Best Picture of 1929/30

One of the things I'm enjoying about this silly little project is the opportunity to watch some of cinema's early offerings, an activity that I previously did not engage in very frequently. While it is clear to me that my tastes lie with slightly more modern filmmaking, I am always pleasantly surprised by how fascinating I find some of these vintage pictures, and even more surprised when I come across a forgotten gem. I may not have uncovered one of those gems with the current crop of films under review, but they each contained elements worth appreciating and I'm genuinely glad to have experienced them.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1929/30 are:

• All Quiet on the Western Front
• The Big House
• Disraeli
• The Divorcee
• The Love Parade

When sound was introduced to moving pictures in the late 1920s, it forced a change not only in the obvious technical aspects of filmmaking but also in the conventions that cinema used to tell a story. It took a few years for those conventions to be perfected - in fact, the style and form of cinema is constantly evolving - and the five films up for Best Picture here unfortunately show some signs of that lack of experience. Technique issues aside, however, they each manage to offer an engaging story.

The Love Parade includes many funny moments but its main flaw is that it is musically dull, rather a fatal issue for a musical. Disraeli is a fascinating study of a political figure but its wordiness can be a bit trying at times, especially in light of its mostly static staging. Prison genre pioneer The Big House possessed the potential to be far more gripping but it nonetheless includes an exciting climax.

The two nominees left to duke it out are the straightforward storytelling of The Divorcee, a personal exploration of a troubled relationship, and the epic storytelling of All Quiet on the Western Front, a personal exploration of troubled soldiers. The latter was the Academy's choice and, perhaps not coincidentally, is the only film of the five that has retained any decent recognition among modern audiences. As an epic, it is arguably the most theatrical of the nominees, but in spite of that - or perhaps because of it - it is also the most emotionally powerful. Thus, as so often is the case, the bigger film wins out. All Quiet on the Western Front shall be named my favourite Best Picture nominee from 1929/30.

Best Picture of 1929/30
Academy's choice: All Quiet on the Western Front	Matt's choice: All Quiet on the Western Front

Your choice:

I suspect many of you may not have had the chance to see all five of these films, but it seems incredibly unlikely that every Academy member sees all the nominees before they vote so I'm certainly not going to disqualify you from taking part in the irrelevant poll above. Next up, we move back to much more recent times with fine selection of modern cinema.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 2006 are:

• Babel
• The Departed
• Letters from Iwo Jima
• Little Miss Sunshine
• The Queen

Unlike the previous year of review, all of these films are very easily accessible so why not follow along with me. In fact, all five of the 2006 nominees are available to watch instantly on Amazon. Just click on the links below.

1929/30 - The Big House

I'm very happy to report that The Artist is a fantastic and innovative film, certainly worthy of its recent recognition. Thoroughly enjoyable, the film makes clever use of its genre and, let's face it, it's difficult not to be unique when you make a film in a genre that hasn't been around for 80 years. Anyway, you should do whatever you can to see The Artist. Undoubtedly, this clever film will be mentioned a lot in the coming months.

As we wind down the current year of review, don't forget to cast your vote for the next one. The poll is in the sidebar on the right hand side of your screen. But you knew that already.

The final film for us to have a look at from 1929/30's slate of Best Picture nominees is...

The Big House
Director:
George Hill
Screenplay:
Frances Marion, Joe Farnham, Martin Flavin
Starring:
Chester Morris, Wallace Beery, Lewis Stone, Robert Montgomery, Leila Hyams, George F. Marion, J.C. Nugent, DeWitt Jennings
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
2 wins, including Best Writing

Kent (Montgomery) arrives in prison for his first day of a ten year sentence for manslaughter after a drunk driving accident. His cellmates are two hot shots of the block, the intelligent and level-headed Morgan (Morris) and the uneducated murderous thug Butch (Beery). Kent struggles to fit in at first and finds himself further ostracised when he sets up Morgan to take the blame for a hidden knife. The incident results in Morgan being sent to solitary the day before he is due to be released on parole. He vows to get even with Kent and, after cleverly escaping prison, he tracks down Kent's beautiful sister Anne (Hyams). However, his desire for vengeance slowly dissipates as he falls for Anne and realises how important Kent is to her and her family.

While an engaging story, The Big House has some pacing issues. Potentially gripping dramatic conflicts are often glossed over far too quickly, occasionally leaving the feeling that we are merely watching a series of plot points. It would be far more interesting to see the characters struggle with their decisions and actions but too often they are given a less than appropriate time frame to do so.

It's actually quite a shame because the narrative otherwise holds our attention well and the climax is incredibly exciting. So, if there had been more emotional depth to the way the characters were written, this picture could really have been a classic. As it stands, however, the film still holds a place in film lore as being somewhat responsible for the popularity of the prison genre. It was one of the first of its kind to explore the harsh conditions of prison life and, in that regard, it is successfully fascinating. Nonetheless, some of the questionably superficial dialogue doesn't help its cause. When the warden tells his assistant that the inmates are planning an uprising at noon, the assistant checks his watch and exclaims, "Noon? That's one minute!"

Chester Morris (pictured, with Beery) is the stand out among the cast with his confident presence as Morgan. Wallace Beery's constant "Who? Me?" catchphrase is mostly caricature but he is appropriately cast, earning the film's only acting nomination. And Robert Montgomery is effective as the foolishly naive Kent. Both Montgomery and Morris also appeared in fellow 1929/30 Best Picture nominee The Divorcee, playing roles with interestingly similar social statuses to their characters here. Incidentally, after I downloaded this film from iTunes, I noticed they had incorrectly listed the director of The Big House as George Roy Hill (famed for helming The Sting and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) rather than its actual director, known simply as George Hill.

1929/30 - Disraeli

Awards season has begun, which unashamedly makes me giddy. I've already seen a lot of the films that could potentially be recognised over the coming months but there are still plenty to go. One that I am particularly looking forward to is The Artist, especially after being named the favourite of the New York Film Critics yesterday. I'll be attending a screening of it (sadly, sans Q&A) on Friday, and will report on its merit soon.

Time now to discuss another nominee from the 1929/30 Best Picture contest...

Disraeli
Director:
Alfred E. Green
Screenplay:
Julien Josephson
(based on the play by Louis N. Parker)
Starring:
George Arliss, Joan Bennett, Florence Arliss, Anthony Bushell, David Torrence, Ivan F. Simpson, Doris Lloyd
Academy Awards:
3 nominations
1 win, for Best Actor (Arliss)

19th century British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli (Arliss) is having a tough time of it. His political rival, William Gladstone, has helped to undercut Disraeli's plans for a more far-reaching British Empire. But when Egypt puts the Suez Canal on the market, Disraeli sets his sights on purchasing it in order to secure control of India. Only trouble is the head of the Bank of England (Torrence) won't release the needed funds. Not one to give up, Disraeli calls upon wealthy Jewish banker Hugh Meyers (Simpson) for a loan and, with the help of his aide Charles (Bushell), Disraeli makes every last effort to ensure the transaction is successful.

With a generous helping of dialogue, the film's genesis as a play is unmistakable. There is very little action among the mostly political discussions until at least an hour into the story when a sense of urgency is finally introduced. At this point, the tale becomes exponentially more involving. Interestingly, the plot devices used are incredibly similar to those of farce, just without the humour. Disreali observes a foreign agent sneak an important piece of paper into her sleeve and excuse herself so she can secretly read it. Our inimitable hero ushers one of his allies to pester the rival, making sure she is not alone. It's like a doorless version of Noises Off. While exciting, this sequence is clearly far from historically accurate, along with much of the film's story, I imagine. The spy element, in particular, seems rather unlikely. Nonetheless, the picture is certainly not intended to be a documentary.

One of the more realistic elements of Disraeli, namely his apparent struggle against anti-Semitism, is treated with subtlety. The film does, however, present an interesting take on women's rights. Disraeli seems somewhat enlightened in terms of allowing women to remain present when political secrets are being discussed, yet his wife tells the story of how she suffered in silence after having her finger slammed in a door. She stifled her anguish, not wanting to bother her husband. With no sense of irony, everyone agrees that this was a "wonderful thing" for her to do.

You will probably find parts of this picture dull, but it is certainly worth watching, if for George Arliss's (pictured) intelligent performance alone. He became the first British actor to win an Oscar, and was arguably also the first to benefit from the Academy's penchant for transformational character work.

1929/30 - All Quiet on the Western Front

As a member of the Screen Actors Guild, I get invitations to all sorts of special screenings during awards season, no doubt intended to influence my vote at the SAG Awards. Idealistic as I am, I remain staunchly subjective, despite being offered free popcorn and soft drinks. I mean, I'll take the free popcorn and soft drinks - and anything else you're willing to offer me, for that matter - but no amount of bribery will make me write your film's name down on my ballot ... except, perhaps, if you offered me a role in your next film. That might do it.

In the last couple of weeks, I've heard fascinating insight into the makings of three films vying for accolades this season. First, Albert Nobbs, a moving but rather contrived film. Its flaws are forgiven, however, due to impressive performances by Glenn Close and Janet McTeer, both present for the Q & A. Next, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, a complicated and moody spy thriller, made all the more complicated by a terrible viewing perspective in the front row. Some faces were seemingly distorted so drastically that it was difficult to distinguish actors from each other. Nonetheless, a front-row seat meant that, during the Q & A, I was closer to the cheekily relaxed Colin Firth and the surprisingly stuttering Gary Oldman. Finally, Hugo, a visually breathtaking 3D extravaganza that is part children's movie, part homage to early cinema. Clearly, the producers took out all the stops for this screening. It was held at the magnificent Ziegfeld in Manhattan, where guests were treated to free popcorn and drinks, followed by a Q & A attended by no less than five of the cast - Ben Kingsley, Sacha Baron Cohen, Emily Mortimer, Chloe Grace Moretz and Asa Butterfield - plus the screenwriter, John Logan.

We now take a look at the Academy's pick for Best Picture of 1929/30...

All Quiet on the Western Front
Director:
Lewis Milestone
Screenplay:
George Abbott, Maxwell Anderson, Del Andrews
(based on the novel by Erich Maria Remarque)
Starring:
Louis Wolheim, Lew Ayres, John Wray, Arnold Lucy, Ben Alexander, Scott Kolk, Owen Davis, Jr., Walter Rogers, William Bakewell, Russell Gleason, Richard Alexander, Harold Goodwin, Slim Summerville
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
2 wins, including Best Picture and Best Director

Paving the way for many anti-war films that followed, All Quiet on the Western Front is the story of a bunch of German high school boys who enlist in the army at the outset of World War I after an impassioned and patriotic speech by their teacher. At basic training, the young men are naively itching to get to the action, but once on the front, they quickly discover that war is not in the least bit exciting. It is tedious and dirty and psychologically damaging. The men are often hungry and tired, continually questioning the purpose of their exhaustion.

From the opening caption, there is no question as to what message this picture conveys. There is a veritable onslaught of "war is bad" moments and the poignancy with which that message is presented is rather overt. Nonetheless, it is indeed poignant. It is difficult not to be moved by the plight of Paul (Ayres), who after stabbing an enemy soldier in a foxhole, is forced to watch him die over the next few hours.

For a film of its era, it is commendably realistic in its portrayal of warfare. The in-your-face style of its battle sequences surely makes it the Saving Private Ryan of its day. The realism is, however, almost shot to pieces by the simplistically written characters. All the new recruits are naively idealistic and barely distinguishable from each other. So much so that they often behave as one, ducking in unison at the sound of artillery shells and complaining of hunger in a simultaneous barrage. In fact, when a couple of characters eventually become recognisable as distinct personalities, their most distinguishing trait is that they are not dead.

Furthermore, the performances are largely over the top, even for 1930 standards. Ayres (pictured) is particularly exaggerated, though he redeems himself late in the film during a touching scene in the classroom. Louis Wolheim and Slim Summerville deliver the most memorable performances for my taste, possibly because the humour of their characters allows them to get away with more theatricality.

Despite my criticisms, All Quiet on the Western Front is a thoughtfully directed and provocative film with many significantly powerful moments. Its issues may simply be a sign of its times.

1929/30 - The Divorcee

More celebrity shoulder-rubbing stories from this past week at work. I poured some water for Andie MacDowell, was thanked by Jimmy Fallon, and witnessed a live performance by Coldplay. Other attendees that I spotted at these events were Julianna Margulies, Taraji P. Henson, Alec Baldwin, Steve Martin, John McEnroe, Lorne Michaels, Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone. Here endeth the name-dropping.

Don't forget to vote for the next year of review for Matt vs. the Academy. The poll is in the right sidebar.

Next up in the contenders vying for 1929/30's Best Picture prize is...

The Divorcee
Director:
Robert Z. Leonard
Screenplay:
Nick Grindé, Zelda Sears and John Meehan
(based on the novel "Ex-Wife" by Ursula Parrott)
Starring:
Norma Shearer, Chester Morris, Conrad Nagel, Robert Montgomery, Florence Eldridge
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
1 win, for Best Actress (Shearer)

You would be hard pressed to find another film with such a spoiler for a title. The leading lady, Jerry (Shearer), doesn't actually become a divorcee until two-thirds of the way into the story. After marrying former lothario Ted (Morris), she is devastated to learn of his infidelity. Ted is remorseful, asserting that his fling meant nothing and that an affair need not end a marriage. His opinion is quickly reversed, however, when Jerry confesses to an affair of her own. They are summarily divorced and Jerry must now figure out what she really wants out of life.

The Divorcee is melodrama, but it is good melodrama. One might even say that it is restrained melodrama, if that's not an oxymoron. Granted, it is laboured at times. There are even a couple of instances in which dramatic pauses have been quite obviously inserted artificially by the editor. However, the result is a healthy amount of dramatic tension that, for the most part, remains subdued. Yes, the characters are emotionally volatile but there is a pleasing lack of over-the-top explosive arguments.

With a mostly straightforward storyline that grows a little more complex in the final act, The Divorcee is essentially an in-depth exploration of a relationship tainted by infidelity. The script itself is cleverly written and infused with wit. Note, for example, the way in which Jerry admits her adultery by using the phrase, "I've balanced our accounts." Then again, that wit is occasionally offset by some downright strange lines, such as the romantically intended, "I'd like to make love to you 'til you scream for help."

On DVD, The Divorcee is featured in a collection entitled Forbidden Hollywood (which you can buy by clicking on the Amazon link below - pardon the seamless plug), a set that includes films with subject matter that would undoubtedly have been unacceptable once the Motion Picture Production Code was enforced in Hollywood in the mid-1930s. However, as far as Pre-Code films go, this picture is relatively tame. In fact, director Robert Z. Leonard utilises some clever visual techniques that were in abundant use once censorship outlawed anything sexual. When Jerry commits her unfaithful deed, all the audience sees is a curtain closing over the bedroom window. Later, when Jerry is enjoying her bachelorette lifestyle, there is a montage which consists solely of close-ups of her hands being held by a series of different men. Of course, while these scenes themselves may have satisfied the Code's guidelines, the promiscuous behaviour enjoyed by the main character would certainly have been a no-no. Particularly since that behaviour goes unpunished.

Norma Shearer (pictured) won a Best Actress Oscar for her astute portrayal of a woman dealing with life's punches. Her supporting cast delivers a number of intelligent performances, but my favourite is Robert Montgomery, who is shrewdly funny as the calmly neurotic (another oxymoron?) Don.

1929/30 - The Love Parade

Last Friday, I finally got around to redeeming a gift certificate that my darling wife had given me for my birthday in February. Yes, I am the king of procrastination. The gift certificate entitled me to a full body massage at a local spa, which, through no fault of the massage therapist, turned out to be an entire hour of cringing discomfort. To be fair, that's essentially how I've felt every time I've received a professional massage. It's not that I'm prudish. Oddly, lying almost naked while a stranger rubs his hands all over me doesn't really bother me. It's the pain that bothers me. The digging, the pinching, the grinding - all actions I'd rather not experience. You might ask, "Well, Matt, why don't you just ask the massage therapist to give you a softer massage?" Well, that would involve confrontation, silly. Instead, I just lie there with my face, hidden from my tormentor's view, scrunched in near agony. And when it's not unbearably painful, it's unbearably ticklish. For some reason, the backs of my knees are unusually sensitive. But, again, rather than risk the inevitable embarrassment of flinching when his hands tickle my knee-backs, I concentrate with every fibre of my being to remain uncomfortably still. The entire experience is, in a nutshell, full of tension, both physically and metaphorically, which is surely the exact opposite of the intended result. I am possibly the only person on the planet who requires some relaxation after a massage.

Kicking off our look at the Best Picture contest of 1929/30 is...

The Love Parade
Director:
Ernst Lubitsch
Screenplay:
Guy Bolton and Ernest Vajda
(based on the play "The Prince Consort" by Jules Chancel and Leon Xanrof)
Starring:
Maurice Chevalier, Jeanette McDonald, Lupino Lane, Lillian Roth, Eugene Pallette, E.H. Calvert, Edgar Norton, Lionel Belmore
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
0 wins

Paris - the most romantic city in the world. Perfectly suited to the philandering lifestyle of Count Alfred Renard (Chevalier), the military attaché to the Sylvanian Embassy. His womanising exploits cause much scandal, however, eventually boiling over when he is caught in a romantic encounter with the Ambassador's wife. He is sent back to Sylvania to answer to Queen Louise (McDonald), who is conveniently unable to find a suitable husband for herself, mostly because no man desires to live in deference to her. Alfred and Louise quickly fall for each other, but making a royal marriage work proves difficult for the former Casanova, especially as he is given little respect and no power.

There are several genuinely funny moments in The Love Parade, beginning with a chuckle-worthy opening scene involving a fake suicide. The rest of the film features some great visual gags (an entire military squadron ordered to tiptoe as they march so they don't wake the Queen) and even some clever wordplay (Alfred's ludicrous explanation of why he has a French accent). Thus, as a comedy, The Love Parade succeeds quite well. As a musical, however, not so much.

Even taking into account the fact that the musical film genre had not quite perfected itself yet, there is something unsatisfying about most of the musical numbers. The lyrics are almost at the level of a Gershwin or a Berlin, but the music is bland and not at all catchy. Plus, the static visual style in which the songs are presented is a missed opportunity. I understand that, at a time when talking pictures were still a novelty, simply hearing people sing on film must have seemed interesting enough, but in this case, the audience might as well have been listening to a gramophone. It is perhaps not surprising to learn that this film is director Ernst Lubitsch's first foray into sound. The only exception to all this musical drabness is the number Let's Be Common, which features the humorous acrobatics of an energetic Lupino Lane.

Maurice Chevalier (pictured) exudes a boyish charm that is hard to dislike and his comic talents are finely displayed, earning him a Best Actor nomination. Jeanette McDonald is surprisingly natural in her debut film, after several years in the theatre. Here, she is provided with the opportunity to showcase what an amazing set of pipes she has. Also of note is Lupino Lane, who is as funny as he is agile.

All in all, The Love Parade is a relatively simple story that, despite some slow points, is worth viewing. If you can get past the flat musicality and the questionably chauvinistic resolution, you will more than likely find plenty to make you laugh.