Billy Wilder: Sunset Boulevard

The USPS recently issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We shall explore the lives and work of these directors. In this post LR Simon discusses Sunset Boulevard (1950).

When we first see William Holden’s Joe Gillis in Sunset Boulevard, his body is floating face-down in a swimming pool. The deceased Gillis narrates the story of his own demise, a device that is difficult to do at all well. Director Billy Wilder pulls it off in his 1950 classic, usually listed as one of his best films, and one of the best films about Hollywood ever made.

In Sunset Boulevard, aging silent film star Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) dreams of a comeback and hires struggling screenwriter Gillis to edit her screenplay. Gillis believes the script is bad, but editing a bad script is preferable to moving back to Ohio. Desmond’s fragile state of mind and her equally fragile ego keep Gillis not only in Desmond’s employ, but also in her mansion.

Many details distinguish Sunset Boulevard from other films of the early 1950s, including the romanceless romance between Gillis and the significantly older Desmond, as well as the fact that so few of the characters are likeable. Wilder ensures that the audience will understand or sympathize with the characters, who throughout the film engage in damaging or self-destructive behaviors; the director then serves up one of the great unhappy film endings.

Film students and writers in every medium should watch Sunset Boulevard as an example of how to do (almost) everything you’re not supposed to do as a writer.

References and Recommended Reading

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Wilder

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_Picture_Production_Code

http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/1432/the-art-of-screenwriting-no-1-billy-wilder

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sunset_Boulevard_(film)

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19990627/REVIEWS08/906270301/1023

Billy Wilder: Double Indemnity

The USPS recently issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We shall explore the lives and work of these directors. In this post LR Simon discusses The Double Indemnity (1944).

James M. Cain’s 1935 novella Double Indemnity centers on a murder plot by a woman (Phyllis Dietrichson, played by Barbara Stanwyck) and an insurance agent (Walter Neff, played by Fred MacMurray) with whom she has an extramarital affair. They meet when Neff makes a house call for a routine renewal of an automobile insurance policy. Dietrichson asks him how she could take out an insurance policy on her husband without his knowledge; he realizes she’s plotting murder and wants nothing to do with it. She shows up at his apartment and persuades him to help her. He goes along with the plot, beginning with getting Mr. Dietrichson to sign an insurance policy that includes a double indemnity clause that doubles the insurance payout for accidental death.

The complicated plot is handled deftly by co-writers Billy Wilder and Raymond Chandler. Wilder and Chandler had a prickly relationship during the writing of the screenplay. Chandler had assumed that he would write the screenplay alone, and asked for a sample script for use as a formatting reference. Wilder thought the result was largely unusable with the exception of some lines of dialogue, and explained that they would have to work together. Wilder considered the collaboration to be helpful and that “[w]hat we were doing together had real electricity”. He considered Chandler a great writer, but not a great screenwriter. Chandler’s view of Wilder was considerably less charitable.

Double Indemnity drew great interest from several studios shortly after its publication, but when Joseph Breen of the Hays Office sent a message to the studios that the nature of the characters and plot would render the story unfilmable, all offers on the story were withdrawn. Of concern to the Hays Office were plot elements dealing with adultery, depicting the method of committing a murder, and the original ending, which involved the two main characters committing suicide. When Wilder took on the task of adapting the story to film, he altered the story to have Neff sent to the gas chamber for murdering Dietrichson and conspiring with her to murder her husband. The Hays Office considered the gas chamber scene too gruesome to pass muster with the local censorship boards; Wilder realized, however, that the film really ended at the familiar scene at the elevator, with Neff dying in colleague and mentor Barton Keyes’ (Edward G. Robinson) arms.

References

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Wilder

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_Picture_Production_Code

http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/1432/the-art-of-screenwriting-no-1-billy-wilder

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double_Indemnity_(film)

Billy Wilder: The Major and the Minor

The USPS recently issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We shall explore the lives and work of these directors. In this post LR Simon discusses The Major and the Minor (1942).

The Major and the Minor was the first American film Billy Wilder directed. Wilder learned about filmmaking from editor Doane Harrison while making this film. Harrison taught Wilder about editing in camera to prevent the studio from making changes.

Ginger Rogers plays Susan Applegate, a scalp massager for the “Revigorous System,” who quits after a client makes a pass at her. She wants to take the train home, but she only has enough for a child’s fare, so she tries to make herself look like a 12-year-old in order to get a ticket. She ends up hiding in Major Philip Kirby’s (Ray Milland) cabin when she’s seen smoking. She convinces Kirby, who has poor vision, that she’s a frightened child, and he allows her to stay with him in his cabin. The train stops for flooding on the tracks and Susan is diverted from her journey home to stay with Kirby’s fiance’s family until her own family can pick her up. As with any screwball romantic comedy, the story makes the audience want the leads to get together while simultaneously throwing obstacles in the way of the desired end.

Although the story presented Wilder and his co-writer Charles Brackett opportunities to push the limits of the Hays Code, there seem to have been no issues with the story’s content.

Critical reception at the time was generally positive, but it is one of Wilder’s lesser and less well-remembered efforts. Rogers’s performance was perfectly suited to the film—she’s fun to watch without trying too hard. Milland was an excellent choice for Kirby; he’s likeable enough to allow the audience to overlook his obliviousness, both when it comes to Susan’s age and to his fiance’s character.

References

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Wilder

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_Picture_Production_Code

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Major_and_the_Minor

Billy Wilder: Some Like It Hot

The USPS recently issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We will be exploring the lives and work of these directors. In this post LR Simon discusses Some Like It Hot (1959).

Sex comedies produced before the demise of the Hays Code may seem quaint by modern sensibilities, but that’s largely because of the Code; writers and directors like Billy Wilder pushed the Code’s limits on a regular basis. Wilder had been pushing the Code’s limits since his American directorial debut, The Major and the Minor, but he hadn’t released a film without the Production Seal of Approval until 1959’s Some Like It Hot.

Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon play struggling jazz musicians, Joe and Jerry, who witness the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in 1929; they’re spotted by the murderous gangsters, including “Spats” Colombo (George Raft), so they have to flee. They do this by disguising themselves as women and joining Sweet Sue and her Society Syncopators, an all-woman band heading to Miami. Joe becomes enamored of the band’s frontwoman, Sugar Kane (Marilyn Monroe), while Jerry (as Daphne) receives unwanted attention from the band’s male manager Mr. Bienstock (Dave Barry) before attracting more attention from Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown). Joe persuades Jerry to keep Osgood occupied so he, as Junior, another alter ego, can entertain Sugar on Osgood’s yacht. As things become increasingly complicated, Joe and Jerry realize they have to leave the band, but they come to this decision as a convention of the Friends of Italian Opera opens at the hotel where they are staying. Among those attending the convention are Spats and his cohort who recognize Josephine (Joe) and Daphne as the witnesses to the massacre.

Some Like It Hot challenged several rules of the Hays Code, including scenes that imply sex between unmarried men and women, blurring of sex roles (Joe and Jerry’s transvestitism), Bienstock’s sexual harassment of “Daphne,” and the suggestion that there might not be anything wrong with homosexuality, as implied by the film’s final line.

While “Junior” was seducing Sugar, Osgood proposed to Daphne, who accepted. In the film’s final scene, Daphne tries to get out of the engagement by listing any number of her faults (she smokes, she can’t have children, etc.), leading to Osgood’s famous last words: “Well, nobody’s perfect.”

Wilder relates the story behind one of the most famous lines in cinema:

“Diamond and I were in our room working together, waiting for the next line—Joe B. Brown’s response, the final line, the curtain line of the film—to come to us. Then I heard Diamond say, ‘Nobody’s perfect.’ I thought about it and I said, Well, let’s put in ‘Nobody’s perfect’ for now. But only for the time being. We have a whole week to think about it. We thought about it all week. Neither of us could come up with anything better, so we shot that line, still not entirely satisfied. When we screened the movie, that line got one of the biggest laughs I’ve ever heard in the theater. But we just hadn’t trusted it when we wrote it; we just didn’t see it. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’ The line had come too easily, just popped out.”

References

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Wilder

http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/1432/the-art-of-screenwriting-no-1-billy-wilder

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Some_Like_It_Hot

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_Picture_Production_Code

USPS Director Stamps: Billy Wilder

The USPS recently issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We will be exploring the lives and work of these directors over the next few weeks. In this post LR Simon discusses the career and influence of Billy Wilder.

Like the other directors featured in this series, Billy Wilder started his film career as a writer. He had worked as a journalist in Berlin before becoming interested in film and writing screenplays. He wrote the screenplay for Emil and the Detectives (1931), and then moved to Paris as Hitler came into power. He made his directorial debut in France with Mauvaise Graine (1934), moving to Hollywood before its release. His first big American hit as a writer came in 1939 with Ninotchka, and he made his American directorial debut with The Major and the Minor in 1942. He would go on to direct Double Indemnity (1944), arguably the best noir film; Some Like It Hot (1959), one of the best-loved comedies in film history; and Stalag 17 (1953), one of the best prisoner of war films.

Because he was a writer, Wilder believed that films were at their best when the script was honored. He became a director in large part to protect his scripts from misinterpretation. Once a director, he began to tailor scripts for actors, because he thought all actors have limits; this, however, did not keep him from casting against type—Fred MacMurray was not a likely choice to play a scheming insurance salesman in Double Indemnity, for example.

Wilder had great admiration for directors who were also writers, such as John Huston and Akira Kurosawa, but also for directors who respected the writers, such as Ernst Lubitsch, for whom he wrote several screenplays. Wilder learned much about directing from Lubitsch—not only how to respect the script and the medium, but also “to do things as elegantly and as simply as possible.” Despite directors’ having much more influence on set than writers (during the studio era, writers were not allowed on set), Wilder did not subscribe to “auteur theory”:

Film’s thought of as a director’s medium because the director creates the end product that appears on the screen. It’s that stupid auteur theory again, that the director is the author of the film. But what does the director shoot—the telephone book? Writers became much more important when sound came in, but they’ve had to put up a valiant fight to get the credit they deserve.

Wilder’s influence on cinema extends beyond the technical—many of his films pushed the limits of what was acceptable under the Hays Code. Double Indemnity centers on marital infidelity, a topic that the code made almost impossible to treat honestly on film. Some Like It Hot features transvestitism and a nod to homosexuality, and was released without a Production Code Seal of Approval; it was a huge critical and box-office success, and may have been the single most important film in terms of ending the power of the Hays Office.

While Wilder’s legacy of expanding acceptable content in films is important—invaluable, even—some of his attitudes are less honorable. For example, Wilder was never blacklisted, but he had no sympathy for those who were, and he held some blacklisted artists in disdain. Of course, nobody’s perfect.

References

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Wilder

http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/1432/the-art-of-screenwriting-no-1-billy-wilder

Frank Capra: State of the Union

The USPS has issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We will be exploring the lives and work of these directors over the next few weeks. In this post LR Simon discusses State of the Union (1948).

As much as there is to admire in State of the Union, the more I think about this film, the less I like it. Technically, it has a lot going for it, such as a stellar cast and good production values. Frank Capra’s direction is deft as usual, and because the screenplay features political commentary that remains relevant (one character asks whether there’s any difference between the Republican and Democratic parties, a question that usually comes up at least every four years), one can see why Capra was attracted to the material.

Kay Thorndyke (Angela Lansbury) plans to make Grant Matthews (Spencer Tracy) President of the United States, using her influence via her newspapers to deadlock the Republican primary and then promote Matthews as a dark horse candidate. Matthews’ estranged wife Mary (Katharine Hepburn) agrees to campaign with him because she believes in his idealism. Along the way, Matthews compromises his positions and ideals to ensure backing from special interests. As he compromises behind the scenes, his character starts to change for the worse.

Thorndyke may be the character with the plan, but the story belongs to Matthews. He has to struggle with his ideals and his newfound ambition, and he has to decide between his wife and his lover, Kay. Most of the time, when the story focuses on Matthews, it works; there is, however, a cute but unnecessary and unbelievable airplane sequence that does not work with the rest of the film.

The main weakness in State of the Union is the treatment of the two main female characters. The characters are not written as real human people but as representations of ideas, Kay representing ambition, lust, and corruption, and Mary representing idealism and family. It’s another rendition of the virgin/whore trope that still permeates literature, television, film, and music to this day. Kay is not allowed to have any real virtues, and any characteristics she has that could be seen positively are instead used to show her in a bad light. Mary, in contrast, is not allowed much in the way of flaws, and when she starts to compromise in support of her husband, he puts an end to it—she isn’t even allowed to save herself.

Neither Kay nor Mary goes through the kind of journey that women in earlier Capra films did—in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, for example, Jean Arthur starts out cynical but through her growing familiarity with Smith (James Stewart), starts to lose her cynicism and become an optimist, even helping Smith with his apparently quixotic filibuster. In State of the Union, Kay starts out cynical and remains cynical while Mary starts out righteous and optimistic, and ultimately stays righteous and optimistic. If the characters don’t feel like cardboard, much of the credit must go to Lansbury and Hepburn.

As mentioned above, however, the political commentary was smart and strong and is not dated. For example:

“Because you politicians, instead of trying to pull the country together, are helping pull it apart, just to get votes.” Matthews (Spencer Tracy).

 “Oh, I’m a good Republican, but the voters do control the lease on the White House, don’t they? Not just the Republican Party.” Mary Matthews (Katharine Hepburn).

“You politicians have stayed professional only because the voters have remained amateurs.” Mary Matthews (Katharine Hepburn).

Despite its flaws in its depiction of (especially) the female characters, State of the Union continues Capra’s tradition of smart political commentary. It isn’t in the same league as Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, You Can’t Take It With You, or Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, and overall, it isn’t Capra’s best effort, but the actors’ performances and the political commentary make it watchable.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Capra

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/State_of_the_Union_(film)

Frank Capra: Arsenic and Old Lace

The USPS has issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We will be exploring the lives and work of these directors over the next several weeks. In this post LR Simon discusses Arsenic and Old Lace (1944).

Despite featuring next to none of the hallmarks of most of his films, Arsenic and Old Lace still feels like a Frank Capra film. Theater critic Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) is more big city elite than populist, there’s no heroic struggle against a corrupt system (though it could be argued that there’s an inefficient system—or two—involved), and Priscilla Lane’s Elaine Harper is not cut from the same cloth as the women in the other Capra films discussed in this series. Thematically, it’s almost a throwback to Capra’s silent film work with Harry Langdon; it’s more escapist entertainment than thought-provoking message piece.

The story follows Mortimer Brewster, theater critic and author of several books severely critical of the institution of marriage (e.g., Marriage Over Matrimony), as he marries his childhood sweetheart and neighbor Elaine, discovers that his two sweet aunts have a “very bad habit” that he must put to an end, and deals with his returning brother Jonathan (Raymond Massey, in the role originated on Broadway by Boris Karloff), who has homicidal tendencies and an alcoholic accomplice, Dr. Einstein (Peter Lorre).

Attempting to keep his Aunts Abby and Martha (Josephine Hull and Jean Adair, respectively) from poisoning any more prospective boarders, Mortimer frantically works out the paperwork to get his brother Teddy committed to Happy Dale Sanitarium. Before he leaves to get a judge’s signature, he makes his aunts promise not to let anyone in the house until he returns. Shortly after he leaves, however, Jonathan enters the house with his partner in crime, Dr. Einstein. After everyone goes to their rooms, Teddy comes back down to collect the latest “yellow fever victim” from the coffin-shaped window seat to bury him in the cellar in the newest lock in the "Panama Canal."

Jonathan and Einstein try to move their latest homicide victim, Mr. Spenalzo, to the basement (“Rather a good joke on my aunts,” says Jonathan), but Elaine, who thinks Mortimer has returned, interrupts them. Einstein turns on the light, leaving Jonathan flabbergasted that Spenalzo seems to have vanished.

While Arsenic and Old Lace foregoes some of Capra’s favorite themes, it is a study in the use of dramatic irony for comedic effect. The sets are obviously sets, but the artifice serves the film—some of the acting choices would seem too over-the-top in a more realistic set (or perhaps a more realistic set would have limited the acting choices).

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Capra

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arsenic_and_Old_Lace_(film)

Frank Capra: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

The USPS has issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We will be exploring the lives and work of these directors over the next few weeks. In this post LR Simon discusses Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939).

Though it was controversial at the time of its release, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is one of the best-loved of Frank Capra’s films, and may be considered the quintessential Capra movie. Themes and concepts we’ve seen in other of his films that also make an appearance here include corruption in the political process, unconventional (even unheroic) heroes, a villain who turns at the end, women with strength and character, and lost causes. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington also features the iconic filibuster sequence that celebrates the heroism of the American political process.

The story begins with the governor of an unnamed state in fly-over country trying to decide on a replacement for a recently deceased senator. His political bosses want him to select someone of their choosing, while popular committees prefer a reformer. The governor’s children suggest Jefferson Smith (James Stewart), head of the Boy Rangers. The governor eventually decides to flip a coin, heads for the corporate stooge, tails for the reformer; when the coin lands on its side next to a newspaper story about Smith, the governor decides that Smith’s wholesome appearance would appeal to the reformers while his inexperience would make him easy to manipulate.

When Smith is introduced, he’s nervous, awkward, and unpolished. When he arrives in Washington DC, he’s dazzled by the history of the Capitol and overwhelmed by the political process. He’s easy pickings for a press that sees a hick who’s unprepared for public life. Some of these themes echo similar themes in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, Meet John Doe, and even Platinum Blonde.

Among other lessons filmmakers can take from Mr. Smith is Capra’s dedication to characters and casting. Capra made sure that characters appearing on screen for only one scene remain in the audience’s consciousness. Small parts still serve an important function. In Mr. Smith, the President of the Senate (Harry Carey) has about 20 lines, but he serves as a surrogate for the audience, lending the character more importance than suggested by the paucity of lines.

Capra didn’t feature anti-heroes or leading characters with few redeeming characteristics because he thought the audience would care more what happens to a likeable character when he gets into trouble. He tried to make sure his villains weren’t cartoonish by giving them their own sense of ethics so they could think they were right. The conflict between opposing sides ensures that the hero, however good and sympathetic, would have to struggle for and earn his happy ending.

When it came to casting, Capra usually didn’t do screen tests—he preferred to talk with actors on a one-on-one basis, usually without asking them to read anything. He also didn’t let an actor’s reputation get in the way of casting. Jean Arthur, for example, had a reputation for being difficult to work with, but Capra considered it his job to get her on set; once there, she consistently delivered good performances,

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington features a more jaded look at Americans, particularly those in politics, than had been seen in earlier Capra pictures, but it stands out as probably his strongest statement on the change that can be effected by an individual citizen.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Capra

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr._Smith_Goes_to_Washington

http://www.tcm.com/mediaroom/video/151244/Frank-Capra-Jr-Remembers-Mr-Smith-Goes-to-Washington-A-TCM-Featurette-.html

Frank Capra: You Can't Take It With You

The USPS has issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We will be exploring the lives and work of these directors over the next several weeks. In this post LR Simon discusses You Can’t Take It With You (1938).

If you haven’t seen Frank Capra’s You Can’t Take It With You, some of the subject matter will surprise you. His recurring themes of class relations, the corrupting influence of money, the seemingly powerless individual going against a wealthy adversary, and cynicism being overcome by the inherent goodness in people all play significant roles in the story, but some of the minor points seem timely now as well, especially Tony Kirby’s (James Stewart) interest in alternative energy.

Jean Arthur plays Alice Vanderhof, a secretary in the bank owned by A. P. Kirby (Edward Arnold), Tony’s father. Tony’s mother (Mary Forbes) strongly disapproves of the match, a feeling that intensifies when Tony brings his parents to the chaotic Vanderhof residence to meet Alice’s family. The meeting doesn’t go as Alice had planned – between an unprepared dinner for which the hot dogs are still to be purchased, the pet crow (named Jim), Alice’s constantly dancing sister Essie (Ann Miller), and a police raid, approval from the Kirby’s seems unlikely.

Like Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, You Can’t Take It With You features a courtroom scene that descends into chaos while the presiding judge watches, amused. Unlike Mr. Deeds, You Can’t Take It With You has a prison sequence, where Grandpa Martin Vanderhof (Lionel Barrymore) and A. P. Kirby talk about whether being wealthy is important at all. As a result of this conversation, Kirby has a change of heart about the Vanderhofs, and especially about Alice, when he realizes that he will lose his son if he doesn’t make significant changes in the way he treats his son. Even Mrs. Kirby begins to soften toward the Vanderhofs.

James Stewart is charming as Tony, and Jean Arthur is very good as Alice; they’re good together – but their romantic comedy section of the film follows well-worn paths leading up to a predictable conclusion. Grandpa Vanderhof and A. P. Kirby have the more interesting relationship – on first viewing, the change Kirby undergoes doesn’t seem as predestined as one might expect.

Barrymore has the unenviable task of pontificating at length during the prison sequence and making the lines seem like something a real person would say. His lines during this sequence would, with some editing, make a fine speech at a political rally. At one point he says: “Lincoln said, ‘With malice toward none, with charity for all.’ Nowadays they say ‘Think the way I do, or I’ll bomb the daylights out of you.’” Capra has a reputation for making movies that radiate optimism, but he has enough of a realist’s perspective to keep that optimism from turning saccharine.

The portrayal of the Vanderhofs’ two black servants, Rheba (Lillian Yarbo) and Donald (Eddie Anderson), can make for uncomfortable viewing for modern audiences. They play to stereotypes for laughs; Capra usually made a point of treating all of his characters with respect and love, even as he had them engage in ridiculous business (e.g., Deeds playing the tuba when he’s told of his inheritance), and while he didn’t treat Rheba and Donald with malice, it’s difficult to see the same depth of characterization that the white characters have. It’s easy to dismiss Rheba’s and Donald’s nondimensionality as being part of the time (1938), and any presence of black characters on the screen as an important step in the progress of black actors in mainstream cinema, but in other films Capra manages with other black characters – extras, really, as they have no lines – to show more dignity and depth of humanity than he does here, that his approach here is comparatively lazy, even though Rheba and Donald have more screen time, lines, and names.

Despite its shortcomings, and if it weren’t for certain other of Capra’s films, You Can’t Take It With You could be considered the quintessential Frank Capra movie – part screwball romantic comedy, part social commentary, populated with memorable characters, and a few unforgettable highlights.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Capra

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/You_Can’t_Take_It_With_You_(film)

Frank Capra: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town

The USPS has issued a set of four stamps honoring great film directors and the films for which they are most remembered. The four selected are: John Ford (The Searchers), John Huston (The Maltese Falcon), Frank Capra (It Happened One Night), and Billy Wilder (Some Like It Hot). We will be exploring the lives and work of these directors over the next several weeks. In this post LR Simon discusses Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936).

Longfellow Deeds (Gary Cooper) of Mandrake Falls inherits $20 million from his uncle Martin Semple. Semple’s attorney, John Cedar (Douglass Dumbrille), locates Deeds and brings him to New York City. Cedar hires ex-newspaperman Cornelius Cobb (Lionel Stander) to keep reporters away from Deeds, but Louise “Babe” Bennett (Jean Arthur) gets close to him by pretending to be a poor woman who’s spent all day trying to find work. She writes a series of unflattering articles about Deeds, portraying him as a hick. Deeds is eventually disillusioned with everything in the city, including himself, until a dispossessed farmer (John Wray) breaks into Deeds’s mansion with a gun, complaining about the wealthy man’s failing to do anything with his money to help people. Deeds decides to provide 10-acre farms for homeless families willing to work the land for several years. Cedar tries to have Deeds declared mentally incompetent in order to regain control of the fortune. At his sanity hearing, Deeds delivers what may reasonably be considered the message of the film:

It’s like I’m out in a big boat, and I see one fellow in a rowboat who’s tired of rowing ad wants a free ride, and another fellow who’s drowning. Who would you expect me to rescue? Mr. Cedar, who’s just tired of rowing and wants a free ride, or those men out there who are drowning? Any ten-year-old child will give you the answer to that.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town featured many of the recurring themes and characteristics of Frank Capra’s films: class, socioeconomic relations, an affinity for working people, and the fast snappy dialogue that helps keep the audience entertained as they watch what could have been a dull, preachy film.

The studio didn’t care for this film on the grounds that Deeds was a “poor hero.” He is usually reactive in most situations, but once he’s broken, he finds his strength and fights for himself and what he thinks is right. Capra always wanted Cooper to play Deeds because of his honest, stalwart good looks—he thought the audience would believe that he wouldn’t care if he inherited $20 million.

Carole Lombard was originally cast as Babe, but just days before production began, she left to make My Man Godfrey. Capra serendipitously saw some rushes from another film with Jean Arthur, and chose her to replace Lombard. Arthur had a reputation for being difficult—she didn’t like being in front of the camera (film actress seems like an odd career choice). Capra thought she came alive on film, and was willing to deal with her idiosyncrasies.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town takes place during the Great Depression, but Capra focused on more universal themes such as human relations where socioeconomic inequalities exist. Because it stresses these broad ideas within the context of a screwball romantic comedy, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town retains its relevance.

References:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Capra

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mr._Deeds_Goes_to_Town

Frank Capra Jr. Remembers Mr. Deeds