12.31.2012

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.


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12.22.2012

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).


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12.21.2012

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:

12.09.2012

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:

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:

Frank Capra Jr. Remembers Mr. Deeds

12.06.2012

Frank Capra: Meet John Doe


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 Meet John Doe (1941).


Meet John Doe touches on several of Frank Capra’s favorite themes: politics, media, power, money, and society’s ill treatment of the poor. Barbara Stanwyck plays Ann Mitchell, who has been ordered to write one last column for her newspaper before clearing out her desk. She writes a letter from “John Doe” protesting the state of society and threatening to commit suicide on Christmas Eve. After a rival newspaper suspects the fraud and starts investigating, Mitchell is rehired, and she devises a plan with the editor to keep the “John Doe” story alive to push sales.

The paper auditions numerous poor men to be their John Doe. The film reduces the auditions to a montage that uses several techniques adapted from the silent era. The paper settles on John Willoughby (Gary Cooper), a former baseball player, to play Doe, rents him a hotel suite, buys him a new wardrobe, and pays him $50. Willoughby’s friend, the Colonel (Walter Brennan) has severe misgivings about the charade, and complains about the “heelots” – heels whose sole purpose in life is to snooker people out of their money. “Money goes to your head,” he says, “even just $50.”

Mitchell’s columns about John Doe and the speeches she writes for him lead to a nationwide movement and the establishment of “John Doe Clubs.” The newspaper’s publisher, D.B. Norton (Edward Arnold) sees an opportunity in the clubs to establish a ready-made constituency for a run for political office. He tries to co-opt the movement, and when Willoughby tries to speak his own mind, the publisher sets out to ruin Willoughby. Norton successfully stymies Willoughby’s attempts to redeem himself, so he decides to go through with the suicide attempt. Mitchell and members of the John Doe clubs try to dissuade him from the attempt, with Mitchell telling him, “If it’s worth dying for, it’s worth living for.”

Cooper is believable as a former baseball hero, if a bit clean to play a tramp. Stanwyck plays Mitchell with verve and just enough cynicism to make her anger at being fired believable but not so much that her softening toward Willoughby strains credulity. As usual, Capra’s affection for all of the characters is apparent on the screen.

Capra had made many films championing the poor and the downtrodden, and his work made him rich. In Meet John Doe, the audience can sense Capra working through his issues with socioeconomic classes and how money can affect one’s values. If Meet John Doe feels dated, it’s because so much of the story takes place in a newspaper office. Thematically it remains relevant because the socioeconomic issues of the early 1940s are not so different from those of today.


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12.05.2012

Frank Capra: Platinum Blonde


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 Platinum Blonde (1931).


In Platinum Blonde, one of his early romantic comedies, Capra continues to work on themes that would intrigue him throughout his career. Class relations, sex relations, right and wrong, and the news industry all play roles in the story.

Robert Williams plays Stew Smith, a newspaper reporter with a scoop on a scandal involving Michael Schuyler (Don Dillaway), who is being sued by a chorus girl for breach of promise. The Schuyler’s attorney tries to bribe Smith not to write anything, which the reporter refuses. When Smith returns to the Schuyler’s lavish estate to return Michael’s love letters to the chorus girl, who had planned to use them to extort more money from the Schuylers. Michael’s sister Anne (Jean Harlow) offers him $5,000 for the letters, which Smith refuses—he’ll print news, but he won’t facilitate blackmail. Smith’s sense of ethics infuriates his editor, but intrigues Anne.

Anne’s interest in Smith evolves into romance, which displeases Anne’s mother (Louise Closser Hale), especially when the romance leads to marriage. Smith’s sudden elevation to the society pages results in his being teased mercilessly by his former co-workers, the exception being his best pal, Gallagher (Loretta Young), who has hidden romantic feelings of her own for Smith.

The class humor still seems relevant, especially regarding the marriage of a wealthy woman to a poor or middle class man. The way the rival newspapers give nicknames (e.g., Cinderella Man) to Stew Smith after his marriage and the way he responds to the ribbing would feel at home in a modern romantic comedy.

The sex-relations humor, on the other hand, is dated. At one point, Smith tells Gallagher “Don’t turn female on me,” a line that today would not be given to a romantic lead who is treated as sympathetically as Smith is.

Jean Harlow represents a rare example of miscasting in a Capra film. She looks fantastic in her wardrobe, but she doesn’t fit with her on-screen family, and it’s difficult to believe her as coming from old money. Add to that the strong chemistry between Williams and Young, and it becomes increasingly difficult to suspend disbelief in order to accept Stew’s interest in Anne.


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