The Place Before Peyton

Film: Kings Row
Format: DVD from NetFlix on rockin’ flatscreen.

When I think of movies from the 1940s, I tend to think of film noir and films that did what they could to tweak the Hays Code. I tend to forget that there was still a strong streak of melodrama in those years. I was thoroughly reminded of that with Kings Row, one of the soggiest melodramas you’re likely to run across. In this case, that’s not necessarily a terrible thing. Oh, Kings Row is all about the banks of strings playing intensely whenever something emotional happens, and there’s going to be plenty of extreme events to ratchet up those emotions, but there is a difference between a melodrama that’s just drippy and one that is interesting.

So what makes Kings Row interesting? A couple of things. First, this was the picture that made Ronald Reagan a star. He wasn’t able to capitalize on that because he was drafted around the same time as its release. Some would suggest it’s his best movie. Since he was also in Dark Victory I think that’s a stretch, but it’s almost certainly his best performance and his best role. It’s also a film that has had a unique impact on popular culture. If you listen to the main theme, it sounds vaguely familiar. This is because John Williams used it as his inspiration for the main theme for Star Wars.

Anytown, USA

Films: Our Town
Format: Internet video on laptop.

Our Town is based on a stage play, and it manages to do something that many films do not: it doesn’t specifically look like it was based on a stage play. That in and of itself is noteworthy. The movie is based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning play of the same name by Thornton Wilder. I don’t always like stage transfers to screen because they tend to look like someone staged the play and then filmed it. That’s definitely not the case here, and it works very much to the film’s credit.

The drama that takes place happens in the town of Grover’s Corners, NH. We’re introduced to the town by Mr. Morgan (Frank Craven), a local resident (maybe) or perhaps something like a guiding spirit over the town. It’s a little down just over the border from Connecticut and it seems to be pretty much normal in every way. People are born, live, get married, have kids, and die in the town, often never really travelling far from the confines or from the 3000 people or so who live in the immediate area.

Workman's Comp

Films: The Devil and Miss Jones
Format: Movies! Channel on rockin’ flatscreen.

One of the surprise pleasures I’ve had on this blog over the past 18 months was discovering The More the Merrier, a sort of screwball comedy right in the heart of the war years. That movie featured the talents of Charles Coburn and Jean Arthur as well as those of Joel McCrea, and it’s an entertaining little romp that is probably exactly what people needed in the middle of the war. The Devil and Miss Jones comes from a couple of years earlier and is thus an earlier pairing of Coburn and Arthur, and minus Joel McCrea. McCrea is replaced by Robert Cummings, who is pleasant enough, but hardly of the same caliber.

Anyway, this is from 1941, so the winds of war were certainly starting to blow, but hadn’t yet reached American shores. Because of that, The Devil and Miss Jones is not about any sort of war effort, but about the plight of American workers and the problems encountered with the men who run such companies. In truth, it’s a lot closer to a 1940s version of “Undercover Boss” than anything else.

Iron Horse

Films: The Pride of the Yankees
Format: DVD from Sycamore Public Library on rockin’ flatscreen.

Every so often, an actor or a director has a year for the ages. Consider Victor Fleming’s 1939 when he made both Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz. Teresa Wright had that sort of 1942. Wright was nominated for Best Actress in The Pride of the Yankees, but lost to Greer Garson. As it happens, Wright was also in Mrs. Miniver and won and Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for that role. Like a said, she had a good year. The Pride of the Yankees is one of those all-American films, one that can probably be appreciated by many, but can really only be fully understood by people who have grown up in a culture where baseball has truly permeated society.

The Pride of the Yankees might be a warts-removed biography of Lou Gehrig, but that really doesn’t bother me at all. It’s an exercise in myth making and hero creation, and that’s really what it should be. This is a film about a genuine American sports hero, a man who truly crafted a legend for himself, and with the world suddenly at war, the American people needed heroes. They needed to be reminded of courage, honor, and greatness. The Pride of the Yankees might have removed a couple of warts, but do we really need this hero tarnished? The other thing is this—from all reports, Gehrig is the nice guy depicted here.

Fine China

Film: The Good Earth
Format: DVD from Rockford Public Library on laptop.

I’ve spoken of the acting prowess of the great Paul Muni before. He’s a forgotten actor these days, and it’s a damn shame. The man was, in addition to being a commensurate actor, a chameleon. This quality worked against him during his career because he was difficult to market. It works against him now, because he is frequently unrecognizable. In 1937, Muni had three movies released. One, The Life of Emile Zola, won Best Picture. Another, The Good Earth (the subject of this review), was nominated. It was a good year for Muni.

The Good Earth is an oddball of a film for 1937. It’s an epic, but it takes place in China, a world that would be completely alien to the majority of Americans. Once Muni was tagged to play Wang, the lead character of the film, the Hays Code required that any actress playing opposite him in the role of O-Lan, his wife, would need to be white as well. The role was filled by Luise Rainer, who became the first person to win back-to-back acting Oscars thanks to this role. It does feel like an odd film, though, especially these days with white actors in, for lack of a better word, yellowface. Some Chinese actors were used in other roles, but having white actors play foreign roles was hardly unusual for the time.

And Hello, Guacamole

Film: Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939)
Format: DVD from Mount Carroll Township Public Library on laptop.

I tend to pick movies more or less at random and according to availability these days. I did the same thing with the 1001 Movies list, not wanting to spend too much time in any one era or year. When I switched over to Oscar films, I was left with a number of years in which I had seen most of the relevant films and other years where I had seen only a couple. One of those years where I’ve seen most of the films on my Oscar lists is 1939, widely considered one of the greatest years in Hollywood history. It’s hard to argue that point, and Goodbye, Mr. Chips only adds to that year’s luster.

I seem to say the following a lot: this is actually a pretty simple story, a plot that isn’t really much of a plot. Goodbye, Mr. Chips is much more a character study and the story of a man’s life than it is an actual plotted tale. And really, that’s all it is. Mr. Chipping (Robert Donat) begins the film as a newly hired Latin teacher at a British boarding school called Brookfield. We learn that Brookfield has a long and storied history, having been established at the end of the 15th century.

It Tolls for Thee

Film: For Whom the Bell Tolls
Format: DVD from NetFlix on laptop.

I have something of a love/hate relationship with the writings of Ernest Hemingway. On the one hand, I think he was one of the great short story writers of the 20th century in English or any other language. On the other hand, I tend to hate his novels. My biggest problem with Hemingway’s novels is that the man couldn’t write a female character of any value or substance to save his life. In anything longer than a couple of pages, his woman characters turn into mush. All they can do is depend on the men for everything. They’re typically so given over to being in love that they are incapable of the simplest action without approval. In their own way, they sort of presage the Twilight books, at least from what I’ve heard (thanks, Nick). That being the case, I can’t say I was entirely excited about For Whom the Bell Tolls. This was additionally true thanks to the nearly 3-hour running time.

Like a lot of Hemingway with which I am familiar, For Whom the Bell Tolls trades on Hemingway’s personal experience in the Spanish Civil War. That in and of itself is fairly noteworthy. The two sides in the war were the communist Republicans and the fascists, which were led by Franco. The U.S., of course, was at war with fascists in 1943, which means that this film is actually pro-communist. Our heroes, in fact every named character, is fighting for the communist side of the conflict. Filmmakers could get away with this in the mid-1940s. Imagine trying this during the McCarthy years.

Kitty Foyle

Format: DVD from Mokena Community Public Library through interlibrary loan on laptop.

There’s a weird sense of the archaic with Kitty Foyle. The first five minutes give us a “history” of women in the white collar workforce. The implication offered is unflattering to say the least. According to the opening, before women got themselves all that equality like the right to vote, men would happily give up their seats in a trolley car for a woman. Afterwards, well, let ‘em stand. These scenes are interspersed with text that appears as if it has been carefully cross-stitched. It would be offensive if it weren’t so goofy.

Anyway, we soon meet our heroine, the eponymous Kitty Foyle (Ginger Rogers), a white collar worker in an office of same. Released from the workday at 5:30, the women head off into the night looking for dates, because remember, this is 1940. What women want is not a job but a man, and Kitty is no different. The man in question for her is Mark (James Craig), a doctor who postpones their dinner to conduct an emergency baby delivery. While Kitty holds the newborn babe and Mark cleans himself up, he asks her to marry him and she says yes.

Good Thing Karl Never Joined the Act

Films: Duck Soup, A Night at the Opera
Format: DVDs from Rockford Public Library on big ol’ television (Duck Soup) and on kick-ass portable DVD player (A Night at the Opera).

When I was a kid, Duck Soup was on television on New Year’s Eve every year. Until I decided that there were more interesting things to do on the last night of the year, I watched it every year. This probably ended when I was in my early teens, but I still have fond memories of the film. Duck Soup for me was sort of the best exemplar of inspired wackiness. There’s a type of insanity here that doesn’t really appear anywhere else in film, or didn’t until Monty Python showed up.

Watching it now for the first time in what feels like 100 years, I find that I still like Duck Soup almost as much as I did when I was younger. It still feels like inspired insanity. Many scenes happen not because they are integral to the simple plot but because they are screamingly funny, funny being enough. For instance, there is an extended scene in which Chicolini (Chico Marx) and Pinky (Harpo Marx) assault a lemonade vendor (Edgar Kennedy) and play keep away with the man’s hat. It sounds like this would be funny for a minute, but the scene keeps going and remains funny for several minutes, culminating with Pinky setting the man’s hat on fire. This has nothing to do with the plot of the film, but so what? It’s really funny.

Our story takes place in the vaguely European country of Freedonia, which is currently broke. Wealthy Freedonian widow Gloria Teasdale (Margaret Dumont) offers to bail out the government provided the current leader step down and Rufus T. Firefly (Groucho Marx) is moved into the presidency. Meanwhile, the neighboring country of Sylvania is hoping for Freedonia to go belly up so they can take over. Leading this charge is Ambassador Trentino (Louis Calhern), who would like to marry Mrs. Teasdale for her money and to prevent her from using it to save Freedonia.

To assist him in his attempt to destroy the neighboring country, Trentino enlists the support of two spies, the previously mentioned Chicolini and Pinky, who actually do more to create problems than they do to get information. Everything comes to a head when Firefly and Trentino insult each other and war breaks out. Chicolini and Pinky attempt to steal the war plans that are place in safe keeping with Mrs. Teasdale, a huge battle happens, and hilarity ensues. There’s more to the film here, or there could be, because Mussolini banned this film in Italy since he took it personally.

The truth of Duck Soup, and in fact the truth of all Marx Brothers movies is that Groucho, regardless of his name, plays Groucho. Chico plays Chico, Harpo plays Harpo, and Margaret Dumont plays Margaret Dumont. The point of the film is not to watch or care about the plot, but the watch and care about the Marx Brothers being agents of chaos and insanity. The most entertaining (and famous) moment is the mirror scene in which Groucho and Harpo (I think…it might be Chico) mirror each other’s actions.

The person who really gets short shrift in this film is the fourth brother, Zeppo Marx, who plays Firefly’s aide-de-camp. Zeppo was always the straight man for the Marx Brothers, evidenced in no way better than the fact that his character names were always completely vanilla. Where Harpo gets to play a guy named Pinky and Groucho gets the awesome comic moniker of Rufus T. Firefly, Zeppo’s character is named Bob Roland. Kind of sad, really.

Duck Soup isn’t really supposed to make sense, and it doesn’t. It’s inspired insanity, a barely contained chaos of movement, noise, and zinging one-liners. There are a few musical numbers, and these are where the film feels the flattest to me. They contain the same sort of wonderful craziness, but they seem so much more artificial than the rest of the non-musical parts of the movie. They feel more staged somehow, and thus less genuine, and less funny.

Still and all, I have a warm spot for Duck Soup because it contains good memories for me. Despite the musical numbers and a tragically short running time, it still manages to make me laugh legitimately out loud every time I watch it.

A Night at the Opera is the first Marx Brothers movie after the departure of Zeppo Marx as well as the departure of the Marx Brothers from Paramount. The three remaining brothers wound up at MGM. MGM wanted the Marx Brothers to be a little more family friendly and a little less insane, something that might be a little more marketable for a larger group of people. What this means is that the Marx Brothers lost in edge they picked up in audience and popularity. What this means for us in terms of this film is that in addition to the antics of the brothers, we’ll also get a manufactured love story between Rosa (Kitty Carlisle) and Ricardo (Allan Jones). More seriously to my way of thinking, all three of the brothers are now good guys, meaning they aren’t going to be pitted against each other, which is where most of the comedy in their early films came from.

Regardless, we start in Europe as the manager of the New York Opera, Gottlieb (Sig Ruman), looks to sign a new tenor. The tenor he has his mind on is Lassparri (Walter Woolf King). Lassparri has his mind set on Rosa, but Rosa loves Ricardo even though the talented Ricardo can’t get a break as an operatic tenor. The signing of Lassparri comes thanks to the intervention of yet another wealthy widow played by Margaret Dumont, this time named Mrs. Claypool; regardless, she’s essentially the same character Margaret Dumont always played.

Also working for the opera is Otis B. Driftwood (Groucho), who would like to marry Mrs. Claypool for her money. He’d also like to sign a tenor, and is steered toward Ricardo thanks to the intervention of his erstwhile manager Fiorello (Chico) and wardrobe worker Tomasso (Harpo). Lassparri signs with the opera and leaves, taking Rosa with him (since of course he has designs on her, too). Driftwood inadvertently smuggles Ricardo, Fiorello, and Tomasso on the ship in his steamer trunk, and (naturally) hilarity ensues. The entire plot revolves around getting both Rosa and Ricardo to sing for the opera despite the machinations of Gottlieb and Lassparri.

As with Duck Soup, the entire film hinges far less on the plot and the frankly tepid romance than it does on the comedic bits of the three brothers and the multiple straight men (and straight woman Dumont). The classic bit here is the scene in Driftwood’s stateroom aboard the ship. Little more than a closet, 15 people manage to cram in at one point, since more keep showing up and no one ever leaves. Another involves the police looking for the three ship stowaways in New York, a chaotic scene involving moving furniture, disappearing on the fire escape, and some quick costume changes.

Again, the major recurrent Marx Brothers players here play simply themselves. One of the reasons Margaret Dumont was such a great foil for Groucho Marx is that (evidently) she didn’t really get the jokes, and always played her scenes straight. Groucho is still the master of the quick one-liner and faster retort. Chico can spit out long, rambling nonsense. Harpo…well, Harpo doesn’t talk, but he is in many ways the most entertaining of the bunch.

With the basis of the film being opera, there’s no surprise here that a lot of time is spent on musical numbers. The concluding numbers, or at least the opera that leads to the inevitable ending, are silly and filled with the sort of random events and anarchy that made the Marx Brothers who they were. On the ship, though, there’s an interlude in which Chico plays the piano and Harpo plays the harp. While sweet and fun, there’s not a lot here, other than it gets the three stowaways temporarily caught. It appears more or less to be a scene to allow the two brothers to demonstrate their musical talents.

And so, with less of an edge, with a cobbled love story that is tepid at best, and with scenes that don’t add much to the overall plot, A Night at the Opera feels more uneven in many ways than Duck Soup. Where Duck Soup could have used another 10 minutes, A Night at the Opera feels like it could lose 10 without losing too much.

Why to watch Duck Soup: The last Marx Brothers movie involving all four.
Why not to watch: Too short, and the musical numbers don’t do much for it.

Why to watch A Night at the Opera: Some of the greatest comedy bits ever filmed.
Why not to watch: The Marx Brothers with far less edge than they once had.