Best Picture of 1943

Well, this verdict is over two years in the making. Since it's been so long, it was somewhat difficult to recall the first few viewings, so I've had to rely on my original thoughts as written down in the blog itself. Not that it really matters, to be honest, since this one was pretty much a foregone conclusion from the beginning.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1943 are:

• Casablanca
• For Whom the Bell Tolls
• Heaven Can Wait
• The Human Comedy
• In Which We Serve
• Madame Curie
• The More the Merrier
• The Ox-Bow Incident
• The Song of Bernadette
• Watch on the Rhine

Of the ten nominated films, exactly half of them are contemporary pieces exploring some aspect of the war with varying degrees of patriotism and propaganda. Together with the other half, though, it's quite a diverse group with several genres being represented. All in all, they don't constitute an outstanding collection of cinema, though many of them are captivating. I found particular enjoyment in The Ox-Bow Incident and For Whom the Bell Tolls.

But why waste time. There was very little chance anything would topple Casablanca in my esteem. It's a masterpiece of early filmmaking - great performances, great script, great images - that towers over its competitors and has deservedly earned its iconic status in cinematic culture. And so, to make it official, Casablanca is, without question, my favourite Best Picture nominee from 1943.

Best Picture of 1943
Academy's choice: Casablanca	Matt's choice: Casablanca

Your choice:

Let me know what your favourite of this year was by voting in the poll above. We move to the 1970s now for a selection of heavy dramas (and one musical drama).

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1972 are:

• Cabaret
• Deliverance
• The Emigrants
• The Godfather
• Sounder

You might have deduced from my post a few weeks ago that I've already watched the first movie of this year of review, so I'll be able to opine on that shortly and finally explain why I went on a four-movie binge in the first place. Stay tuned...

1943 - The Human Comedy

Finally, after over two years, we reach the end of the current year of review. I sincerely hope I'm able to avoid that sort of lengthy timeframe in the future. Life as a parent may put up a fight, though.

The final entry in 1943's competition for the Best Picture is...

The Human Comedy
Director:
Clarence Brown
Screenplay:
Howard Estabrook
(from a story by William Saroyan)
Starring:
Mickey Rooney, Frank Morgan, James Craig, Marsha Hunt, Fay Bainter, Ray Collins, Van Johnson, Donna Reed, Jackie Jenkins
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
1 win, for Best Original Story

The effects of the distant war are felt in small-town California as teenager Homer (Rooney) takes on the role of provider for his family due to the recent death of his father (Collins) and the deployment of his older brother (Johnson). Homer begins working for the local telegraph office, alongside senior telegrapher Willie (Morgan). Meanwhile, the office manager (Craig) frets over the impending introduction to his future in-laws, Homer's sister (Reed) and a friend enjoy a night out with soldiers on leave, and Homer's brother faces Army training.

The Human Comedy wears its heart well and truly on its sleeve. It's overly sincere and plenty preachy with scene after scene of characters waxing philosophical about life, love and, most of all, war. A product of its era, I guess.

That said, the picture's multiple storylines each capture the attention of its audience. We end up caring for all the characters in this town, which is attributable to the ensemble cast. However, it's Mickey Rooney (pictured, with Frank Morgan) that is the standout, proving he wasn't a box office draw for nothing. He displays an affable boyish exuberance, paving the way for the Michael J. Foxes of the world.

Relevant to this blog, it's always fun to come across a Best Picture nominee that makes reference to an earlier Best Picture nominee. In The Human Comedy, one scene sees several characters exit a cinema after having seen the previous year's Best Picture winner, Mrs. Miniver.

1943 - The Song of Bernadette

Well, despite having three more viewings in the can, I'm apparently still taking my time to blog about them. So let's get straight to it.

Here are my thoughts on another 1943 Best Picture nominee...

The Song of Bernadette
Director:
Henry King
Screenplay:
George Seaton
(based on the novel by Franz Werfel)
Starring:
Jennifer Jones, William Eythe, Charles Bickford, Vincent Price, Lee J. Cobb, Gladys Cooper, Anne Revere, Roman Bohnen
Academy Awards:
12 nominations
4 wins, including Best Actress (Jones)

In a rural French village in the mid-19th century, a timid teenager named Bernadette (Jones) tags along with her sister and a friend to collect firewood for their families. When Bernadette is separated from the other two, she waits at a cave where she sees a clear vision of a saintly woman. The apparition asks Bernadette to return to the same spot every day for the next couple of weeks, and as Bernadette complies, she attracts the attention of the nation. Despite not being visible to anyone else, many believe Bernadette is communicating with the Virgin Mary and flock to the site in hopes of being healed by the miraculous spring water now flowing from the ground. Many others, including her own parents (Bohnen and Revere) doubt her story. Even the Catholic Church takes their time to come around, subjecting Bernadette to many years of investigation before proclaiming the visions as an official miracle.

The Song of Bernadette initially unravels a lot like a mystery. Did Bernadette really see the Virgin Mary? Or is it a hoax? Or is she just delusional? The well-structured script creates some tight conflict around this mystery with barely anyone believing her at first. Slowly, though, more and more people become believers and her detractors are portrayed in such a way that they are clearly the antagonists. And since the film's verisimilitude makes plenty of room for the miraculous, it's fairly obvious which conclusion the audience is supposed to reach: yes, the visions are real. In fact, anyone with a modicum of familiarity with religious-themed films, especially of the classic era, could probably have guessed that from the outset.

The anti-intellectual trope is a common cinematic theme that has always rubbed me the wrong way. Scientists are often painted as stubborn and closed-minded. Which is ironic, really. In reality, science is self-correcting, always incorporating new evidence as it comes to light, whereas religion is rigid and inflexible. I suppose, though, that Hollywood is only reflecting the culture. I guess I just don't quite understand how society decided that simply believing should be considered a virtue, but thinking critically about extraordinary claims is arrogant and dismissive? Surely, dispassionately weighing all the evidence before jumping to conclusions will produce more reasonable outcomes than blind acceptance of dogma. Okay, this is getting way too philosophical. Back to the movie...

Since the characters are essentially divided between believers and doubters, the cast often slips into heavy caricatures, either the kind-hearted supporter or the obstinate foe. Nonetheless, the film garnered four acting nominations, but only Jennifer Jones took home an Oscar for what amounts to a relatively simple portrayal of a softly-spoken and innocent girl. To my mind, though, Vincent Price (pictured) as the Imperial Prosecutor and Lee J. Cobb as the local doctor gave the most captivating and natural performances despite the lack of recognition from the Academy.

1943 - The More the Merrier

Whew, it has been a year and a half since my last review, which was just after my daughter was born. Emily is now 19 months old and Charlie is almost 3½. I can't really explain how I found the time to come back to this blog, but let's just ride the wave, shall we? And I'm back with a bang, too. I've watched four movies in the last three days. Yep, you read that right. Four movies in three days. (I'll explain why when I get to the fourth one.) Of course, now I have to write about them, so the delays may still continue, but one step at a time.

So, after a loooong hiatus, we now continue our review of the 1943 Best Picture nominees by taking a look at...

The More the Merrier
Director:
George Stevens
Screenplay:
Robert Russell, Frank Ross, Richard Flournoy, Lewis R. Foster
Starring:
Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea, Charles Coburn, Richard Gaines, Stanley Clements
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
1 win, for Best Supporting Actor (Coburn)

Thanks to the war, Washington, D.C. is experiencing a housing shortage so Connie (Arthur) decides to do the patriotic thing and offer half her apartment for rent. Benjamin Dingle (Coburn) weasels his way into the lease, despite Connie not being too keen on having a male roommate. The next day, without Connie's knowledge or permission, Dingle rents half of his half of the apartment to Joe Carter (McCrea), a young soldier preparing to be shipped overseas next week. In record time, Connie and Joe fall in love, but Connie's long-term engagement to the boring but stable Charles Pendergast (Gaines) prevents anything but fleeting romantic moments between Connie and Joe ... at least for a while.

It's somehow fitting that one of the themes in The More the Merrier is one's patriotic duty to help the war effort in any small way one can. After directing the film, George Stevens did just that by joining the US Army Signal Corps as a documentarian, gathering harrowing footage from the D-Day landings and Dachau concentration camp, among other things. The experience clearly shifted his outlook because The More the Merrier was the last of the mostly light-hearted films he was known for during the 30s and early 40s. The second half of his career is filled with much more dramatic fare.

And perhaps that was for the best. Stevens certainly is more deft at drama than comedy. Not that The More the Merrier is unfunny. On the contrary, the witty dialogue and slapstick pratfalls definitely put a smile on your face, but there are certain moments in which the director's comic timing leaves a bit to be desired. Maybe it's just a result of the time period and we're now just too used to cutting away from a punchline immediately, but Stevens holds way, way too long on Coburn when he can't find his pants. Both times. Watch the movie and you'll know what I mean.

There are definitely some contrived moments and characters behaving in somehow unmotivated ways, but all in all, it's a nice bit of fluff. They certainly don't nominate these kinds of romantic comedies very often anymore.

Charles Coburn (pictured, looking for his pants) won the film's only Oscar for Best Supporting Actor and it's not entirely undeserved. He is indeed very entertaining in this role. But while I'm now at peace with Bogart and Bergman not receiving Oscars for Casablanca, I can't say the same for Claude Rains' loss. As entertaining as Coburn is, Rains would have been my pick. Leading couple Jean Arthur and Joel McCrea also deliver amiable performances - she was nominated, he wasn't - though like the film itself, they're not amazingly memorable but enjoyable nonetheless.

1943 - Casablanca

Since my last post, Kat and I have a new addition to our family. Emily was born in early November and is already melting hearts everywhere. With two little ones in the house now, finding time for this blog may be even more difficult than it has been (and it was already difficult). Indeed, I watched the movie below well over a month ago and am only now getting around to blogging about it. I have to admit, though, that the transition from one to two babies has not felt as life-altering as becoming parents for the first time. Most likely, that's simply due to the fact that we're already used to the sleep deprivation and constant cleanup of infant waste. And if having a second offspring weren't enough, we also just moved house and are dealing with all that that entails, so ... you know ... you may not hear from me again for a while...

Now, you may remember way back when I began this year of review many, many months ago that I mentioned taking the Warner Bros. VIP Studio Tour and happening upon an exhibit of their past Best Picture winners. One of those winners is indeed the victor of this current year of discussion and now that I'm ready to review that film, it's time to share the photos I took of that exhibit - one of the sheet music for As Time Goes By accompanied by composer Max Steiner's baton, and the other of a costume worn by Conrad Veidt in the film. Granted, it's probably not so thrilling just looking at the photos, so instead consider these photos as mementos of the brief moment of excitement that I experienced when I saw these items in person ... which I realise is probably even less thrilling for you...

Anyway, as I'm sure you've now inferred, our next Best Picture nominee from 1943 is the classic of classics...

Casablanca
Director:
Michael Curtiz
Screenplay:
Julius J. Epstein, Philip G. Epstein, Howard Koch
(based on the play "Everybody Comes to Rick's" by Murray Burnett and Joan Alison)
Starring:
Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Conrad Veidt, Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
3 wins (including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Screenplay)

When I'm asked to name my favourite movie of all time, I always have trouble narrowing it down to just one, but I do have a few standard responses for when I'm asked for my favourite movie of a particular genre. And Casablanca is, without question, my go-to pick for favourite classic film. (Yes, I know "classic" isn't technically a singular genre, but it was a section in most video stores - and probably on most streaming sites nowadays - and it's a word with a not entirely meaningless definition that a lot of people use to categorise a subsection - or perhaps, more accurately, an era - of cinema, so stop your pedantry.)

For those living under a rock, Casablanca centres on Rick Blaine (Bogart), the owner of a cafe/club in the Moroccan city of Casablanca during World War II. He inadvertently becomes the recipient of two letters of transit, important documents for any European refugee attempting to reach the United States. This makes him a concern to the corrupt but friendly French police captain Louis Renault (Rains) and the less-than-friendly German Major Strasser (Veidt) who want to make sure a resistance fighter named Victor Laszlo (Henreid) doesn't get the chance to leave the city. To complicate matters, Rick's old flame, Ilsa Lund (Bergman), happens to be Laszlo's wife. When Victor and Ilsa show up in Rick's establishment (the first time Rick has seen Ilsa since she abruptly abandoned him in Paris many years ago), Rick finds himself torn between helping the cause and dealing with his unresolved feelings for Ilsa.

Clearly, one of the reasons Casablanca has stood the test of time is its clear and captivating story. The plot is easy to follow yet subtle enough to allow the audience to figure some things out on their own, yet another consequence of the Hays Code, no doubt. For instance, when Louis is toying with the wife of a man who needs an exit visa, the insinuations run rampant, but nobody explicitly mentions that it's all about sex.

There are undoubtedly some very serious themes - which is almost mandatory in any story that involves war and Nazis - not to mention the sincere and heartbreaking romance aspect of the story, yet there is an abundance of comic relief, all appropriate and never undercutting the film's gravity. You might even call the film a dramedy, even if that term didn't exist in 1943. During some of the most poignant moments, the film is not afraid to cut the tension with a well-timed giggle. Perhaps my favourite of these is when Strasser orders Louis to find a reason to shut down the cafe. Louis immediately demands everyone leave, exclaiming that he is shocked to hear that there is gambling taking place in the back room. At that very moment, a cashier approaches Louis and very audibly says, "Your winnings, sir," while handing him a wad of cash. Without skipping a beat, Louis thanks the man and continues carrying out his orders.

This comedy-drama quality is enhanced - or maybe even created - by the wonderful dialogue, poetic and stirring at times, and witty and amusing at others. The brilliance of these words - or at least their popularity - is confirmed by the number of memorable quotes that have entered the cultural landscape. The AFI voted six of them into their list of the 100 Greatest Movie Quotes of All Time, twice as many as any other movie. Not included in that list is the lesser-known but hilarious exchange of dialogue - and possibly my favourite such exchange in the entire history of cinema - between Carl and a German couple practicing their English. Rather than describe it here, it's probably better to just direct you to the clip.

The cast is uniformly wonderful, each one solid in their respective roles. As I mentioned in the posts on Watch on the Rhine and For Whom the Bell Tolls, I used to be flabbergasted as to how Bogart and Bergman (pictured) didn't win Best Actor and Best Actress for Casablanca. After seeing those two other films, though, I now understand why, even though I might still disagree. Both their performances here are sublime. Bogart was nominated for his. Bergman wasn't (because she was nommed for Tolls instead). Claude Rains was the other acting nominee, delivering a polished portrayal as the likable, albeit occasionally sleazy, Louis. And for my money, Peter Lorre's is the most delicious performance in the film, playing the pitiful weasel. It's short on screen time but big on character.

1943 - For Whom the Bell Tolls

It's been over six years now since I began this insane project that I initially thought would last about a year and a half. I suppose, though, if I drag this out long enough, there's at least a tiny chance that I'll make it into the cast of a future Best Picture nominee which, aside from the cool meta nature of having to review a film I'm in, would just be all kinds of awesome.

And in fact, one such opportunity may have already presented itself. Last week, I spent a morning shooting a scene opposite Annette Bening (who was absolutely lovely, I might add) for 20th Century Women, a film directed by Mike Mills. While none of his films have been nominated for the big prize just yet, you may remember that it was his Beginners for which Christopher Plummer won a well-deserved and long-awaited Oscar a few years ago. And Annette Bening is certainly Oscar bait, so it's certainly within the realms of possibility that Mills' latest film could find itself on the Best Picture shortlist. At the very least, Bening herself may be in contention for an award. Of course, judging her performance is difficult since I only have one scene to go on, and it's obviously way too early to speculate - in fact, this film may not be released until next year, making it eligible for the awards season after next, which would mean it's way, way too early to speculate - but this is Annette Bening we're talking about so you can never rule her out.

Anyway, here are my thoughts on 1943's next Best Picture contender...


For Whom the Bell Tolls
Director:
Sam Wood
Screenplay:
Dudley Nichols
(based on the novel by Ernest Hemingway)
Starring:
Gary Cooper, Ingrid Bergman, Akim Tamiroff, Arturo de Cordova, Vladimir Sokoloff, Mikhail Rasumny, Fortunio Bonanova, Eric Feldary, Victor Varconi, Katina Paxinou, Joseph Calleia

Academy Awards:
9 nominations
1 win, for Best Supporting Actress (Paxinou)

Based on the celebrated novel by Ernest Hemingway (as all the promotional material points out), For Whom the Bell Tolls tells the story of Robert Jordan (Cooper), an American soldier fighting with the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War. He is tasked with assisting a strategic assault against the Nationalists by blowing up a bridge at the precise moment of a planned air raid, and he is given three days to prepare. His local guide is Anselmo (Sokoloff) who introduces Robert to a gang of freedom fighters and Gypsies hiding out in a mountain cave. Robert enlists the help of the disparate gang, including its leader, Pablo (Tamiroff), an unpredictable drunk, and Pablo's wife, Pilar (Paxinou), a strong woman who is essentially in charge due to her husband's weakness. Robert also finds friendship and, later, romance with Maria (Bergman), a young Gypsy refugee with a horrifically sad story.

As has been discussed numerous times on this blog, films adapted from novels often suffer from a rushed feeling that is almost inherent when cramming a full-length book into two hours of screen time. Not so, however, in the case of For Whom the Bell Tolls, likely due to the source material being clear and straightforward in its own right (although, full disclosure, I've never actually read it). The tension in this story is in fact heightened by the fact that it takes its time. There is a single clear mission for the protagonist and, even if some of the details are a little murky, nothing ever feels hurried. Well, nothing except perhaps the speed with which Robert and Maria fall in love. But whirlwind romances and loves-at-first-sight are pretty much the norm for this age of Hollywood, so that hardly counts.

None of that is to say that the film lacks complexity. On the contrary. There is still plenty of nuance in For Whom the Bell Tolls, most of it found in the compelling characters. It's not always clear cut which of these people are the heroes. For instance, El Sordo clearly sides with the protagonists but the perverse pleasure he takes in his enemy's demise, laughing sadistically at their violent deaths, makes it difficult to get behind him as a hero. Conversely, Pablo commits some atrociously dickish acts, displaying a complete lack of consideration for others, yet he later experiences several crises of conscience, which elicits from us at least a tiny amount of sympathy.

As for the cast, it's a surprising display of diversity. Despite the fact that most of the characters are Spanish, the actors hail from Sweden, Greece, Hungary, Malta, Mexico and several from Russia. The only actual Spaniard is Fortunio Bonanova. Regardless of nationality, there are some truly powerful performances. Akim Tamiroff (pictured) is nothing short of superb as the emotionally erratic and conflicted Pablo. Playing his wife, Katina Paxinou also shines. Both were nominated in the supporting categories, but only Paxinou won. Then there's Ingrid Bergman, who is simply wonderful and often heartbreaking as the sweet Maria, earning herself a Best Actress nomination. In my previous post, while discussing Watch on the Rhine, I pointed out how I could never understand why Bogart didn't win Best Actor for Casablanca this year ... until I actually saw Paul Lukas' performance. In similar fashion, I always had trouble figuring out why Bergman wasn't even nominated for Casablanca. But now I understand. While her Ilsa Lund is still one of my favourite portrayals (and we'll get to that film shortly), her performance here in For Whom the Bell Tolls is genuinely captivating, so I can finally accept the omission. Of course, if the Academy just allowed a single actor to be nominated twice in the same category, then there probably wouldn't have been an issue in the first place, but rules are rules, I guess.

1943 - Watch on the Rhine

With baby number two due in about a month and a half, I'm trying to cram in as many movies as I can before spare time becomes even more scarce. So let's get straight to it.

Here's a look at another 1943 film shortlisted for Best Picture...

Watch on the Rhine
Director:
Herman Shumlin
Screenplay:
Dashiell Hammett
(based on the play by Lillian Hellman)
Starring:
Bette Davis, Paul Lukas, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Lucile Watson, Beulah Bondi, George Coulouris, Donald Woods
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
1 win, for Best Actor (Lukas)

It seems somehow appropriate to follow up The Ox-Bow Incident with this picture. Both are confronting tales that deal with serious moral issues, albeit Watch on the Rhine leans more towards the political. Anti-Fascist activist Kurt Muller (Lukas) and his American wife Sara (Davis), arrive in Washington, D.C. with their three children after leaving a devolving Europe behind. They stay in Sara's wealthy family home with her mother (Watson) and brother (Woods), who Sara hasn't seen since she left America 17 years ago. Their arrival is complicated, however, by another house guest, Teck de Brancovis (Coulouris), a slimy Nazi sympathiser who threatens to expose Kurt to his German Embassy friends.

Watch on the Rhine is another in a long list of stage play adaptations that inherently suffers from its source material's wordiness. It's slow-moving, particularly at the beginning as the plentiful characters are introduced (many of whom turn out not to be all that important to the story, anyway). And with very little action, most of the major plot points are revealed merely through shocking announcements. In spite of all that, the picture remains intensely captivating, no doubt due to its grave central issue. Consequently, in what might seem contradictory to the film's slow pace, I hardly noticed its two hours go by.

This happens to be the first time I've seen this film and it had been on my watch list for a very long time, mostly because I've always wanted to see the performance of the guy who stole Bogart's Oscar. Starting with that bias, it's easy to write off Paul Lukas (pictured) as merely adequate. After all, his character is relatively calm and not overly emotional, requiring little nuance from the actor. Ironically, however, this composure only serves to accentuate the powerful intensity that Lukas reveals in the last few scenes of the film. Consider me a convert. I'll always love Bogie's Rick, but I'm humbled to admit that Lukas' performance is also award-worthy.

As the wonderfully pompous woman of means, Lucile Watson received the film's other acting nomination, and deservedly so. She delivers her catty lines effortlessly, but later is afforded the opportunity to show a soft interior, providing a well-rounded characterisation that is a pure joy to watch. Bette Davis, too, turns in a terrific performance in what is essentially an underwritten supportive wife role (despite her top billing). I guess her peers agreed since her performance also went unrecognised by the Academy.

1943 - The Ox-Bow Incident

Well, look at me. I'm posting again only a couple of weeks after the last one. The only explanation I can come up with is that this awards year is not full to the brim with three-hour epics (I'm looking at you, 1956) so it's been a tad easier to find time to watch them. The majority of 1943's contenders are under two hours, and in fact, the following review is for the shortest of the bunch, clocking in at only 75 minutes!

Here now is our next 1943 Best Picture hopeful...

The Ox-Bow Incident
Director:
William A. Wellman
Screenplay:
Lamar Trotti
(based on the novel by Walter Van Tilburg Clark)
Starring:
Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Mary Beth Hughes, Anthony Quinn, William Eythe, Harry Morgan, Jane Darwell, Matt Briggs, Harry Davenport, Frank Conroy, Marc Lawrence
Academy Awards:
1 nomination
0 wins

I usually like to avoid spoilers in my discussions of these films, but The Ox-Bow Incident is one of those pictures that is extremely difficult to talk about without referencing the climax, so consider yourself warned: spoiler alert!

It's the late nineteenth century and Gil (Fonda) and Art (Morgan) travel into the sleepy town of Bridger's Wells, Nevada. Almost immediately, they get caught up in a local controversy as a young man frantically enters the saloon with news of Larry Kinkaid's murder by some cattle thieves. With nothing else to go on, several townsmen gather to form a posse, intent on finding the culprits and literally stringing them up, lest the law take their time and allow them to slip away, or worse, be given a fair trial. Old man Davies (Davenport) attempts to dissuade the impulsive men - and one woman (Darwell) - from taking the law into their own hands. After unsuccessfully pleading with them to at least wait for the sheriff to return from the Kinkaid ranch, the mob sets off to find their prey. Davies, along with a few other dissenters and the two out-of-towners, tag along in the hopes of talking some sense into the men bent on revenge.

After happening upon three men, including Donald Martin (Andrews), the posse ties them up, preparing to lynch them. With a few pointed questions, the stoic leader of the posse, Major Tetley (Conroy), uncovers some circumstantial evidence that appears to link these men to the murder of Kinkaid, despite their pleas of innocence. Not wanting to seem unreasonable, Tetley agrees to abide by majority rule. Only seven men oppose the hanging, so at dawn, the deed is done. As the satisfied mob heads back to town, they run into the sheriff coming the other way, who reveals the unfortunate truth that Kinkaid is not even dead and the real cattle rustlers have already been apprehended. Oops.

The wordy opening scenes move pretty fast so you've got to pay attention from the outset. And in fact, at only 75 minutes, the entire tale is told from start to finish without wasting a lot of time. It's certainly well-paced and the story is intensely driven and captivating with its singular burning question - will the posse really go through with lynching these probably innocent men? It's edge-of-your-seat stuff right up to the powerful climax.

The film boasts a great array of colourful characters, including a bunch of engaging villainous archetypes. There's the calm and obstinate military man, the crazy laughing goon, the smug vindictive lawman misusing his authority, and plenty of other meanies, too. Facing off against them are the ineffective good guys - the old and wise voice of reason, the mild-mannered man of the cloth, and the son rebelling against his father's peremptory ways.

It's common to feel minor frustration at unreasonable movie characters. I mean, who hasn't yelled at the screen during a horror film when the protagonist decides to investigate a strange noise. On her own. In the dark. In this picture, however, the behaviour of the impulsively unreasonable mob positively makes your blood boil. The main members of the posse are, quite simply, pig-headed hypocrites who believe what they want and are unconcerned with serious fact-checking. This is all the more infuriating with the knowledge that people like this do, in fact, exist ... and in great numbers. And this aggravation arises regardless of how the story concludes. Even if it turned out that the three men did indeed commit the crime, I'd still be incensed by the posse's attitude. You see, it's not about whether what you believe happens to be true. It's about whether it's reasonable to believe what you believe. And even if these guys killed Kinkaid, there wasn't enough justification for the posse to be sure of that. Certainly not so sure that they were comfortable lynching them for it. (Whew. Movies sure have the power to make you feel things...)

It's also worth pointing out the effective final scene in which Gil reads aloud a letter that Martin wrote for his wife once he accepted his inevitable death at the hands of the posse. It's a heart-breaking sequence but the reason I bring it up is the uniquely interesting framing while Gil reads the letter (pictured above). His eyes are covered by the brim of Art's hat, which I'm sure must be a metaphor for something but I can't figure out what exactly. Either way, it's a beautiful shot and very powerful.

Speaking of powerful, Henry Fonda is insanely watchable in a mostly subdued performance. Effective as his sidekick is Harry Morgan (later of M*A*S*H fame) who is inexplicably credited as Henry Morgan. Dana Andrews is compelling as the sympathetic victim. And in fact, the entire ensemble is impressive, each bringing their unique characters to life with intensity. Look out for the Wicked Witch of the West, Margaret Hamilton, as a housekeeper near the beginning.

Despite its powerful screenplay, imaginative direction and persuasive performances, the film was surprisingly only nominated for Best Picture and that's it.

1943 - Heaven Can Wait

Yes, I know. It's been ages since my last post ... again. So what's new? In that time, my episode of Maron has aired, I got cast in an Annette Bening movie, and Kat, Charlie and I spent three weeks in Australia, catching up with friends and family. Oh, and we have a new baby due in a couple of months! Which will likely destroy any chance of this project's pace speeding up.

But enough of life. Let's get back to the movies. Here's the next of 1943's contenders for Best Picture...

Heaven Can Wait
Director:
Ernst Lubitsch
Screenplay:
Samson Raphaelson
(based on the play "Birthday" by Leslie Bush-Fekete)
Starring:
Gene Tierney, Don Ameche, Charles Coburn, Marjorie Main, Laird Cregar, Spring Byington, Allyn Joslyn, Eugene Pallette
Academy Awards:
3 nominations
0 wins

Upon his death, Henry Van Cleve (Ameche) decides to skip the Pearly Gates and head downstairs first, convinced that Hell is where he belongs. The Devil (Cregar), who seems surprisingly amiable, is skeptical of Henry's claims of leading a terrible life and so Henry begins to tell his life's story. He relates tales from every decade or so, covering his precocious childhood and his early womanizing through to his rocky relationship with Martha (Tierney) and his twilight years.

The opening scene of Heaven Can Wait is charming in a silly sort of way - a recently deceased man engages in civil conversation with the Devil - which erroneously sets up the film to have a slightly twisted view of reality. I say 'erroneously' because, while what follows is quirky with plenty of comic relief, there is no more offbeat supernatural humour until the conclusion. The scenes in Hell are merely bookends to what is essentially a sincere, albeit witty, story of one man's life.

The first couple of sequences feel a little light on substance. Still funny, but light and fluffy. Sort of a 1940s version of one of Tom Hanks' early comedies. But once Henry and Martha meet, things become a bit more compelling, even though much of the action is not particularly believable. Then again, it's a rom-com, so I suppose you just have to accept that people fall in love at first sight and elope at the drop of a hat. (You also have to set aside the latent misogyny in a storyline that is essentially a man badgering a woman until she agrees she's in love with him. Sign of the times, I guess.)

Long and wordy scenes fill up the film's almost two hours, reminding us that it was based on a play. However, the banter is delightful so it's enjoyable to watch. And for a film that attempts to cram an entire lifespan into one story, Heaven Can Wait feels very appropriately paced. It's so easy for films of this nature to rush through certain ages, but here, it's not too fast and it's not too slow. We spend a decent amount of time in each age bracket witnessing certain milestones before skipping ten years to the next one, allowing for a feeling of truly knowing this man. By the end of his life, we've seen Henry and those around him age so slowly that it is genuinely a moving experience.

As the meant-to-be lovers, Don Ameche and Gene Tierney (pictured together) have great chemistry, making it easy to accept them as lifelong partners. Tierney's comic delivery, however, leaves a little to be desired. Not to worry, though, because Ameche (over 40 years before his Oscar win for Cocoon) is incredibly engaging as the initially pompous cad with a heart of gold. Charles Coburn also offers up some grand comic relief as Grandpapa. Not too surprisingly, though, the film didn't receive any acting nominations. Instead, its three nods came for Ernst Lubitsch's direction, Edward Cronjager's cinematography and, of course, the picture itself.

1943 - In Which We Serve

For as long as I can remember, I've loved hearing behind-the-scenes stories about movie production, whether in books or documentaries or actual behind-the-scenes tours. So with delight, Kat and I joined a visiting friend recently to take the Warner Bros. VIP Studio Tour in nearby Burbank. The Warner Bros. lot has a lot of history and I always enjoy visiting backlots. There's just something about the fake buildings that fills me with a sense of awe and wonder. The tour also included a stop at the Warner Bros. Museum, which housed special exhibits of the Batman and Harry Potter franchises. But it was the tiny corner dedicated to Warner's past Best Picture winners that had me fascinated. Hint: this blog's current year of review resulted in a win for Warner Bros. so I have a little treat for you when I get to reviewing that picture.

For now, let's have a look at a British entry in 1943's Best Picture race...

In Which We Serve
Director:
Noël Coward and David Lean
Screenplay:
Noël Coward
Starring:
Noël Coward, John Mills, Celia Johnson, Kay Walsh, Bernard Miles
Academy Awards:
2 nominations
0 wins

As the opening narration informs us, this is the story of a ship. Specifically, it's the story of the HMS Torrin, a British destroyer during World War II that is attacked and sunk by German aircraft bombers. As the survivors, including Captain Kinross (Coward), stay afloat in a lifeboat enduring further aerial gunfire, they share tales of their own experiences during the war and reminisce about the history of the Torrin.

The overt patriotism of In Which We Serve is a little off-putting, perhaps only because it's something one would expect from an American military film, not a British one. It's a propaganda film, no question. The sailors love their ship more than their wives, and the wives are pretty much okay with that. It's all for king and country. And the enemy is nothing short of pure evil. Granted, the enemy are the Nazis in this case, so it's hard to argue that point, but from a purely narrative standpoint, it's a detriment to have no single personification of the enemy. We see Nazi planes and Nazi ships, but we almost never see an actual Nazi, which I understand is part of the propaganda to dehumanise the enemy, but all good screenwriting how-to books will tell you that you have to include an antagonist. Even if your hero's main enemy is a corporation or organisation, it's far more effective to have an identifiable character to serve as its representative, rather than leave your hero to fight a nebulous enemy.

I also have to admit that I had some trouble following the action. The plot is somewhat episodic and it is sometimes difficult to figure out who's who, partly because there are so many sailors to keep track of, but also because they're all wearing the same thing! Stupid sailor's uniforms. So, during a flashback, when we see someone in civilian clothes, it takes a little time to recognise exactly who it is. And speaking of the myriad flashbacks, is this perhaps the genesis of the cliched wavy flashback transition? To a modern audience, the watery effect may seem cheesy, but in this instance, I suppose it couldn't be more appropriate.

Not only did Noël Coward (pictured) write, co-direct and star in the movie, but like Chaplin before him and Eastwood after him, he also composed the film's score. So there's no denying this is Coward's baby. As the captain of the ship, his is not your average melodramatic performance of the 1940s. In fact, it could be argued that he goes too far in the opposite direction, making Captain Kinross oddly understated. Playing his wife, Celia Johnson stands out with a charmingly natural portrayal of a woman with bittersweet feelings about her husband's job. And look out for a young Richard Attenborough in his film debut.

In Which We Serve also has a rare distinction in Oscar history, receiving recognition in two separate awards years. It received a non-competitive Honorary Achievement award at the 1942 Oscars, since that was the year it was released in its native UK. Then, one year later, it was nominated for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay, after having its qualifying US theatrical release.

1943 - Madame Curie

Well, I mentioned the possibility of having to change the next year of review and, indeed, circumstances now require that I do just that. My plan to see The Apartment at the TCM Classic Film Festival was thwarted. It seems too many festival pass holders had the same idea so there was no room for any extras. Fortunately, the festival screens several movies at once, so Kat and I hopped over to one of the smaller venues instead to catch another Best Picture nominee from a different year.

So, we'll come back to 1960 another time, but for now, we begin our review of the Academy's nominated films of 1943...

Madame Curie
Director:
Mervyn LeRoy
Screenplay:
Paul Osborn and Paul H. Rameau
(based on the book by Eve Curie)
Starring:
Greer Garson, Walter Pidgeon, Henry Travers, Albert Bassermann, Robert Walker, C. Aubrey Smith, Dame May Whitty, Victor Francen, Elsa Bassermann, Reginald Owen, Van Johnson, Margaret O'Brien
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
0 wins

In late 19th century Paris, Marie Sklodowska (Garson) is completing her doctorate at the Sorbonne and is in need of some lab space. When she is introduced to physicist Pierre Curie (Pidgeon), he agrees for her to work alongside him. The two share a love of science, which soon turns into a love of each other. Together, they run experiments in order to discover what Marie theorises is a new previously unknown radioactive element.

As a science enthusiast, I'm not deterred by films set in academia but I imagine that such scientific themes could be uninteresting for some. Madame Curie, however, cleverly borrows from other less boring genres to create an engaging story in which science is really just the backdrop. First, the picture is a somewhat traditional boy-meets-girl romance with fleeting glances and bashful repartee. Then, it's a suspense drama as the two lovebird scientists attempt to discover a new mysterious element.

As such, the science is occasionally portrayed in a simple manner, which I suppose is a necessity given the rather complex principles involved. But by incorporating those aforementioned genres, it's always compelling. So when Pierre and Marie have their first in-depth scientific discourse, the concepts they discuss may be difficult for a lay audience to comprehend, but the mutual fondness they both have for chemistry is clear and we watch as the sparks fly. Or when Marie demonstrates her investigation of pitchblende to Pierre by testing its composition in an electrometer, it's a struggle to understand what's actually going on in scientific terms, but the suspense permeating the scene as the experiment unfolds is truly captivating.

Then again, perhaps this method of pushing the science into the background goes a little too far when, on occasion, the renowned scientists appear to miss the absolute obvious. They spend years breaking down the same eight tons of pitchblende in the hopes of extracting the elusive element that they've now named radium. But in a fit of incompetence, they dismiss the stain that remains in their mortar after all the other elements have been removed. Um, maybe the stain is the radium? To be fair, later that night, they return to the lab and stare excitedly at the glowing radiation (pictured), but it took them long enough to figure it out. (By the way, I think I now know what's in that briefcase in Pulp Fiction.)

This is the 1940s so there is definitely some melodramatic acting on display - probably a result of the melodramatic dialogue - but it isn't constant and it nonetheless remains fun and engaging. Greer Garson is fantastic in the title role, which earned her a Best Actress nomination from the Academy. In opposition to the out-dated stereotypes during her era, Marie Curie is portrayed as supremely intelligent and confident, a genuinely strong role model. As her husband and collaborator, Walter Pidgeon - who, incidentally, also played Garson's husband in the previous year's Best Picture winner Mrs. Miniver - also received recognition in the Best Actor category for a droll performance of a neurotic but affable man. Also of note is Robert Walker in a funny and bright role as Pierre's lab assistant. And Henry Travers and Dame May Whitty both deliver memorably witty turns as Pierre's parents. Interestingly, Travers and Whitty, along with Reginald Owen, also appeared in Mrs. Miniver. That's no less than five principal actors in common with Madame Curie. Quite the repertory company.