Yankee Doodle Dandy

The amazing piece of timing here is when Warner Bros. began work on this biography of entertainer George M. Cohan, WWII had not yet broken out. The attack on Pearl Harbor occurred the day before shooting began. When the film opened people on the home front badly needed some morale boosting, and this film gave it to them. It's just a joyous musical costume piece from start to finish with nice comic touches balanced with some sentimental moments (supposedly Walter Huston's deathbed scene had even taskmaster director Michael Curtiz crying). There's nothing in the way of real conflict or even much heavy in the way of romance between Cohan and his fictitious film wife "Mary", who was modeled after Cohan's actual second wife in some ways. Cohan was actually married twice. Oddly enough, it was Cohan who said he wanted as little romance in the film as possible.

The more I learn about Cohan the more I realize that Cagney was perfect to play him - both Irish Americans, both about the same size and build, and George Cohan's style of dancing and singing were about the same as Cagney's. It's hard to believe that Fred Astaire was Cohan's first choice to play himself. Astaire was a great talent, but I don't think he could have conveyed the combination of mischief, optimism and energy that was Cohan the way that Cagney ultimately did. Several people criticize Cagney's dancing here, but that eccentric style was Cohan's, who always considered himself more of an overall entertainer than a dancer in the first place.

If you're "date conscious" as I am, there are some matters of plot that might bother you. Cohan was born on July 2 or 3, not July 4. Cohan's mother outlived his father by eleven years and Cohan's father was not "very old" when he died as is said in the film - at least by today's standards. When Cohan's father died in 1917, he was only 69. Cohan's sister did die young - she was only 39, dying in 1916, plus she was not his little sister. Instead Josie was a year older than George. The film has Josie marrying when she would have been close to forty, when she actually married at the beginning of the 20th century and thus was the one to break up the four Cohans, not George. Also, Cohan received his Congressional Medal in 1936, not as WWII began as shown in the film. However the plot device of having George M. recount his life story to FDR, receiving his Congressional medal in the Oval Office, and then dance joyously down the White House stairs and into the streets joining a group of marching soldiers in a chorus of "Over There" was probably a great way to bridge Cohan's patriotic past with what was then an uncertain time that certainly needed a dose of his optimism.

The one thing that I did find a little odd - and one thing isn't much in a two plus hour long movie - is that it is hard to spot the actual point in the film where Mary becomes George's wife. There is quite a bit of domesticity shown before the two were married. Mary is cooking for George, staying in his apartment alone waiting for him to come home from the show, and acting very much like they are already married. The only way you know they are not is that George very subtly pops the question to the point that I'm surprised even Mary knew what he was asking! I know this doesn't seem like much in today's world, but considering that they were trying to paint Cohan in the most positive light possible and that the living arrangements might be misunderstood, I am surprised that the censors of that time never raised the issue.

At any rate, I highly recommend this one. You'll have a great time, at least in part because you can see that Cagney is having a great time. He always said this film was his favorite, and it shows in his performance.

`It seems it always happens…Whenever we get too high hat and sophisticated for flag-waving, some thug nation decides we're a pushover, all ready to be blackjacked. It's not long before we start looking up mighty anxiously to make sure the flag is still waving.'

So says James Cagney, as George M. Cohan, at the time of the sinking of the Lusitania in 1915. Obviously, it's a sentiment that has great relevance to our time, as well. I've always wished I could dance a patriotic dance or march down the street waving the flag. It looks like a lot of fun. The trouble is, this sort of activity is often performed to suppress what America is really about. The really great thing about our country isn't songs, flags and marches. Any country can do those things. The real great thing is that we have the right to say what we think, to debate the issues of the day and to form a consensus for action when we are in agreement about what needs to be done.

There was surely such a consensus when this film was made in 1942. There was little doubt about what needed to be done then. However, World War I seems now a particularly pointless conflict and the thought that smiling Frances Langford was singing soldiers into battle to who knows what fate is a little disturbing. And now, whenever there is a war, we are urged to join the parade and postpone debate until the issue is something not so important, like farm prices or college entrance requirements. It seems to me that the more important an issue is, the more we should be debating it. If people are going to die, we'd better make sure we are right.

From that point of view, `Yankee Doodle Dandy' can seem almost offensive. But, of course it isn't. Is a charming example of one of the thing Old Hollywood did best- the romantic biography. In this George M. is an all-right guy, an enormous bundle of energy that intimidates the stuffed shirts but causes people of substance to fall in love with him. He has a wonderful family and one of those `perfect' Hollywood wives- Mary, who doesn't even wince when he gives the song he wrote for her to another actress. He has a loyal friend and partner in Jed Harris. For some reason he's childless but still gets a thrill from performing for his beloved audiences. And, when his country needs a shot in the arm, his enthusiastic songs provide it.

Of course, he was married twice. His divorce from his first wife Ethel, was acrimonious and thus she doesn't appear in the story. `May' is a fictionalized version of his second wife Agnes. He had children but they also didn't make the cut because he was estranged from them at the time of the film. He was loathed by many of his profession for years before this because of his strong anti-union stance. His split with Jed Harris was not the gentle retirement we see here but was, at least in part because Harris had given in to the unions. And he himself loathed Franklin Roosevelt, refusing for four years to pick up the medal FDR and Congress had awarded him. Would it have been a better movie if these things were incorporated into the script? Probably not. Hollywood- and the nation at the time- was more concerned with the way things should have been than with the way they actually were.

Cagney was surely a perfect choice to play Cohan, being an Irishman who enter show business as a song and dance man, (and always considered himself primarily that). His exuberant personality also mirrors that of Cohan, who was said not to be particularly great at anything but did everything with such enthusiasm that it didn't matter. That said, I have never been a particular fan of Cagney's `puppet on a string' dance style. Dancing is supposed to be an expression of one's inner self. A puppet has no inner self.

There are many charming sequences in the film, none more so than the `cute-meet' with Mary where he's played a dottering old man in a play and she thinks he really is one until he starts showing her dance steps. Then there's his refusal by the Army because of his age. He does another dance routine to show them what they are missing. You've got to love the sequence where he and Harris, (Richard Whorf), con Cuddles Zakal into backing them. Then there's a glimpse of Cagney cute sister, Jeanne, playing Josie, Cohan's sister. We are not told why Josie is `gone' late in the film- her heart attack at age 36 was deemed too unpleasant, as was the death of Cohan's mother, (Rosemary Decamp, who was more than a decade younger than Cagney). The one death scene is that of Cohan's beloved father, played by Walter Huston, who was a Cohan protégé. Chan himself was on his deathbed as this was released, (he submitted a script which was `tactfully rejected'). He escaped his nurse to see it in a theater and gave it his approval, as we should, too.

`Yankee Doodle Dandy' makes the viewer say, `They don't make them like that anymore.' The film is uplifting for its espousal of unabashed patriotism and its representation of America as a place in which a gifted performer like George M. Cohan could rise from vaudeville to Broadway. It is also moving for its reverence for the nineteenth late century theatre and early twentieth century Broadway: the sequence showing Cohan's successes of the 1920s commemorate the other musical and non musical hits of the decade as much as Cohan's. I was moved to tears by the ending showing the elderly Cohan joining in a World War II parade, a group of soldiers marching to `Over There' and being asked why he isn't singing, `Hey old-timer, don't you know this song?' `Yankee Doodle Dandy' is a celebration of Cohan's life and career -- a little sanitised perhaps, but still portraying his love for his family, his profession and his country. It isn't a museum piece but more of a picture from another era – and in a time when America is honoured by songs such as `Kick Ass USA' it's a valuable reminder of an age when people feeling their country under threat roused their nationalism by reminding themselves of what made them want to fight for it.

So it takes liberties with facts. So it's jingoistic. Big deal! I adore it for its depiction of turn-of-the-(20th}century New York, especially its theater, which has fascinated me for years. And it has the breath-taking performance of Jimmy Cagney in the title role; he's absolutely elecrifying in the musical numbers. If some scenes are mawkish, well, I think that can be forgiven.

This movie, above all others, make me so proud to be an American.

James Cagney put down his tommy gun and grapefruit long enough to register his lone Oscar-winning performance in one of Hollywood's most enduring biopics, playing song-and-dance man George M. Cohan with so much gusto it's hard to believe the filmmakers wanted Fred Astaire, or that Cagney ever did anything else but musicals. Cohan himself probably didn't make as good a Cohan as Cagney does here.

The film is best-known for its musical moments, not only because of Cagney's clever hoofing but for the way the numbers are staged. When Cohan debuts his new song "You're A Grand Old Flag," the picture goes from being a relatively straight stage shoot to a series of logistically-improbable montages (a group of Boy Scouts give way to Revolutionary War troops, which melt into a knot of freed slaves gathered around a statue of Lincoln) that sell the history of the United States in all its glory. Finally, as the song winds to its big finish, hundreds and hundreds of uniformed flag bearers spill out on a stage suddenly too big to hold any conventional theater.

The overall effect of this is overwhelming enough to make you want to run out and buy War Bonds 60 years after the conflict "Yankee Doodle Dandy" was inspired by has ended. Patriotism may go out of style from time to time, but events happy and otherwise have a way of bringing it back.

The smaller touches make "Yankee Doodle Dandy" as entertaining as it is inspiring. Little Georgie gets too big for his britches when he tells a Brooklyn audience he can lick any kid in town, and gets put to the test. Older George and a partner beguile a producer (played by S.Z. Sakall, Carl from "Casablanca") into taking on a play no one else wants by pretending it's a hot property. George meets his future wife Mary in old-man costume, and can't resist having a little fun with her. "I know I have talent," Mary blurts, "even if I am from Buffalo."

Cagney does talk rather fast, and he needs to if only to keep pace with a frenetic storyline. Situations change rather quickly in "Yankee Doodle Dandy," and sometimes, as with George's sudden success and the later dissolution of the Four Cohans, it happens a bit too fast to follow. Cagney hardly pauses for breath. He's no singer, either, talking his way through his numbers like Rex Harrison in "My Fair Lady," only not as well.

But few films deliver the goods like "Yankee Doodle Dandy." You get a strong feeling for vaudeville entertainment, how mass entertainment worked in the gaslight age. The musical numbers (all done within the context of public performance, or else rehearsal, i.e. naturalistically) have real charm. The dialogue is great, too, a trifle canned and buffed-up maybe, but very Runyon-ish in its Stage Door Johnny way.

The best scene, for Cagney's acting and for comedy, is when he shows Mary a new song he wrote for her. The way his eyes move from her face to the score, prompting her unnecessarily, reveals both affection and the showman's inner ham. He almost looks menacing, but of course it's because he's smitten by the singer and trying to tell her through his song. It also sets up a great bit of comedy later on when George has to give Mary's song away to stage star Fay Templeton, then go back and explain it to Mary.

"He's the whole country squeezed into one pair of pants," exclaims one producer trying to get Templeton to hitch her wagon to Cohan's star. With Cagney wearing the pants, the end result is a perfect fit.