1939 - Ninotchka

Today's entry may be a little shorter than usual on account of the plane I need to catch in a few hours, a plane not bound for Brazil, where my friends Jon and Aline are getting married today. Sadly, due to financial and other constraints, it was necessary for Kat and I to tick the "I/We regretfully decline" box on the invitation, so no trip to Brazil, unfortunately. Subsequently, I was offered a spot on the Australian team in an international improv tournament in Atlanta, Georgia. And since the organisers are paying for my airfare and accommodation, I was more than happy to oblige. So, I still get to fly somewhere this week, although, it is without my beautiful wife.

My absence may also result in a steep deceleration in film viewing, so I may not be able to update this blog over the next five days. I'll be taking the last two 1939 Best Picture nominees with me to Atlanta in the event of some free time, but I'm not even certain I'll have internet access, so it still may be next week before you read the next post. We'll see...

In the meantime, this morning I watched the eighth nominee from 1939...

Ninotchka

Director:

Ernst Lubitsch

Screenplay:

Melchior Lengyel, Charles Brackett, Billy Wilder and Walter Reisch

Starring:

Greta Garbo, Melvyn Douglas, Ina Claire, Bela Lugosi

Academy Awards:

4 nominations

0 wins

It is a wonderful thing not knowing anything about a film when you sit down to watch it. Apart from the knowledge that it starred Greta Garbo, I really hadn't the first clue as to what Ninotchka was about. As it turns out, it is a very pleasant romantic comedy with a load of political satire thrown in. Three Soviet delegates arrive in Paris with instructions to sell some confiscated jewellery for the government, but the allure of French capitalism sidetracks their mission, so the uncompromising and unsentimental special envoy Ninotchka is sent to move things along. Into the mix comes Count Leon, initially representing the original owner of the jewellery, the aristocratic Grand Duchess Swana. But Leon begins to fall for Ninotchka, and Ninotchka's eyes are opened to the glorious wonder of laughter and love ... and material objects.

Billed as Greta Garbo's first comedy, Ninotchka is a charmingly romantic and witty film. The scriptwriters, including the brilliant team of Brackett and Wilder, create a world of goofy characters and situations with some clever wordplay to boot. I found myself chuckling many times, a feat not easily achieved by such a dated picture.

There is a great deal of political discussion in the film as it pits capitalism and communism against each other. But it pokes fun at both sides of the coin, so it never really comes across as too politically motivated. To demonstrate his newfound freedom in a capitalist society, one Russian yells out his room, "The service in this hotel is terrible," and is pleased to discover he is totally ignored. See, capitalism is certainly not without its faults.

For her first comedy, Greta Garbo delivers a brilliantly funny performance as the stuffy and no-nonsense Ninotchka, who confesses her romanctic feelings in a deadpan and almost robotic tone, "Chemically, we're already quite sympathetic." As a movie star, though, she must have been disappointed at all the drab clothes in which she was attired, including a downright ridiculous hat (pictured). Melvyn Douglas, who would go on to win two Oscars in the next 40 years, also delivers a finely dry portrayal as Ninotchka's love interest. And the three hapless Soviet delegates are a joy to watch, as well. You can also spot classic horror star Bela Lugosi as the Commissar.

With all its political commentary, Ninotchka is essentially about love conquering all barriers, and its romance is sure to leave a warm fuzzy feeling in the hardest of hearts, communist or otherwise.

1939 - The Wizard of Oz

The next film in Matt vs. the Academy is one with which I have a close relationship. Not because of a particularly large number of viewings (before today, it had been almost fifteen years since I last watched it), but because it served as the basis for my debut stage performance. At the age of eleven, I stepped into the suffocating costume of the Cowardly Lion in a community production of The Wizard of Oz, lovingly adapted (or plagiarised, if you prefer) from the script of the 1939 Best Picture nominee. I credit that one-night-only production with the genesis of my love of performing. It is where I first caught the acting bug. I remember fondly the first rehearsal when, after weeks of listening intently to the film's dialogue, I delivered my lines in a perfect imitation of Bert Lahr's thick New York accent, only to elicit laughter from the cast and crew. I consequently dropped the impersonation. However, laughter could still be heard on show night, but this time, it was from the audience and at appropriately comic occasions. And that was it. I never went back. Once you've received the love of an audience, you just want more. Thus, I now find myself in a city famed for its theatre industry, still pursuing that glorious feeling.

Plus, as I am rather fond of pointing out, Robert De Niro was similarly eleven years old when he first trod the boards to play the Cowardly Lion in a community production of The Wizard of Oz. Good company, indeed. I'm still waiting for my Travis Bickle.

In the meantime, here are my thoughts on...

The Wizard of Oz

Director:

Victor Fleming

Screenplay:

Noel Langley, Florence Ryerson and Edgar Allan Woolf

(based on the novel "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" by L. Frank Baum)

Starring:

Judy Garland, Frank Morgan, Ray Bolger, Bert Lahr, Jack Haley, Billie Burke, Margaret Hamilton

Academy Awards:

6 nominations

2 wins, including Best Song ("Over the Rainbow")

I doubt I have any readers who are not at least slightly familiar with The Wizard of Oz, the classic musical about Dorothy Gale and her fantastical adventures. The film begins on the sepia-toned Kansas farm on which Dorothy lives with her aunt, her uncle, three quirky farmhands and her dog, Toto. She has brief encounters with her unpleasant neighbour as well as an amiable fortune teller. After being caught in a fierce tornado, Dorothy is rendered unconscious, awakening to see the house spinning out of control in mid-air. The house lands in a strange and colourful place, a land known as Oz. Greeted by dozens of Munchkins and a good witch by the name of Glinda, Dorothy is told that, in order to return home, she must seek the assistance of the Wizard. On her journey, she teams up with a Scarecrow, a Tin Man and a Lion, all remarkably similar to those quirky farmhands back in Kansas, yet Dorothy simply can't make the connection, try as she might. She is also pursued by the Wicked Witch of the West, angry at Dorothy's careless murder of the Witch's sister, who was crushed by Dorothy's descending house.

When you need to put a smile on your face, just sit back and relax with a viewing of The Wizard of Oz, still charming seventy years on. It is replete with spectacular sets and costumes and make-up, plus some impressive special effects, considering the year it was produced. Add to that some familiar tunes with witty lyrics and you have yourself the perfect cure for any kind of blues. Be aware, however, that this is unmistakably a children's movie. But it's that innocent charm, perhaps, that makes it so enjoyable, allowing you that brief moment to feel like a child again. Still, The Wizard of Oz is also the height of pantomime. The production has an air of a stage performance about it, no doubt a consequence of the vaudeville background of a number of the cast. Everything is as hammy is it can possibly be.

Despite its junior demographic, there are some strangely morbid themes. The first scene in Munchkinland could be somewhat unsettling to some, with its celebration of death. Sure, the Wicked Witch of the East was a nasty old hag, but to dance about and sing, "Ding dong, the Witch is dead," before she's even cold seems a tad insensitive. No wonder the Wicked Witch of the West is so miffed.

The design elements in the film are nothing short of magnificent. A sweeping field of poppies, a sea of flying monkeys, a colour-changing horse. Even the painted backdrops that create the illusion of a larger landscape can be forgiven their conspicuousness because they are still so beautifully extravagant. Although, the frequent sight of the cast skipping along the yellow brick road into the distance made me almost expect to see them wander too far and simultaneously slam their noses into the backdrop.

One of the most impressive effects occurs when the Wicked Witch disappears behind a puff of coloured smoke. Yes, you can see the trapdoor if you look close enough, but the impressive part is the huge ball of fire that spews itself out almost immediately after the Witch has descended. A little less impressive, perhaps, after I discovered that Margaret Hamilton was off work for weeks with second-degree burns because of that stunt. Or maybe more impressive, I'm not sure.

The pre-fantasy sequence demonstrates the cleverness of the script, made all the more fascinating with the knowledge of the subsequent storyline. We all know that Dorothy's dream contains characters inspired by those in her real life, but the farmhands also give hints to their fantasy counterparts' respective desires. The whole concept is rather Freudian, when you think about it.

Which brings me to the film's conclusion. Quite the cliché, but I guess The Wizard of Oz was really the pioneer of the it-was-all-a-dream plot. Besides, the central character still learnt a lesson even if her entire journey is made redundant. And hey, what happened to Miss Gulch's plans to destroy Toto?

1939 - Gone With the Wind

After a pleasant weekend in New Jersey, eating good food and playing Trivial Pursuit with good friends, and leisurely strolling through Princeton and eating more good food with more good friends, I sat down to watch the epic Gone With the Wind. Kat watched with me and gallantly made it to the intermission before heading off to bed, but I persevered and saw it through to the end. And I have to admit, I'm very glad that I did.

The next nominee from 1939, and the eventual winner of the Best Picture award, is none other than...

Gone With the Wind

Director:

Victor Fleming

Screenplay:

Sidney Howard

(based on the novel by Margaret Mitchell)

Starring:

Vivien Leigh, Clark Gable, Leslie Howard, Olivia de Havilland, Thomas Mitchell, Hattie McDaniel

Academy Awards:

13 nominations

8 wins, including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actress

I've written and rewritten this opening sentence at least a dozen times in the vain hope I might be able to introduce this film by conveying something that is remotely unique. Discussing arguably the most famous movie in cinematic history is a somewhat daunting task, if only because of the knowledge that almost every other film critic, film historian and film buff in the last seventy years has already weighed in on the topic. Hence, I shall simply be content that my views are merely my views, interesting or otherwise.

Scarlett O'Hara is a Southern belle living on her family's farm, Tara, with her ma and pa and two sisters, during the American Civil War. Her passionate crush on neighbour Ashley Wilkes is technically not unrequited, but in practical terms, it might as well be, because Ashley marries Melanie Hamilton instead. Nevertheless, Scarlett pursues him consistently, while rejecting the advances of the charming Rhett Butler, who seems to be the only person unwilling to succumb to Scarlett's every whim. She marries a lot, for spite and for money, inconsiderate to the feelings of those around her. She is, without doubt, a spoilt brat. And even after she endures humbling hardships, she remains a brat. So much so, that the local madam is a more likable character. Yet, in the end, Scarlett learns her lesson and vows to change her selfish ways. After all, tomorrow is another day.

Gone With the Wind is most definitely an epic and majestic film. And considering its costly budget (the largest of its era), you would certainly expect the production values to be extravagant. Lavish costumes, grandiose sets, vivid colour cinematography, spectacular special effects, beautiful music, exciting stunts, huge crowd scenes. A feast for the eyes and the ears. It almost seems unfair to its competition. There is simply no doubt money can be a great boon to a production's quality. Can be. Not always. It still has to captivate its audience with its story. Luckily, Gone With the Wind succeeds there, as well.

The entire film is very much akin to a play. It has an overture (and an entr'acte and exit music). It begins by displaying a cast of characters. It even has an intermission. The structure of the story is exceptionally well paced. As I have frequently mentioned, many films adapted from novels, including several other nominees of 1939, have suffered from too short a script. The narrative feels rushed and distant. No such issue with Gone With the Wind. At close to four hours long, it definitely takes its time. And for the better, in my opinion. Despite being an epic tale, it is never complicated. The breathing time allows us to follow Scarlett's journey in a simple yet comprehensive way.

Having an Australian education, I'm not too familiar with the American Civil War. Nonetheless, it is not difficult to recognise the Southern bias that Gone With the Wind emits. Considering the Southern origins of the novel's author, that is perhaps unsurprising. However, the film is also, at times, blatantly racist without an obvious sense of satire. But perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps the film was simply intended to be completely faithful to its source. And perhaps Margaret Mitchell, the novel's author, also intended to be completely faithful to her sources. Still, one wonders whether that excuse would be enough to pass muster in today's cinema.

This discussion of the appropriateness of certain material becomes all the more interesting when you consider the restrictions that were placed on films of that time. Racism and violence may have been acceptable, but heaven forbid anyone mention sex. Quite often, however, this constraint only made for a cleverer script, as it did in this instance. There is no sign of any improper displays of bare flesh, nor any blatant reference to anything remotely sexual, and yet the subject of sex pervades this film in several sequences. The scriptwriters (and despite Sidney Howard's exclusive credit, there were several scriptwriters) were forced to be ingenious about how they broached the topic and it creates a fantastically subtle intensity.

Vivien Leigh could not have asked for a more spectacular debut. She is exceptional as the spoilt Scarlett. Classic movie star Clark Gable is perfect as Rhett, exuding charm when he delivers lines like, "You should be kissed and often. And by someone who knows how." You can just hear the women in the audience swooning. Other standouts are Olivia de Havilland as Melanie and Hattie McDaniel as Mammy, both nominated for Best Supporting Actor, the latter becoming the first African-American to win an Oscar.

Gone With the Wind has clearly stood the test of time. Accounting for inflation, it is the most financially successful film in history. People flocked to the cinema in 1939 to see it, and it remains a consistently popular home viewing choice today. When I first saw this film as a teenager, I wasn't particularly interested, but it honestly grabbed me this time, and to a large extent. I found it to be a full and satisfying film, most worthy of its place in cinema lore.

1939 - Of Mice and Men

It's the Labor Day weekend here in the United States and last night, my darling wife Kat and I attended a party with some friends. To make a long story short, I got a little intoxicated. Don't panic, I didn't embarrass myself (at least, I don't think I did) but I did suffer from some crazy dreams last night, no doubt induced by that hazy dehydration the human brain experiences when its owner has consumed too much alcohol and not enough water. I don't remember the details exactly, but I'm sure it had something to do with the films of 1939. A sign that I'm too obsessed with this project? No, probably just a sign that I shouldn't drink so much.

Yesterday, before the imbibing began, I reached the halfway point of the 1939 Best Picture competition when I watched...

Of Mice and Men

Director:

Lewis Milestone

Screenplay:

Eugene Solow

(based on the novel by John Steinbeck)

Starring:

Burgess Meredith, Betty Field, Lon Chaney, Jr., Charles Bickford, Roman Bohnen, Bob Steele

Academy Awards:

4 nominations

0 wins

Adapted from the classic John Steinbeck novella, Of Mice and Men follows two freelance ranch workers, George and Lennie, as they begin work on a ranch near Soledad, California, during the Great Depression. Lennie is intellectually challenged and George takes care of him, perhaps out of selfless pity or perhaps out of selfish opportunity. They both have the grand old dream of owning their own ranch one day, and Lennie constantly badgers George to tell him stories of what those liberated days will be like, living off the fat of the land. In particular, Lennie enjoys the part where he gets to tend to soft, cuddly bunny rabbits. And these plans (best laid ones, you might say) are very close to becoming reality. An old, one-handed ranch worker named Candy has offered to throw his savings into the pile, so the trio would only need one month's more wages to be able to purchase their dream property.

When I view movies for this project, I keep a small notepad by my side to jot down a few ideas, in order to assist the writing of the blog. By the time the words "The End" appeared for Of Mice and Men, I glanced down at my pad to discover a mostly white page. Not very beneficial for my blog, but it clearly means I was engrossed. And I think I know why. Irresepective of the captivating story, this film possesses some very modern filmmaking conventions, considering the year it was produced. It's subtle, but Academy Award winning director Lewis Milestone uses techniques that modern audiences may recognise, setting Of Mice and Men slightly apart from other films of its era. This film may not be considered the most pioneering of its time, but I simply felt a little less distant from it as compared to its contemporaries. It contains one of the first pre-credits sequences in cinema history, an especially common practice today, and Milestone intelligently sprinkles several slow crane or dolly shots throughout as well.

As it has a number of times for 1939's Best Picture race, the discussion once again turns to the adaptation of novels into films. Not surprising since eight of the ten nominees are based on written works of prose and one more on a play. The difference with Of Mice and Men may be due to its source material being a novella rather than a full length novel. As a consequence, it doesn't seem to encounter the same issues plaguing some of the other films. (Although, Gone With the Wind's almost four-hour running time perhaps sets that film apart, as well, for an entirely different reason.) Of Mice and Men is a perfectly paced drama, with the right amount of action and tension.

Finally, the main reason Of Mice and Men works so well is its genuinely compelling story. The characters draw us in with their identifiable foibles. Even Lennie, to whom we may not immediately relate, has a dream that is universal, that of a better life. In fact, all the characters share similar passions and hopes, and they all seek comfort in others to reassure them that their dreams are not complete fantasies, that they can plausibly be obtained. And then there's the chilling finale, but rather than reveal too much, I'll merely encourage those who have yet to see Of Mice and Men to discover the ending for themselves.

To return to my fondness for pop culture, the two main stars in Of Mice and Men, who, incidentally, both deliver fine performances, are both far better known for other projects. As George, you will probably recognise Burgess Meredith as either Rocky's trainer or The Penguin in the campy 1960s TV version of Batman. Playing Lennie is Lon Chaney, Jr., who, despite having several dramatic roles, became most famous for his portrayals of monsters, in particular the Wolf Man, in the horror movies of the 40s, 50s and 60s.

1939 - Stagecoach

A brief and inconsequential anecdote from today's journeys in the Big Apple:

I was on the 5th floor of a building on 42nd Street, heading to the elevator to go back down to the lobby. There was already a woman waiting, and as I approached, the elevator doors opened, so I naturally just hopped in after her. She asked me, "What floor?" and I told her the lobby, simultaneously noticing that she had already pressed number "9". Oops. I hadn't bothered to check to see that the elevator I was stepping into was actually going down. And obviously it wasn't. She graciously pressed "1" for me as I uttered the clichéd joke about going along for the ride. But when we got to the 9th floor, she took half a step out, realised she'd forgotten something, stepped back in, pressed "5" and giggled with embarrassment. So, back we went to the 5th floor, she got out and I continued my ride down to the lobby. Going along for the ride, indeed.

Nothing meaningful about that story. I just thought it was mildly amusing.

After my mostly redundant elevator ride, I made it home to watch another 1939 Best Picture nominee...

Stagecoach
Director:
John Ford
Screenplay:
Dudley Nichols
(based on the short story "The Stage to Lordsburg" by Ernest Haycox)
Starring:
Claire Trevor, John Wayne, Andy Devine, John Carradine, Thomas Mitchell, George Bancroft
Academy Awards:
7 nominations
2 wins, including Best Supporting Actor

A classic Western, Stagecoach follows a diverse group of strangers as they travel from the town of Tonto, Arizona bound for Lordsburg, New Mexico. There's an alcoholic doctor, an exiled prostitute, an embezzling banker, a pregnant cavalry officer's wife, a gentleman gambler, a whiskey salesman and an honourable outlaw. All crammed together in a six-horse stagecoach, helmed by an excitable driver and supervised by the marshal that has brought the outlaw into custody. The doctor drinks the salesman's whiskey. The gambler is protective of the cavalry officer's wife. The outlaw flirts with the prostitute. And the banker just gets on everyone's nerves. All the while, they ride under fear of attack by the local Apache tribe.

Stagecoach is big adventure, that's for sure. There are plenty of chases and shootouts and guys falling off horses. It's the ultimate game of Cowboys and Indians. Despite the repeated use of the rear projection effect, which, although common in 1939, looks excessively fake by today's standards, there is a great deal of genuinely wide open spaces. The picturesque Monument Valley serves as the landscape for most of the outdoor scenes, a location the great John Ford became fond of shooting. And I can see why. It is stunning, even in black-and-white.

Rounding out the film is a fair chunk of humour, too. The diversity of the stagecoach's passengers makes room for assorted light-hearted moments, thanks to a very entertaining cast. Not to mention the incredible stunts. Real eye-popping stuff. Although, the technique used to make the horses stumble to the ground was, apparently, rather inhumane. Nonetheless, there is at least one shot in which a horse face plants the dirt only to immediately rise and stand motionless, almost in defiance, as if to say, "I'm NOT doing that again!"

John Wayne, as the Ringo Kid, made his breakout performance in this film, shifting away from his B-movie roots and it's no wonder. He has a very strong and impressive presence, that of a very likable leading man. Thomas Mitchell won an Oscar for his role as the very alcoholic Doc Boone. Also of note, in wonderfully comic roles, are Andy Devine as the stagecoach driver and the appropriately named Donald Meek as the meek whiskey salesman. I didn't make that up. His name is actually Meek.

Stagecoach is a very well crafted Western. John Ford, with his clever selection of shots and the sequence in which they are presented, turns those crucial scenes into a fine lesson in filmmaking. This film has definitely earned its reputation for being a benchmark to which all other Westerns are compared.