Time to Draw Another Year and Category

And the "winner" is...

...1974 Best Supporting Actress!

Yay, finally we're focusing on the female performances! I can't tell you how glad I am to expand the horizons of this blog.

The nominees for Best Supporting Actress, 1974, were:

• Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express
• Valentina Cortese in Day for Night
• Madaline Kahn in Blazing Saddles
• Diane Ladd in Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore
• Talia Shire in The Godfather, Part II

Meaning I'm in for a fun time. Blazing Saddles, one of the most renowned comedies of all time? Murder on the Orient Express, a star-studded extravaganza based on the work of one of the most popular fiction writers in history? The basis for the sitcom Alice? A Godfather movie? I'm pumped.

I've also seen two of these movies already, but it's been a while, so I'll be re-watching them. I've also decided that I'm going to re-watch The Godfather as well, because it will help Part II to make more sense. Also I'm watching them with my wife, who's seen neither.

Because these movies are a bit longer, and I'm including my wife in the watching (I knew she wouldn't be up for movies from the 30's, but she did watch On the Waterfront with me) It might take me longer to get these out, since I have to wait until we both have time to sit down and watch them. But I'll be sticking to it until they're done, not to worry.

1929-30 Best Actor: My Choice

Time again to recap, rank the performances for this year and category and choose my own winner.

1929-30's nominees, once again, are:

• George Arliss as Benjamin Disraeli in Disraeli and the Raja in The Green Goddess
• Wallace Beery as Machine Gun Butch Schmidt in The Big House
• Maurice Chevalier as Pierre Mirande in The Big Pond and Count Alfred Renard in The Love Parade
• Ronald Colman as Captain Hugh Drummond in Bulldog Drummond and Michel in Condemned
• Laurence Tibbett as Yegor in The Rogue Song

The Academy's Choice: George Arliss in Disraeli

Weighing the Performances:

George Arliss in Disraeli

Judging the third Academy Awards ceremony in existence seems a little unfair. As I've pointed out, The idea of talkies was still so new that most of the nominated films were essentially silent films with sound; ludicrously over-acted but with a lack of the subtlety that silent films had just by the fact that the actors couldn't be heard speaking. Actors in silent films had to portray complex emotions almost entirely through facial expressions and body movements, but now that they could be heard, it was time to start acting like people, and many of the silent film stars didn't know how to do that. What we got were bloated melodramas (and bloated comedies) light on plot, or point. Three of the films this year were pseudo-musicals, one an actual musical, another an operatic melodrama, that seemed to have only as much substance as it took to say "we have this popular star who can sing. Let's put him in a singing movie."

George Arliss in The Green Goddess

George Arliss struck a nice compromise, mostly remaining cool, calm and understated, both as the overwhelmed British Prime Minister in Disraeli and as the cunning Raja in The Green Goddess. In both cases he eschewed hammy over-acting for the most part, only going to it in moments of great distress. I didn't care much for The Green Goddess nor did I care for the casting of a white Englishman as a Himalayan king and priest, but he did a fine job in the film nonetheless, taking what could have been the opportunity to chew giant holes in the scenery and mostly just playing him as a standard upper-class villain. That said, there was nothing award-worthy about the film or the performance, but as Disraeli, his look, movements and vocal efforts really do make me think I'm watching old parliamentary films of the PM, even if that can't be the case because none exist. I can see why he was chosen, and I don't have an issue with the Academy's decision here, even if I disagree with it.

Wallace Beery in The Big House

Wallace Beery really isn't the lead in The Big House, but he's certainly the most memorable character, and that's probably what got him nominated. I have to say, his performance seemed ahead of its time. It wasn't merely a silent performance but with talking. He seemed like an actual hardened criminal, with no weird, over-the-top facial expressions or movements, and instead a quiet intensity that occasionally boiled over into violence. It was a very strong, very natural performance that probably wouldn't change even if the movie had been made two or three decades later. Probably the only thing holding him back is that he really is a supporting character, and if that category had existed back then, He likely would have been nominated there instead. But the same can be said for Arliss in Goddess, so I won't take points off for it.

Maurice Chevalier in The Big Pond

Maurice Chevalier in The Love Parade

I gotta say, if I never see another Maurice Chevalier movie again it'll...what? There's more coming? Gaaaaaaahhhh...Well, let's hope it's a few more draws before I get to them. I find him annoying, not funny in the least and a mediocre singer, which shouldn't even matter as it's his acting that got him these nominations. To start with, The Big Pond is an entirely forgettable, ephemeral little film that should never have gotten the Academy's attention. Oddly, so was The Green Goddess, which makes me think, as I said back in the review of that film, that the Academy this year was trying to nominate actors for every leading role they had, and then you could select which leading role you preferred. There's nothing Oscar-worthy about Chevalier in Pond, and he's basically just playing himself. Even more so than he did in The Love Parade. That film actually got attention in other categories including Best Picture (as The Big House and Disraeli) but I can't say as I understand why. Popularity, maybe. This was back when Ernst Lubitsch was considered the best working director, and I guess it is staged well enough but much like nearly every other film in this category and year, it just doesn't hold up. Chevalier was just hamming it up and being silly.

Ronald Colman in Bulldog Drummond

Ronald Colman is a fine actor, who I enjoy watching. He was great in If I Were King, and eventually I'll be getting to his winning performance in A Double Life which I'm really looking forward to. Unfortunately I was unable to watch him in Condemned but I did see him in Bulldog Drummond, in which he played what is essentially the prototype for John Steed of The Avengers. No, not those Avengers. As the smooth, unflappable Drummond, who gets into the hero game mainly because he's bored, I can see the attraction to nominating him, but he really wasn't asked to do much he wasn't totally at home doing. I do wish I could see his performance in Condemned, but as I can't, I won't be ranking it.

Lawrence Tibbett in The Rogue Song

Finally we come to Lawrence Tibbett, the dramatic answer to Maurice Chevalier. He kind of made me think of Douglas Fairbanks or Errol Flynn, but with occasional opera singing. As I mentioned, he was the only one in the movie who sang, so it really just felt like the entire movie was an excuse for him to play a dashing, singing hero. I'll give the man this, though; boy can sing. Chevalier has no issues carrying a song, but it fails to evoke any real reaction from me. Tibbett is a vocal powerhouse, and that can't be denied. And of course it also provided an excuse for Laurel and Hardy to do their thing. It seemed like the movie could have been cute and funny, but my viewing of it was hampered by the film being 90% lost and therefore 90% reconstructed. It wasn't a bad film, and Tibbett wasn't bad in it, but it wasn't anything special.

In fact, so little that I saw in this category really felt like something that would be regarded with the same reverence today. Unlike the classics of the later 30's, 40's and beyond, and very much unlike the silent film era, these early talkies seemed to focus so hard on the idea that the actors can talk now that half the time they forgot to actually have a real point. I enjoyed The Big House and Bulldog Drummond, and appreciated Disraeli and The Rogue Song, even if the latter two are very much products of their time. What I could see of Condemned while trying to watch the Spanish-dubbed version definitely makes it look like it was ahead of its time the same way that The Big House was. One of these days I'll see it. I hope.

The ranking this time is much easier than with 1954, because I really felt like only Arliss, Beery and Colman were even acting. The other three were just performing. Of them, Colman's performance was fine but the film and character so light and inconsequential that I can't call him the winner. If I'd been able to see his full performance in Condemned it might have been the winner here, but I can't. Arliss was quite servicable as Disraeli, and put in the same level of commitment to a role that did him no favors in The Green Goddess. His performance in Disraeli clearly wins out between the two, but it still contains far too many instances of pantomime and overacting to sell the performance, so I gotta take points away for that.

Wallace Beery, unlike most of his co-stars, didn't make me think he was an actor playing a hardened criminal. He made me think he was a hardened criminal! He was so intimidating and scary that I wonder how I'm gonna perceive his other roles I know I'll be watching at some point. And yet, there was a tender, sympathetic side to him. The scene where he learned his mother died made me wonder if he would have been a different man if he'd not lost his father so young and ended up on the street. It was a grand performance all around, and to me, the clear winner.

My Choice: Wallace Beery

Coming next; it's a new year and category drawn at random!

The Rogue Song

Film: The Rogue Song
Year: 1929-30
Cast: Lawrence Tibbett, Catherine Dale Owen, Nance O'Neill, Judith Vosselli, Ullrich Haupt, Elsa Alsen, Florence Lake, Lionel Bellmore, Wallace MacDonald, Kate Price, James Bradbury, Oliver Hardy, Stan Laurel
Director: Lionel Barrymore (and Hal Roach, uncredited for the Laurel and Hardy Scenes)
Nominations: Best Actor (Tibbett)

This one is gonna be unique, and hard to review, since only fragments of the film exist, and I watched an attempted recreation (it was actually really well done) to give you as close an approximation as one can of what the film would have been like.

It gives one an idea, but it's still not like watching the actual movie. I can see that the movie itself might have been fun and exciting to watch.

Opera singer Lawrence Tibbett, in his film debut, sings his way through the part of Yegor, a laughing bandit in early 1900's Russia.

The film isn't really an opera, since most of it is spoken, but Tibbett gets several numbers to perform, making this something of an odd musical that seems to mainly exist to showcase Tibbett's vocal talents. As an actor, he's pretty good for the melodramatics of the 1920's and early 30's. He plays Yegor as a boisterous bruiser who likes a good laugh, a drink with his boys, an invigorating raid...and becomes a shy boy when alone with a woman he might actually have feelings for.

One part of this film I was surprised to see, but pleasantly, is that it co-stars that great comic duo, Laurel and Hardy, who play two hapless members of Yegor's raiding party, and every now and then we focus on their comedic exploits as they attempt to do things like mount horses or open stuck doors. This seems a bit out of the ordinary for the duo, who as far as I can tell, usually played themselves, or at least characters based on themselves (right down to having their names), and if it's not a straight-up Laurel and Hardy film, they are restricted to cameos. Here they're a part of the story, but neither the focus of the film nor mere cameos, as we cut to their hi-jinx several times, which are clearly taking place within the film as comic relief. They even have names that aren't their own; Ali-bek and Murza-bek. I'm no expert on the pair, but for them to show up as supporting comic-relief characters in an otherwise serious(ish) movie seems odd.

Also, as a majority of their humor was sight gags, there are long stretches of soundtrack with no words as they do their thing...that we can't see, and there aren't much stills for.

Yegor, back from a successful raid and hanging out at a local tavern, is falling in love with the Princess Vera (Catherine Dale Owen, and princess of what, we aren't told), but upon getting back home, Yegor discovers his beloved sister Nadja (Florence Lake) has been raped by Prince Serge (Ullrich Haupt), brother to Princess Vera. Nadja ends up taking her own life, and you can probably guess what this does for the chances of a relationship between Yegor and Vera. It actually kinda plays out like The Taming of the Shrew and ends in a way I was surprised to see in 1930.

I think if I'd been able to see this in full, I would have enjoyed it as a diverting romp, but I still say the standards of what makes an Oscar-worthy film, or performance, were far different in an age where the entire idea of a film where you can hear the actors is a pretty new and amazing thing. Silent films, in my opinion, seem to hold up better than these early talkies, because they were more artistically focused, while these films just seem enamored of the idea that the actors can be heard. Not one of these films I've watched this time through have really lasted in public memory, though The Love Parade still has fans among appreciators of old musicals and Ernst Lubitsch fans. There wasn't anything special about this film; to be honest it kinda annoyed me in places. Tibbett is very robust and loud, but nothing special.

Next post will be a ranking and choosing of my own winner. And I can't say I'm not glad to leave this year behind. Which kinda sucks.

The Love Parade

Film: The Love Parade
Year: 1929-30
Cast: Maurice Chevalier, Jeanette MacDonald, Lupino Lane, Lillian Roth, Eugene Pallette, EH Calvert, Edgar Norton, Lionel Belmore
Director: Ernst Lubitsch
Nominations: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Chevalier), Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction, Best Sound Recording

This is the first out-and-out musical I've watched since starting this blog. It won't be the last, of course, but this might be the first classic "musical" nominated for Best Picture in Oscar history. Technically, The Broadway Melody was first, and I haven't seen it yet, but I think the musical numbers in that one were actual musical performances even within the film, whereas here characters just break into song whenever they're left alone with their thoughts, or having a conversation. To me, that's what a musical is; not just a movie that contains musical numbers. The Big Pond had just one such number, but it wasn't nominated for Best Picture.

Speaking of The Big Pond, welcome back to the blog, Maurice Chevalier. We've missed...we're glad to...well, you're back after a short absence. This time ol' Maury is playing Count Alfred Renard, a military attache at the Sylvanian Embassy in France (yeah, right, I'll believe Chevalier as a military anything). Sylvania, of course, doesn't exist, but as with Rukh in the last movie we watched, we'll ignore that for now.

Renard is a wily rascal who spends most of his time seducing beautiful ladies (ah, now that I believe), including the Ambassador's wife. Queen Louise (Jeanette MacDonald) recalls him for a formal reprimand, but the Queen has problems of her own, including a shrill, piercing singing voice, but more importantly, she's had it up to here with all the speculation on when, and whom, she will marry. This Queen isn't exactly a blushing, prrrroper young royal, and in fact, her first scene has her waking up from an erotic dream. It's made clear that she has no use for marriage, but some use for sex. And one of her first scenes is getting nekkid and into a bath. Ah, the pre-Hayes Code days.

One of the biggest problems with finding her a husband is the fact that the laws of her land state that there is only a Queen, and her husband, when she has one, would not be King but merely Prince Consort, a position of high visibility and responsibility, but no power. Perfect punishment for a man with a string of scandals?

One of the first issues I had with this movie is that it's just too long. This story, with some stretching, is about 45 minutes long, but instead it's 109. A majority of the padding are songs, naturally, as this is a Maurice Chevalier movie. Unfortunately I'm not all that keen on Chevalier's voice. He's not a bad singer but he's a boring singer, which is bad because having him sing is supposed to be one of the highlights of his films. And as I've already pointed out, her voice is just annoying.

It was amusing how risque this movie was for a time period we think of as being so innocent. Sure, the Hays Code didn't exist yet, but this is the first movie I've seen from this era where a womanizer is the hero of the story, and a woman who seems sexually interested despite being unmarried is the heroine. At their first dinner together, the Queen asks Renard what he would do if she were not the queen. He immediately holds her close, kisses her hand and gazes into her eyes. "All that the first time you meet?" she asks. "Then what could be left for later?" "...Plenty..." he says, suggestively. Then they sing. Again. And he leaves. The 20's, gang.

The song "Let's Be Common", sung between Renard's servant and the Queen's maid, is essentially a celebration of the fact that commoners don't have to worry about being decorous and if they want to do things without being married, that's fine.

I won't say there weren't moments that I thought worked well, but ultimately this thing is so long and yet so little is happening that my attention kept wandering throughout. Of the two performances that Maurice Chevalier was nominated for this year, this one is probably the more deserving, but that's like saying I'd nominate Adam Sandler for Big Daddy before I would for Happy Gilmore.

The Green Goddess

Film: The Green Goddess
Year: 1929-30
Cast: George Arliss, HB Warner, Ralph Forbes, Alice Joyce, Ivan F. Simpson, Reginald Sheffield, Betty Boyd, Nigel De Brulier
Director: Alfred E. Green
Nominations: Best Actor (Arliss)

So this is a movie...made in the 20's...starring all white people...about a remote tribe in the Himalayas...with a central villain called the Raja.

I knew what I was in for before I even started, and I was right. This is just...unpleasant. By the standards of its time it wasn't bad, in the sense that a good deal of effort went into making it, and the actors and direction are competent, but still...picture what 1920's rich white Americans thought the "dark tribal" Himalayas were like and you'll get an idea of how gross the whole thing feels.

It's a pretty standard adventure/intrigue tale, about three English people (HB Warner, Ralph Forbes and Alice Joyce) who crash-land their toy airplane while also inside their real plane (no really, the crash is so obviously a toy; watch how it bounces) in a remote (fictional) region of the Himalayas known as Rukh. There, the "hoo-yah-hoo-yah" natives bring them before their Raja (George Arliss), who welcomes them with seeming open arms, but there's something a bit sinister about him, and it's not that he's a white-as-snow Englishman himself, who speaks English perfectly well with a strong Received Pronunciation British accent.

Can he be trusted? Would he be portrayed on the poster so alien and threatening if that were the case?

In all fairness, this movie has a lot to say about British Imperialism and the belief of the white aristocrat that he is lord of all the world, but considering it's delivered from the mouth of a white British man, this undercuts the message somewhat.

This movie more or less confirms for me what I had already suspected; the nominations were handed out to actors this year for any work that could be considered a lead role. Why else would they nominate Arliss for this movie? Or Maurice Chevalier for The Big Pond? It certainly wasn't just due to it being a different time; Wallace Beery and Ronald Colman's performances still hold up. This was just plain hard to watch, and for the first time since I began this project I debated not finishing. Its short length is all that kept me going.

Disraeli

Film: Disraeli
Year: 1929-30
Cast: George Arliss, Doris Lloyd, David Torrence, Joan Bennett, Florence Arliss, Anthony Bushell, Michael Visaroff, Ivan F. Simpson, Gwendolyn Logan, Charles E. Evans, Norman Cannon, Cosmo Kyrle Bellow, Margaret Mann
Director: Alfred E. Green
Nominations: Best Picture, Best Actor (Arliss), Best Writing

It is so hard for me to evaluate performances from this era of film.

The "Talkies" were still a relatively new thing at this time in history. In fact, all of the actors I've been talking about for this category and year were former silent film actors, and in at least one case this year featured their very first talkies. Technically speaking, this was George Arliss's second talkie, his first being The Green Goddess (review coming soon) but this was released first.

You can tell Arliss isn't entirely used to communicating primarily through words. While he's affable and understated as the well-remembered British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, he will every now and then milk a giant cow or give an over-exaggerated facial expression, much like a pantomime actor, because that's how silent film stars had to act.

The film focuses on Disraeli's efforts to purchase the Suez Canal, and thus secure a British Empire in Asia. He's convinced that Russia, who are also eyeing the canal, have sent spies to watch him, which his parliamentary enemies think is a paranoid fantasy, and have used it to vote down his foreign policy. But he's right, and he uses his own clever means to ferret them out, but not before they've managed to bankrupt his expenditures for the canal purchase...after they've gone through.

This wasn't the first time Arliss played Disraeli, or even the fifth time, as he'd played him in a silent film and on stage many times before. He does look a lot like Disraeli, and his performance, as I said, is mostly understated and quite enjoyable. I enjoyed his quips, such as, after walking in on his aide making out with the woman he loves (yes, even in 1929), he simply says, with no malice, "Time's up". Later, when he realizes one of the spies has come to call before he's ready, he blurts out "Send her away! Delay her! Kill her!" I dunno, made me laugh.

So far, I would think his win was somewhat a forgone conclusion, as his competition was mainly comedic performances, and one thug (though I haven't seen Condemned and it still hurts to think of that). His other performance in The Green Goddess, for which he was also nominated, seems to be a less serious film as well, but we'll see, as that's next.

Ultimately, there wasn't much to this film. It felt like a filmed play, as most of it takes place in the same room, and has people walking into and out of the given scenes (I say most; early on it does show scenes in Parliament and even out of doors). Watch it mostly for the historical value, but don't expect much.

The First Film I Can't Review

Film: Condemned
Year: 1929-30
Cast: Ronald Colman, Ann Harding, Dudley Digges, Louis Wolheim, William Elmer, William Vaughn, Albert Kingsley
Director: Wesley Ruggles
Nominations: Best Actor (Colman)

It finally happened.

Some of these movies it's borderline impossible to get hard copies of, and for this one, the streaming service I've been using for classic movies does have this one...in Spanish. Without subtitles.

I'm sorry, but I can't review this one because I can't watch it. I'm sure of Colman's two performances this one was probably the more serious and "Oscar-ish" of the two, but I'll probably never know.

I have confirmed that my streaming service does have Disraeli, The Green Goddess and The Love Parade in English. We'll move on to them now.

Bulldog Drummond

Film: Bulldog Drummond
Year: 1929-30
Cast: Ronald Colman, Claude Allister, Lawrence Grant, Montagu Love, Wilson Benge, Joan Bennett, Lilyan Tashman, Charles Sellon, Tetsu Komai, Gertrude Short, Donald Novis
Director: F. Richard Jones
Nominations: Best Actor (Colman), Best Art Direction

Apparently light-hearted romps were big with the Academy this early in its existence.

While The Big Pond was a light-hearted comedy, this one is a light-hearted adventure drama, and a fun one at that.

Ronald Colman stars in his first talkie, in the title role of Captain Hugh "Bulldog" Drummond, a demobilized soldier bored with civilian life who advertises his services for danger and intrigue, and wouldn't you know it, people answer.

This film, the first in a series, is based on a series of penny thrillers by author HC "Sapper" McNeille, all starring Hugh Drummond, and I've never read any of them. Drummond is unique in that he's literally just attracted to the danger, and diversion from his humdrum life post-war life, and I'm not sure there's another hero like him.

His first "case" is that of a Phyllis Benton(Joan Bennett) whose uncle, John Travers, is allegedly being kept in a senior's care facility, but she's certain that all is not what it seems, and believes her every move is being watched. She hires Drummond to investigate the doctor who's caring for her, against the advice of his friend Algy (Claude Allister) and valet Danny (Wilson Benge), who think she's an escaped mental patient herself. That is until the good doctor himself shows up...

I have to say, this movie contained a twist ending I genuinely didn't see coming. It didn't exactly change my opinion of this movie (that it's a fine way to fill some time but not much else) but it did put a smile on my face.

This movie is an old-fashioned (now, anyway) fun thriller with some suitably hammy performances, and I was suitably entertained, even if I don't think it's really anything to go seek out yourself. I got a real kick out of Allister in the role of foppish, doltish Algy. And there's a movie connection here I was unaware of; Claude Allister voices Rat in Disney's The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad, an animated classic I have grown up with.

This was, technically, Ronald Colman's first Academy Award nomination, and I say technically because his nomination this year was also for Condemned, but this was first released, so I think of this as his first nomination. It wouldn't be his last, but this one isn't really the sort of performance the Academy would continue to go for. It would be like nominating someone for playing Sherlock Holmes or James Bond. Today we know how much more Colman is capable of.

The Big Pond

Film: The Big Pond
Year: 1929-30
Cast: Maurice Chevalier, Claudette Colbert, George Barbier, Marion Ballou, Andrée Corday, Frank Lyon, Nat Pendleton, Elaine Koch
Director: Hobart Hensley
Nominations: Best Actor (Chevalier)

There's...not much to this one. It's a light-hearted romantic comedy starring two of the biggest names of the time, both of whom would remain active for the next several decades, but I can't think of this one as anywhere near the top of either's catalog.

It almost feels like an extended sitcom episode. Pierre (Maurice Chevalier) is a poor French tour guide living in Venice, while Barbara (Claudette Colbert) is a wealthy American tourist, and the two of them are madly in love and want to get married. We don't see this part. They start off in love and we're just asked to keep believing they are.

Her father (George Barbier) doesn't approve of the idea at all, thinking he's a poor little sponge, and too low-class for his daughter. He prefers Ronnie (Frank Lyon), who was engaged to Barbara until she got across the "big pond" (the Atlantic; hence the title), and discovered the love of a Frenchman.

Her father and Ronnie hatch a scheme to persuade her to leave Pierre; take him with them back to America where he'll work in the family-owned chewing gum factory (really?) where he'll be utterly out of his element and nowhere near as charming. Hilarity, and singing, ensues.

This is very much a product of its time. Its humor and charm have aged poorly, and the copy I watched was badly transferred, and thus hard to hear. One scene, involving Pierre meeting the young daughter of his landlady (maybe?), is actually more than a little creepy, as this was a far more innocent time. There's a couple of scenes where the actors are still holding their frozen tableau even after the cameras are rolling and then suddenly spring into action. And the ending, which was supposed to be...happy? I think? Well, it was just plain offensive. And really, Claudette Colbert is wasted here. Once they're back in America, she appears only infrequently and has little to do.

I do wonder what I would have thought of it if I'd seen it on the big screen back in the era that produced it, but if all that was true, I'd be a different person, so there's not much use wondering.

As it is, this movie is 77 minutes long, making it the shortest film I've watched for this blog so far, and it felt like one of the longest.

What little I know of Maurice Chevalier tells me that he's pretty much playing himself here, and in fact, more or less always does. He's nice and inoffensive enough, but when it comes to French charmers, I'll take Charles Boyer any day. I don't really fault the Academy for this; it was brand new and Chevalier was a huge name. This is one of two performances that earned him his nomination. We'l have to see if the other is any more worthy of awards.

The Big House

Film: The Big House
Year: 1929-30
Cast: Chester Morris, Wallace Beery, Lewis Stone, Robert Montgomery, Leila Hyams, George F. Marion, JC Nugent, Karl Dane, DeWitt Jennings, Mathew Betz, Claire McDowell, Robert Emmet O'Connor, Tom Kennedy, Tom Wilson, Eddie Foyer, Rosco Ates, Fletcher Norton
Director: George Hill
Nominations: Best Picture, Best Actor (Beery), Best Writing-Achievement, Best Sound Recording

This film was among the nominees in only the third Academy Awards ceremony. This means it didn't actually win any Oscars. Only Academy Awards. It wasn't nicknamed "Oscar" until 1931. Thus, none of the movies I'm looking at for this category are "Oscar" winners.

This film won two Academy Awards, losing Best Picture and Best Actor. Its wins for writing and sound were very deserved, as it's kind of amazing how well this film holds up. If it were remade today, I don't think much would change, other than the period dialogue, costumes, etc. And there'd probably be at least one rape, even if only implied. This is a pre-Hayes Code movie, but I guess some subjects just didn't get talked about in films back then. Not that I'm complaining.

The focus in this film is on three prisoners; Kent Marlowe (Robert Montgomery), a straight who accidentally killed someone in a car accident and was convicted of manslaughter, John Morgan (Chester Morris), a thief and forger with an easy manner, and "Machine Gun Butch" Schmidt (Wallace Beery), a hardened, violent thug.

Marlowe isn't prepared for prison life and is easily taken advantage of by the other inmates, with Morgan and Butch, as his bunkmates, trying with various levels of success (and effort) to make sure he doesn't get himself killed. Morgan sees Marlowe's sister during visiting hours and is smitten with her. He coaxes information about her from Marlowe and then stages an escape, where he goes to meet her. He charms her out of calling the police and she even lets him stay with her and her folks, until eventually the police catch up with him.

Butch, meanwhile, is also planning an escape, but of a far more violent nature. The ending is something to behold, considering it was 1929 and the "talkies" were a relatively new concept.

Wallace Beery was the sole acting nominee from this film, and it was for Best Actor, though the category of Best Supporting Actor did not exist at the time. There's some question, I guess, of which category he would have been nominated in should there have been another, but I'm gonna say supporting. This movie belongs to Chester Morris, and even though Robert Montgomery's name is far down in the credits, I think he's got more of an arc than Beery does. If I were to compare it to another prison drama, in this case HBO's Oz, Beery's Butch is comparable to JK Simmons's Vern, or perhaps Adewale Akkinuoye-Agbage's Adebisi. Montgomery is very much comparable to Lee Tergesen's Beecher while Morgan is like a proto-Ryan O'Reily (Dean Winters).

Beery is very believable as the unrepentant criminal, and he's got a few almost sentimental moments. There's a sad early scene where he gets a letter that he says is from one of his girls. He "reads" part of it, then says it's "too juicy" to share with anyone but Morgan. So he and Morgan go off alone...and Butch asks Morgan who it's from and if he can read it to him. It turns out to be news that Butch's mother has died.

So Beery acquits himself well, and it's no real surprise he was nominated. What about his co-stars, though? Should any of them have joined him? Honestly, not really. I never once bought Chester Morris as a criminal. He was too nice. Too heroic. Which is odd because he made his career playing criminals and tough guys. Montgomery is wasted as a character who should have been the most sympathetic of the three, and instead is the least. Lewis Stone, one of two actors in this cast to already have an Academy Award nomination (the other being Chester Morris, though in both cases the nominations were unofficial), has little to work with as the tough but fair warden, who seems to care about the prisoners as people (at least in private) but doesn't do anything to alleviate their situation. So, if they only chose one actor from this, I'm glad it was Beery.

The Big House is a pretty stirring, involving film even today, which should prove that age has nothing to do with a film's quality. We'll see if Beery's competitors, and their films, were just as good in the next few posts.

New Year, New Category

We've arrived yet again at the next pick for year and category. Time to pick them both from my foolproof random system.

Drumroll please...

It's Best Actor! 1930. Now, this is a bit of a problem because there is no Oscar year for 1930. Back then they doubled years up. There's a 1929-1930 year and a 1930-1931 year, so which to pick. Well, the actual year generator I use doesn't just give me a year, but also a date, and this time it gave me January 29, 1930, which makes me think I should lean toward the 1929-30 Oscars.

The Best Actor nominees that year were:

• George Arliss in Disraeli (the winner) and The Green Goddess
• Wallace Beery in The Big House
• Maurice Chevalier in The Big Pond and The Love Parade
• Ronald Colman in Bulldog Drummond and Condemned
• Lawrence Tibbett in The Rogue Song

You might have noticed that several of the actors above appear to have been nominated for two performances. That's how it worked in this, the third year of the Academy Awards' existence. Apparently you could be nominated for multiple performances, but outside of the first year, you only won for whichever performance received the most votes, or at least I assume that's how it worked. George Arliss won for Disraeli but was also nominated for The Green Goddess. Does that count as two nominations, or one nomination but only one winning performance? I'm not sure. To be honest, no one is alive today who knows why the nominees and winners were handled that way.

It's also a bit more of a challenge because only fragments exist of The Rogue Song. In fact, the farther back we go, the more "lost" films we'll encounter, and when we do, is there really any option but to kinda just skip them? I'll watch what there is of The Rogue Song but I'll decide if I can really judge it only after I see it.

We'll be back next post with The Big House.

1954 Best Supporting Actor: My Choice

It's time once again to look back at the selected category through the lens of history and ask: did the Academy get it right?

1954's nominees, once again, are:

• Lee J. Cobb as Johnny Friendly in On the Waterfront
• Karl Malden as Father Barry in On the Waterfront
• Edmond O'Brien as Oscar Muldoon in The Barefoot Contessa
• Rod Steiger as Charlie "The Gent" Malloy in On the Waterfront
• Tom Tully as Captain William DeVriess in The Caine Mutiny

The Academy's Choice: Edmond O'Brien

Weighing the Performances:

Lee J. Cobb in On the Waterfront

Once again, I will point out that this is one of those rare years when three of the nominees are from the same film, and that this usually means they cancel each other out, as they did here. Edmond O'Brien took it home this year, but some wonder how deserved it really was, as maybe he won only because voters couldn't decide which of the men from On the Waterfront deserved it the most. Are they right?

Lee J. Cobb is the heavy, mob-affiliated Union Boss "Johnny Friendly" (real name Michael J. Skelly, as we learn during his trial), and it's a meaty part that Cobb sinks his teeth into. As I said in the review of the film, it's kind of a one-note role - he's the bad guy and stays the bad guy - but it's hard to deny the zeal with which Cobb tackles the part. Every time he walks into frame I think "man, I'd hate to mess with this guy" and that's exactly how I should feel, so I have to give Cobb his props for that. It's pretty rare that I feel just as afraid of a film's villain as the characters do, and while Cobb does occasionally ham it up, it always feels like just the right amount of ham, rather than too much. A number of mob bosses in films that came after seemed based on this archetype, but does that make him the winner? Hard to say, so let's keep going on.

Karl Malden in On the Waterfront

As the crusading priest, Father Barry, Karl Malden might seem a little too good to be true, until you
learn that Father Barry is based almost entirely on a real "waterfront priest", Father John Corridan, and that many of his "sermons" in the film are like 80% Corridan's actual words. In fact, Malden apparently toned down the resoluteness and drive with which Corridan approached his efforts to clean up the docks. Perhaps his winning scene is his "sermon on the dock" in which he stands, pelted by eggs and other things, unflinching as he reminds everyone that God is right beside them all wherever they go and whatever they do, and actually gets several of the dock workers to listen. But I think I prefer the quieter scene where he tries to get Terry to give up his gun, then punches the former prizefighter across the room when Terry tries to attack him instead. Don't mess with Father Barry, the original badass preacher! Again, though, is he the "real" winner?

Edmond O'Brien in The Barefoot Contessa

Edmond O'Brien plays the constantly sweating, sincerity-faking public relations man Oscar Muldoon in The Barefoot Contessa, a man whose job is to essentially brag on and play up people he dislikes. In the process he comes off looking almost sympathetic compared to the slimy rich guys who employ him. Several scenes show that he actually has some measure of decency, and you almost feel like he could be a good man if he hadn't long ago become a part of the Hollywood system. In that way, he really does stand out in the film, and that's saying something when you share a lot of your scenes with Humphrey Bogart. Was his win just a "default" after the three Waterfronters cancelled each other out? I don't know, nor do I know who I'd pick matching him up with the three men from that film. I'd say that the role doesn't seem much of a stretch for him, but then, I'm not sure how much of a stretch any of the roles this year were. It seems like the category is made up of character actors doing their thing, and playing their type at the top of their game.

Rod Steiger in On the Waterfront

The final nominee from On the Waterfront is Rod Steiger, playing Marlon Brando's older brother,
Charlie the Gent, seemingly involved with the mob for most of his life and now the right hand of the evil Johnny Friendly. Charlie's struggle is palpable; he loves Terry and wants to protect him, to be the big brother Terry deserves. But his loyalty to Johnny blinds him to the fact that he's the one keeping Terry down. The "I coulda been a contendah!" speech is a wake-up call for him; he's spent most of his life thinking Terry owes him something, that he's the one protecting Terry, and he begins the scene trying desperately to get his little brother to agree not to spill, finally getting worked up enough to pull a gun on him. Terry's passionate, but quiet, reminder that it was Charlie himself that ended Terry's boxing career is a cathartic moment, where you can see on Steiger's face, without a word, his emotional turmoil. Again, it's so hard to pick between these three actors which gave the best performance.

Tom Tully in The Caine Mutiny

If there's a loser at all, it's Tom Tully. Not that I didn't like him or don't think he's as good, but his role is comparatively tiny and he's just one talented performance out of many from that film, several of which I think were better. I did like Tully as the first captain of the Caine, a man resigned to his place in the Navy, which is at the bottom, but who isn't an incompetent. It's hard to tell his motivation or goals, though, and that makes it tough to really get behind him.

This time, I might just have to go with the Academy's choice, because like I said, not only do all three men from On the Waterfront give incredible performances, but Edmond O'Brien is easily comparable with any of them. This time, I side with the Academy, but only because of how good everyone was.

My Choice: Edmond O'Brien

Next up: A new year, and a new category!

On the Waterfront

Film: On the Waterfront
Year: 1954
Cast: Marlon Brando, Karl Malden, Lee J. Cobb, Rod Steiger, Eva Marie Saint, Pat Henning, John F. Hamilton, James Westerfield, Abe Simon, Leif Erickson, Martin Balsam, Rudy Bond, Ben Wagner
Director: Elia Kazan
Nominations: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Brando), Best Supporting Actor (Cobb, Malden, Steiger), Best Supporting Actress (Saint), Best Screenplay, Best Art Direction/Set Decoration - Black & White, Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Dramatic or Comedic Score

It's sorta hard to believe that last night was the first time I ever sat down and watched this movie. I'd hardly even seen any clips; just stills.

This was 1954's big Oscar film; it was nominated for a whopping 12 Oscars (still an impressive number today) and won eight of them; again, still impressive. If A Streetcar Named Desire was Brando's signature role, this was the role that solidified his screen presence and made sure we knew it was no fluke. Of course...Brando was literally nominated for a Best Actor Oscar every year between this one and Streetcar. Has any other actor this age (he was 30 when he won for this) ever had that happen? I'm not really asking; the answer is "no". Whenever I hear of a new actor being called "the next Brando" my first thought is "has he racked up four Best Actor nominations by age 30? No? Then he's not." In fact, most actors age 30 are considered, at best, nearly ready for their first nomination, rather than already having been nominated three times, with one of their losses considered an unforgivable snub. While Brando is a powerhouse in this (when wasn't he, back when he was at the top of his game?), this award was probably just as much for Streetcar as it was for the actual performance.

Brando plays Terry Malloy, a former prizefighter, now a shiftless, thug-like dock worker in Hoboken, New Jersey, who does small-time work for the local Union boss, Johnny Friendly (Lee J. Cobb), who has mob ties and pretty much owns the docks. Terry's brother, Charlie "The Gent", is Johnny's right-hand man, and it's primarily through Charlie that Terry knows and works for Johnny. The police are watching Johnny, and one of the dock workers may have been talking to them. At the start of the film, Terry is sent to lure the "rat" onto the roof of his building, where Johnny's men are waiting for him. One body in the street later, and Terry realizes he just assisted in a murder. He thought they were just gonna lean on him, get him to shut his yap. He never thought he'd be participating in this sort of thing.

Edie Doyle (Eva Marie Saint) is the younger sister of the murdered man, Joey, and wants to find out who killed her brother and see justice done, while their dad, "Pop" (John F. Hamilton), knows how things work on the docks and just laments that Joey didn't know how to keep his mouth shut. Local priest Father Barry (Karl Malden), is inspired by Edie's fearless declaration that an uprising against waterfront corruption is needed, and he decides to lead that uprising in the name of God. He can tell that Terry's conscience is bothering him, but Terry, who tries to live by the axiom "do it to him before he can do it to you", tells the priest that "conscience can drive you nuts" and resolves that however he feels about it, he's no rat. But then he meets and begins to fall for Edie, and realizes that good people are getting hurt for seemingly no reason.

This is the movie where Brando's famous "I coulda been a contendah!" speech comes from, and it's kind of a shame that today, that's nearly all people know it for. I didn't even know the context; I thought he was whining to his girl about how his life turned out. As it is, it's a pivotal moment for him and his brother, and their relationship, as by this point Charlie has been told by Johnny to either convince Terry not to talk or to kill him. Charlie's almost to the point of working himself up to do it, but unfortunately, after first offering him a "job" where the kickbacks would mean he never has to work, then threatening to shoot him. Charlie then reminds Terry that Johnny was there for him with a job when he washed out of his fighting career due to a poor manager, to which Terry responds: "It wasn't him, Charley, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden you came down to my dressing room and you said, "Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson." You remember that? "This ain't your night"! My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart! So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on the ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palookaville! You was my brother, Charley, you shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money."

He spells it out; had it not been for those events, "I coulda had class. I coulda been a contendah. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am." It's rare when a famous quote gets remembered exactly as its said. I was prepared for the speech to be different than I always heard it, kinda like "Elementary, my dear Watson", or "Beam me up, Scotty" or "Luke, I am your father". But nope, it's exactly like the way we've always heard it.

There's a lot more to this movie than just that scene, but as it's the moment that really kicks off the final act, I can understand why it got so famous. I won't tell you where it leads, for the most part, but I will say that one of the images from this movie that will stay with me for the rest of my life - Terry and Edie running for their lives down a narrow alleyway pursued by a giant truck - comes after it.

Like I said earlier, Brando's win for this film is thought in some ways to be a make-up Oscar, as he was expected to win for Streetcar three years earlier, but lost to Humphrey Bogart, who was getting his make-up Oscar for not winning for Casablanca. Having now seen it, I gotta say that it was earned. I still think Bogart was brilliant in The Caine Mutiny but he didn't truly own the film like Brando does here. Terry gets under our skin; he's so ordinary that it's very possible to feel like you're one bad career move away from being him, and you wonder if you were in his shoes, what would you do? We'd like to think we'll stand up against the bad guy like Terry, but I think most of us would be more like the other dock workers; feeling like it's just not worth it. Brando takes us through the wringer; you feel every inch of his agonizing over the cardinal rule of "you never rat" versus looking the other way and allowing good people to get hurt.

This movie really is an acting tour-de-force, and like I said in the launch post for this category and this year, is one of only five movies to score three acting nods in one category; in this case three Best Supporting Actor nominations for the frightening mob boss Johnny Friendly, crusading priest Father Barry, and the big bro, Charlie the Gent, who can never figure out a way to both be a loyal mobster and a loving brother at the same time. Usually triple-crowns like this means they cancel each other out, and so it happened here, but did they deserve it? Did they all lose just because they were from the same film?

The truth is, I don't know which of the three performances I would pick to be a winner. Not because none of them stand out, but because they're all just that good! I would take points away from Malden for his character being so saintly, but then, he only rises to the occasion because Edie makes him see how long he's been hiding. He's also based on a real guy, and apparently Malden toned it down to make him seem less unrealistically heroic. Lee J. Cobb probably has the least to work with, playing an unrepentant bad guy whose every action is pretty predictable, but he plays it to the hilt, and dominates all his scenes. Steiger's role takes a while to go somewhere, but when it does, he makes you want to cry, particularly in the scene where he decides to let Terry go, knowing what it will mean for him personally.

So, in total, I guess I can't really say that any of them aren't winners, and since there can only be one, I guess their triple-threat is their award.

Eva Marie Saint makes her film debut here, and won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, and she really does a great job here, as the personification of Terry's conscience. Or really, just conscience at all, since her declarations are also what inspire Father Barry to stop hiding in his church. I've been hearing most of my life about how she was the female lead, and should have been nominated for Best Actress, but was shunted to supporting because no one had ever heard of her, and she was more likely to be nominated here; a gamble that worked considering she won. But having seen it, I think she was nominated in the right category. This isn't her story; it's Terry's from the word go. She wouldn't have even factored in had Terry been sent to set up someone else, or if he hadn't been involved in her brother's death. She deserved her win (at least as far as I know so far), but she wasn't in the wrong category.

I would be remiss if I didn't talk about this film's connection with Kazan's naming names to the House Un-American Activities Committee. I'm not going to talk about whether he was right or wrong; getting political is not the purpose of this blog, but apparently one of Kazan's motivations for making it was to show that "ratting" is a good thing when you're outing bad people. Apparently there were protests when he won, but he must have at least gotten his message across pretty well, because, again, this movie won eight Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Screenplay. And they're all deserved, as far as I know so far.

Next post is the ranking of the performances and my pick for the winner vs. the Academy's pick.

The Caine Mutiny

Film: The Caine Mutiny
Year: 1954
Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Van Johnson, Fred MacMurray, Robert Francis, José Ferrer, EG Marshall, Tom Tully, May Wynn, Katherine Warren, Lee Marvin, Claude Akins, Arthur Franz, Warner Anderson, Jerry Paris
Director: Edward Dmytryk
Nominations: Best Picture, Best Actor (Bogart), Best Supporting Actor (Tully), Best Screenplay, Best Editing, Best Sound Recording, Best Dramatic or Comedic Score

Phew. This may be my favorite movie I've watched yet. I can't say enough good about it. I have yet to watch On the Waterfront but it's gonna have to be something special to beat this one.

Princeton graduate and newly minted ensign Willie Keith (Robert Francis) is assigned to the USS Caine, a destroyer and minesweeper, that isn't at all what the young inexperienced officer expected. The men are allowed to hang around in improper uniforms, smoking and dropping their garbage on the deck, and their drills are, shall we say, less than 100% efficient. The Caine is on its last legs, and its captain, a worn-out sea dog named DeVriess (Tom Tully), seems lazy and uncouth, and Keith thinks he's not fit for command, but he has one thing Keith does not have, and that is practical experience. But Keith's prayers seem to be answered when DeVriess is reassigned and a new captain, Philip Queeg, comes aboard.

Captain Queeg (Humphrey Bogart) is a piece of work. He's barely installed when he begins losing it over the smallest violation of regulations, including uniform tunics being worn untucked, officers not being completely clean shaven, and other such tiny infractions. As he instructs the crew "Aboard my ship, excellent performance is standard, standard performance is substandard and substandard performance is not permitted to exist". One wonders how Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis and Charlie Day would deal with this guy.

"Well, he certainly is Navy," says Ensign Keith, trying to find the bright side. "Yeah," says Lt. Keefer (Fred MacMurray). "So was Captain Bligh".

But Queeg's not just a hardnose, he also begins to show signs that he's not entirely stable. The first sign of this is when he begins to berate Keefer and Keith over one seaman not having his tunic tucked in, and while he's doing it, the helm warns that they're about to make a complete circle and run over their own tow line. Queeg demands not to be interrupted and goes back to his tirade...and the ship does in fact run over its tow line, at which point Queeg starts yelling about substandard equipment that comes loose from just being dragged. Eventually he's yelling about a seaman without a lifejacket on (who doesn't exist) or yelling about the "redhead" at the gun port (all seamen at the gun port wearing helmets at the time. Finally he demands a full investigation over some missing strawberries. That's the straw that breaks the camel's back and convinces the XO, Maryk (Van Johnson), that they need to approach the Admiralty and lodge a formal complaint.

But when Maryk, Keefer and Keith get aboard the carrier of the region's Admiral, they see a sort of precision and professionalism they're totally unused to and Keefer realizes that anyone who hasn't witnessed Queeg's behavior would simply dismiss the three of them as substandard officers who want to shirk duty. But then a storm hits and Queeg's reaction isn't just odd or hard to deal with, it becomes dangerous. What to do? Well...read the title of this movie again.

I had been under the impression that a majority of this movie was a courtroom drama, but the actual Court-Martial starts in the last half hour. By this time we've spent enough time with the crew of the Caine that we feel like we really know them, which helps us to feel the same way Maryk and Keith do when the trial begins. It doesn't help when it becomes clear their court-assigned attorney (José Ferrer) believes they're guilty.

Man, what a line-up of talent this movie has. Just look at those names up there! That it managed only two acting nominations is something, because I thought Johnson, Ferrer and MacMurray were all excellent, and I got a kick out of the two lunkhead sailors, Meatball and Horrible (Lee Marvin and Claude Akins).

If there is a weak link in this cast, it's Robert Francis in the role of Keith, who at first seems to be the lead, and who maintains a central role throughout. This was Francis's film debut, and unfortunately he would only make three more before dying the very next year from this film's release in a plane crash at age 25. He was on the radar as being the next big star, but quite frankly I don't know if he would have made it. As Keith, he is stilted, wooden, and dead-eyed, and unfortunately the first half of this movie spends way too much time focusing on him. One of the draggier parts is when he heads for shore leave while the incident with the tow line is investigated. It almost grinds the film to a halt, but fortunately just when I was wondering how much more time it was going to spend on him, it ended and we got back to the boat.

Humphrey Bogart, who as I mentioned in my review of The Barefoot Contessa had only three more years of life left to him at this point (he already was dying of cancer, though his official diagnosis wouldn't come for two more years), received his final Oscar nomination for this film and dangit if he doesn't go out with a bang. I've always thought of Bogart as being a reserved actor with an unexplainable magnetism that made him rule every picture he did, but now I see that he's a man of great subtlety. As the unbalanced Queeg, you can sense the danger from him the moment he comes on board, and with only the barest change of voice and facial expression can go from just a rigid naval commander to an unhinged lunatic, while a lesser actor might rant and rave.

So far, I haven't seen Marlon Brando's winning performance this year (yeah, I know, criminal of me) but I do know that in a series of weird choices, the Academy failed to award Bogart for his iconic performance in Casablanca, and later gave him an obvious make-up Oscar for The African Queen, in the process taking the Oscar away from Brando for his iconic performance in A Streetcar named Desire. This means that this year (1954), Brando would win for On the Waterfront instead (review coming soon!). If I could change time, I'd give Bogie the Oscar for Casablanca, Brando his first for Streetcar and Bogie a second for this film.

But let's talk about the other nominated performance from this film. What made Tom Tully, a little-remembered actor who seemed to mostly do television, stand out in this crowd? Well, the fact that he's only in this for about 15 minutes and yet makes a lasting impression is likely part of it. He portrays Captain DeVriess as a man tired of life. Every breath sounds like it took effort. Every stare communicates his desire to be somewhere else. And yet, he's not incompetent and his men genuinely love him, and not because he's an easy hand. There's a touching scene where, as he's leaving the ship, the men present him with a watch they've gotten for him as a going away gift. He sternly reminds them that giving gifts to their commanding officer is a violation of regulations. He then takes one step off the ship onto the porting ramp and turns and says "Well, would you look at that. Some idiot left his watch here. Might as well take it as a souvenir..."

His nomination was earned, I think, but it's kinda criminal that Fred MacMurray didn't get one as well. I enjoyed his sarcastic, yet serious performance, and his character had a genuine arc that played out in an unexpected, yet satisfying way. In many ways he was a self-insert for the author of the book and play this movie is based on, Herman Wouk, but for once he's not the central character or even a heroic character at all, though many of the film's best lines are his, and MacMurray delivers them perfectly.

I don't care who you are, I recommend this movie. If you haven't seen it, you need to. So far it's the best of the movies I've watched for this blog, and I'm only sorry it took me this long to see it.

The Barefoot Contessa

Film: The Barefoot Contessa
Year: 1954
Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Ava Gardner, Edmond O'Brien, Marius Goring, Valentina Cortese, Rossano Brazzi, Elizabeth Sellars, Warren Stevens, Mari Aldon
Director: Joseph L. Mankiewicz
Nominations: Best Supporting Actor (O'Brien), Best Story and Screenplay

By 1954 the Hollywood Machine was firmly established. While it's mutated a lot since then, it remains largely the same. It's run by slick people with a lot of money who don't care about anyone but themselves. It's a game, and you can either be a player or be played.

The Barefoot Contessa is about that game, its players and its pawns, and how you can find yourself being both.

Humphrey Bogart stars as Harry Dawes, a Hollywood screenwriter and director with a reputation for heavy drinking, whose career is winding down. One of the former greats, his drinking habit, which is stated to have raged out of control, has made him something of a pariah in his later years, and now he's forced to work for whomever will hire him, which at the beginning of the film is eccentric millionaire Kirk Edwards (Warren Stevens), who's looking to produce his own movie just because he can. I'm reminded of Howard Hughes, who became a movie producer mainly because he could, and then tried to play the game his own way, only to produce two of the most infamous flops in Hollywood; The Outlaw and The Conqueror. Apparently Edwards was inspired by Hughes, so that isn't surprising.

Edwards wants a "new face" and has heard of a vibrant flamenco dancer down in Madrid names Maria Vargas (Ava Gardner), who has an aversion to wearing shoes, to the point where it kinda defines her. He, Harry and Oscar Muldoon (Edmond O'Brien), an oily public relations specialist, find the nightclub she dances in and after Oscar repulses her and nearly loses her for good, Harry convinces her to do a screen test, turning her into a movie star overnight.

That's not where her story ends, of course, and in fact the movie begins with her funeral, as the various men gathered there, Harry, Oscar, her eventual husband Count Vincenzo Torlato-Favrini (Rossano Brazzi), take turns narrating how they came to know her, and how each came to lose her. It's a tragic tale of a woman whom all desired, yet she desired nothing herself.

Honestly I didn't know what to make of this movie. There were a number of interesting moments, moments that worked quite well, but I'm not sure they added up to a movie that was interesting, and worked well. I never felt my attention wandering, but I did find myself wondering how long this or that scene was going to keep going. I wondered frequently if I was supposed to be on Maria's side or if I was supposed to be just as mystified by her as the various men were. That's the real key to her character; she's a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and the three men who stand at her funeral and tell us her story, mainly through their perspective on it, none of them really understood her. Her motivations, her desires, her drives, they all seem to be an utter mystery to the two men who shepherded her through the Hollywood game, and the man who made her royalty through marriage, despite all three of them needing to understand those very things in order to do what they do.

Several characters point out that life isn't like a movie script, because in a script everything has to make sense, and in life quite a bit does not. This is part of the mystery of Maria Vargas; actors always need to know their motivation. What's Maria's? This is what baffles Harry, Oscar and others. Frequently it's commented on how Maria's life is like that of a fairy tale. But how could such a fairy tale play out in real life? Could it end any other way than tragic?

I'll say for one thing that I don't think Gardner sold this role at all. Let's get this out of the way first; yes, we have a Caucasian women who's as American as apple pie playing the exotic flamenco dancer from Spain whose foreign spice is part of what draws men to her. It was the 50's; happened all the time back then. But other than being able to look pretty, poised and kind of vaguely angry all the time, Gardner didn't really seem to do much. We're told endlessly how intriguing she is, but I found her boring. I've heard that one mark of a bad movie is that the movie keeps trying to tell us something that we can see for ourselves isn't true; a woman is "the most beautiful woman in the world" when she's pretty average, or this newly discovered musician is inventive and going to change the world when they sound pretty much like what we've already heard. And here we keep being told how exotic and mystifying Maria Vargas is, and frankly, nothing about her was particularly captivating and if there was a mystery, I didn't care to solve it. I understand the character is based on Rita Hayworth. This makes sense as Hayworth was Hispanic, began her career as a flamenco dancer and later became a star and married royalty, but she was more interesting than Gardner makes Maria. Like Gene Lockhart, her accent is uneven, and often her performance seems more like just making sure she gets her lines right. She was already an Oscar nominee herself by this point, too. I wonder what I'll think of her in her nominated performance, when I get there?

Bogart, as always, is imminently watchable, and he's the perfect guy to play a Hollywood type that doesn't act, as he's one of the few major movie stars who never looked like a movie star. He looks like a dude. He should have been a character actor, based on his looks alone, but something about him commands your attention, and he's got to be at the center of the story. That's what made him a leading man. He's just as good here as he always is, and it's a little sad to know that this Bogart, looking just slightly grayer around the temples than he did as Rick Blaine, was only a few years away from death at this point.

But what about this movie's sole winner, Edmond O'Brien? Well, I'll level with you; I've never seen him in a movie before, but I have seen others review movies he's been in, and I can't really figure out what I think of him as an actor. I get the feeling that the kind of parts he got are the kind of parts John Goodman gets offered today, and I don't mean due to weight, because O'Brien is just sturdy, not fat, but I mean in personality. If I were remaking The Barefoot Contessa today, Goodman is exactly who I would cast as the sweaty, jowly sleazeball that is Oscar Muldoon. Oddly, despite his sleaziness, Muldoon is portrayed sympathetically, as he attempts to use his charm on Maria but she sees right through him, and works for several bosses his job is to talk up, but he personally hates. O'Brien manages to portray a player of the Hollywood game, a cog in its machinery, that isn't much more than that, if anything, and yet we are interested in his side of the story. This is to O'Brien's credit, and I can see why of all the actors in this piece, he's the one who got the nomination. Whether or not he deserved the win, I can't say yet, as he's the first performance from this category and year that I've watched, but I will say that it's one of the first performances I've seen from these older movies I've been watching that I feel could be portrayed the same way today and would still catch Oscar's attention. Another thing is that I do feel that out of all the performances in this film, his is both the most memorable, and the most honest. While Gardner is obviously acting, and Bogart is still great but has been better elsewhere, O'Brien seems to believe he is who he's playing.

Then again, we're nearly two decades out from the last set of films I watched, so perhaps acting preferences were already changing. While the 30's seemed to like big, theatrical performances, the acting here is much more subtle, all about communicating what the character is feeling or thinking through small looks, tics and movements. Maybe that's why Gardner left me cold; her character doesn't seem to have much in the way of tics or small movements. She's too poised for that.

One odd part of this film is the first scene in which we see the nightclub Maria dances in. Director Joseph L. Mankiewicz chooses not to show us her dancing, which isn't because she can't, but to keep it mysterious, and instead, we see the reactions of the various nightclub patrons. One set of patrons makes me want to know their story; an older man speaking seriously into the ear of a girl who looks young enough to be his daughter, as she struggles to keep from breaking down in tears, and ultimately fails. What was going on there? We never see them again, and I'd love to know what that was all about.

Movies like this, kinda lesser in Oscar's catalog (due to only two nominations, if major ones) make me wonder what it would have been like to have been predicting them back in those days. Would I have been shocked that Gardner didn't get a nomination? Or that Bogart's nod was for The Caine Mutiny instead of this one? Or that it failed to get a Picture or Director nod? I don't know. I feel like the two it got were deserved, and I can see why O'Brien won. It is an intriguing story, even if I feel like it wasn't served well by its leading lady.

The Next Category...

With 1938's Best Supporting Actor category all finished, it's time to move on. And our next category is...

1954 Best Supporting Actor!

Seriously, Supporting Actor again? Well, I guess with only seven categories (I've decided to view all screenplay categories as one considering how often they changed over the years) the same category coming up twice in a row was bound to happen but I didn't think it would happen so soon!

Anyway, the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, 1954, are:

• Lee J. Cobb in On the Waterfront
• Karl Malden in On the Waterfront
• Edmond O'Brien in The Barefoot Contessa (The Winner)
• Rod Steiger in On the Waterfront
• Tom Tully in The Caine Mutiny

1954 was one of only two years that three nominees for the same film were nominated, and one of only five times there were three nominees from the same film in a single category. Two nominees from one film in a single category happens a lot, but three is something special.

This means it won't take as long for me to finish the films. I've already started on The Barefoot Contessa, and I'm excited to watch this slate of films, as two star Humphrey Bogart and one stars Marlon Brando. Two major Hollywood Heavyweights in one stretch. Let's do this!

Next post will be the mini-review of The Barefoot Contessa.

1938 Best Supporting Actor: My Choice

So, here we are, the first completed category of my project. I have now seen five classic movies I'd never watched before, become familiar with actors I'd only heard about up until now, and had a great time doing it. Don't ever let anyone tell you that old movies are boring or that it's hard to tell what's happening. Each film had its own quirks and pitfalls, but their own delights as well, and I greatly enjoyed the experience.

I'm also going to take a moment to talk about how nice it is to now be able to put a face and a role to the names and films I'd only ever seen as names on a stats list up until now. I've studied the Oscar nominees' names and years to the point where I can recite them from memory, but for various reasons (availability of the material, mostly) I'd watched so few of them, and almost none of those from this era. Now I have, and I feel the richer for it. I can't wait for the next set!

One perspective I've had about modern movies that I've consistently failed to apply to classics of the past is the idea that an Oscar nod isn't always earned. Sometimes it's as much of a shock to Academy members that a performance, film, directorial job, screenplay, etc. gets a nod as it is to us. Sometimes a nominee can thank a split vote or disqualification for getting them on the ballot! But whenever I looked at the nominees of the past (say, pre-1970), I assumed we must be looking at a list of the best of the best. This isn't the case now, and I'm forced to admit it might not have been the case then. I can see handicappers like myself in 1939 (the year these nominations were announced) scratching their heads and wondering how Ronald Colman could be snubbed for If I Were King or why Gene Lockhart managed a nomination for Algiers when Joseph Calleia didn't, or groaning when they heard that Walter Brennan had won a second Oscar just two years after winning his first, and all for a sappy horse movie. Or I might be wrong; It might have been more controversial that Basil Rathbone landed a nod for IIWK then that Colman didn't, or they might have fervently hoped Brennan wins all the Oscars. I wish I could have been around to see it.

The nominees, once again, for Best Supporting Actor, 1938:

• Walter Brennan as Peter Goodwin in Kentucky
• John Garfield as Mickey Borden in Four Daughters
• Gene Lockhart as Regis in Algiers
• Robert Morley as King Louis XVI in Marie Antoinette
• Basil Rathbone as King Louis XI in If I Were King

The Academy's Choice: Walter Brennan

Weighing the Performances: 

It's so difficult sometimes to look at films through a lens of history. It's tempting to want to judge performances based on more modern standards. The acting choices made by the five nominees here vary widely, and few, if any, would pass muster with a modern director. Theatricality was still the main goal, and all five performances here could be considered rather hammy and even a bit stilted by modern standards.

Walter Brennan in Kentucky

But I think I can see what each actor was actually doing here, and while I don't pretend to understand modes of acting from decades past, I see the goals in each performance, and I see the character that was trying to be portrayed.

As I have said above, and elsewhere, Walter Brennan was victorious that year, taking home Oscar #2 of three. His character in Kentucky is eulogized as "that grand old man of the American turf" and I think for a while Brennan was "that grand old man of the Oscars", because they seemed to love him; giving him an Oscar literally every other year for five years. The funny thing is...Brennan wasn't an old man. Not then, anyway. He was 44 when he made Kentucky, playing an 80-year-old and not missing a beat. His thin build, prematurely white, thinning hair, affected voice, stooped posture and missing teeth often had him playing characters old enough to be his father, and it works here, with, from what I can tell, minimal make-up. I didn't actually know how old he was until I looked it up (I knew he wasn't actually 80; he died at age 80 in the 70's), and it blew me away that he was a mere three years old than I am now. I believed him as a senior citizen with no trouble. But was that what won him the Oscar? Hard to say, because I can't imagine this role was much of a stretch or challenge for him. The role itself is essentially that of a grumpy old man, and he doesn't even get much of an arc. There's a scene toward the end where he appears to realize he was wrong about at least one thing, but mostly he spends the entire movie just being grumpy and giving advice about horses. He was entertaining and memorable, but Oscar-worthy? In the spirit of full disclosure I'll admit I've not seen his other two winning performances (yet!) so I don't know if this was any better or worse than the others, but that's not the point. I feel like awarding this performance with the highest honor an actor can receive would be like giving it to Jack Lemmon or Walter Matthau for Grumpy Old Men.

John Garfield in Four Daughters

John Garfield was the youngest of the nominees this year, and Four Daughters was his film debut. As
I said in the review of the film, at first I was annoyed with his character's constant whining about his poor luck, but having thought about it more I think it was a layered performance, a man who's genuinely lived a hard life and doesn't see it getting any better who's gotten good at masking real pain with gallows humor. He's a sort of proto-Brando; burying a ton of anger and projecting an air of the disaffected loner, happy in his misery, but miserably longing to be happy. He perfectly delivers a speech about how the Fates have been screwing him from birth: "They've been at me now for nearly a quarter of a century. No let-up. First they said "let him do without parents. He'll get along." Then they decided "he doesn't need any education. That's for sissies." Then right at the beginning, they  tossed a coin. "Heads he's poor, tails he's rich." So they tossed a coin...with two heads." You laugh...and then you really think about what he's saying. I was impressed with Garfield's ability to say something that sounds carefree and flippant until you back up and think about what he just said, and what undertones you hear in his voice. Very nice work for such a young actor at the very start of his career.

Gene Lockhart in Algiers

Gene Lockhart...man, I just don't know what to tell you here. Algiers has many smaller roles, as the Casbah has all sorts of colorful denizens, each their own level of shady, but few shadier than a rat, which is what Lockhart's Regis is. I couldn't get a real handle on his deal; what was his motivation for informing? Why, if he was generally known as an informant, did members of Pépé's gang seem to trust him, or at least follow his advice? And just what made Lockhart's performance stand out? Was he appreciably better than Alan Hale as Pépé's fence Granpere, or Stanley Fields as Carlos the hilarious thug? Or Johnny Downs as his heir apparent Pierrot? I can say with certainty that he wasn't better than Joseph Calleia as Inspector Slimane, who could sit and calmly talk with the man he's tasked with hunting down, and still have you convinced he's a competent professional. Calleia should have been the nominee from this film. Lockhart just wasn't anything special, and in fact he was kind of annoying. He would repeatedly launch into a rambling speech about nothing, and each of his sentences would carry the same inflection. It sounded like he was reading lines off a cue card, and it didn't help that his accent was uneven at the best of times. Lockhart was a Canadian actor who made a name for himself in America and here he's playing a...what? I don't know. He's as white as a sheet but wears a fez like a local. Sometimes he sounds like he's trying to do an accent, sometimes he sounds fully American. I don't see the nomination potential here. I have a feeling his nomination caused people to go "what?" when it happened, sorta like no one expecting James Cromwell's nearly silent, expressionless performance in Babe scoring a nod against all odds.

Robert Morley in Marie Antoinette

Two different French monarchs were honored in this category this year, and they couldn't have been more different, even if they were both named Louis. Robert Morley and his multiple chins played
King Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette's hapless husband; the king who would have preferred to be a locksmith. I admit, I kind of liked this role because I saw a lot of myself in his desire to stay away from public gatherings and just spend time doing things he loved. I mean...I don't know why he was so obsessed with locksmithing, but whatever floats your boat, Lou. But it's hard to deny that this poor sap was a pathetic king and seemed poor at whatever he tried to do...mostly. It was very touching that immediately before he's led off to his execution he's shown playing with his children and we see that whatever other faults he has, he's a loving, attentive father who might not have deserved to keep his throne, but didn't deserve to die. Speaking of, this is four performances discussed so far and, SPOILERS!!!...the fourth character not to survive the events of the film. But one man was lucky enough to escape this fate.

Basil Rathbone in If I Were King

Basil Rathbone gave a truly magnetic performance as King Louis XI in If I Were King, playing an older, much cannier, perhaps slightly insane monarch. Whatever he was, he was no hapless idiot like his poor eventual successor. Rathbone portrays him as a sharp and prudent man who only seems like a cackling fool. But is he a bit cracked? Maybe. In the middle of a siege, he suddenly decides to appoint the commoner, poet and thief François Villon to the position of Grand Constable, and then, after letting him settle into the role, gives him a week to end the siege, promising that at the end he'll hang for his crimes. I mean...what kind of bargain is that? But Rathbone makes him a joy to watch, and he dominates every scene he's in. I've seen Rathbone in other roles, and he's mostly remembered for playing Sherlock Holmes, but to me he'll always be Guy of Gisbourne in The Adventures of Robin Hood, released the same year as this performance and as different as night and day, so I know that Rathbone has some real range in him and unlike the feeling I got from Brennan, and maybe even the other three, he's not just playing to type.

My Winner: Basil Rathbone

And next up; time to choose another category and another year!