency back in these days.

Old man Sloper approaches his suspicions of Mr. Townsend like he’s diagnosing an illness. Through his conversations at tea and dinner and meetings with his family he slowly sands off the lustre of his charm and find a potentially nefarious motives.

But what it ultimately comes down to is his contempt for his own daughter, feeling that they only thing she has to offer is her money. By the midpoint, we’re kept in the dark as to whether Townsend is genuine and whether the love between the two can surmount Sloper’s obstructions. Is Townsend a golddigger? Or does truly love her?

Admittedly I expected, up until the very end studio Hollywood optimism would prevail, and so when the carpet is pulled out from under Catherine, it’s a sharp jolt to us, the audience, as well. Wyler completes a dark and pessimistic character arc for Catherine, the stuff of great tragedy. Of course, if I had read Henry James, I wouldn’t have had this expectation. And so the ability of Wyler and Fox to tread such dark territory and fool me to easily is admirable.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945) dir. Elia Kazan
Starring: Dorothy McGuire, Peggy Ann Garner, James Dunn, Lloyd Nolan, Ted Donaldson

****

By Alan Bacchus

A heartbreaking emotional story of a 2nd generation Irish immigrant family struggling in near squalor in turn-of-the-century Brooklyn. Though it's a still a revered novel, it's perhaps most significant for being Elia Kazan's first feature film, which brings to bear his distinct working class and socialist sensabilities.

Dorothy McGuire play Katie Nolan a mother of 2, who , with his artist/husband Johnny (James Dunn) continually on the road, bringing back little money, she is forced to bring up the kids all by herself. Her kids recognize the struggle and have even taken to petty theft and scheming to bring home more money. Kazan empathizes with the kids, and their ability to cheat and style are portrayed as admirable traits of social and economic self-preservation.

Financial challenges on the family provide the external conflict. And within the family dynamic between Katie, Johnny and her kids, simmers a cauldron of internized anger. When Johnny comes home he’s welcomed with such warmth, Katie comes to resent it. Which fuels a sad and strong self-loathing. Her husband's genuine joie de vivre and carefree outlook fuels Katie's strong and sad self-loathing.

Like Frank Capra's “You Can’t Take it With You”, another fine film about family, Kazan’s fundamental conundrum for his characters is the difference between financial stability and true emotional happiness. Johnny, at his core, is an optimistic and loving person, but a drunk, who in reality was unable to take care of his kids. So is Katie’s hardline way of life the right way to raise her family? Kazan is pretty clear the latter outlook of life is the way to go.

In fact, Kazan, as an immigrant, who would also go on to make the epic immigration film ‘America America’, and with 'A Tree Grows in Brooklyn' he portrays an even greater his sympathy and understanding of the immigrant experience. The title makes for a wonderful metaphor for the American dream. Where in Europe well rooted class system acts as an incrossable barrier, in America, through shear hardwork, anyone can rise over obstacles and grow through concrete to become a tree.

White Christmas (1954) dir. Michael Curtiz
Starring; Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, Vera-Ellen

**

By Alan Bacchus

Irving Berlin’s song ‘White Christmas’ is an endearing classic – cited by many music sources as the best selling single of all time. The song was recorded by Bing Crosby and released in 1941 and even appeared in the Bing Crosby starrer ‘Holiday Inn’ that same year. But in 1954, Paramount fashioned the single as well as a number of other Berlin songs into the lavish Vistavision Technicolor musical.

Unfortunately, the success of the song not withstanding, the film is a drab and overlong tepid musical, with aging stars and an aging director. It’s a lengthy two hour buddy picture depicting the professional relationship of two old war buddies Bob Wallace (Crosby) and Phil Davis (Kaye) who become a song and dance act. The duo get tricked into auditioning a sister act Betty and Judy (Clooney and Vera-Ellen). Though Bob is resistant Phil who quickly falls in love head over heals lobbies to take them on.

The foursome then retreat to a chalet in Vermont to relax and ‘enjoy’ each other’s company. But when the hotel manager turns out to be Bob and Phil’s old army General, now a shadow of his former authoritative self, the foursome engineer a massive televised musical jamboree featuring the famous titular song to raise his spririts.

Michael Curtiz (‘Casablanca’ ‘The Sea Hawk’, ‘Angels Have Dirty Faces’) is one of my favourite directors, but by 1954, he was long past his prime and it shows. For a musical, his camerawork is surprisingly stodgy and inert. Of course, Curtiz was not known for musicals other than his classic ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ which is less a traditional musical than a showcase for the singular singing and dancing talents of James Cagney.

To his credit, Curtiz does not have much to work with here and there is no one of the caliber of Cagney to support the material. His two stars are as dull as dishwater. Bing Crosby, 49 at the time of the making of the picture, shows his age. Sure Bing was a great crooner, but as a romantic lead, he was just too short, and knobby eared even in his youth for him to carry a picture. His costar Danny Kaye, well… never was the most masculine of actors, and thus is miscast as the handsome swooning romantic.

And so their two leading ladies Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen look like poor spinsters suffering under a false arranged marriage. Looking back into the history of the film, it seemed to originate as a vehicle for Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby to reunite. If this was the case, then Bing would have had the chops of Astaire to rely upon. Unfortunately Astaire was even older than Bing and so, in 1954 that wouldn’t have worked either. A young Donald O’Connor, on the other hand, was at one point tapped for the Danny Kaye role, which would have been ideal.

Other than the ‘let’s put on a show’ motivations, the underlying theme of the film is the loyalty and camaraderie formed by men in battle. The opening musical sequence is a somber reflection on war and the contrast of our humanistic inner emotions and the horrors of battle. In the end the duo, though now successful and famous, still are subordinate and penitent to their army superiors. The depiction of the General in civilian mode is perhaps meant to remind society of the heroism these ordinary people in society once did for their country and to heed us not to forget these sacrifices.

That’s about the only redeeming theme to take from this indigestible and dated musical.

A 2-Disc Special Edition of White Christmas” is available on DVD from Paramount Pictures Home Entertainment

Gone With the Wind (1939) dir. Victor Fleming
Starring: Vivien Leigh, Clark Gable, Hattie McDaniel, Leslie Howard, Olivia De Havilland

****

By Alan Bacchus

The event picture of all time gets everything it’s due from Warner Bros’ pimped out Blu-Ray box set. It’s been 70 years and most of us weren’t around during the making of this picture, but there’s enough documentation about the film’s far-reaching production history, as well as David O Selznick’s own egotistical wants and desires to render GWTW the undisputed biggest, most hyped, and greatest-ever film event. Its grandeur, spectacle and pop culturally zeitgeist significance is still a marvel and remains largely untouched in the annals of cinema history.

Just go to box office mojo and sort the biggest box office films of all time by inflation adjusted numbers and you’ll see GWTW is still the highest grossing movie of all time ($1.4 billion). All the greater achievement knowing producer David O. Selznick concertedly sought to make the biggest and greatest picture of all time.

Selznick’s adaptation of Margaret Mitchell’s book created a cinematic template for sweeping romantic epics, that is pitting the individual conflicts of its characters amongst in the context of far-reaching and monumental historical conflicts.

Mitchell’s hero is a naïve young southern Belle, Scarlett O’Hara. As a young girl from a well off, but self-made Irish immigrant father, she’s only seen the spoils of the Old South living on an expansive and romantic cotton plantation called ‘Tara’. It doesn’t take long for the story to send O’Hara’s blissful life into despair when her one love in the world, Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), announces an engagement to Scarlett’s cousin Melanie (Olivia De Havilland). Scarlett whines and pouts and decides to hastily marry local dweeb Charles Hamilton on a whim and move to Atlanta. Meanwhile Scarlett continually crosses paths and flirts with dashing Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) – a charming southern gentleman, aristocrat and career-bachelor.

When the Civil War arrives Scarlett’s decadent lifestyle comes to a violent end. Hamilton is killed in battle and the city of Atlanta is burnt to the ground by the invading Yankees. Scarlett retreats to her beloved Tara only to realize that it too has been decimated by war. And so, at her lowest moment Scarlett shouts to the world and to us, the audience, ‘if I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again.’ Indeed Scarlett adapts to the new realities of the Old South, picks herself up, becomes an independent entrepreneur and rebuilds Tara. She even resorts to marrying Rhett Butler in order to reclaim her status and wealth. Unfortunately with her forlorn love for Ashley Wilkes still kindling her relationship with Butler becomes poisoned resulting in tragedy as dramatic as the war she overcame.

Under the pen of screenwriter Sidney Howard and ultimately under Selznick’s watchful eye the character of Scarlett O’Hara is never trumped by the pyrotechnics and spectacle. Over the nearly 4 hours running time, Scarlett’s motivations and goals always remain consistent. And after all the obstacles put in front of her she emerges with a remarkably precise and clearly defined character arc with as much dramatic gravitas as any character ever put to screen.

Structurally, the emotional place of her character is visualized succinctly by one shot repeated three times throughout the picture – the definitive image of the film, the sundrenched landscape vista showing framing Scarlett underneath a tree with the Tara estate in the background. In the opening, Scarlett, young and naïve, is with her father being told of the intrinsic value of land; at the midpoint, when Scarlett has returned to her home destitute and penniless, underneath the same tree, though now leafless and naked, she loudly proclaims her desire to ‘never starve again’; and then in the end after her child has died and Rhett has left her she retreats to Tara, her only true unconditional form of love – her home.

In between these benchmarks, a number of memorable characters and set pieces elevate the material to Hollywood entertainment of the highest order. Of course, Gable as Rhett Butler is iconic, a role cast by the demand of the people at the time. His elusive charm and bad boy enigma is a guide for all on-screen rebels. Hattie McDaniel, the first black person to win an Oscar, is so supremely lovable as Scarlett’s loyal housemaid.

Under the producer-driven studio machine, Selznick achieves ‘epicness’ with a number of astonishing set pieces aided by the great William Cameron Menzies phenomenal production design; The ballroom dance sequence is of course a revered classic, but set up with great tension when Rhett controversially announces to the crowd he wants to take Scarlett’s hand in the dance; the tragedy of the Civil War is visualized in one magnificent epic shot when the camera, following Scarlett, pulls back to reveal the railyard littered with dead soldiers; the burning of Atlanta sequence uses the best matte photography effects, and the final emotional moments between Rhett and Scarlett at her fog hazed doorway oozes melodrama.

Gone With the Wind is a rare case where its desire for ‘grandeur’ trickles down successfully through every aspect of production. From Selznick’s mad need for wanton audacity, the obscene four-hour running time, Max Steiner's memorable score, the film’s massive production elements, even down to Scarlett O’Hara’s character grand character arc, the film continually leaps over the audiences’ high expectations, which with much room to spare.

Even the Warner Bros 70th Anniversary Blu-Ray box-set is gargantuan enough for Selznick’s approval. The set contains, the film in stunning High Definition detail, a hardcover production art book, authentic personal memos from Selznick, even that early 1990’s 6-hour television documentary on the history of the MGM Studio, ‘When the Lion Roared’

Miracle on 34th Street (1947) dir. George Seaton
Starring: Maureen O’Hara, Edmund Gwenn, Natalie Wood, John Payne

***

The title of this picture is a bit of a misnomer. The film is certainly no miracle, nor are there any profound miracles in the story. The story of the real Santa who inadvertently becomes a fake Santa in the Macy’s Day parade who then has to prove he’s the real Santa in order to get himself out of an insane asylum is a decent Christmas flick. A kind of like Frank Capra-light , with unabashed humanist sentimentalism but without the dramatic and emotional gravitas which gives you those warm fuzzies in the Christmas season.

A jolly old portly guy with a white beard and red suit (Edmund Gwenn) happens to walk into the New York Macy’s Day parade one November afternoon. He happens to bump into Doris Walker (Maureen O’Hara) the rational thinking business woman who's managing the event. When the hired parade Santa shows up drunk, she’s quickly convinces this other kind gentleman who happens to be wearing the outfit to take his place.

The man’s name happens to be Kris Kringle and is thus the real Santa. After the ceremony, Kris is hired to become the permanent department store Santa at Macy’s. But Kris keeps insisting he’s the real Santa. When Doris and her superiors start to realize he’s not just method acting and that he actually believes he’s Santa he’s sent to the looney bin. But Kris is so effective as the department store Santa, who speaks to the children and adults with a refreshingly honest and optimistic tone. Kris develops a relationship with Doris’ daughter Susan (Natalie Wood) who has been taught all this time that there is no Santa. When Susan is encouraged to just ‘believe’ this causes conflict with the rationally thinking Doris. Eventually when the trial against Santa begins everyone’s faith in myths and joy of the yuletide season are put to the test.

The trio of Edmund Gween, Maureen O’Hara and Natalie Wood form a solid foundation of Christmas warmth. The portrayal of Doris as a single working mother could be seen as a very progressive characterization of women. She could be seen as doing man’s work, but it’s never referenced, and her upbringing of Susan on her own is admirable and years ahead of its time. O’Hara, the radiant curley haired Irish beauty and favoured John Ford-player is both matronly and cool-confident. Natalie Wood, then a precocious child actor, has the spark of the greatest child actors in Hollywood history. She exudes both innocence and maturity. And Gween, who won an Oscar as Santa is really the final word on Santas on films.

If anything, the story relies too heavily on the trial of Santa, and leads up to the rather silly legal technicality which gets Kris Kringle off. When the postal workers march up into the courtroom and dump all the Santa letters on the judge’s table it doesn’t exactly resound with a cinema aura of goodness, it feels more an attempt at Capra-esque charm.

One can’t help compare “It’s a Wonderful Life” with ‘The Miracle on 34th Street’. Both were made a year apart, and featured shamelessly virtuous titles. If anything, what “Miracle” lacks in miracles it is makes with its modernist view on consumerism and it thus worthy, but not the final word on Christmas movies.

Both the original 1947 “Miracle on 34th Street” and its 1994 remake are available on Blu-Ray from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment