Crimes sans châtiment

I've only recently seen this film in its entirety (after decades of watching the clip of Ronnie Reagan's best scene in it) and am totally surprised by how fine this film really is; in fact, when it ended, I found myself wanting to burst into applause. But to appreciate it you must put yourself into the time it was made, mid- to late 1941. This picture was meant to be an "A" picture (that is, the first picture to be shown on a double bill, or the only film being shown) showcasing the up and coming generation of Warners actors. None of the young players was particularly well-known, except in supporting roles. The older players were all familiar to film, theater and radio audiences. Radio, since radio drama was a major national venue then and all of these older players, in fact, most major stars, had starring roles in radio plays.

This picture would have been shown in its first run in the chain of theaters owned by Warners, mostly large ones, and shown in a large house, holding an audience of a thousand people or more, with a very large screen yards wide and high and a sound system that was louder and definitely more "high fidelity" than any member of the audience had at home or had heard anywhere else.

The book on which the film was based had been a scandalous best seller two years before and many if not most had read it (people read books then!) and in fact many in the audience were probably alive when this film takes place, in the last decade of the 19th century and the first decade of the 20th. Everyone would have been familiar with the style of dialogue and acting, which seems stilted to us, since it originated on the stage, with no microphones; the costumes, customs and speech would have been in living memory for many watching it in its first run, if not theirs, then their parents'.

As for Korngold's superb score, this too was a familiar part of a theatrical experience at the time. Most stage plays had live incidental music accompanying them. All major Broadway plays did. Opera, operetta and vaudeville were all part of the audience's experience, all with live music as part of the experience, and no one would have found Korngold's score obtrusive, just part of the show and gorgeous to hear. In fact, Korngold's score for "Robin Hood" in 1938 was premiered live on network radio as a major event, before the picture opened!

As for black and white, these films were truly in "black and white" on the big screen. Blacks WERE black and whites were silvery white. We see then on video screens, and so far, even with the best of those, these films look to be in "gray and grayer", with not the high contrast they had in the theater. So we dismiss them as flat and lifeless; in the theater, black and white has quite a lot of depth and sparkle.

So in its proper context, this film is really quite astonishingly good. The production design is by the same man who designed the look of "Gone With the Wind", so there are the gorgeously composed shots, the depth of field, use of light and shadow and attention to detail in that film. Even the landscapes, matte paintings that so many of them are, most have looked quite beautiful projected large. The acting is all first rate. All the actors, in their late twenties and early thirties, are playing younger than their ages. Cummings has the right wide eyed innocence of an only child reared in relative isolation by his grandmother, Sheridan is beautiful and true, Reagan lively and cocky, and Field, the disturbed adolescent. Reagan is the real surprise here; totally unaffected, he acts effortlessly here on film, building a character, listening to the actors in the scene and reacting in the moment. And his best scenes, "THAT" one, and the final scene, are excellent.

And when it ends, with a flourish those audiences would have found entirely familiar and even comforting, I can imagine an audience of a thousand bursting into prolonged applause.

For those who made fun of President Reagan's movie career by always citing "Bedtime for Bonzo" and laughing may be surprised if they take the time to watch "Kings Row." Even "Bedtime for Bonzo" is not as bad as those who have never seen it think it is, because of the ridiculous title. The former sports announcer plays Drake McHugh as well or better than any other Hollywood actor of the period could have. He stands tall among an extremely talented group of actors, including several others who have also been underrated and never received their due by the Hollywood establishment, especially Bob Cummings and Ann Sheridan. There's also Judith Anderson of "Rebecca" fame; Claude Rains who first made a name for himself in a part were he was invisible through most of the film; Charles Coburn, the grand old man of 40's cinema, playing against type in "Kings Row" as not such a grand old man; Maria Ouspenskaya in a non-horror role; and Betty Field shines as the tortured soul, Cassie.

Sam Wood's magnificent direction plus the acting keep the story from slipping into soap opera melodrama. True heart-rending sentiment rather than sappy sentimentality emerges from the social and economic conflicts that mix with human kindness and cruelty in small-town America at the turn of the last century. Though there is an element of nostalgia for a vanishing America, it never becomes petty or commonplace.

Henry Bellamann's account of small town life at the turn of the twentieth century, with its central themes of incest, suicide, religious fanaticism, homosexuality, euthanasia and sadism (among other less controversial topics), assured its best seller status when the book was first published in 1940. When Warner Brothers released its film version two years later, much of the story's sensational content was altered or eliminated entirely and yet the movie remained surprisingly compelling. The first part of the film concerns itself primarily with Parris Mitchell (Robert Cummings), the sensitive and idealistic doctor-in-training, and his volatile relationship with his childhood sweetheart, Cassie (played by Betty Field), and it's less successful because of the films inability to deal honestly with the demons that haunt Cassie. (The revelation that Cassie is being molested by her father is jettisoned completely and the movie, instead, settles for the explanation that Cassie is mentally ill. The frantic and desperate interludes that Parris and Cassie share, however, fevered by a kind of histrionic intensity, don't make much sense within this context and the viewer is left feeling somewhat bewildered by it all). The second part of the film, which focuses on the other major love story, that of Parris' best friend Drake (Ronald Reagan) and Randy (Ann Sheridan), the poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks, is more faithful to Bellamann's novel and altogether more satisfying. There is also a fascinating subplot, involving Drake's abandoned sweetheart, Louise (Nancy Coleman), that helps to sustain the film and propel the movie to its dynamic conclusion. Though Cummings, as Parris, is bland and overly-sincere, the movie contains what is considered to be Ronald Reagan's finest screen performance (not that the competition had been that keen) and Ann Sheridan is an immensely warm and lovely presence. The film belongs, however, to it's amazing supporting cast, comprised of some of Hollywood's finest character players: Betty Field, touching as the frightened and disturbed Cassie; the wonderful Claude Rains, beautifully underplaying as Cassie's sad, troubled father; Maria Ouspenskaya, characteristically cast as Parris' wise and loving grandmother; and, in particular, Nancy Coleman as the hysterical Louise, the sexually repressed daughter of religious fanatics (Charles Coburn and Judith Anderson). The memorable score, by Erich Wolfgang Korngold, adds immeasurably to the mood.

Kings Row is perhaps the granddaddy of all small-town epics--a strong story line, an excellent cast and all of it punctuated by one of Erich Wolfgang Korngold's most melodious background scores. Considering this was done in the early '40s, the subject matter is handled honestly but with the kind of discretion it would never receive by any of today's filmmakers. Instead, you are asked to connect the dotted lines on the subject of incest, insanity, sadism and moral corruption behind closed doors and come up with your own observations. Two outstanding leads are Ann Sheridan (never more heartbreakingly honest and moving as the girl from the wrong side of the tracks) and Ronald Reagan as the carefree man she loves and sticks by when fate deals him a hard blow. Robert Cummings is too weak in the central role of Parris--he was always much more suited to comedy than strong drama. But the rest of the large supporting cast are extremely effective--Nancy Coleman (on the brink of insanity after her doctor father's horrific act), Judith Anderson, Charles Coburn (as the sadistic doctor), Claude Rains and Betty Field. Wonderful black and white photography by James Wong Howe, excellent script by Casey Robinson, meticulous production design by William Cameron Menzies and, of course, that pulsating Korngold score--all create one of the most powerful films of the '40s. Ann Sheridan was never better--and Ronald Reagan is fully up to the requirements of a difficult role.

Sometimes melodramatic but otherwise engaging adaptation of popular novel tracks the lives of a group of friends in a small town from childhood to adulthood, as they cope with life's challenges. There are good performances from Cummings as an earnest fellow who wants to become a doctor, Field as a mysterious young woman he loves, Rains as her domineering father, Reagan, in his finest role, as Cummings' best friend, and the radiant Sheridan as the former tomboy from the wrong side of the tracks who loves Reagan. Well directed by Wood, helped by the top-notch cinematography (Howe) and score (Korngold). It beautifully captures the feel of a small town around the turn of the 20th century.