The 1933 version of State Fair is the first of three
movie versions of the novel by Philip Strong about an Iowa family’s journey to
the titular annual event. I prefer the 1945 musical version myself because it
includes some amazing songs (“It Might as Well Be Spring,” “It’s a Grand Night
for Singing”) and good performances by Jeanne Crain, Dana Andrews, and Dick
Haymes, among others. The 1962 film features Ann-Margaret and Pat Boone and
switches the action to Texas rather than Iowa. However, the earliest version is
the only one to have garnered a Best Picture nomination, and without the
success of this first film, the others would never likely never have been made.
State Fair (to be clear, I’m talking about the one from 1933)
is ostensibly a comedy with some romantic and dramatic elements included for
good measure. A frame story shows the Frake family’s preparations for the Iowa
State Fair and their reactions after returning home. It’s the middle part of
the film that depicts the fair itself, and it’s the most significant part of
the narrative in terms of the plot complications. As such, the fair provides a
brief escape, a sort of vacation, from the drudgery of the real world. Anything
might be possible at the fair, and you don’t have to live by the usual “rules”
of society when you’re there and far away from your home.
Initially, each member of the family has a reason to be excited
about the upcoming fair. The father, Abel (played with cornpone charm by Will
Rogers), has been raising a Hampshire boar that he hopes will be named Grand
Champion. The mother, Melissa (Louise Dresser, nicely understated), has various
pickles and mincemeat recipes that she hopes will garner her some ribbons for
her cooking prowess. The brother, Wayne (Norman Foster, grating with his
exaggerated accent and hick-like behavior), has been practicing tossing hoops
for a year in order to get back at the carnival barker who tricked him at the
previous year’s fair. Finally, the daughter, Margy (Janet Gaynor, a true movie
star and a fine actress), just wants to have some adventure in her life before
she possibly settles for marrying a local dairy farmer.
Abel makes a $5 bet (no doubt, a lot of money in 1933) with the
local store owner that everyone in the Frake family will have a great time at
the fair and everyone will reach the goals each has established for going to
the fair. The film seems to ask if it is possible for everything to turn out
the way you want it to, if you can always achieve what you set out to do, and
the answer, apparently, is that it depends. Raising such a question means, of
course, that there must be complications for each of the four main characters. For
example, a significant portion of the plot—perhaps too much of the plot—is
taken up with Blue Boy, Abel’s prize-worthy pig, who seems lethargic when at
the fair. Abel even sleeps in the pen with the pig to make certain that it’s
okay. It’s only when another pig, Esmerelda, appears that Blue Boy springs back
to life. Can pigs fall in love? State Fair seems to suggest that
they can; it certainly suggests that they can talk to each other. There are at
least two lengthy passages involving these two pigs grunting, certainly some of
the oddest “romantic” dialog to appear on film.
Rogers, one of the most famous personalities from the first
half of the 20th Century, is rather too “aw shucks, ma” in his
performance. He’s not a particularly good actor, to be honest, often stumbling
over his lines, but he does seem to be enjoying himself being around the
fairgrounds, and there’s some cute interplay between him and Dresser in the
second half of the film. Dresser’s storyline as Melissa Frake is rather simple,
but she makes the most of the clichéd part of homemaker who wants recognition
for her skills. Melissa faces some stiff competition from another woman who is
apparently famous in Iowa for her pickles and mincemeat too. However, all it
takes is some blue ribbons and a plaque for Melissa to state, without apparent
irony, “I’ve got the most that any woman can get in life. There’s nothing left
to come to the fair again for.” That suggests the kinds of limitations placed
on women during the time period of the film. Little wonder then that her
daughter might consider wanting more in life than a bit of blue ribbon and a
statewide reputation for prize-winning pickles.
The most compelling thread in the plot involves Gaynor’s
Margy. Her life seems out of her control; everyone expects her to marry Harry,
but she doesn’t love him. Harry has always loved her, and he certainly seems
devoted to her, but he represents a safe choice, a mundane future, a
continuation of the existence she’s always known. You can tell from Gaynor’s
facial expressions that Margy is a dreamer, someone who wants to have some
excitement in her life. When she looks at the sky during the truck ride to the
fair, it’s easy for the audience to comprehend just how more she wants out of
life, more than perhaps even one week at the fair can provide. Margy meets a
newspaperman played by Lew Ayres on a roller coaster, and they decide to have
fun enjoying the fair together. No strings, no expectations—they just plan to
see what the fair has to offer visitors. She admits that she has a boyfriend
back home, and he confesses to having had several lovers in the past. You know
that won’t prevent them from falling in love with each other, but one of the
true joys of the film is watching a relationship develop between their young
characters. Both Gaynor and Ayres (in one of his earlier film roles) are quite
charming.
Meanwhile, the most shocking plotline involves Wayne. He won
a cheap “pearl-handled” revolver the year before, and he takes full advantage
of the opportunity to humiliate the carny running the hoop toss game. He’s
gotten quite good at a rather useless skill, but the scene is really just
designed to set up a burgeoning romance between Wayne and a trapeze artist.
They have quite the sexual relationship throughout the duration of the fair,
and the film, being made prior to the adoption of the Production Code, is
rather daring in its depiction of what’s going on between Wayne and Emily. It’s
quite a contrast between their relationship and the far more chaste one
involving Margy and Ayres’ Pat. Margy and Pat, for example, seemingly only
share kisses, nothing more. Wayne and Emily go much, much farther than that.
The existing print, at least the one shown periodically on
Turner Classic Movies, is in pretty bad shape. There are numerous cuts and
jumps that eliminate some dialog and some images. It makes for some rocky
watching at times. The use of soft-focus cinematography in the farm scenes is
also noteworthy. The edges are slightly out of focus in these scenes. Perhaps
it’s an attempt to idealize the agrarian existence depicted in the film. The
scenes at the fair so seem sharper or flatter.
The fair itself is an intriguing artifact here. We get to
see the carnies putting up the tents, setting up the shows and games. These
scenes are one of the few places that African-Americans appear in the
film—well, and some blackface performers at the fair. There are also some melancholy
shots of the empty fair after it has closed. Much of this atmospheric footage came
from the 1932 Iowa State Fair, and these sequences serve as a realistic backdrop
for the action involving the four main characters. For example, one of the best
examples of how footage from the state fair is integrated into the film
involves Pat and Margy attending the horse races. This is an exciting sequence
with lots of energy, reminiscent in some ways of the chariot races in Ben-Hur.
Even though the film was nominated for a screenplay Oscar,
some of the dialog is truly cringe-inducing. For example, on the way to the
fair, Mrs. Frake encourages Margy to spread a blanket on the floor of the back
of the truck, which she and her brother are sharing with Blue Boy (thankfully,
caged). Margy, naturally, balks, only to have her father respond with “It ain’t
everybody gets a chance to sleep alongside of a hog like that.” Probably not,
but it depends upon whether you mean a literal “hog” or not, I suppose. The
funniest dialog centers around Wayne’s claim that he’s seeing one of his male
friends from the previous year’s fair when he’s really seeing Emily, the
trapeze artist. This leads to some rather intriguing statements from his mother,
several of which sound faintly homoerotic. For instance, when Margy gets upset
that Wayne hasn’t accompanied her to the fair, Mrs. Frake says, “You know a boy
has to go around and meet other fellows.” Indeed, some boys do just that at a
fair. My favorite line, though, occurs when Wayne says he’s going to spend the
night with this male friend on the final evening of the fair. Mrs. Frake’s
assertion that “I bet you boys just fool around and don’t get a wink of sleep” is
surprisingly on target for what’s been going on with Wayne and Emily, but can
you imagine the implications of a mother saying that to a grown young man
nowadays and not being the subject of some quizzical looks? Still, it’s this
kind of dialog that makes even modern-day audiences laugh, just perhaps not
in the way that audiences originally did in 1933.
Oscar Nominations:
Best Picture, Best Writing (Adaptation)
