1940 - The Long Voyage Home

Rehearsals are in full swing here at the Allenberry Playhouse in Boiling Springs, Pennsylvania. Fortunately, I have found some free time to continue this silly little project of mine. The poll to decide the next year of review is ready for your input and, considering there are ten nominees in the current year, I suspect you will have plenty of time to vote.

We begin the review of 1940's Best Picture contenders with...

The Long Voyage Home

Director:

John Ford

Screenplay:

Dudley Nichols

(based on the four Glencairn Plays by Eugene O'Neill)

Starring:

John Wayne, Thomas Mitchell, Ian Hunter, Barry Fitzgerald, Wilfrid Lawson, John Qualen, Ward Bond

Academy Awards:

6 nominations

0 wins

One of two John Ford films nominated for Best Picture in 1940, The Long Voyage Home follows the crew of the freighter SS Glencairn as they sail from the West Indies back home to Mother England with a shipment of explosives that they are secretly transporting to aid in the Allies' war effort. The motley crew consists of an Irish troublemaker (Mitchell), a simple Swedish farmboy (Wayne), a furtive ex-alcoholic (Hunter), a caustic steward (Fitzgerald) and a neurotic teetotaler (Qualen), amongst others. They battle through rough seas and enemy fire and, at one point, suspect one of their own of being a spy. Their onboard antics keep them sane, however, as they attempt to make it through ... (wait for it) ... the long voyage home.

Since the script is based on four one-act plays, the story feels decidedly episodic. All the "episodes" involve the same characters so there is still a sense of continuity, but at the same time, the picture is somewhat disjointed. However, taken on their own merits, each vignette stands up very well. In particular, the storyline revolving around the crew's suspicions of a spy in their midst is especially engrossing. Its climax contains the film's most moving moments.

There are several sections in The Long Voyage Home that play out with very few words spoken, making for some captivating cinema. Director John Ford is extremely adept at telling the story visually. In addition, the special effects employed during the storm sequence are effectively simple. Dumping vat loads of water on to the set is all it takes.

John Wayne, in the role of Olsen, is billed first, yet he hardly speaks two sentences until the final act. And the way the other characters treated him, I initially thought that Olsen was slow. Turns out he's just Swedish. Anyway, The Long Voyage Home is clearly an ensemble piece and the cast is very capable. Particularly memorable are John Qualen, Barry Fitzgerald and Thomas Mitchell (pictured). Qualen and Fitzgerald expertly provide the humour. And watching Mitchell has been one of the great joys of this project. Here, he adds to his other Matt vs. the Academy appearances with an absorbing portrayal of the unpredictable yet loyal Driscoll.

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.

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.

1944 - Wilson

For my American readers, Happy Thanksgiving! For everyone else, have a good Thursday. As I write this, Kat and I are about to head off with an Australian friend to another Australian couple's place to celebrate the entirely non-Australian holiday. But there's a large turkey involved, so how can we pass it up.

Yesterday, on Thanksgiving Eve, I watched a somewhat forgotten Best Picture nominee, namely...

Wilson

Director:

Henry King

Screenplay:

Lamar Trotti

Starring:

Alexander Knox, Charles Coburn, Geraldine Fitzgerald, Thomas Mitchell

Academy Awards:

10 nominations

5 wins, including Best Original Screenplay

Not a prequel to Cast Away, Wilson is a concise exploration of the political career of Woodrow Wilson from his days as President of Princeton University through his post as Governor of New Jersey to his election as the 28th President of the United States. Along the way, he must deal with the question of America's involvement in the Great War while simultaneously coping with the loss of his wife. When up for re-election, he balances the possibility of a second marriage with the possibility of a second term.

Unless you are a political historian, there is little doubt that this biopic will teach you a great deal about Woodrow Wilson. Whether or not these facts are accurate, I have no idea. But the script sure seemed delicately researched. For instance, did you know that it was Wilson who was behind the act assuring an eight-hour work day? Or that Wilson was instrumental in setting up the League of Nations? Or that Wilson's re-election campaign slogan was "He kept us out of the war"? There are also several speeches throughout the film that, I imagine, are probably ripped directly from the actual speeches Wilson delivered.

All of this information unfortunately makes the film seem a little like a detailed dramatisation in a historical documentary. As fascinating as it is to know about Wilson's political achievements, the film sometimes struggles to be emotionally engaging. However, when the story concentrates on his personal life, it becomes more satisfying, especially as his personal life becomes entwined in his political life. The most compelling sequence occurs when his marriage to Edith Galt just over a year after his first wife's death puts his re-election in jeopardy.

Two favourites of mine who prominently featured during the 1939 Best Picture race, Thomas Mitchell and Geraldine Fitzgerald, are both impressive in their roles. And Alexander Knox (pictured) is perfectly cast in the title role, portraying Woodrow with both strength and wit. I wonder, though, exactly how flawless the man was. If this film is anything to go by, Wilson was the most honest and morally righteous man that ever existed. Perhaps that can be attributed to the fact that this was the pet project of producer Darryl F. Zanuck, who appeared to have a bit of a thing for President Wilson. It's also interesting to note that, despite ten Oscar nominations and five wins, plus a fair amount of critical praise, Wilson was quite the box office disaster. Which might also explain why it has never received a DVD release.

Wilson's final speech is made all the more poignant considering the film was released during the thick of World War II, and, in fact, the words are still potently appropriate today. With stoic intensity, he freely imparts his optimism for a world without war. If only...

1939 - Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

I'm back! Although I enjoyed an immensely fun time performing in an improv show every night and meeting some fantastic new people, my fondest memory of the last few days in Atlanta is my discovery of Whirlyball. Half sport, half amusement park ride, Whirlyball is like lacrosse in bumper cars. Yes, bumper cars. I defy you to play this game and not enjoy yourself.

An unfortunate consequence of my time in Georgia is the considerable delay in viewing the next Best Picture nominee, a delay that disrupts the six-movies-per-week viewing rate that is required for this project to be completed by its arbitrary deadline. Rather than suffer the humiliation of admitting defeat less than a month into the project, I will simply continue at a slightly more leisurely pace and worry about it later. Besides, with things becoming a tad busier for me, less frequent posts may have been an inevitable byproduct anyway. But fear not. I am still as passionately determined to see this project through to the end. It just might be an end with a later date than originally planned. Then again, you never know, I might just have a big movie marathon weekend at some point and find myself back on track without the need to extend the deadline.

Last night was time for the ninth of the nominees from 1939...

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

Director:

Frank Capra

Screenplay:

Sidney Buchman and Lewis R. Foster

Starring:

James Stewart, Jean Arthur, Claude Rains, Thomas Mitchell, Edward Arnold

Academy Awards:

11 nominations

1 win, for Best Original Story

The ultimate underdog story, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington pits a fresh-faced Senator against the corruptible political machine. Jefferson Smith is unexpectedly appointed as the Senator for an unnamed state, a move which has political boss Jim Taylor furious. Taylor essentially runs the state, controlling the Governor and the senior Senator, Joseph Paine, a man who Mr. Smith admires greatly... Until he learns of Paine's complicity in Taylor's corrupt political scheming. When Mr. Smith tries to pass a bill that inadvertently conflicts with a Taylor-supported bill, he finds himself beaten down, trodden on, chewed up and spat out. Despite his newfound disillusionment in the system, he remains standing, refusing to back down.

Delightfully droll and thoughtfully sincere, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington delivers an interesting message. On the one hand, it could be argued that the film is passionately critical of a corrupt system of government, and I imagine, at the time of the film's release, Senators must have been beside themselves. How dare Hollywood accuse them all of crookedness. And Nixon wasn't around for at least another 30 years. On the other hand (and clearly the more correct hand), the film's intention may be to illustrate the inspiring results that can be achieved by one man's dedication to stand up for what he believes in. For all its bashing of the political machine, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington is a most patriotic film, evidenced by its use of every single patriotic song known to man.

It is also a film in which punching journalists in the face is not only acceptable but encouraged. After all, the press is just as corrupt as the government. They need a good smack in the mouth. And Jefferson Smith is just the man to do it. He may be idealistic and naive, but he can still pack a punch ... or seven. In fact, that's what's so adorable about him (and James Stewart's portrayal). Despite being so innocent, he still has the courage to stand up to the bullies, even playing them at their own political game. There's nothing like being the little guy to garner the audience's empathy. And providing us with that opportunity to empathise are some simply captivating scenes on the Senate floor in which Mr. Smith braves his Goliath.

Director Frank Capra assembled a fabulous cast. An on-the-rise James Stewart cemented his screen persona as Mr. Smith. Claude Rains is superb as the corrupt senior Senator. As is Jean Arthur as Mr. Smith's aide and love interest (a political sex scandal sub-plot never arises, however). And the prolific Thomas Mitchell appears in yet another 1939 Best Picture nominee as the one decent press man.

Apparently, there were scenes that were shot, intended for the end, but not included in the final film. I feel as though they may have added to a more satisfying resolution. As it stands, the ending is rather abrupt and a little disconcerting.

Only one more to go in the mighty juggernaut that is 1939...

1937 - Lost Horizon

Less than a week now until the 82nd Academy Awards ceremony, so allow me these musings on how things may turn out.

The four acting awards, as in most previous years, are relatively easy to predict, the supporting categories especially. Christoph Waltz and Mo'Nique are all but locks for Inglourious Basterds and Precious respectively. Jeff Bridges is definitely leading the game for Best Actor. And Sandra Bullock currently holds the favourite spot for Best Actress, but don't be surprised if that goes a different way. If there's going to be an upset, this is where it will be.

The screenplay awards are also fairly clear. Up In The Air seems to have Adapted Screenplay in the bag, and I suspect The Hurt Locker will edge out Inglourious Basterds for the Original Screenplay gong.

Best Director and Best Picture are perhaps a little trickier. The media is certainly touting the competition between ex-spouses James Cameron and Kathryn Bigelow for the director's award, and their respective films, Avatar and The Hurt Locker, also seem pitted against each other for Best Picture. The Academy's long history certainly indicates that one film is likely to win both these awards, but recently (over the last decade and a half, say) there has been a proportionally significant number of years in which that has not been the case - 1998, 2000, 2002, 2005. So, I'm going to go out on a limb and predict that Kathryn Bigelow will become the first female Best Director winner, while Avatar will take home the Best Picture prize. Brave prediction, I know. Let's see how it pans out.

Today, I watched another 1937 Best Picture nominee. I was going to comment that, with this viewing, I have culled the list down to 400 films remaining, but that doesn't take into account the current crop of contenders. Once this year's Oscars are in the past, I shall update the tally and the nominee list. For now, though, here are my thoughts on...

Lost Horizon

Director:

Frank Capra

Screenplay:

Robert Riskin

(based on the novel by James Hilton)

Starring:

Ronald Colman, Jane Wyatt, Edward Everett Horton, John Howard, Thomas Mitchell, H.B. Warner, Sam Jaffe

Academy Awards:

7 nominations

2 wins, including Best Art Direction

After its initial release in 1937, Lost Horizon went through some changes, losing several minutes of its running time by the time of its re-release some years later. Fortunately, some film restoration do-gooders set themselves the task of restoring the film to its original length. Unfortunately, there were seven minutes of footage that eluded them, although they did manage to find the film's entire audio track. Thus, in the current DVD release that I viewed, there are a couple of scenes which have been uniquely recreated using the original sound which is played over still images that were made for the film's publicity. The result is surprisingly not as unusual as you might imagine. Not completely seamless, obviously, but neither is it too distracting.

The story begins with British diplomat Robert Conway (Colman) attempting to evacuate several Westerners from war-torn China. Unfortunately, he and four others find themselves on a hijacked plane, which eventually crash lands somewhere in the icy Himalayas, killing their kidnapper/pilot. Fearing for their survival, they are fortuitously met by a mysterious man named Chang (Warner), who leads them to an idyllic village that is somehow immune to the surrounding meteorology. Shangri-La, as it is known by its inhabitants, is eternally warm and pleasant, and nobody there grows old. While Conway settles in, his four companions have a bit more trouble acclimating, especially Conway's brother (Howard), who suspects that all is not what it seems.

Lost Horizon's first twenty minutes or so are utterly captivating. From the urgency of the opening scene at the Chinese airport, through the suspenseful flight and ensuing crash, we are treated to some brilliant story-telling. The ending, too, is full of intrigue and mystery. And while the in-between is not dreary, per se, there is a definite saggy feeling to the film's middle act. The suspense and mystery are replaced by a kind of fantasy - men can live to 200 years old, it never snows despite the geography and everybody is "more than moderately happy." It's the utopian existence that we all wish for but know can never really be. A self-sufficient society in which there is no crime or sadness or dissatisfaction. A Shangri-La, if you will.

While I have no problem at all with imaginatively far-fetched stories (I'm a big fan of the science fiction genre, for instance), I've always been slightly put off by the idea that blind faith is a virtue. And Lost Horizon seems to send the message that, when you have no proof, but it feels right, then you should go ahead and accept it. One character in the world outside of Shangri-La sums it up by commenting, "I believe it because I want to believe it." Really? Is that a healthy way to decide what's real? I recognise, of course, that being rational and scientific is simply not as romantic and, therefore, not as interesting to watch, but there's no need to make belief in magic seem virtuous. If this makes me sound like a crotchety old grumpy-boots, so be it.

Despite those themes, I actually did enjoy Lost Horizon a great deal, mostly due to the aforementioned suspense. Ronald Colman delivers a fine performance, although he perhaps makes Conway too calm - nothing seems to bother him very much at all. Jane Wyatt is adorable as Conway's love interest, Sondra. While effective as the 200-year-old High Lama, Sam Jaffe's missing teeth and wide-eyed gaze occasionally make him seem horror-movie crazy. And reliable supporting actor Thomas Mitchell rolls out another first-class portrayal as embezzler Barnard.

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.

1940 - Our Town

Happy Anniversary! Last week marked one year since the inception of Matt vs. the Academy. Hurrah! I want to thank you all for reading thus far, especially during this slower period of recent weeks. You'll be glad to know (or maybe you won't care) that Mid-Life: The Crisis Musical opened last week and so I am finally free of rehearsals and therefore experiencing some free time.

I have taken advantage of said free time by continuing with my review of the 1940 Best Picture contest. Next up is...

Our Town

Director:

Sam Wood

Screenplay:

Thornton Wilder, Frank Craven, Harry Chandlee

(based on the play by Thornton Wilder)

Starring:

William Holden, Martha Scott, Fay Bainter, Beulah Bondi, Thomas Mitchell, Guy Kibbee, Frank Craven

Academy Awards:

6 nominations

0 wins

Grover's Corners is a typical small town in early 20th century New Hampshire. Quiet, simple living is the order of the day. Our narrator introduces us to several of the town's residents and their daily routines, paying particular attention to the ambitious George Gibbs (Holden) and the smart Emily Webb (Scott). As teenagers, Emily innocently helps George with his homework but, as they grow up, their relationship develops and soon, marriage is on the cards.

This picture is the first screen adaptation of the classic American play that appears on many school curricula, but being educated outside the United States and never having seen a stage production of it, I was not overly familiar with its story. Paradoxically, however, my initial reaction after watching the film was that it just wasn't as good as the stage version.

From the outset, there's a definite theatricality to the picture. Although there is something comfortably soothing about the opening narration from a fourth-wall-breaking character, the regular interruptions set you apart from the action. While this device is perfectly appropriate for the stage, it isn't always effective on film.

In addition, there is the age-old issue with which a lot of films adapted from the stage have trouble tackling - that of loquacious dialogue. In Our Town, there are many slow and languid conversations. Indeed, the script and performances lean toward the superficial and sentimental, and not just due to the film's old-fashioned temperament.

Having said all that, I experienced somewhat of a moment of clarity an hour into the story during the wedding scene when a series of inner monologues by several characters served to illustrate that their cheery dispositions were merely facades to cover up the misery and self-doubt they all feel. Suddenly, the theatricality made sense. The townsfolk were all putting on a show. Nonetheless, this moment of clarity soon gave way to more sentimentality as the film concluded with its sentimental message of "appreciate life while you're living it". Interestingly, I discovered that the final resolution differs quite markedly from the stage play, which contains a much bleaker ending. You can always count on early Hollywood to make the ending cheerful. (Although, in all honesty, I actually appreciated the pick-me-up after the downer that is the final act.)

The other major difference is that the stage version is intended to be performed with the use of only a minimal set, chairs and tables representing entire houses. Playwright Thornton Wilder expressed his desire to allow the emotion of the characters to be highlighted without relying on scenery for enhancement. This film adaptation, however, makes full use of its production designer with complete set pieces in every scene - odd, considering Wilder is credited as one of the screenwriters. Plus, the knowledge of the playwright's original intentions seems to fly in the face of my epiphany about the theatricality of the film. It would seem that Wilder specifically wanted to avoid theatricality. So, either the filmmakers missed the mark on this one or I completely misunderstood the whole thing. Now, I'm confused...