The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)

I could spend most of this blog about The Magnificent Ambersons discussing Agnes Moorehead's performance. She is a marvel here, as she was in almost every one of her movies. What a pity that so few people have seen her film work and only know her from her performance as Endora on Bewitched. If you watch The Magnificent Ambersons, nominated for Best Picture of 1942, you'll see her in one of the most amazing performances ever captured on film, and it isn't even one of the lead roles. It's a relatively small supporting part.

Moorehead plays Fanny, the sister of Wilbur Minafer. Wilbur has married Isabel Amberson (silent screen star Dolores Costello), daughter of an upper class family. Isabel had wanted to marry the dashing and impulsive Eugene Morgan, played by Joseph Cotton, but her father objected to such an arrangement and she chose Wilbur instead because he would provide stability. Years later, after Wilbur's death, Eugene returns after having made a fortune as an automobile manufacturer and begins courting Isabel again, only to have her son intercede this time. George Minafer has fallen in love with Eugene's daughter, Lucy Morgan (Anne Baxter). Through the assistance of his aunt Fanny, who was obviously in love with Eugene herself, George manages to scuttle the romance between his mother and Eugene.

What makes Moorehead stand out among a stellar cast is the range of emotions she puts on display. You can easily sense the desire she has for Eugene when he returns. Watch her face light up when she realizes that he is downstairs in the Amberson home or when she is in his company on the automobile ride in the snow. Yet she also has the capacity to be vengeful, spiteful. Her temper seems to be triggered with ease. And when she confronts the death of her sister-in-law, you can see how all of the mixture of feelings she has felt come rushing back to her. She was a remarkable actress, and few ever achieved her level of greatness, in my opinion.

I haven't mentioned yet that this was the film Orson Welles directed after Citizen Kane. There is much already written about how the studio, facing unfavorable comments from preview audiences, chopped out almost a third of the film and destroyed the portions that had been edited out. We will likely never see the film the way that Welles intended, a fate that he would have to encounter time and time again throughout this career, but what remains demonstrates a clear sense of the power he wielded as a director. He doesn't act in this film, but he does provide the voice-over narration, using typical Welles-ian humor in the introduction of the cast that occurs at the end of the film.

I'd still recommend seeing The Magnificent Ambersons even if it is a flawed masterpiece. Certainly, the happy ending that the studio tacked on doesn't fit the rest of the film, which is very bleak and somewhat depressing in its themes and tone. However, you won't soon forget the performances or the real sense of how one family can destroy itself through its greed and hunger for power.

The Long Voyage Home (1940)

I was surprised by The Long Voyage Home, a 1940 nominee for Best Picture. Directed by John Ford and starring John Wayne, it is very different from the Westerns the two men made together. Ostensibly, this film links together four short Eugene O'Neill plays, leading to a somewhat episodic structure. Set aboard a freighter that is carrying ammunition to be used in the war, The Long Voyage Home is really more about the men aboard the ship and the ways that they interact with each other and the effect that such trips had on their mental state.

It is a bit of a misstatement to call Wayne the star here. Much like in Stagecoach, he is one of a company of actors. Almost all of the men aboard the Glencairn have stories that are revealed, and each of the main parts is developed equally with the others. Thomas Mitchell is here again, playing a variation on his stock drunk character. Barry Fitzgerald and Ward Bond provide able support. The standout for me, though, is Ian Hunter as the man falsely accused by his shipmates of being a spy. This is a small part, but Hunter makes it unforgettable.

This film has some moments of fun and humor, such as when the men smuggle aboard some whiskey and some women from the islands. However, it is overall a very dark film thematically. These men are suffering; they are far from home, having come from different parts of the world to this ship. When they get just a few moments of shore leave near the end of the film, what happens to them in the shady environment of a dockside bar is quite harrowing. (A very young Mildred Natwick, whom I loved as one of the Snoop Sisters on television back in the 1970s, is part of the "bait.") The Long Voyage Home is a relatively short film, but it is quite insightful about the ways that long confinements can influence one's personality.

Quo Vadis (1951)

A nominee for Best Picture of 1951, Quo Vadis is the story of a Roman general (played by Robert Taylor) who falls in love with a Christian girl (played by Deborah Kerr). The general, Marcus Vinicius, gets the Emperor Nero (played by Peter Ustinov) to "give" him Lygia, who is not technically a slave but is held "captive" under Roman rule. Much of the movie is less about the romance between Marcus Vinicius and Lygia than about Nero's increasingly bizarre ideas for Rome and his own glorification, one of which includes burning much of the city to the ground so that he can rebuild it to his even higher standards. When his plans go awry, Nero blames the Christians for the fire and begins a reign of terror over them.

Quo Vadis was filmed at Cinecitta Studios of Rome, and the film makes good use of the stages and costumes of the fabled studio. Production design is one of the hallmarks of this film, and it is gorgeous to look at. The special effects are also worthy of attention. The burning of Rome, in particular, involves hundreds of extras and conveys a real sense of the panic that the Romans must have felt while their homes turned to ashes and flames around them. The sequences at the Colosseum where Nero and the assembled Romans watch as lions attack and feed upon the Christians are also well done, adding to the tension that a viewer feels.

I wish the rest of the story lived up to those moments. Many of the cast members are somewhat wooden in their roles, perhaps an indication of their lack of enthusiasm for the project. Taylor, one of the most handsome of leading men, is especially stiff for much of the film. Kerr, one of my favorite actresses, was better in her later film roles, but she acquits herself nicely here. Ustinov, in one of his earliest featured roles, is way too over-the-top for my tastes, a far cry from the subtle nature of his later performances. Only Leo Genn as Petronius, the one person in Rome who seems capable of setting Nero on the right path, truly fits the part he plays. He has a sly sense of humor that he puts to good use here.

I was never a huge fan of Biblical epics, and Quo Vadis is a good example of why. The spectacle you might expect is certainly there, but the humanity seems lost. In an attempt, perhaps, to ensure a balanced representation of the conflict between the Romans and the Christians, the film is often too dull as characters make pronouncements about their faith. Finlay Currie's sermons as Peter, in particular, last far too long. If you want religion, you should probably go to a church. If you ask me, the movie theater is a poor place to get in touch with your faith. It's a palace of entertainment, not a temple.

The Departed (2006)

Almost everyone assumes that The Departed won Best Picture of 2006 because the Academy was trying to make up for its numerous slights of Martin Scorsese over his distinguished career. There were some fine films nominated that year, including two of my favorites: Babel and Letters from Iwo Jima. However, despite what many critics have claimed, I think The Departed does stand up to the best of Scorsese's work and it is/was as deserving of being chosen Best Picture as any of the nominees. Even if the Academy were "making up" with Scorsese, he deserves the plaudits for this film.

The story is about two rats. One of the rats is a members of the mob in Boston (so Irish, not Italian this time for Scorsese) who infiltrates the police force. The other is a police officer who infiltrates the mob. Each is in constant danger of being found out, and each is desperate to figure out and find the other. The film is an adaptation of a Hong Kong film entitled Infernal Affairs, yet the story has been successfully transferred to its Massachusetts location with all of the suspense and energy left intact.

I had never really admired Leonardo DiCaprio as an actor before this film. Yes, I know everyone has been touting his greatness for years. I just never saw it, not even in What's Eating Gilbert Grape? (so you can just save your comments about that one). I thought he was too petulant and superficial in Titanic, and I was pretty bored watching him trying to compete with Daniel Day-Lewis in Gangs of New York. But in The Departed, he finally revealed to me the way that his acting is internal rather than external. Perhaps I will see this when I go back and review some of his previous work, but I get it now. I understand what all the fuss is/was about.

Able support is offered by Matt Damon, who is just as good here as in the Bourne movies; Jack Nicholson, who apparently needs a strong director to keep from repeatedly playing a parody of himself in every movie; and Vera Farmiga, who makes what could be a small, thankless "woman's part" into one of the emotional centers of the film. I also liked Martin Sheen and Anthony Anderson and Alec Baldwin (who's just getting better every year). Even Mark Wahlberg, who was nominated for Best Supporting Actor, is good if a bit too one-note to be really that award-worthy. In fact, almost everyone is well cast, particularly the guys who play the members of the mob. They get some of the best moments and funniest lines in the movie.

In essence, this is a film about trust and betrayal. It's about vengeance and about redemption. These are, of course, great universal themes that have been written about for centuries. At times, you wonder if there is a moral code that exists within the universe of the film. There is, but it is perhaps not one that you would want to live by. As DiCaprio's Billy Costigan tells Nicholson's Costello, "I don't want to be you." To which Costello replies with one of the many Shakespearean references: "Heavy lies the crown. . . that sort of thing." The ending is a bit of a shocker, but the last half hour of the film is, frankly, a series of them. In the tradition of Shakespeare and other great literary works, perhaps a shock is just what we need to have in order to evaluate or re-evaluate our ways of thinking.

The Great Ziegfeld (1936)

The Great Ziegfeld won the award for Best Picture of 1936, and it's pretty typical of the kind of musicals that were being made at the time. There are some very elaborate sequences here, with hundreds of people singing and dancing and performing, but much of the movie (too much of it) is really about the life of theater impresario Florenz Ziegfeld, played by William Powell. When the movie showcases some of his more famous shows and performers, it soars. When it deals with the man's personal life, it really drags. The Great Ziegfeld clocks in at almost three hours long, and by the end of it, you'll feel like you have lived his entire life with him.

Much of the early part of the film deals with Ziegfeld's attempts to sign Anna Held, a singer who had achieved fame in Europe. He and a rival talent agent (played by Frank Morgan, better known as the Wizard in The Wizard of Oz) want to bring her to the United States and make her a star. Ziegfeld wins, of course, and not only brings Held to America but falls in love with and marries her. Held is played by Luise Rainer in the first of her back-to-back Best Actress roles. I cannot imagine how she won. She's competent, certainly, but she plays the part with such a thick accent that I had to keep rewinding to figure out what she was saying. Subtitles might have helped enormously. I know she is perhaps best known for her telephone call to Florenz congratulating him on his new marriage, but she doesn't bring anything to that scene or to the part that almost any actress couldn't have brought. One of the great puzzles of Academy history continues.

The latter part of the film is mostly concerned with Ziegfeld's financial ups and downs. He would make lots of money on a show and then spend it all putting on another, more expensive one. He never seemed to save any money; if he had it, he spent it on something. While there is a sense of just how dire his circumstances became during the depression, the film follows true MGM fashion in showing people still dressing as immaculately and stylishly as ever, despite their lack of money. This part of the movie also covers Ziegfield's marriage to another of his stars, Billie Burke, played by Myrna Loy. (As an aside, Burke herself was also in The Wizard of Oz; she's Glinda the Good Witch.) Loy and Powell have an obvious chemistry, which would suit them well throughout the Thin Man movies and their other collaborations.

You would probably enjoy this film more if you fast forwarded through the "human interaction" to the production numbers. "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody" is the most remarkable, with its turning staircase and various dance numbers and dozens of beautiful showgirls. I also like Ray Bolger (another Wizard of Oz veteran, hmm...) and his work in "She's a Follies Girl." That sequence does more with strings and balloons than you would think imaginable, and there's a segmented moving set that has to be seen to be believed. I don't think a description would do it justice.

And, finally, you should see the sequences with Fannie Brice, a real Ziegfeld star. She sings three numbers here (well, parts of three numbers), including her signature song "My Man." She's funny and talented and quite different from the way Barbra Streisand portrays her in Funny Girl or Funny Lady. My favorite line in the film is when Ziegfeld tries to re-dress her as a street urchin instead of a glamorous lady for one of her numbers. Fannie's crack: "Even in burlesque, I was middle class."

Battleground (1949)

I will admit that I have never been a huge fan of war movies. I've seen quite a few of them over the years, but too many of them seem to fall back on the cliches of soldiers bonding in the trenches and lots of battle sequences. Imagine my surprise then to watch a movie about just that and enjoy and admire it. Battleground was a nominee in 1949 for Best Picture, and although it does have several battle scenes and much of it is about the bonds between the men, I still had to acknowledge just how all that can still be fascinating if handled by the right people.

The story concerns a group of soldiers who are stuck in Bastogne, France, during the last winter of World War II. They're trapped there without much ammunition or supplies because the thick December fog is keeping the airplanes from dropping them any help. Meanwhile, the Battle of the Bulge, one of the key battles of the war, is happening all around them. After a short period of time in Bastogne itself, the soldiers are relocated to the forests outside town, where they dig holes and take turns on guard duty and talk and occasionally encounter German soldiers. It's during those moments of talking that you learn the most about these men and their lives. Battleground is not a sentimental movie, really, but it is inspirational. I watched it over Memorial Day weekend, and it's a fitting tribute to the men who served during that war and all of the others that this country has been involved in.

The cast includes such notables as Van Johnson, a young James Whitmore, John Hodiak, and lots of others. However, I was most touched by Ricardo Montalban's performance as Rodrigues. If you only know Montalban from his years on Fantasy Island, you have probably underestimated just how good he was. Here he tells stories about baseball and his parents, both seemingly mundane topics, but there's such a sense of joy when he talks about his life back home in the United States. And his close friendship with George Murphy's "Pop" rings true; they do seem to care about each other.

I suppose it is accurate that most war movies are really anti-war movies. The human cost of war is made all too clear in a film like Battleground. The director, William Wellman, was known for his many films about tough men and tough circumstances. Here he showcases men facing perhaps the most difficult situation of all, the constant possibility of their own deaths, and yet he still manages to make you accept and support what these men go through. Try, for example, to watch the last sequence, in particular, without feeling a sense of pride in the armed services.

Oscar Wins: Cinematography (Black and White) and Story and Screenplay

Other Oscar Nominations: Picture, Director, Supporting Actor (Whitmore), and Film Editing

My Fair Lady (1964)

Despite having been made and distributed by Warner Bros., My Fair Lady always feels to me like one of those old MGM musicals. It won a ton of Oscars in 1964, including one for Best Picture. It's a lavish entertainment, with art direction and costume design at their best. The wonderful Lerner and Loewe music is familiar to almost everyone, and many of the performances are first rate. I've seen this film several times and I've always enjoyed it, but it has always struck me as odd that during a decade when big budget musicals were on the decline, the Academy kept giving awards for Best Picture to them. In fact, four musicals won during the 1960s, and another five were nominated.

I won't rehash old Hollywood lore about why Audrey Hepburn was cast over the woman who originated the part on the stage, Julie Andrews. I will only say that as much as I have always loved and admired Hepburn as an actress and for her humanitarian work, the role of Eliza Doolittle is not one that she is suited to play. At the beginning of the film, when she is meant to be a simple Cockney flower girl, you can't help but see the luminosity of Hepburn's presence shining through what is meant to be grime on her face. She can't help it, I suppose; she just wasn't truly meant to play someone as common as Eliza. The great transformation that allegedly occurs after Professor Higgins takes her into his care just doesn't seem all that great, frankly. Whether she's wearing a ragged coat and battered hat or one of those amazing Cecil Beaton gowns, she's still the same to me. The only real difference is the application of some soap and water.

A few years ago, on an episode of Will & Grace, Will made the assertion that My Fair Lady is really about two gay men who like to spend time together and dress Audrey Hepburn up in fabulous gowns. I can certainly understand where he's coming from after this viewing. Rex Harrison's Professor Higgins never seems to show the slightest interest in Eliza until the very end of the film. Instead, he's too busy talk-singing about why women can't be more like men. And his closest relationship is with Wilfrid Hyde-White's Colonel Pickering; they have a sort of mutual admiration society. I suppose I shall be accused of reading too much into this film, but the script itself calls for him to have a dramatic revelation ("I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face") that is surely one of the more roundabout ways of expressing one's love for a woman.

No matter. Whether you want to read this as a gay-coded love story between Higgins and Pickering or a heterosexual love story involving Eliza and the clueless Higgins, you'll probably spend much of your time singing or humming along to the musical score anyway.