1937 - In Old Chicago

The poll to decide the next awards year to explore in Matt vs. the Academy is our closest one yet. Still a little time to have your say, so shift your eyes to the right and down a little bit and get clicking.

Meanwhile, let's take a look at another fine piece of cinema from 1937's list of Best Picture nominees...

In Old Chicago

Director:

Henry King

Screenplay:

Lamar Trotti and Sonya Levien

(based on a story by Niven Busch)

Starring:

Tyrone Power, Alice Faye, Don Ameche, Alice Brady, Andy Devine

Academy Awards:

6 nominations

2 wins, including Best Supporting Actress (Brady)

Iron-willed matriarch Mrs. O'Leary (Brady) has raised three boys after her husband was tragically killed on their way to settle in Chicago. Now, the two eldest sons have taken starkly different career paths. Jack (Ameche) is an overly honest lawyer, poised to be the next Mayor. Dion (Power), on the other hand, has used his entrepreneurial skills to make a name for himself in Chicago's sordid club scene. Understandably, this causes much friction in the family, but when Chicago is consumed by the Great Fire of 1871, they will need to forget their differences in order to survive.

A title card at the beginning of In Old Chicago expresses the film makers' gratitude towards the Chicago Historical Society for their assistance in the picture's historical accuracy. An odd sentiment considering the majority of the story is complete fiction. Minor details remain, but the much maligned Mrs. O'Leary - long stigmatised as being responsible for the devastating blaze, thanks to her dairy cow knocking a lantern over in the barn - most likely had nothing to do with it. Further, her real life counterpart's first name was Catherine, not Molly. And her husband was still alive. And she never ran a laundry business. And she only had two children, a son and a daughter, neither of which were Mayor. But she did live on De Koven Street - that much is true.

Of course, none of that really matters. For this film is less about the Great Fire than it is about the relationship between two brothers, one an upstanding moral citizen, the other a scheming rogue. The character of Dion, in particular, is a fascinating study. His brilliantly devious plans are presented with a fine sense of deliciousness and intrigue, portrayed with persuasive charm by Tyrone Power.

This compelling drama eventually gives way to a spectacularly riveting finale. The final twenty minutes of the film, in which the catastrophic conflagration occurs, has all the elements of a gripping disaster movie: action, panic, incidental characters succumbing to untimely and uniquely tragic deaths. This sequence alone is worth the price of admission (or cost of Netflix, as the case may be). However, the relatively abrupt ending, no doubt intended to be inspirational, is confusingly upbeat.

Almost fifty years before his Oscar win (and only nomination) for Cocoon, Don Ameche delivers a strong performance here as the principled Jack. Also of note is Alice Faye as the bad girl who is really a softie at heart. And one can't go past Andy Devine's distinctive voice as one of Dion's cronies. Alice Brady deservedly won Best Supporting Actress for playing the O'Leary matriarch, but due to an illness, she wasn't present at the ceremony to collect her award. No matter. An anonymous man jumped to the podium to collect it on her behalf and neither he nor the golden statuette has ever been seen since.

1937 - Dead End

The sun is out in New York City as it has been for the last couple of days. The chill in the air seems to have subsided and our old friend warmth has returned. One suspects this is the coming of spring and I speak on behalf of most Australians who live in colder climes when I say, "About bloody time!" While I am looking forward to not needing a heavy coat, scarf and gloves every time I walk outside, for some reason, all I can think of is this.

Today, instead of enjoying the sun, I continued my hermit ways by watching another nominee from the Best Picture contest of 1937...

Dead End

Director:

William Wyler

Screenplay:

Lillian Hellman

(based on the play by Sidney Kingsley)

Starring:

Sylvia Sidney, Joel McCrea, Humphrey Bogart, Wendy Barrie, Claire Trevor

Academy Awards:

4 nominations

0 wins

The dead end of the title literally refers to the cul-de-sac on the East Side of New York City where all of the film's action takes place. Metaphorically, the dead end is representative of the lack of opportunity provided to the poor inhabitants of this neighbourhood, especially in the wake of the high-rise apartment block built over their tenements. As the upper-class residents host their upper-class dinner parties with their upper-class friends, the slums below are rife with crime. Two of the poverty-stricken locals, Drina (Sidney) and Dave (McCrea) try their best to forge a way out of their hopeless futures, while a gang of good-for-nothing kids, led by Drina's younger brother Tommy, constantly cause trouble. Meanwhile, big-time gangster Baby Face Martin (Bogart), a former Dead End kid himself, returns to his old neighbourhood with disappointing results.

As a crime drama, Dead End is relatively bland, shadowed by plenty of finer entries in the genre. But this may be due to its self-imposed restrictions. The entire story takes place over the course of just one day and evening, in and around the small dead end street. While this approach has the potential for great suspense and excitement - remember Die Hard? - it only succeeds occasionally. I imagine, however, that it must have seemed a lot more effective in the stage version.

The message behind the film is fairly clear, yet the conclusion seems a tad confused. Obviously, the picture addresses the issue of social inequality, in particular, the way in which the oppressed stand little chance of avoiding a life of crime. Somehow, though, I felt little sympathy for the juvenile delinquents. They were just cruel and nasty bullies with few signs of remorse. It didn't help, of course, that they were a bunch of the most overacting, stereotypical thirties thugs you can imagine. And considering that the child actors who played them were troublemakers themselves, causing all sorts of mayhem around the studio, you'd think they'd be able to be more genuine.

There is still a lot to like in Dead End, though. William Wyler is a fine director, to say the least, with 3 Best Director Oscars ahead of him after this film. His inspired decision to eliminate any use of a score helps to create several captivating moments. In fact, the film picks up considerably about halfway through when the situation in the street becomes more serious. The shoot-out sequence is particularly exciting, despite the fact that none of the gun wounds appear to draw blood.

A lot of the performances border on melodrama, but the lead cast manage to avoid that pitfall. Sylvia Sidney and Joel McCrea find the understated sides to their characters and Humphrey Bogart as the troubled gangster is the picture of intensity. The most interesting relationship in the film is found during Bogie's character's interaction with his ex-girlfriend of many years ago, now an ailing prostitute. The Hays Code once again forces this script to be riddled with subtext, but hats off to Claire Trevor for her fascinatingly touching performance as the disease-ridden Francey, earning a well-deserved Best Supporting Actress nomination.

1937 - One Hundred Men and a Girl

Don't forget to vote (in the poll on the right) for the next year to be covered in Matt vs. the Academy. Still plenty of time as we reach the halfway point of the 1937 review. Speaking of which, the film at the centre of discussion today has proven to be a hard find. Despite being available on DVD in most overseas markets, it has never had a DVD release in the United States. Fortunately, though, the New York Public Library boasts two copies on VHS, according to their online database. I'd need to purchase a VCR, but at least I'd be able to watch it. After putting one of those copies on hold, I waited to be notified of its availability. Two weeks later, I contacted the library to ask of its whereabouts, only to be told that it was last seen well over a month ago and there appears to be no sign of it. What about the second copy? Oh, that one was lost a long time ago and it shouldn't even be in the system at all. Fantastic. A quick Google search and eBay comes to the rescue. Someone in California is selling a DVD import brand new. Problem solved. And I don't even need to buy a VCR. I probably should have started there.

So, after that adventure, yesterday Kat and I spent a rainy day inside watching this 1937 Best Picture nominee...

One Hundred Men and a Girl

Director:

Henry Koster

Screenplay:

Bruce Manning, Charles Kenyon & James Mulhauser

(based on an idea by Hanns Kräly)

Starring:

Deanna Durbin, Leopold Stokowski, Adolphe Menjou, Alice Brady

Academy Awards:

5 nominations

1 win, for Best Original Score

Despite its porn-sounding title, One Hundred Men and a Girl is not the least bit filthy. In fact, it is a charmingly innocent comedy-musical about Patsy (Durbin), a girl whose trombonist father (Menjou) is desperately unemployed. With a stroke of luck, Patsy stumbles upon a rich woman (Brady) who promises to sponsor the formation of a new orchestra. Patsy assembles one hundred out-of-work musicians, including her father, but the sponsorship deal will fall through unless she can get famous conductor Leopold Stokowski to join the team.

This pleasant and winsome picture is thoroughly enjoyable and it is difficult to understand why it has been all but forgotten. It sports a wonderfully chipper attitude, evident in such songs as "It's Raining Sunbeams", which may sound sickly sweet, and ... well, quite frankly, it is, but somehow it's not too nauseating. Probably due to Deanna Durbin's exquisite singing voice, made all the more impressive considering she was only sixteen when the film was made.

Not only does the story revolve around a symphony orchestra, but it also heavily features Stokowski, an actual conductor of notoriety. Hence, there are inevitably several scenes in which we are treated to orchestral performances of classical music. At times, it may seem like overkill, but these sequences are cleverly staged and edited to avoid tedium. In fact, there is invariably something else going on while the orchestra is playing, so the story is always moving forward. Besides, it is remarkably elegant music, after all.

The heart of the picture's entertainment, though, is the humour. The cast of genuinely funny characters create a comedy of errors that retains its humour even today. Seemingly, naiveté never goes out of comedy style. There's a singing cabbie, a happy-go-lucky flautist, an easily excited upper-class lady. My favourite, however, is the slow-witted but insistent garage owner, who utters such gems as, "You call me a shutup? You can't call me a shutup?" and "I don't know nothing from arismesticks."

Adolphe Menjou provides the heart as the down-and-out musician, a starkly different persona from the arrogant producer he plays in fellow 1937 nominee Stage Door. It is clear that acting is not Leopold Stokowski's first talent, but he manages to hold his own. And for a sixteen-year-old, Deanna Durbin displays a great deal of maturity in her performance. All in all, One Hundred Men and a Girl is a wonderfully entertaining way to spend an hour and a half on a rainy day.

1937 - Stage Door

As is probably evident, I love the Oscars. Unwaveringly. Unconditionally. In an utterly pig-headed defensive sort of way. I'm not even sure what it is exactly that I love so much. It's not the glitz or glamour (although I'm sure that's part of it). Perhaps it is the prestige. Or maybe it's just that it combines two of my favourite things: movies and statistics. In any case, I love the Oscars.

However, if you are so inclined, you'll always be able to find something to complain about ... The awards were given to all the wrong people ... They snubbed my favourite movie ... The ceremony was too long ... too boring ... too gaudy ... too fake. Not me, though. Try as they might, the Academy will never lose favour with me. They can give an American Idol contestant an Oscar. They can allow late-night personalities to host the ceremony. They can omit Farrah Fawcett from the In Memoriam montage. They can turn Norbit into an Oscar-nominated film. No matter what, I love the Oscars. I accept the subjectivity of the winners. I accept the artistic intentions of the show's producers. They'll never please all of the people all of the time. But they can please me all of the time. The Oscars are like my Disneyland. I'll say it again. I love the Oscars.

On Oscar Day this year, I had the girlishly exciting experience of holding one of the golden statuettes at a public exhibit presented by the Academy and Kodak here in New York. Quite a thrill, I assure you.

Then, for the telecast, Kat and I hosted a few friends at our annual Oscars party, at which we served dishes inspired by this year's nominees. For your amusement, I present to you the menu.

In Oscar's aftermath, I travelled back to 1937 to watch another Best Picture nominee from that year....

Stage Door

Director:

Gregory La Cava

Screenplay:

Morrie Ryskind and Anthony Veiller

(based on the play by Edna Ferber & George S. Kaufman)

Starring:

Katharine Hepburn, Ginger Rogers, Adolphe Menjou

Academy Awards:

4 nominations

0 wins

Terry Randall (Hepburn) arrives in New York City with dreams of being a Broadway actress. She finds accommodation at the Footlights Club, a boarding house for theatre types, mostly young women, where she rooms with Jean Maitland (Rogers). The two are not the happiest of roommates, especially when Terry muscles in on Jean's relationship with big shot Broadway manager/producer Anthony Powell (Menjou).

Snappy is an understatement when describing Stage Door's dialogue. The rapid fire repartee is thick - and I mean thick - with sarcasm. From the first scene, it barrels along like the announcer of a horse race. Each young wannabe actress is more caustic than the last and they always have a biting one-liner ready to go at a moment's notice. There's very little time to breathe at all for a good part of the movie, it moves that fast. Quite a feat, considering physical action is a rare occurrence throughout the film's 90-minute running time. It truly is all due to the script's fast-paced dialogue.

The cast must be acknowledged for their aptitude in delivering this lingual roller coaster. They talk over each other constantly yet there is a precision to it. To make it more difficult, many scenes involve at least a half dozen girls. Still, they manage to keep the pace at a steady gallop. Colour me impressed.

After a while, though, this constant lexical energy begins to feel a tad one-dimensional. As remarkable as it is, it retains the same level for ninety percent of the film. Towards the end, the story takes a serious turn, but rather than being a refreshing change, it's just slightly too tragic. And it happens so late in the film that there's no real time to recover the humour, so there's a tiny depressing taste left in one's mouth. Although, Andrea Leeds euphorically ascending the stairs hearing echoes of her memories is a very effective shot indeed.

Katharine Hepburn takes part in her second Matt vs. the Academy year in a row (from the previous 1981 to the current 1937 - not many performers will achieve a feat of that longevity). She and Ginger Rogers display such intelligence in these roles. Neither allow their characters to become stereotypically naive young girls. A young Lucille Ball is especially delightful to watch, delivering the sharpest wit of the group. And two other future showbiz stars, Eve Arden and Ann Miller, take on small roles as well.

1937 - The Life of Emile Zola

One more sleep until the Oscars. While Kat and I get ready for our Academy Awards dinner party (featuring such items as Avatado and The Hurt Liquor), here are my 2009 Oscar predictions, including my wacky Avatar-Bigelow combination for Picture-Director.

As Avatar and The Hurt Locker battle it out for the 82nd Best Picture award, yesterday I watched the winner of the 10th Best Picture award...

The Life of Emile Zola

Director:

William Dieterle

Screenplay:

Norman Reilly Raine, Heinz Herald, Geza Herczeg

(based on the book "Zola and His Time" by Matthew Josephson)

Starring:

Paul Muni, Gale Sondergaard, Joseph Schildkraut, Gloria Holden, Donald Crisp

Academy Awards:

10 nominations

3 wins, including Best Picture and Best Supporting Actor (Schildkraut)

Contrary to its title, The Life of Emile Zola is less a biography of the famed French writer as it is an exploration of the Dreyfus affair. While it does deal with Zola's life, especially his rise to fame, the central focus of the film is his involvement in the the political scandal that rocked France in the late 19th century.

Struggling as a writer in his early days, Emile Zola later finds success due to several politically charged books critical of the establishment. Meanwhile, French Jewish soldier Alfred Dreyfus is wrongly accused and subsequently convicted of treason. When evidence comes to light that would prove his innocence, ranking officials seek to sweep it under the rug. But our intrepid hero Mr. Zola steps in to speak up for Dreyfus only to find himself on trial for libel.

The picture begins at a cracking pace, covering Emile Zola's early life and career relatively quickly. Nonetheless, it never glosses over anything. Instead, we are clearly presented with the portrait of a man who loves his country and will passionately speak his mind on any perceived injustice. Clearly a strong believer in free speech, Zola is not fazed by authority, authoring several tomes that rock the proverbial boat.

When the story switches to the events leading up to Dreyfus' arrest and imprisonment, there is a slightly odd feeling of displacement, probably due to one's expectation of the story based on the film's title. All of a sudden, the Life of Emile Zola becomes the Corruption of the French Military. Not that I'm complaining. It's a gripping, well-told story of weighty themes. Zola takes the backseat for a while and he never quite manages to leave it for the rest of the film. Yes, he's the one who got people talking about Dreyfus again after the world had all but forgotten him, but once his famous "J'accuse!" article is written, his role from that point on is mostly a passive one, save for the powerful closing statement he delivers at his own trial (pictured). But, in the end, despite the film's intention of portraying Zola as a heroic man of action, he dies an entirely unheroic and horribly anti-climactic death. (Oops, spoiler alert...)

Paul Muni's French accent is only slightly better than his Chinese accent, but his performance in this film far outshines his work in The Good Earth. His portrayal lends Zola a certain moral heroism even if the story doesn't. Taking home the Best Supporting Actor Oscar, Joseph Schildkraut is heartbreaking as Alfred Dreyfus. A particularly poignant moment occurs when Dreyfus is finally released. He walks out of the prison cell once, stops, walks back in and repeats his exit twice more, clearly enjoying his freedom.

In spite of my criticism, The Life of Emile Zola is a very engaging film. Its only real flaw, then, is that it need not have bothered covering anything but the Dreyfus affair. And since that is the majority of the film anyway, perhaps a title change is all it would have taken.