It's a Wonderful Life (1946)

Watching It's a Wonderful Life has become a Christmas tradition. I suppose people find its overall message to be an uplifting one, a sense that we all have a contribution to make to humanity and that we never really know just how great our contributions might be, how influential we truly are. While I respect what director Frank Capra and his cast and crew have done with this film, I have to say that it is a very depressing journey at times to reach that final epiphany. I am usually reluctant to take that trip each year, and it was for this project that I sat down to watch It's a Wonderful Life again. Now I can cross it off the list and avoid it in the future.

Jimmy Stewart plays George Bailey, a businessman in Bedford Falls who has fallen on hard times. The “buildings and loan” business (kind of an early savings and loan office) started by his father has failed due to a stupid mistake by George's Uncle Billy (Thomas Mitchell), a mistake for which George has taken credit. Now he's contemplating suicide, only to be stopped by an angel named Clarence (Henry Travers) who's hoping to earn his wings by saving George from his own foolish ideas about how little he matters in the world. It's Clarence who shows up in physical form--well, as physical as an angel would be, but that's a philosophical discussion for another time--in order to show George what life in this small town would have been like without him.

We see George in a series of flashbacks, starting with the time when, at age 12, he rescued his brother from a fall into a frozen pond. He saves his brother, but he loses the hearing in his left ear, a small sacrifice to pay for his bravery, I suppose. After that heroic beginning, we see George constantly being thwarted in his plans to better himself. Inspired by National Geographic magazine, he wants to travel and see as much of the world as possible; he wants to have an adventure. He says, "I want to do something big, something important." Instead, all he gets are obligations to take care of his family and friends in Bedford Falls.

Here are a few ways that George's life turns out to be a disappointment. He wants to go to college, but instead, he has to help his father run the buildings and loan. His younger brother goes to school instead. He never wanted to get married, but he falls in love with Donna Reed's Mary Hatch, who seems content to live in Bedford Falls. She even wants to buy the old Granville house and raise a family, something George feels would keep him from seeing the world. After his father has a stroke and dies, George is chosen to run the family business, just as he was planning to leave for Europe. When he starts to think Harry might take over the family business after graduation, George learns that Harry has gotten married and is moving to Buffalo to work in his new father-in-law's glass factory. Even on the day he and Mary get married, there's a run on the bank and he has to abandon their honeymoon in order to try to keep people from taking all of their money out of the family business. And just when he's offered a high-paying job that would allow him the luxury of a comfortable existence, Mary reveals that she's pregnant and he has to stay at his current job. It's one terrible event after another for George Bailey.

I know that more conservative people will point out that It's a Wonderful Life touts the principles of living up to your family obligations and community involvement, and certainly, George is well respected by the townspeople for his generosity. And he does love his wife and children. Yet I have the same reaction to this movie as I have always had to the play Our Town. Anyone who doesn't want to stay put and be just like everyone else is forced to submit to the public will (or become the town drunk). There's no escape from places like Bedford Falls, it seems, just mind-numbing conformity. If you want adventure, well, people like you and George don't get it. You can have posters on the windows of the romantic destinations you'll like to visit, but you'll never get to go there on your own. What you'll have to make do with is a stable existence in small town America, and whether you're truly happy or not makes no difference. It can be stifling to live like that when you have other dreams for yourself.

The villain of the piece is, I'm sure you know, Mr. Potter, the wealthiest man in Bedford Falls. He owns everything, and he doesn't seem to be happy unless he's making other people's lives miserable. He's played by Lionel Barrymore, who usually brings a sense of humanity to small roles like this. But Potter is just mean. He seems to have no redeeming characteristics or qualities whatsoever. No one can seem to reach his heart and make him care for his fellow human beings. He never seems to make the right choice when it comes to other people. Naturally, he plays a key role in the collapse of George's fortunes and in the breakdown that George suffers as a result.

Before we get too far away from it, I have to admit that the opening sequence is one of the silliest I've ever seen. It's basically stars talking to each other. They're concerned about George's emotional crisis and have heeded the prayers of various members of the Bedford Falls community who are also worried about George. Presumably, one of those stars is meant to be God or the "head angel" or something like that, and the rest are all angels who come down from Heaven to help out the people on Earth from time to time. Really, though, would it be any sillier to have actors dressed as angels rather than talking stars? Which one of those is the less believable approach?

For me, and I know this will sound a bit odd, the best part of It's a Wonderful Life is when George has his breakdown. It's all gotten to be a bit too much for him. When he realizes that he's bankrupt, and there will likely be a scandal and perhaps prison time for him, he lashes out at everyone. He yells at his wife and kids, revealing at last the pent-up anger he feels at all of the disappointments he's suffered over the years. Stewart is at his best in these scenes. In particular, watch his face after he realizes that, thanks to an insurance policy, he's worth more dead than alive. It's pretty chilling.

I have never quite accepted the ending of this film. Much of the rest of the movie has been realistic... well, except for the whole talking stars thing and the guardian angels and... oh, you know what I mean. Capra had a way of capturing the lives of the downtrodden, and he wasn't always as heavy-handed as he is in It's a Wonderful Life at achieving a happy ending. Maybe it's because it's a Christmas movie? However, when Stewart's George runs through the streets of Bedford Falls wishing everyone a "Merry Christmas," it just rings false to me. Speaking of ringing, I had to resist the urge to switch the movie off before George's daughter Zuzu makes her proclamation about the connection between bell ringing and angel's wings. And let's remember that on the next day, George will be back to his mundane existence running the savings and loan again, albeit with more money. When does the "wonderful life" part actually begin for George?

Yeah, I do realize that I'm in the minority when it comes to this movie. I'm willing to accept that. I understand why it is appealing to the masses. It reinforces their notions of the importance of doing the right thing and trying to help your fellow human beings. I'm certainly not opposed to either of those things. I just object to the idea that doing the right thing always means sacrificing your dreams and living your life in a way that doesn't meet everyone else's notions of what is acceptable. While I can admire It's a Wonderful Life for its technical achievements and for the acting of Stewart and Reed and some of the supporting cast like Beulah Bondi as George's mother, I'm glad that my obligations to watch this film are now over for good.

Oscar Nominations: Best Motion Picture, Best Director (Frank Capra), Best Actor (James Stewart), Best Sound Recording, Best Film Editing

Henry V (1946)

I will readily confess that the so-called history plays are not my favorites among the works of William Shakespeare. I'd much rather see a tragedy (King Lear or Macbeth, perhaps) or a comedy (A Midsummer Night's Dream) than to try to decipher the political and historical context of a history play like Henry V, the film version of which was nominated for Best Picture of 1946. I will also admit that, even after watching the movie, I'm still not entirely sure what all was going on. I didn't drag my copy of the Riverside Shakespeare out to give myself some background knowledge. I watched the movie hoping I could follow along. That I couldn't is less the fault of director-producer-star Laurence Olivier than my own failings as a Shakespearean scholar.

Having said that, I found several elements of this film to be fascinating to watch, regardless of whether or not I could understand what the performers were discussing. I love that the first third or so of the movie is played as if we are witnessing a production of the play in 1600 at the Globe in London where many of Shakespeare's plays were first produced. There's even a flier that drifts down from the heavens to announce the production. We are at various times in the audience or on stage or even backstage as the performance unfolds, and I think Olivier has chosen a most intriguing way to call attention to the dramatic qualities of Henry V. I wish the film could have maintained that vision throughout, but it does shift to become more like a traditional film in order to show us the battle sequences. Those are staged with actual horses and lots of land rather than whatever gimmicks the stage might have allowed.

Olivier's genius is in showing us some of the smaller aspects of stage production. For example, before he makes his entrance as the title character, he coughs to clear his throat and then he puts on his "actor face" to walk on stage and wow the audience. In fact, we get to see the audience's reaction to him as if we are watching from the wings or backstage. There are also a couple of goof-ups with two actors in the roles of an archbishop and his assistant, letting us acknowledge that not every performance in a play is always top-notch. I even enjoyed the interruptions by the audience, the members of which applaud loudly at times, and the sudden rainstorm that forces many people in the standing room only section to leave the theater. Many of the difficulties an open-air production might face are here.

I know that most of the film is about the attempts by King Henry V to conquer France and claim what he considers to be his rightful title as heir to its throne. I suppose my studies of English history should supply a ready answer for why he thought he was also the king of France, but frankly, that was too long ago and I couldn't follow the dialogue here to ascertain it either. We viewers do have the sense that some in France will be happy to see him succeed while others are more resistant. Many of the English soldiers who fight for Henry are also torn. Some think they are wasting their time in France, but others are intensely loyal to the king and his cause. Olivier, who was always credited with being the greatest of stage actors, delivers some rousing speeches here. Some of them are rightfully well known for their lyricism: "Once more into the breach," for example. I have always enjoyed seeing performers tackle the so-called St. Crispin's day speech--"we few, we happy few, we band of brothers"--and Olivier's rendition of it is the best I have ever seen.


The staging of the historically significant Battle of Agincourt is likewise impressive. After the perfunctory "negotiations"--really just some chest-thumping in which "civil" warriors of the time liked to engage--the French begin a charge against a vastly outnumbered English. However, the English are prepared. They are, for example, using longbows instead of crossbows, and the swish of those arrows in the air can make your blood run cold knowing how destructive they will be. And I loved the moment when the English leap from the trees to attack the French soldiers. The element of surprise certainly works in your favor when you're seemingly overwhelmed by superior forces.

As is somewhat typical in the history plays (or most drama from that time period, to be honest), women play only minor roles here. The Queen of France (played by Janet Burell) gets a few lines to demonstrate her sharp tongue, but much of the women's dialogue is left to Princess Katherine (Renee Asherson) and her lady-in-waiting (Freda Jackson). Their attempts to learn English are particularly delightful, but at the end, Katherine is merely expected to marry Henry and unite the two countries and be happy. Not exactly a challenging role for an actress, is it? I almost hoped that Olivier would have maintained the Elizabethan tradition of having men playing the female characters. That would have made for an intriguing film in 1946.

Actually, the film was completed in 1944 in England before the end of World War II. Many have claimed that Olivier's version of Henry V was an inspiration to the English people fighting against the Germans. The Battle of Agincourt is one of the greatest English victories in history, so what better way to get the people of England to have an optimistic attitude than with a return to an earlier victory which occurred despite what seemed like overwhelming odds? I would imagine that the St. Crispin's Day speech spurred on many an Englishman and woman. By the way, the film was nominated for Best Picture of 1946 because that's when it was released in the United States. Never let it be said that the Academy can't be parochial. ("It doesn't count until it plays in Los Angeles," or something like that, seems to be the mentality.)

The Yearling (1946)

The Yearling, a nominee for Best Picture of 1946, is one of the most beautifully shot films I've seen in a while. Set deep in the Florida Everglades, it's the story of a young boy named Jody Baxter who adopts an orphaned fawn as his pet. Much of the film tracks his and the fawn's growth into adulthood, and the highlights of the movie are those scenes shot in the wilderness of Florida as Jody and the fawn, eventually named Flag, romp and play. The cinematography of those moments is really quite spectacular, some gorgeous shots that make you want to see for yourself if such a place still exists.

The story begins with Gregory Peck, here giving his usual solid performance with just the slightest of grins every now and then, and Jane Wyman, playing his wife who's still grappling with the deaths of her other children, trying to raise their son with a sense of adventure and love of nature (from his father's side) and morality and responsibility (from his mother). Claude Jarman Jr. plays Jody with a real "aw shucks" sensibility. I'm sure his performance is lauded by many people, but I quickly found him to be quite irritating. It isn't that the approach to the role is wrong--Jody would naturally be naive given his isolation in the Everglades--it's just that Jarman is quite obviously untrained as an actor. Peck and Wyman, as expected, are consummate professionals, and there are even times when Peck's interaction with Jarman sparks some sense of realism, but given the miscasting of such a central role, the film overall doesn't work for me.

That's not to say that it isn't without some enjoyable moments. I particularly liked the visits to the Forresters; they're even more backwoods and backwards than the Baxters, and they're obviously there to provide some comic relief to the otherwise saccharine proceedings. Chill Wills as Buck Forrester is a particular delight. And I even enjoyed the scenes at the Forrester home with Jody and Fodderwing, the youngest Forrester, a boy who is destined to die before the film is over given his "unnatural" abilities to understand the strange ways of nature. He and Jody have a most intriguing conversation while up in a treehouse; watch the scene and see if you can determine who's the better actor, Jarman or Donn Gift as Fodderwing.

If you've seen Old Yeller (and what man of a certain age hasn't), you'll need to prepare yourself for a moment similar to the shooting of the dog in that later film. The resonance isn't quite as powerful in The Yearling, perhaps because Flag is a wild animal and not a domesticated pet like Old Yeller. Viewers naturally would have more empathy for a boy who has to shoot his own dog, given how many people have had a dog themselves while growing up. But when the deer continues to behave as an animal in the wild would do, you know there's truly only the one option left. The scenes that follow do, however, give Wyman an opportunity to show her strength as an actress. For the first time, she allows her character a chance to open her previously hardened heart to her only son, and it's a powerfully emotional moment in the film.

This is a family film, and certainly until the point in the film when Jody must face the fact that he has to destroy Flag, it's a film that even young children could enjoy. Adults, though they could certainly admire the scenery and perhaps the performances of the adults, will likely be somewhat underwhelmed by the focus on Jody and the acting of Claude Jarman Jr. for much of the movie. It's just perhaps a bit too corny and old-fashioned for grown-ups nowadays (although I suspect it was too corny and old-fashioned for real adults back in 1946 as well).