Thursday, January 30, 2025

Disraeli (1929-30)

 

The film Disraeli depicts a key moment during the reign of Queen Victoria and Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli. It has something to do with the purchase of the Suez Canal and ensuring British control of India in 1874. There are also Russian spies who are trying to find out what Disraeli and his government are doing, but to be frank, I’m not sure that any of this is all that interesting to a current audience. The film’s origins as a stage play are too obvious, and the quality of the print that I had access to was quite bad.

Today, Disraeli is perhaps best known for starring George Arliss, who became the first Best Actor Oscar winner to portray an actual person and the first British actor to win the honor. Since then, of course, neither of those is rare. Oscar voters have shown their preference for actors portraying real-life people, and British actors have certainly accumulated quite a lot of Oscar gold over the following decades. The rest of the cast of Disraeli is, comparatively, a bit amateurish, including Arliss’s own wife, Florence Arliss, playing Lady Beaconsfield, Disraeli’s wife. Oddly enough, she seems to be calling him Dizzy throughout the movie, or is she trying to say Dissy? I could never figure that out.

At the start of the film, Disraeli is already old and quite controversial. He’s denounced – to his face – by fellow politicians in the House of Commons and regularly spoken of in unfavorable terms in Hyde Park. He also has to deal with those Russian spies, one of whom he hires to be his personal secretary in order to keep tabs on the fellow and the other a very nosy woman who has access to the gossip of high society types. Disraeli pretends to be ill in order to get Mrs. Travers (Doris Lloyd) to reveal what she knows, and he’s able to turn the information around on her. That sequence might be the most entertaining in the entire film.

I don’t recall from my British history classes all of the fuss that the film makes about the Suez Canal’s importance to Great Britain and its empirical tendencies. It’s dismissed by one of the characters as being nothing more than an “Egyptian ditch.” Nowadays we understand the significance of such canals, but I’m not sure I ever fully understood from the film how securing the canal would give control of India to Great Britain and make Victoria the “Empress of India,” which seems to be Disraeli’s goal. Certainly, British expansionism was a key aspect of this period in their history, so the film is rather accurate in that respect, I suppose.

There’s a subplot involving Lord Charles Deeford (Anthony Bushell), a young and handsome and dull fellow, trying to woo Lady Clarissa Pevensey (Joan Bennett), who finds him just as boring as the viewers do. He’s certainly handsome, but he only becomes truly interesting when Disraeli dispatches him to help negotiate for British control of the canal. When he’s gone from the screen, she and we get a chance to forget how stuffy he is. His return, at least, guarantees success for Britain and a sense of how he might actually be smarter and more energetic and even useful than he initially appears.

I’m surprised – even though I probably shouldn’t be given when the film was made – that more wasn’t made of Disraeli’s Jewishness. Yes, the “old money” class of Britain certainly didn’t look favorably on him because he wasn’t “one of them,” but how much of their dislike of him might be attributed to antisemitism? The movie only mentions his Jewish identity a couple of times, and once is in connection to a Jewish banker who supposedly will help Disraeli secure the money to pay for the canal. Otherwise, the film remains rather silent on how the reactions to Disraeli might have been motivated by the feelings of British aristocracy to his ethnicity.

Like many stage productions that were adapted into films in the early years of “talkies,” Disraeli is really, truly quite talky (talkie?). Dialog takes clear priority over action, and the sets too often reveal the stage origins of the film. When you don’t have to change the sets as often, you could provide more furniture, for example, to represent better what Victorian homes and offices looked like. I mean, they weren’t known for this kind of rather comparatively austere minimalism.

The version of the film that I saw had a very hazy quality to its cinematography that I can’t quite determine where it was the result of deterioration or just how it was almost filmed originally. It almost looks out of focus at times. Some of the outdoor sequences are quite nice, but I didn’t understand the camera’s obsession with the swans and peacocks that populate the Disraeli home. The DVD (probably a bootleg copy) I watched was actually recorded from a Turner Classic Movies screening, so I’m wondering if we just don’t have access to a good print nowadays.

I’ve often said that you shouldn’t rely on a movie to provide historical accuracy. If you want what really happened, a book or a documentary might be more helpful than a fiction film. However, after watching Disraeli, I was left wondering if the actual events were truly this boring. If you need evidence that this is a fictional story, look at the Hollywood ending the film gives you. Disraeli’s wife is suddenly sick even though I don’t recall any sense that she’d been all that frail throughout the rest of the movie, but she makes an astonishing recovery just in time to join her husband to meet Queen Victoria at the film’s end.

Oscar Win: Best Actor (George Arliss)

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Picture and Best Writing

Tuesday, January 7, 2025

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

 

Like most people of my generation, I grew up watching The Wizard of Oz on television each year. It was an event that so many people shared on an annual basis, and even though we all had become so very familiar with the story, we would still talk about it the next day at school. Having so many opportunities to share a common experience made a sense of connectedness over the film that very few other movies have. Perhaps The Sound of Music with its annual Thanksgiving screenings now or The Ten Commandments at Easter could be similar, but nothing can approach the sheer numbers of people who have seen The Wizard of Oz thanks to its repeated showings on TV from 1956-1991. That’s longer than most television programs last.

The story is justifiably familiar. A young girl, Dorothy Gale (played by Judy Garland), falls and hits her head during a Kansas tornado (very accurately depicted) and awakens to find herself transported to Oz. How or why the tornado went from Kansas to Oz doesn’t matter, but the contrast could not be starker. Kansas is all sepia tones and dust and darkness. Oz and Munchkinland, by contrast, are so bright and vivid and beautiful. Dorothy spends much of the film trying to follow the Yellow Brick Road to ask the Wizard of Oz for help in returning to Kansas. Why she wants to return to such a drab place remains a mystery to me after all these years. Who wouldn’t want to stay in Oz with all of its excitement and vibrance and brilliance? Just based on the cinematography alone, I’d never want to go back to Kansas, and I’ve actually been to Kansas in real life and know that it’s much more colorful than the film depicts.

Along the way to meet the Wizard, Dorothy (accompanied by her adorable dog Toto) meets a series of strangers who wind up joining her on the journey. Each person (well, “person” might be a stretch) wants to ask for something different from the Wizard. Each of the three companions gets their own introduction and backstory: the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. Heck, the lion even gets two songs! Each member of the cast was spectacular, and many of them had to perform two different roles, yet none of them were nominated for acting honors. In fact, other than Garland, none of them would ever be nominated by the Academy Awards for acting. Garland, who wasn’t even the first choice for the role of Dorothy, received a special “Juvenile Award” for The Wizard of Oz and Babes in Arms, the two films she completed in 1939, but I have always wondered how she might have done in the race for a competitive Oscar that year. It would have been tough to deny Vivien Leigh’s legendary performance as Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind.

Garland’s co-stars were multitalented performers. The Scarecrow and the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion, as we learn later in the film, are manifestations of three farmhands from her home in Kansas. Ray Bolger plays Hunk and the Scarecrow, and his rendition of “If I Only Had a Brain” features some of the loosest, most acrobatic dancing in the film. Jack Haley (Sr., if I need to add that) is both Hickory and the Tin Man, a romantic trapped in a metallic body. The great Bert Lahr performs the roles of Zeke and the Cowardly Lion, and given how heavy that lion suit looks and how annoying that constantly moving tale must have been, he was astonishingly good at dancing and singing. It’s tough to imagine the movie being as successful as it is without these three.

Of course, those are not the only actors in the film to perform multiple roles. Frank Morgan seems to pop up everywhere you look. He’s Professor Marvel back in Kansas, he’s the Wizard (in disguise, hidden behind a curtain), and he’s a carriage driver and a doorman and… and… and…. It’s fun to watch the film to see just how often Morgan pops up. Margaret Hamilton makes the Wicked Witch of the Witch iconic, but her performance as Elmira Gulch back in the sepia world of Kansas is just as frightening. Almost every filmed version of a witch since 1939 has been measured against Hamilton’s performance and been found lacking. Her line reading of “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too” sends a shiver down the spines of viewers no matter how many times they’ve seen the film.

Speaking of being frightened, I was never really all that scared by the Wicked Witch or her flying monkeys, but a lot of other people were. Certainly, they are meant to be scary, and I can see why others felt that way, but what scared me more were sequences such as those grumpy trees that can talk and throw apples. They seemed much more likely to appear in the world I inhabited then, and I never quite recovered from those moments. The most emotionally frightening moment for me, however, was Dorothy seeing her Aunt Em in that crystal ball of the Wicked Witch’s and tearing up because she was afraid that she’d never see her aunt again.

The Wizard of Oz is filled with so many wonderful, joyous moments too. Billie Burke as Glinda with her high-pitched voice and that enormous pink gown and her wand and the bubble she travels in is just delightful. The costumes throughout the film are spectacular, especially the ones designed for the residents of Emerald City. Again, once you’ve seen what they were, why would you want to go back to overalls and gingham? Nevertheless, Dorothy is homesick and wants to return to Kansas, so Glinda gives her the ruby slippers and sets her off on the journey that takes up much of the film. I’ve seen one of the pairs of ruby slippers at the Academy Museum in Los Angeles, and I couldn’t help but sigh at the memories associated with them. How important costuming can be to the success of a film!

The film won two Oscars, one for its musical score and one for the stunning “Over the Rainbow.” The winning song is performed by Dorothy while she’s still in Kansas at the beginning of the film, and it’s such a simple, beautiful series of dreamy images. It’s no wonder that Oz had to live up to a lot just on the basis of the song’s lyrics, and it’s such a great song that it’s no wonder that it has become as beloved as it has. If you consider the imagery in “Over the Rainbow,” you can appreciate the work of the production design team even more. The Yellow Brick Road is very bright, and Oz simply sparkles and shines. Even when you know that the backdrops in Oz are painted, you still appreciate the achievement.

Those of us who were regular viewers in the past have memorized the songs and learned so many of the lines from the film and analyzed what we saw on the screen. So beloved and influential is The Wizard of Oz that it was among the first twenty-five films selected for preservation by the Library of Congress’s National Film Registry. What a rare and special honor that was, and, really, what a rare and special film this.

Oscar Wins: Best Song (“Over the Rainbow”) and Best Original Score

Other Oscar Nominations: Outstanding Production, Best Art Direction, and Best Special Effects