1935 - Top Hat

I'm ba-aack!

First, let me gloat about my Oscar predictions from this year. I correctly picked 21 of the 24 winners, the best result I've ever achieved in the more than two decades I've been making predictions. I only missed Sound Editing and the two big ones, Director and Picture. Perhaps the most miraculous part, though, is that I managed to ace all the short film categories!

Now, after the longest period of inactivity (not counting Oscar predictions) in this blog's history, I've returned with a new review. And a lot has happened since my last post almost two years ago. The biggest of those happenings is that I said goodbye to Los Angeles late last year and moved the family back to Sydney. Though, as a dual Australian-US citizen, I'll still travel back to LA a couple of times a year for my career, so it's not a permanent goodbye.

In fact, I was there a couple of weeks ago right before everything got serious in the world. Within a few days, the entertainment industry all but shut down, so I cut my intended trip short and returned to Australia, just in time it seems. A 14-day self-isolation imposed on all returning international travellers had already come into effect by the time I arrived, so with not much else to do, it was the perfect opportunity to watch the next film for this blog. I don't expect it will continue like that, though, because now the kids are staying home from school, meaning the days are full for me once more.

Before we get to the review, there's one piece of exciting news that I've been saving for some time. I had discovered this a while back, but wanted to wait for this film's review to bring it up. Through a genealogy site, I found out that I'm (distantly) related to none other than Frederick Austerlitz, better known as Fred Astaire! We're 11th cousins, to be precise. Our common Czech ancestry dates back to the 17th century, where we apparently share great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents.

So at long last, let's pick back up where we left off with yet another musical from the Best Picture race of 1935...


Top Hat
Director:
Mark Sandrich
Screenplay:
Allan Scott, Dwight Taylor
Starring:
Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Edward Everett Horton, Erik Rhodes, Eric Blore, Helen Broderick
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
0 wins

American dancer Jerry Travers (Astaire) arrives in London in preparation for producer Horace Hardwick's (Horton) next big show. At his hotel, Jerry loses himself in a tap dance, oblivious to how noisy it is for society girl Dale Tremont (Rogers), who is trying to sleep in the room directly below. The two meet cute and Jerry begins his romantic pursuit of Dale, hindered by the fact that Dale thinks he's the married Horace.

Top Hat is a wonderful example of the big budget musical of the 1930s. Snappy tunes from the incomparable Irving Berlin - including a bunch of time-tested classics like "Top Hat, White Tie and Tails" and "Cheek to Cheek" - are complemented by some snappy tap dancing. In fact, as one would expect from a Fred Astaire flick, there's an abundance of tap numbers, but they avoid a sense of repetition thanks to some highly innovative choreography. Each dance feels distinctive with several moments eliciting an audible "wow" from me. Not to mention that it's the greatest dance pair in movie history that are performing the routines so, of course, it's immensely visually pleasing.

Now, it wouldn't be a big budget musical without big budget sets, and the production design on display here is nothing short of extravagant. Art director Van Nest Polglase's outdoor Venice set (pictured) is particularly stunning, even though it may sacrifice realism for the sort of polished bigger-is-better ostentation that makes Las Vegas hotels such a magnificent sight. Indeed, it wouldn't surprise me if the architects of The Venetian used this film as inspiration.

Perhaps, though, the picture's weakest point is the paper-thin storyline. While the dialogue is witty and entertaining, the plot is about as contrived as you can get. It pins itself entirely on the farcical case of mistaken identity that subsists literally for the entire film. That makes for a lot of scenes in which characters speak in terms that are just vague enough to maintain the misunderstanding between them.

Despite the flimsy plot, the witty words are buoyed by a greatly comic supporting cast, including the always affably innocent Edward Everett Horton, whose double takes are sublime. And unless you're looking out for it, you'll almost certainly miss (I did!) a young Lucille Ball as a flower shop clerk.

1935 - Broadway Melody of 1936

From the chill of Sydney's winter back to the oppressive heat of another Los Angeles summer, I've returned to my adopted home without blogging about the last film I watched before leaving L.A. in the first place. The three weeks in Australia was a nice holiday, but now it's time to get back to business.

Next up, we take a look at another musical entry into 1935's Best Picture contest...

Broadway Melody of 1936
Director:
Roy Del Ruth
Screenplay:
Jack McGowan, Sid Silvers, Moss Hart, Harry W. Conn
Starring:
Jack Benny, Eleanor Powell, Robert Taylor, Una Merkel, Sid Silvers, Buddy Ebsen, June Knight, Vilma Ebsen
Academy Awards:
3 nominations
1 win, for Best Dance Direction

After his boss orders him to make his column more sensational, Broadway gossip columnist Bert Keeler (Benny) stumbles upon a potentially sleazy relationship between producer Bob Gordon (Taylor) and wealthy widow Lillian Brent (Knight). She is investing in his show on the condition that, if Gordon can't find a star within two weeks, she'll take the role. Enter Irene Foster (Powell), Gordon's estranged high-school sweetheart, herself a budding stage actress with her own desire to headline Gordon's show.

From that plot, you'd be forgiven for thinking this is just another run-of-the-mill musical comedy from old Hollywood. They certainly churned those out in those days, but if this is run-of-the-mill, then it's a pretty entertaining mill. I never considered myself a big fan of the extravagant dance musical but something really tickled my fancy with this one. With its exciting showbiz story and its truly toe-tapping musical numbers, this is escapism at its purest.

In the lead role, Jack Benny, already a radio star at the time, is drily hilarious and can already be seen utilizing his trademark exasperated expression with one hand gently perched on his lower jaw. Also enjoyable is Una Merkel's sly and humorous turn as the sassy secretary. Perhaps the standout, though, is Buddy Ebsen, who is immensely charming and quirky and, if you're only familiar with him as Jed Clampett, you'll be surprised at what an accomplished song-and-dance man he is. Plus, that's his real-life sister Vilma playing his on-screen sister. The two of them (pictured with Eleanor Powell) perform an absolutely mind-blowing tap dance routine.

In fact, all the dancing talent is spectacular, particularly that one guy in the opening number who literally jumps over all the chorus girls, lined up in a row. It's a confusingly random feat, but impressive nonetheless. And that's just one example of the unique choreography on display. It's no wonder the film's only Oscar came for Best Dance Direction (a now defunct category). It also nabbed a nomination for Best Writing (Original Story), though, in my opinion, the script's greatest feature is its witty dialogue. And, of course, there was the Best Picture nod, which, it could be argued, makes it the first sequel to ever be nominated for the top prize, despite the fact that the story and characters are entirely unrelated to 1928/29's Best Picture winner, The Broadway Melody.

1935 - Naughty Marietta

Greetings from wintry Sydney, Australia. I'm back in my home town for a few weeks visiting family and friends, so I may not get much of a chance to watch more of the current crop of nominees, but I had already watched two more of them before I left L.A., so I hope to at least find a little time to blog about them while I'm here.

And indeed, here are my thoughts on one of those films, another Best Picture nominee from 1935...

Naughty Marietta
Director:
Robert Z. Leonard, W.S. Van Dyke
Screenplay:
Frances Goodrich, Albert Hackett, John Lee Mahin
(based on the operetta by Victor Herbert [music] and Rida Johnson Young [book & lyrics])
Starring:
Jeanette MacDonald, Nelson Eddy, Frank Morgan, Elsa Lanchester, Douglas Dumbrille, Joseph Cawthorne, Cecilia Parker, Walter Kingsford, Greta Meyer, Akim Tamiroff
Academy Awards:
2 nominations
1 win, for Best Sound

In order to escape an arranged marriage, a French princess (MacDonald) adopts the identity of a lowly servant named Marietta and sails to New Orleans with dozens of other girls who are hoping to marry the colonists there. However, Marietta has no intention of marrying anyone. Before they arrive in New Orleans, the ship is overtaken by pirates and their plans look dashed until mercenaries come to the rescue. The leader of the mercenaries, Captain Warrington (Eddy), takes a liking to Marietta, though he, too, is stubbornly against marriage.

Of all the different genres of film, musicals arguably contain the least naturalistic conceit. Even fantasy films don't feature people randomly breaking into song (unless they're fantasy musicals, I guess). Not that I'm criticising, mind you. I love a good musical. It's just that, if you're going to ask the audience to suspend disbelief about the spontaneous singing, you might want to make the lyrics at least somewhat relevant to the action. Maybe I'm exaggerating since most of the songs do indeed make sense, but there were still a few that seemed to bear little relation to the story. Of course, it didn't help that unfamiliar characters would often join in the musical numbers for only one or two verses (and sometimes even start the song), even though we hadn't been introduced to them yet nor would we ever see them again. Just some random guy in a crowd belting passionately about something or other. Ironically, the songs are probably the least entertaining part of this whole affair but that may just be a modern viewer's perspective of a very old-fashioned style.

Despite all that and a somewhat formulaic plot, the picture is still very watchable. The visual gags, in particular, may be subtle and sparse, but they often had me laughing out loud. In opposition to the sometimes odd lyrics, the spoken dialogue is sharp and entertaining. Not to mention the old-timey slang. Who knew that "hollow in his pork basket" meant he was hungry?

Frank Morgan is the standout among a very capable cast. His amiable bumbling makes for a fantastically comedic performance. The chemistry between the two leads, Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy (pictured), works very well, and they both have superb classical singing voices, if you like that sort of thing. As for its Oscars record, Naughty Marietta only received one other nomination besides its Best Picture nod, but it took home that prize, which was for Best Sound Recording.

1935 - Alice Adams

Last week, I had the pleasure of attending an Academy event which, for this Oscars freak, was a giddy experience, despite it being a fairly low-key affair, open to the public. In any case, I'm grateful to be living in a city that affords me the opportunity to attend such things.

As you can see from the program (pictured to the right), this was a George Stevens Lecture, the Academy's long-running series of screenings/lectures celebrating the cinematic arts (and, if I'm not mistaken, I believe the point is that it's always a George Stevens film). While waiting for the event to begin, the audience was treated to some archival footage of interviews with legendary director George Stevens and producer Pandro S. Berman, discussing some behind-the-scenes tidbits about the movie we were about to see. Then, after a brief introduction by Academy President John Bailey, we heard from the director's own son, George Stevens Jr., also a filmmaker and an important figure in the film industry himself (he founded the AFI), who gave us a general overview of his father's life and career, as well as some more stories about the evening's film. He then handed the floor to the main lecturer of the evening, writer and director Robin Swicord, a member of the Academy's Board of Governors, representing the writers branch. (Swicord was Oscar-nominated for her adaptation of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which will be covered on this blog at some point in the future.)

Swicord's speech offered an in-depth look at the themes that Stevens was exploring in his film and how relevant they remain to this day. It was a genuinely fascinating talk, full of humour and insight, despite some spoilers. Though, it's hard to complain about spoilers of a film that was released 83 years ago. Finally, Swicord introduced the film itself and we all sat back to watch one of the Best Picture contenders from 1935...

Alice Adams
Director:
George Stevens
Screenplay:
Dorothy Yost, Mortimer Offner, Jane Murfin
(based on the novel by Booth Tarkington)
Starring:
Katharine Hepburn, Fred MacMurray, Fred Stone, Evelyn Venable, Frank Albertson, Ann Shoemaker, Charles Grapewin, Hattie McDaniel
Academy Awards:
2 nominations
0 wins

The Adams family (not the creepy, kooky one) are a lower middle class family who have hit upon rough times. Mr. Adams (Stone) is lucky to still be paid for a factory job he's been unable to perform in years, due to illness. His daughter Alice (Hepburn) desperately wants to be upper class, often forced to fake it as she attends fancy society soirees. But she struggles to keep up the facade when she falls for wealthy Arthur Russell (MacMurray), who seems to remain interested in her even after becoming aware of her compromised social status.

Alice Adams is an engaging, if slightly superficial, tale of class differences in Depression-era America. Despite the desperation subtly seeping from every scene, there's a surprising amount of humour. It's a mix that works wonderfully well, making for a cinematic experience that is both moving and enjoyable. Perhaps my only complaint is the abrupt ending. While that's clearly not unusual for early Hollywood, here it seems particularly unconvincing. The implausibly hasty resolution between Mr. Adams and his boss is perhaps bad enough, but then our two protagonists suddenly set aside their differences with only a few words and a sweeping kiss, followed by The End. Interestingly, the book on which this film is based did not end the same way and instead saw Alice and Arthur go their separate ways. Hepburn and Stevens pushed hard to retain the book's more realistic ending, including a final scene showing Alice heading off to business school, but in the end, producer Pandro S. Berman got his way, making sure the lovers united for a traditional, and box-office friendly, happy ending.

That's a relatively minor quibble, though, because the film is indeed captivating, in great part due to Katharine Hepburn's tour-de-force performance. She's charmingly natural in a role that paradoxically requires a near constant tone of insincerity. I must admit, though, that the pretension was a bit grating at times, almost jeopardising our desire to see her succeed, but I suppose it only added to the character's flawed desperation. Also noteworthy is a pre-Gone With the Wind Hattie McDaniel in a drily comic turn as an incompetent maid, delivering the film's funniest performance. But it was Hepburn that claimed the film's only acting nomination. In fact, it was the film's only nomination in any other category aside from Best Picture.

1946 - Henry V

Well, I've got a verdict post to write, as well as the first post of the next year of review, so let's move this right along.

Our final film in the race for 1944's Best Picture is...

Henry V
Director:
Laurence Olivier
Screenplay:
Laurence Olivier, Dallas Bower, Alan Dent
(based on the play by William Shakespeare)
Starring:
Laurence Olivier, Renée Asherson, Robert Newton, Leslie Banks, Felix Aylmer, Esmond Knight, Leo Genn
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
0 wins, plus 1 Honorary Award

Young King Henry V of England (Olivier) believes that France is rightfully part of his domain, and after being teased by the French, he begins a military campaign to claim their throne. His troops successfully take Harfleur, but at Agincourt, they are vastly outnumbered. Victory will be hard won here, testing Henry's skills as a strategist, a leader, and even an orator.

Henry V begins with the clever conceit that we are actually watching a filmed version of the play being performed in Shakespeare's time. There's a rowdy audience; the actors bow after each scene; we even see what goes on backstage on occasion. The on-stage narrator (or the Chorus, as Shakespeare named him) often apologises for the inadequacy of a stage production in being able to truly represent the grandness required of the story, asking us instead to use our imaginations to see the sweeping fields of France or the extravagant court of the English King.

And here's where Olivier gets really clever. About half an hour into the film, gone are the small stage sets, along with the theatrical entrances and exits, and we suddenly find ourselves watching the same characters on location instead. No longer do we need to imagine the scenery because we can actually see it in all its Technicolor splendour. In addition, the Chorus now addresses the camera and the soliloquys are presented in voice over as if they are true internal monologues. Shakespeare knew his medium didn't entirely have sufficient means to tell this story and, in a truly masterful stroke, Olivier appropriately adapted it to a medium that did.

At the end of the film, we return to Shakespeare's stage to hear the audience applaud as the actors take their bows. This perhaps suggests an additional metaphor at play. By bookending the film with scenes from a theatrical production, Olivier is maybe offering his take on the theatre's ability to transport its audience. All the scenes in between those bookends represent how we can truly get lost in our imagination as we watch the players on stage.

And there are indeed some spectacular sequences, in particular the Battle of Agincourt. The action is dramatically staged on wide open fields with seemingly hundreds of medieval soldiers in a breathtaking melee of swords and arrows. Perhaps the only detraction from this powerful sequence is the somewhat fake-looking matte paintings in the background.

The film boasts a stellar cast of experienced Shakespearean actors, led by one of the theatre world's greatest knights, Laurence Olivier (pictured). Olivier garnered himself a Best Actor nomination from the Academy as well as one for producing a Best Picture contender. He didn't win either of those (nor did the film win its other two nominations), but the Academy bestowed a Special Award on him anyway for his "outstanding achievement as actor, producer and director in bringing Henry V to the screen".

1946 - The Yearling

This is beginning to be a bit of a pattern. I neglect the blog for several months and then I notice there's a local screening of a Best Picture nominee, so I book myself a ticket, but because the screening is of a film in a different year of review than the one I'm currently working on, I'm forced to watch a number of films in quick succession in order to complete the current year of review before going to the screening. So, here we are again.

With two films remaining in 1946's Best Picture race, here's a look at...

The Yearling
Director:
Clarence Brown
Screenplay:
Paul Osborn
(based on the novel by Marjorie Kinnan Rawling)
Starring:
Gregory Peck, Jane Wyman, Claude Jarman Jr., Chill Wills, Henry Travers, Forrest Tucker
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
2 wins

In the latter part of the 19th century, 11-year-old Jody (Jarman) lives with his parents, Penny (Peck) & Ora (Wyman), on their farm in rural Florida. As the family struggles to make ends meet, Jody longs for any kind of pet to play with. Ora, who shows little love for her son as a coping mechanism for the three other children she lost, is against the idea, but she's overruled by Penny when Jody brings home an orphaned fawn (whose mother's death Penny happens to be responsible for). The boy and the young deer grow close, but Jody struggles to keep the wild animal under control.

The first thing you notice about The Yearling is its striking Technicolor cinematography. Maybe it's because it still seems like a novelty to see colour films from the 1940s (not that they were all that rare) instead of the usual muted black-and-white tones, or maybe it's just the fact that green foliage and babbling brooks feature very prominently throughout the picture, giving it an almost nature documentary feel, but whatever the reason, it's genuinely beautiful. Indeed, the Academy must have agreed because the only two Oscars the film won (out of seven total nominations) were for Best Color Cinematography and Best Color Art Direction.

Perhaps another sign of the times is how a film with such a depressing ending was considered a "family" film. To be fair, the first two hours of the film are indeed mostly family fare, as well as quite obviously a coming-of-age story, but that finale is squarely on the darker end of the coming-of-age spectrum.

As expected for this period, most of the acting is rather superficial, especially the kids, and even more especially Claude Jarman Jr (pictured). That said, it's probably not his fault that he was directed to literally leap through the woods on several occasions and he essentially has to carry the film after all, so I suppose he does a decent enough job all things considered. The Academy certainly thought it was a noteworthy performance since they gave him the Juvenile Award for "outstanding child actor of 1946". Technically, the film itself wasn't cited so it's not officially counted as an 8th nomination, which is a little odd considering it was the only film Jarman was in that year. As Jarman's parents, Jane Wyman and Gregory Peck have some more natural moments. Peck, in particular, proves how gifted a naturalistic actor he is, much more subtle than most of his contemporaries.

And then there are the animal actors. I'm sure several different deer shared the title role and they're all adorable. They also seem to follow directions surprisingly well, which is either a testament to the trainers or the editors, probably both. An early scene also features a pretty vicious (and spectacular) fight between a bear and two dogs that made me wonder how ethical the filmmakers were, but the now familiar "no animals were harmed" disclaimer is indeed included in the end credits and, after some cursory research, it seems that American Humane began monitoring animal use in films in the early 1940s, so I guess it checks out.

1946 - It's a Wonderful Life

Just over two weeks now until the Oscar nominations are announced, so let's take a quick look at how the lead acting categories are shaping up. Gary Oldman was the early frontrunner for the Best Actor prize for his transformation into Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour. However, 22-year-old Timothée Chalamet could give him a run for his money due to a star-making performance in Call Me By Your Name. He'd be the youngest winner in that category by several years if he can pull it off. Tonight's Golden Globes (which are in progress as I write this) may boost one of their chances since they're competing against each other in the Best Actor in a Drama category.

The Globes may also provide some insight into the Best Actress race, which is much more unclear at this stage. Sally Hawkins probably has the most buzz so far for her role in The Shape of Water, but Frances McDormand (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) and Saoirse Ronan (Lady Bird) have both garnered attention, too. And you can never rule out Meryl Streep (The Post) or her British Oscar-bait counterpart, Judi Dench (Victoria & Abdul), though they probably have a more uphill battle.

Back to the 1946 Best Picture race. The next nominee is a staple of Christmas television, and even though we're already a week into the new year, I did indeed watch it (not for the first time) a few days after Christmas, so try to hang on to what's left of your festive spirit as you read my thoughts on...

It's a Wonderful Life
Director:
Frank Capra
Screenplay:
France Goodrich, Albert Hackett, Frank Capra, Jo Swerling
(based on a story by Philip Van Doren Stern)
Starring:
James Stewart, Donna Reed, Lionel Barrymore, Thomas Mitchell, Henry Travers, Beulah Bondi, Frank Faylen, Ward Bond, Gloria Grahame
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
0 wins

Christmas Eve in Bedford Falls and it seems like almost everyone in town is praying for George Bailey (Stewart) to get a lucky break. God answers those prayers by assigning a fledgling guardian angel named Clarence (Travers) to prevent George from taking his own life. In preparation, Clarence is shown a recap of all the important moments in George's life.

As a young boy, George shows his heroism and honesty. As a young man, he vows to get out of Bedford Falls and accomplish big things. But his plans are thwarted when his father unexpectedly passes away, leaving George in charge of the family's building and loan company. Through the following years, George's dreams slip further and further away, always seeming to take a back seat to his obligations.

Has there ever been a more charming movie than It's a Wonderful Life? A charming story, set in a charming town during a charming time of year with charming characters, this is feel-good cinema in its purest form, the epitome of the classic Hollywood film. Even seven decades later, it all holds up. The script is delightful, a mix of witty dialogue and heartwarming drama, wrapped up in a fantastically creative structure. Perhaps unexpectedly for a film that attempts to be so many different things, It's a Wonderful Life actually succeeds in being a well-rounded picture, finding the perfect balance of each of its elements and covering the gamut of human emotion. There's heart, there's drama, there's humour. Plus, there's some high concept fantasy, a plot device that can so often fail, but is executed perfectly here, never becoming so silly that it diminishes the dramatic realism.

It's impossible to imagine anyone but James Stewart in the role of George Bailey. As arguably the most affable movie star of all time, he embodies the selflessness and wide-eyed ambition of George wonderfully, earning himself a Best Actor Oscar nomination in the process. He's supported by a cast of wonderful actors, including Donna Reed as his supportive wife, the always delightful Thomas Mitchell as his uncle, a wonderfully slimy Lionel Barrymore as the town's rich bully, and the beautiful innocence of Henry Travers (pictured) as the rookie angel.

Along with its Picture and Actor nominations, the film garnered nods for its director Frank Capra (who had already won three Best Director Oscars by this point), as well as for its Film Editing and Sound Mixing, bringing its total nods to five. Sadly, though, this classic walked away with no wins at all.

1946 - The Razor's Edge

This year's Oscar race is heating up. Most of the critics associations have weighed in with their picks, and the Golden Globes and SAG Awards nominations have been announced as well, so a few frontrunners are emerging. Probably the surest shot at this early stage is in the Best Supporting Actor category. After an esteemed career to date, including two prior Oscar nominations, it seems like this could be Willem Dafoe's year for his performance in The Florida Project. Meanwhile, the Supporting Actress contest is shaping up to be a battle between two horrible mothers - Laurie Metcalf in Lady Bird and Allison Janney in I, Tonya. Both are almost guaranteed to earn their first Oscar nominations next month with the scales leaning towards Metcalf for the win.

And now we shift our attention back to the next 1946 Best Picture nominee...

The Razor's Edge
Director:
Edmund Goulding
Screenplay:
Lamar Trotti
(based on the novel by W. Somerset Maugham)
Starring:
Tyrone Power, Gene Tierney, John Payne, Anne Baxter, Clifton Webb, Herbert Marshall
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
1 win, for Best Supporting Actress (Baxter)

Larry Darrell (Power) returns home from World War I, lucky to be alive after a fellow soldier made the ultimate sacrifice to save him. The event has left Larry traumatised and confused, so much so that he turns down job offers in order to simply loaf around and live off his modest inheritance, something his fiancee Isabel (Tierney) can't quite comprehend. Despite not truly being on board with it, Isabel agrees to postpone their nuptials so that Larry can spend an unspecified amount of time in Paris to clear his head.

The Razor's Edge is squarely in the melodrama genre. High emotion, high stakes, high society. That said, it's captivating melodrama, so while the events are like something out of a soap opera, we remain connected to the characters and their futures. The picture begins with a whirlwind of character introductions, making it initially tough to follow. This is somewhat confounded by the fact that W. Somerset Maugham (the author of the source material) is presented as a character within the narrative, though always on the outskirts of the main action. It's an interesting plot device that works nicely in its own right, but since the audience identifies predominantly with him in the opening scenes, it's unclear at first who the actual protagonist is. Though, to be fair, even by the end of the film, none of the characters really turns out to be wholly protagonist material. As expected in melodrama, each of the characters often see-saws between likable and not.

Despite some heavy-handed dialogue (another hallmark of melodrama), I did enjoy the old-timey slang. When Isabel's uncle is trying to console her after Larry leaves, he promises her that she soon "won't care two straws for him." Later, on a different topic, he exclaims, "I don't care a row of beans." People back then sure had a long list of random, unimportant things they didn't care about.

The cast of The Razor's Edge is uniformly great, delivering cleverly nuanced performances that make us forget how melodramatic the material is. Tyrone Power, in particular, manages to avoid portraying Larry as one-dimensionally meek, despite his being existentially lost for most of the story. Instead, Power instils his character with strength and a confidence that he's got it all together, even when he clearly doesn't. Gene Tierney is also outstanding, swinging back and forth between vulnerable and selfish. And while Anne Baxter (pictured) is admittedly a little showy (not unexpected for 1946, especially in a melodrama) as the scorned alcoholic, she remains utterly watchable. I also particularly enjoyed Lucile Watson's charmingly witty and strong performance, despite a small role.

Apart from its Best Picture nod, the film was also cited for Art Direction and two supporting performances, Clifton Webb and Baxter, the latter earning the film's only Oscar.

1946 - The Best Years of Our Lives

We now come to the impetus for my recent productiveness on this blog. Last week, one of L.A.'s premier revival cinemas, The New Beverly, held a screening of the eventual winner of this year of review. I've written briefly about the New Bev before and I only wish I had the time to visit it more often. After three years in L.A., this marks only the second time I've been.

In any case, here's my take on 1946's successful Best Picture nominee...

The Best Years of Our Lives
Director:
William Wyler
Screenplay:
Robert E. Sherwood
(based on a novel by MacKinley Kantor)
Starring:
Myrna Loy, Fredric March, Dana Andrews, Teresa Wright, Virginia Mayo, Cathy O'Donnell, Hoagy Carmichael, Harold Russell
Academy Awards:
8 nominations
7 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (March), Best Supporting Actor (Russell)

As World War II comes to a close, three American servicemen meet for the first time on the return trip to their hometown of Boone City. Al Stephenson (March) reluctantly returns to work at his old banking firm while attempting to reconnect with his wife, Milly (Loy). Meanwhile, Fred Derry (Andrews) struggles to find any work at all, disappointing his wife, Marie (Mayo). The pressure puts a strain on the relatively new marriage, as does Derry's falling for Stephenson's daughter, Peggy (Wright). Lastly, Homer Parrish (Russell), who lost both his hands during the war, deals with his own feelings of inadequacy.

A touching story of how returning servicemen cope when rejoining civilian life, The Best Years of Our Lives contains a healthy dose of moving drama, as expected, but it's also rich in humour. That's exactly my cup of tea, so it's fair to say I enjoyed this picture quite a bit. Granted, more modern takes on this theme, like Coming Home and Born on the Fourth of July - both of which will be covered on this blog eventually - may dig deeper, but this was the 1940s after all, so a little overly sweet melodrama was just the style of the day. Likewise, the comedy can be a bit broad and unrealistic, but it's still genuinely funny, which is the important thing. I saw the movie with what I can only assume was a room full of like-minded classic film buffs and there were several moments in which the entire audience erupted with laughter.

The film is blessed with a fantastic ensemble cast. There's really not a lemon among them. Fredric March is frequently hilarious, yet genuine when appropriate, earning himself his second Oscar for Best Actor. Myrna Loy and Teresa Wright are both delightfully cheeky, excelling at their sarcastic delivery. Kudos also to screenwriter Robert Sherwood for giving them all such witty things to say.

And then there's Harold Russell, a real-life WWII vet and amputee who was not an actor, though you might not know it because he definitely holds his own among this cast. Perhaps he's a little stiff in the really dramatic scenes, but he laps up the casual banter of his character like a pro.

Interestingly, only two years earlier, Barry Fitzgerald became the first and only actor to be nominated twice for the same performance: Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor for Going My Way. The Academy changed its rules so that could never happen again, yet two years later, they befittingly decided to bestow an honorary award onto Harold Russell for "bringing hope and courage to his fellow veterans" fearing he probably wouldn't be successful in his Best Supporting Actor nomination. Lo and behold, he ended up winning the trophy, making him the only actor to actually be awarded two Oscars for the same performance. That's him pictured above with his double golden statues.

All in all, the film itself closed out Oscar night with a pretty impressive strike rate. Not including Russell's honorary award and producer Samuel Goldwyn's Thalberg award, the film won seven of its eight nominations, only missing out on Best Sound.

1972 - The Emigrants

This is one of those times when my incessant procrastination pays off. The next film of review has been unavailable in the US until early last year, so seeking it out for a viewing would have been far more difficult before then. Let that be a lesson to you all. Sometimes, if you put something off long enough, it actually becomes easier.

So, let's see what we make of this nominee from the Best Picture contest of 1972...

The Emigrants
Director:
Jan Troell
Screenplay:
Bengt Forslund, Jan Troell
(based on the novels by Vilhelm Moberg)
Starring:
Max Von Sydow, Liv Ullmann, Eddie Axberg, Allan Edwall, Monica Zetterlund, Pierre Lindstedt
Academy Awards:
5 nominations
0 wins

The Emigrants opens with a series of oddly statistical captions about the Swedish town in which the main characters live. In fact, the subtitling, in general, of the version I watched is more than a bit unprofessional. The English translations are not always grammatically correct, not to mention the frequent typos. But I digress...

In this small Swedish town in the 19th century, the Nilsson family struggles to make their farm profitable. Robert (Axberg) hits on the idea to emigrate to America to pursue a better life, so he offers to sell his share of the farm to his older brother, Karl-Oskar (Von Sydow) in order to pay for the trip. However, Karl-Oskar confides in Robert that he, too, has been considering moving to the States, so he takes the idea to his wife, Kristina (Ullmann), who is not convinced. After all, they have four children and the trip across the Atlantic is long and dangerous.

When one of their children dies due to hunger, Kristina changes her mind and the preparations begin. Joining them on the ship are Robert's friend Arvid (Lindstedt), Kristina's uncle Danjel (Edwall) along with his wife and kids, and former prostitute Ulrika (Zetterlund) and her teenage daughter. After hearing from fellow passengers about the fertile land in Minnesota, the Nilssons decide that will be their final destination, but they'll need to survive the arduous journey first.

This is not a short film. Not by a long shot. At just over three hours, it definitely has an epic feel, but the pacing is often so laboured that it sometimes feels even longer. There I was thinking Sounder was slow but in the time it took Sounder to tell its entire story, The Emigrants hadn't even started emigrating yet. Not that nothing happens. There's a fascinating story being told, but so many of the scenes include lengthy blocks of repetition or inactivity. Sometimes, something will actually happen after the silence, but often, an entire scene will go by without any dialogue or plot progression. There are, for example, several scenes devoted to someone sitting on a swing and swinging for a minute or two.

From the above description, you'd be forgiven for thinking this is one of those artsy films that eschews plot and character in favour of experimental camera techniques and metaphorical dialogue. And while there are indeed some inexplicable fast zooms, the film is, for the most part, a conventional production. However, the score remains an oddity and is mind-bogglingly inappropriate to the action taking place on screen. Thankfully, it's not all that frequent, but when there is music, it sounds like it was composed for a thriller, not an epic drama. There are literally establishing shots of benign landscapes underscored by chilling suspense music. I almost expected a goblin to jump out from behind a tree.

Nonetheless, like Sounder, The Emigrants becomes much more captivating in the second half. The scenes aboard the ship and after landing in America are still sometimes slow, but I suppose we've spent so long with these characters by that point that we can't help but be invested in what happens to them.

Despite the intermittent tedium, the cast, led by Max Von Sydow and Liv Ullmann (both pictured), are all supremely riveting in their roles, though Ullmann was the only one nominated for her performance. My pick of the bunch, however, is Monica Zetterlund's feisty portrayal of Ulrika. And in an apparent act of nepotism, Zetterlund's on-screen daughter is played by her actual daughter, Eva-Lena.

The Emigrants achieved the very rare Oscars feat of receiving both a Foreign Language Film nomination as well as a Best Picture nod, though unlike the other three films in that exclusive club - Z, Life Is Beautiful and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon - The Emigrants took two Oscar ceremonies to accomplish it. Due to Academy rules, Foreign Language submissions need not have been released in the States, so The Emigrants garnered its Foreign Language nomination in 1971, when it initially played in Sweden. Then, when it was eventually released in the US in 1972, it became eligible in all the other categories. Also unlike the other three movies, which were all successful in winning the Foreign Language award plus at least one other, The Emigrants took home no Oscars at all. To cap it off, though, its sequel, The New Land, happened to be competing in the Foreign Language category in 1972, also.

1972 - Sounder

As this year's Oscar contenders all jostle for position, I'm taking advantage of the available screenings and Q&As. So far, I've managed to see Call Me By Your Name, Mudbound and Darkest Hour, all of which I thoroughly enjoyed and all of which have strong prospects for multiple nominations. It's clear to me why Gary Oldman is the early frontrunner for Best Actor. I also saw The Meyerowitz Stories and though I'm not confident about its chances at the Oscars, hearing Dustin Hoffman and Adam Sandler talk after the screening was probably my favourite Q&A experience of the lot. Additionally, I slummed it to a regular cinema to enjoy Battle of the Sexes and Lady Bird, both of which are highly likely to see acting nominations, too, maybe even wins. Emma Stone is fantastic as Billie Jean King, and while Saoirse Ronan has a good shot at a Best Actress nomination, I think her on-screen mother, Laurie Metcalf actually has a better shot at taking home the Supporting Actress award.

But back to the 1972 Best Picture contenders now as we review...

Sounder
Director:
Martin Ritt
Screenplay:
Lonne Elder III
(based on the novel by William H. Armstrong)
Starring:
Cicely Tyson, Paul Winfield, Kevin Hooks, Carmen Matthews, Taj Mahal, James Best, Janet MacLachlan
Academy Awards:
4 nominations
0 wins

A poverty-stricken African-American family struggle to make ends meet in Depression-era Louisiana. When things get desperate, the head of the household, Nathan (Winfield), steals some meat to feed his family but is later arrested and sentenced to hard labour. His wife, Rebecca (Tyson), sends oldest son David Lee (Hooks), along with his trusty dog, Sounder, on a mission to find the prison camp that Nathan was sent to.

From first impressions, Sounder is slightly melodramatic. Many of the situations, even the ones that ought to be intensely dramatic, are executed in a somewhat superficial way. The dialogue is often cliched with the characters simply saying words at each other, avoiding any genuine connection. Their behaviour, too, seems oddly unmotivated. While some of the more important decisions may be justified, many of the smaller interactions between two characters seem unnatural and staged.

I'm also a little confused as to why the film is called Sounder. I mean, I get that the dog is named Sounder and maybe there's a metaphor about loyalty or something, but the dog is a very minor character, all things considered. He doesn't actively move the story forward in any meaningful way. In fact, he's barely important to the story at all. As it turns out, the book from which the film is adapted, focuses much more heavily on the dog, but since screenwriter Lonne Elder III clearly shifted the main focus to the family, you'd think a different title would have been in order.

Anyway, before you think I'm completely writing it off - and, remember, I did preface all this with "from first impressions" - the film certainly has its merits. The family themes are universal and despite a very, VERY slow-moving first half, the final act is indeed engaging with some genuinely touching moments.

The performances, however, are often as stiff as the dialogue, particularly all the children. Cicely Tyson and Paul Winfield are obviously accomplished actors, but even they struggle to rise above the stilted material. As mentioned, though, things pick up towards the end, and there are occasions when Tyson and Winfield truly show off their acting chops. Winfield's heated exchange with his son and the subsequent heartfelt monologue are particularly moving to watch. Kevin Hooks, now a prolific TV director, isn't great, but a darn sight better than the amateurish performances by the kids in his class. For me, though, the most watchable performance in the picture is the one given by Janet MacLachlan (pictured) as Camille, the schoolteacher, who takes David Lee under her wing, genuinely trying to connect with him.

The Academy obviously liked the lead actors since both Tyson and Winfield saw their performances nominated, making it the first time a film received Actor and Actress nods for its African-American leads. (The only other pair is Laurence Fishburne and Angela Bassett for What's Love Got To Do With It.) They also clearly disagreed with me about the script, because the film also picked up a nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay.

1972 - Deliverance

It seems my only motivation to work on this blog lately is when a Best Picture nominee is scheduled to play locally on the big screen. In a few days, one such screening is happening, so I'm attempting to cram in the last few 1972 nominees beforehand.

So let's rejoin the 1972 Best Picture race and have a look at...

Deliverance
Director:
John Boorman
Screenplay:
James Dickey
(based on his novel)
Starring:
Jon Voight, Burt Reynolds, Ned Beatty, Ronny Cox
Academy Awards:
3 nominations
0 wins

Four businessmen from Atlanta head north for a weekend of camping and canoeing. From the moment they set foot in the remote Georgia town, the locals give off an unfriendly and unhelpful vibe. That bad vibe turns into a nightmarish one as they not only deal with the violent river rapids but also with some violent locals. Getting back to civilisation with their dignity - and lives - intact becomes increasingly more difficult.

Deliverance is gripping from the first frame to the last, a genuinely edge-of-your-seat experience. As a film buff, particularly of 1970s cinema, I'm a little embarrassed to admit I hadn't actually seen this picture before, though I was, of course, fully aware of its two most famous scenes. The first, the duelling banjos - which is a bit of a misnomer since only one of the duelling instruments is a banjo - appears very early on, so knowing about this scene in advance was certainly no disadvantage. Once the two musicians get into full swing, it's incredibly toe-tapping and entertaining, sure to put a smile on your face.

The other famous scene, however, makes you feel the precise opposite and it's perhaps this scene that is more responsible for cementing the film's place in popular culture. Being familiar with it, I was concerned it would affect my experience of the story. Indeed, I was, in a way, just waiting for the canoe trip to go pear-shaped, but in the end, it's less than halfway through the film, so there's still plenty of nail-biting action that follows. And in any case, despite my awareness of its infamous reputation, the scene itself is some of the most intense few minutes of cinema I've ever seen. My eyes were glued to the screen. Powerful, powerful stuff.

Jon Voight (pictured) is, for me, the standout among the four main performers. His is a wonderfully subtle portrayal of a tortured man, far out of his depth, both literally and metaphorically. Ned Beatty is also great, though I was expecting his character to be more traumatised by his experience. By the end of the film, he seems almost to be able to shrug it off. Burt Reynolds is perhaps less realistic in his performance. His relatively unaffected response to the main event of the film seems somehow inappropriate and not particularly genuine. On the other end of the spectrum is Ronny Cox, who plays it all a bit too over the top. Despite the varied performances, they all get huge kudos for doing their own stunts. There's no mistaking that it's clearly the actors inside those canoes as they roll over the rapids. Voight also apparently scaled that cliff himself - a mighty impressive feat. Lastly, don't miss the source material's author, James Dickey, popping up as the Sheriff towards the end of the film.

As for Academy Awards, there were no acting nominations (though Voight was nominated for a Golden Globe), but the film picked up nods for Picture (obviously), John Boorman's impeccable direction and the meticulous editing by Tom Priestley.

1972 - The Godfather

You may remember several weeks ago, when I returned to this blog after such a lengthy break, that I mentioned having watched four movies within the space of as many days. The driving force behind that feat was a screening by Fathom Events, in collaboration with TCM. The film in question was a Best Picture winner that I'd always wanted to see on the big screen, so it was tough to pass up the opportunity. But of course, in order to appease my own sense of order, I felt the obsessive need to finish the previous year of review before starting a new one. Hence, I crammed in the remaining three 1943 Best Picture nominees just in time to treat myself to 1972's winner. And with this review, I'm finally caught up.

So, our first nominee from the 1972 Best Picture race is...

The Godfather
Director:
Francis Ford Coppola
Screenplay:
Mario Puzo, Francis Ford Coppola
(based on the novel by Mario Puzo)
Starring:
Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, Richard Castellano, Robert Duvall, Sterling Hayden, John Marley, Richard Conte, Diane Keaton
Academy Awards:
10 nominations
3 wins, including Best Picture and Best Actor (Brando)

Don Vito Corleone (Brando), known as the Godfather, is the head of one of New York's most notorious crime families. While the other male members of the clan are all involved in the family business, Vito's son, Michael (Pacino), keeps himself at a distance. But when the Godfather refuses to make a deal with a rival crime family, a mob war breaks out. In what begins as an attempt to protect his own father, Michael soon finds himself drawn in to the family business, after all.

Both the AFI and IMDb users list The Godfather in the number two spot of their top films of all time, and it's not difficult to understand why. It's a positively captivating film from start to finish, fittingly earning a revered place in cinematic history. From the exquisite cinematography to the powerful performances, there is drama and suspense infused into every frame. Ultimately, though, the story is essentially a heartbreaking character study of a man whose moral compass collapses under the weight of his family loyalty. When we first meet Michael Corleone, he's relaxed and open, making it clear to Kay that he has nothing to do with his father's business. But as he slowly gets pulled in to the family's shady dealings, he becomes more and more humorless and unlikable. Finally, he takes over from his father and Kay is shut out (both literally and metaphorically) in one of the most chilling final shots ever to be filmed (pictured).

A big part of any film becoming such a pop culture phenomenon is its memorable music and quotable quotes, and The Godfather is certainly no exception. While Italian composer Nino Rota's intensely evocative score was initially announced as a nominee for the Best Original Score Oscar, it was later withdrawn due to the discovery that Rota had adapted an earlier score for the film's main theme. Regardless of its origins, the theme has clearly become so closely associated with The Godfather that it scarcely matters what it was first used for. The memorable quotes, on the other hand, weren't heard anywhere before, though they've been mimicked ad nauseam ever since, a clear testament to their emotional resonance. In the screening that I attended, there was audible tittering when Brando uttered the classic, "I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse," and some louder chuckles at the oft-parodied, "Leave the gun, take the cannoli." Even more evidence I was watching with fellow fans was the scene in which Woltz first proudly shows off his racehorse. The audience knowingly snickered with delight at what we all knew was coming.

The performances are fantastic all around. From the comic relief of Lenny Montana's Luca Brasi to the impassioned energy of Talia Shire's Connie. In total, there were four acting nominations. Brando deservedly won Best Actor (though famously refused the award) for an exceptional portrayal of the Corleone patriarch. Powerful, yet understated, but jeez, those cotton balls in his mouth sure are weird. Al Pacino, Robert Duvall and James Caan all competed against each other in the Supporting Actor category, but perhaps they split the vote because none of them took home the prize. It would have made for an interesting evening if Pacino had won, though, because he, too, was a no-show at the ceremony, allegedly objecting to his performance being cited as a supporting role. To be fair, he had a point. His performance represented a far greater amount of screen time than Brando's. Certainly not the first or last time that sort of thing has happened, but clearly one of the most egregious cases.

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.