Erano tutti miei figli

... in that in most noirs you see the dilemma up front in its compexity and completion. And then you watch the protagonist stumble through a series of decisions in which the noose just tightens.

Here the opening scenes are middle class and almost mundane and so post war. A son (Burt Lancaster) has returned from war and is planning to marry the girl of his dead brother, killed in the war. The living son's mother can't deal with the fact that her dead son is indeed dead - he died on an aerial mission and his body was never recovered. And thus she is not very supportive of this prospective union.

But this film turns out not to be about war and remembrance and the new middle class at all. Instead it is about a deed past done, and apparently the perpetrator has gotten away with it, and only as the film wears on are all of the secrets revealed, as well as the real reason the mother cannot accept her son's death.

Edward G. Robinson is terrific as the father who is living the American dream after being set out on the sidewalks by his own family since the age of ten. Lancaster with his beaming smile and his head full of bushy hair would look at home in a collegiate letter jacket, and this is a good early showcase for his talents. Harry Morgan appears in a minor role as one of the fathers of the ongoing baby boom.

I haven't said much here about what is really the conflict in this film, because I don't want to give anything away. However, it is a great film about moral conflict versus friend and family and even patriotic obligations, and it is a shame it is so obscure.

All My Sons (1948) : Brief Review -

A terrific human guilt drama that reflects family pressure and a long-living conscience. Irving Reis's family drama is neither entertaining nor strained, but quite suspenseful. The idea of keeping the mystery unwrapped till the end was certainly new for family dramas back then, or is even today. Also, World War reference and the corporate business culture during the war period fit perfectly here. Joe Keller had been accused of murdering army officers due to a faulty shipment years ago. The court and juries acquitted him and grabbed his business partner, Herb. Now, years later, Herb's daughter and Joe's son want to get married, but Herb's son learns the truth and wants his sister to stay away from Joe and his family. The girl was previously engaged to Joe's first son, who disappeared years ago, and that's why the other son can't marry her as the mother is still hoping for that son to return home. What is the truth? Well, I guess you know it by now, or you can sense it halfway while watching the movie, but that doesn't kill the suspense at all. It eventually becomes more interesting because of its consequences. Things are predictable, but never boring. Every character offers something different. Every character has a problem of its own, and that's how they get involved with each other and then find a solution. The film has terrific speed, and the screenplay makes sure you don't get away from your sofa. The tension feels real and intriguing. Edward G. Robinson is fantastic as the man of the family, the man with the guilt, and the man with the responsibility. I couldn't have imagined him and Burt Lancaster playing father and son in the 40s, but it came out so well. Louisa Horton is another star performer, along with Mady Christians. I shall give full marks to Irving Reis for keeping me hooked and gripped for 95 minutes with the drama that I thought couldn't hold me. Reis makes sure the engagement gets an intellectual and burning ending, so don't miss it.

RATING - 7/10*

By - #samthebestest.

Playwright Arthur Miller had a great deal at stake when his play 'All my Sons' opened on Broadway in 1947. He later admitted that had the play failed he would have been obliged to find another line of work. Directed by Elia Kazan and featuring a top notch cast it ran for almost two years. The rest, as they say, is history.

It did not take long of course for Hollywood to pounce and to make a version that Miller himself came to despise. This play is not the last in which Miller would show the darker side of the American Dream. Adaptor Chester Erskine has however, carefully removed any of Miller's leftist sentiments and the crime committed by Joe Keller in selling defective cylinders to the US Airforce, which results in the death of 21 pilots, is blamed on Keller's own greed rather than the Capitalist system that created him and so many like him.

To my knowledge there is nothing in the previous films of Irving Reis that would suggest his being capable of doing justice to this material and his direction lacks fluidity. He is aided by the 'noirish' touches of cinematographer Russell Metty and an understated score by Leith Stevens. In keeping with the inevitable compromise of film, some characters, notably Dr. and Mrs. Bayliss, have been diminished. Keller's business partner Deever who has taken the rap for the crime and is only spoken of in the play, is here given a speaking role which is filmically very effective. Deever's daughter Ann is played by Louisa Horton who is not a typical Hollywood glamour puss by any means but whose directness and sincerity make her excellent casting. This was to be her first and only film role of note. Burt Lancaster plays Keller's son Chris. Although keen to improve as an actor, Lancaster's charisma works against him here and he does not really convince as an average Joe. As Deever's son, Howard Gruff is as Duff as ever and strictly one dimensional. The strength of the film lies in the performances of Edward G. Robinson and Mady Christians as Joe and Kate. Robinson is superlative as a man whose outward bonhomie and confidence conceal a terrible sense of guilt. His assertions that he did it 'for the family' have a hollow ring. Kate is living in a fantasy world, clinging to the belief that their son Larry, reported lost in action, will return. The devastating scene in which she reads the letter confirming his death is beautifully played.

Ironically Miller, Robinson and Christians were all summoned by the HUAC for alleged Communist leanings. Miller emerged unscathed, Robinson's 'A' listing suffered throughout the 1950's until Cecil B. de Mille came to his rescue but Christians was not so fortunate. Her outspokenness not only shattered her career but ended her life.

This piece is decidedly not filmed theatre. It is cinema but alas, not great cinema.

The movie version of Arthur Miller's All My Sons is yet another excellent example of how a fairly dreadful play can make a watchable, even beautiful film. In its day quite relevant, the play now reeks of the stuffily leftish Old Testament pieties of the Group Theatre of the thirties, and in style, if not content, anticipates the think-piece, more mainstream television dramas of the fifties. The plot is worth going into only briefly, and concerns a morally corrupt though not innately bad manufacturer of aircraft parts whose cost-cutting was responsible for the crashing of several planes during the then recent Second World War. Set in what appears to be either a New York suburb or a leafy section of one of the city's outer boroughs, the films is beautifully photographed and designed. It isn't quite realistic, as it is obviously a studio product, but it is far less artificial-looking than most movies of the period, and is singularly evocative in every detail of a way of middle class life, leisurely and informal, egalitarian and yet conscious of social distinctions, that has long passed into history. Beautifully rendered also is the large, very comfortable house in and around which much of the film takes place. Not quite a mansion, it is nevertheless roomy and in its way elegant, of Victorian vintage or nearly so. We get to see so much of it. The dining room, with its fluffy, lacey things all about; the heavy soup bowls and plates decorated with vines and flowers; and in its somwhat retro feeling it appears, like the family itself, both vaguely European and wholesomely American. Everything in the house seems heavy and solid, nailed down, as it were, as if this way of life was going to go on forever. The scenes in the backyard show the lazy, hazy summer afternoons of lemonade and hammocks, before the arrival of television, interstate highways, and shopping malls. Overall the picture is so brilliantly and minutely detailed, whether the set is a restaurant or a factory, that it is astonishing that it didn't win the Academy Award for set design. The action, consisting mostly of people either arguing with one another, lying, or expressing strong emotions, like love and hate, is very well presented and framed within the various settings. None of the actors in the film, including a young Burt Lancaster, is at his absolute best, though Edward G. Robinson, as the paterfamilas, in snugly in his element here, and quite credible, if not moving. There's a cockiness to Robinson which, though quite charming in certain roles, works against pathos or sympathy of any kind. Thus, in the end, the film is strangely fails to tug at the heartstrings, so to speak; it worked better in the earlier scenes, before the story built a head of steam. A few behind the scenes things are worth mentioning, not the least of which director Irving Reis, whose orchestration of this and several other films of the period showed great potential. Like Robert Wise, Mark Robson, John Sturges, Edward Dmytryk and Jules Dassin, Reis was a strong up-and-comer in the Hollywood pecking order of directors of the time, and was, sadly, to die just a few years later. Mady Christians, who plays Robinson's foreign-born wife, was blacklisted shortly after the film came about. All My Sons was one of the films that was presumably going to launch its studio, the newly reorganized Universal-International, into the big leagues. It didn't, but that's another story.

A standard 1940s group of ensemble players, coupled with the strength of an Arthur Miller project. All cast principles and minor players were at the top of their forms when they stood before the cameras. None were noted as powerful stage actors in their own right. Yet when they appeared in this film, they succeeded in doing what I think a significant stage work should do. Carry the viewer into the stage (not film) theater, and give them the unique experience of a Broadway or Off-Broadway theater seat.

The production style and direction (for reasons of cost and utility) let the words of Miller's play take center stage. In beautiful black-and-white, the Art and Set direction are spare, firm, and commanding. They command our attention. Miller is big on attention to the issues his characters are grappling with and their impact on the significant issues of our (and all) time.

As Miller repeats in Death of a Salesman, there are layers of meaning and understanding between his characters and the issues they confront internally and externally. The two business partners have had a long, intimate family relationship (like Cain and Able). So close a connection that his son could have married his partner's daughter. And she, of course, is the only one who has always known (from that son) the truth about the son's death. And the fact (s) about the father.

Miller shows us that the father's Horatio Alger lies are at the foundation of who we are individually and collectively as Americans; the lies can almost thoroughly wash out what individuals and a community should think about its leading citizens. It is an interesting plot twist that, as Miller's script points out, the low-class birth and poverty of the father embed him into the fabric of the community.

That the film faithfully carried Miller's message of contempt and loathing not only for the worship of that false god(capitalism) but also for the whole Horatio Alger hero myth (that both American liberals and conservatives embrace) is quite daring. Even for a film world that had not yet descended into the long night of the "Black List."