Cimarron (1930-31)

Cimarron was the first Western film to be selected for the top honor at the Academy Awards. Ironically, it wasn't until 1990 that another Western won for Best Picture, and that was Dances with Wolves. Both films are about pioneers who were willing to take a chance on new territory and a chance at a new and different life. Both are somewhat long movies as well, and sadly, both are overrated. Cimarron is not a great movie; in fact, it's a bit boring, another trait that it shares with Dances with Wolves. (Well, I still think Dances with Wolves is more than just a "bit boring.")

The movie covers several decades in the lives of the Cravat family, a newspaper editor and his wife and children, who move into the Oklahoma territory upon its opening for settlement in 1889. Actually, Yancey Cravat isn't just a newspaperman; he's also a lawyer and a politician and a minister and a little bit of everything. He's played by Richard Dix, or I should say, he's overplayed by Richard Dix. Dix seems to be acting as if he were on a stage or in a silent movie, so exaggerated are his gestures and facial expressions. His wife, Sabra, is played by Irene Dunne, and she's much more realistic in her performance than Dix. Both were nominated for acting awards, though; neither one of them won, however. It isn't difficult to see why.

The film begins with a vibrant recreation of the Oklahoma Land Rush of 1889, and it is quite the visually stunning sequence. A lot of horses and wagons and riders wind up trying to stake a claim in so-called new territory. Of course, it’s only “open” because the U.S. government has, in essence, taken it from the Native Americans living there. This is mentioned briefly, but the focus is on the white settlers. Discussions and depictions of non-white characters remain primarily stereotypical, but I’ll talk more about that a little bit later.

Sabra’s family opposes her leaving with him to go to unknown territory, but she loves him and wants to go where he goes. His sense of adventure is thrilling to her at first. When they arrive in what is now the town of Osage, he seems to know everyone already, but not all of them are necessarily his friends. The bad guys in town (and you can tell who they are from their first appearance on screen) need to be handled. There’s a shootout at his first sermon in town, an event attended by almost everyone, including the saloon girls. Yancey eventually winds up having to kill someone he’s known for a long time, a character called The Kid, but Dix isn’t really able to convey emotionally how difficult that must have been for Yancey.

There’s yet another land rush in 1893, and Yancey is eager to join it. That’s when Dunne’s Sabra realizes that he will always want to keep moving even though she prefers to settle down and improve the town they’ve already helped to found. She prefers stability; he likes constant change. He stays gone from Osage for five years, and the passage of time in the film is marked with dates on the screen or closeups of pages from the newspaper to show the date for relevant news. It’s a clever device that is, thankfully, not overused here. 

Tucked away in this movie is a performance by one of my favorite supporting players of all time. Edna May Oliver plays Mrs. Tracy Wyatt, one of the biggest gossips in town. Her distinctive facial features perhaps inevitably consigned her mostly to supporting parts; she was never considered beautiful enough to be a leading actress except in eccentric roles. However, she always brings enthusiasm and humor to her performances, as she does here. She's a joy to watch whenever one of her brief moments on the screen allows her to shine. She knows she's the comic relief, and she makes sure that you remember just how funny she is.

There’s an interesting subplot involving a character named Dixie Lee (played by Estelle Taylor). We first see her trick Yancey out of a piece of prime land in the initial land rush. Later, though, she’s fallen on tough financial times and has turned to the only profession that was available to single women in the Oklahoma Territory. Being a prostitute (although that word is never mentioned in the film) makes her the subject of a great deal of scorn from the “respectable” ladies in town, including Sabra. By the time Yancey returns from one of his adventures, Sabra has managed to have Dixie put on trial. Her husband takes Dixie’s side over his wife’s objections and serves as her attorney. The story that Dixie tells of how she wound up in the situation she’s in serves as one of the better emotional scenes in the film. It’s also quite an interesting opportunity to tell the story of some of the women who came to the West.

The film takes us all the way to Oklahoma statehood in 1907 and the discovery of oil on Osage territory (a story told again in Flowers of the August Moon). By the time we reach the present day (1930), Yancey’s been gone for years, Sabra becomes a member of Congress, their son has married a Native American girl (over his mother’s initial objections), and their spoiled daughter has married the richest – and seemingly oldest – man in town. A lot gets glossed over in the final moments, and Yancey’s sudden appearance at the film’s end seems very much a deux et machina.

Cimarron isn't necessarily good history, but it's really more about the kind of people who came to Oklahoma rather than what happened to the territory (and later state). Dix's character is one of those men who is always looking for adventure, who is never satisfied with whatever he has managed to conquer. I suppose that makes his fate in this film all the more tragic (although I honestly was not as moved as I think the filmmakers might have wanted me to be). As a portrait of a certain kind of individual, Cimarron is a modest success.

I do want to point out just how much the film is a product of its time period. The African American characters are subjected to ridicule here, particularly one young male character named Isiah (Eugene Jackson) who follows the Cravats to Oklahoma. There is much anti-Indian sentiment, most fervently expressed by Sabra Cravat at first, although she later does change her opinion to match more closely that of her sympathetic husband. There's a fair dose of anti-Semitism in the treatment of the character of Sol Levy, who nevertheless does remain a friend of the Cravats throughout the movie. The film even manages to make fun of someone with a stutter. It's tough to watch these moments and not feel sadness at the ways that Hollywood has depicted various groups of people over the years.

Some interesting awards trivia: Cimarron was nominated in every category for which it was eligible. It won three of the seven awards for which it was mentioned. Its seven nominations in the fourth year of the awards set a new record, as did its three wins.

Oscar Wins: Best Picture, Best Writing Adaptation, and Best Art Direction

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Director (Wesley Ruggles), Best Actor (Richard Dix), Best Actress (Irene Dunne), and Best Cinematography

Breaking Away (1979)

I loved Breaking Away, a nominee for Best Picture of 1979, when I saw it in theaters with my family upon its original release. I hadn't seen it in probably 25 years, so when I sat down to watch it again this time, I was afraid that it wouldn't hold up. So many fond memories of one's childhood get dashed upon being revisited, don't they? However, Breaking Away is still just as enchanting and thrilling as I remember. It is one of those small gems of a movie that you can enjoy over and over again.

The film is the story of Dave Stoller (Dennis Christopher), a cyclist who has fallen in love with all things Italian thanks to their prowess at cycling. He speaks Italian around his parents, the delightful Barbara Barrie and Paul Dooley, and even shaves his legs the way the Italian riders do. When he isn't riding, Dave spends time with three of his friends from high school: Mike (Dennis Quaid), Moocher (Jackie Earle Haley), and Cyril (Daniel Stern). Each of his friends has his own post-school crisis. Mike, who dreamed of being a football star in college, has been injured and now has no prospects outside of menial work. Moocher's family, in an attempt to find work, has left him behind and moved to Chicago, and he wants to get married in spite of a lack of means of supporting himself and his new wife. Cyril, although intelligent, has never been encouraged by his father to see himself as having potential. They spend the summer together swimming in the remains of a quarry that was where many of their dads worked. It's a pretty idyllic environment.

All of this takes place in Bloomington, Indiana, home of Indiana University. There is, naturally, tension between the allegedly wealthy kids who attend the university and the "cutters," the people who live in town. Even Dave and his friends are known as cutters although the quarry itself has been closed down for years. Still, the setting provides Dave with an opportunity to fall in love with a beautiful girl who, not realizing that Dave is not truly Italian, falls in love with the image of this romantic foreigner. His serenading of her is one of the most touching moments of the film.

As an aside, the girl's boyfriend is played by Hart Bochner, one of the most beautiful young men ever to appear on film. Years ago, I was at a screening of a collection of movie trailers that had been saved, and the audience was mostly gay men (and a few lesbians and token straight people). When a movie starring Bochner came on the screen and the first shot of him without a shirt appeared, there was an audible gasp of appreciation from the assembled masses. I can't imagine what that group of men would do with this film, which also features a young Dennis Quaid with a set of abdominal muscles anyone would want to have. Quaid has always been one of the hunkiest of movie actors, but he spends most of Breaking Away shirtless and/or in a pair of cutoff shorts. It's enough to take your breath away.

I suppose in some ways you could call this a sports movie. Certainly, the climax of the film occurs at the Little 500, a race that pits one team from town (Dave and his friends) against dozens of teams from the university. And the cycling sequences are pretty spectacular. When Dave finally gets the opportunity to ride alongside his idols, the Italians, you get to feel the exhilaration he feels, at least temporarily. However, this film is much more than a sports movie, and that's what makes it exceptional. It's about the ways that we interact with our families. It's about the bonds that develop between friends. It's about the ways that we divide ourselves and the ways that we are sometimes able to overcome those divisions. Breaking Away is a rich film, and it evokes for me the dreams that people in small towns like Bloomington have. Dave is one such dreamer, and it's a pleasure to spend a couple of hours with people like him.

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."