Best One-Reel Short Subject for 1938

 

The Great Heart relates the history of Father Damien, a Belgian priest who arrived in Hawaii in the mid-19^th Century and started working with lepers. Well, he wasn’t actually a priest yet when he arrived, but since he was the only one who was willing to break the taboo on touching lepers, he became the priest to a leper colony on the island of Molokai. The lepers who were isolated there initially resist his efforts to help as well as his attempts to get them to worship. He does get their attention when he destroys the places where they drink too much alcohol and engage in what a priest might consider bad behavior, stuff like dancing and, as the narrator puts it, “love-making” (even though an astute viewer certainly knows what that euphemism means). Father Damien (played by youthful-looking Tom Neal, sometimes in less-than-realistic old-age makeup) and a few others slowly start making improvements to the island, but when he changes the opening of his sermons from “my brethren” to “we lepers,” revealing that he too has become infected, the news of his illness generates lots of donations and other assistance—plus greater attention to the plight of those afflicted with leprosy. Carey Wilson, the narrator of this short, displays a sense of earnestness that borders on the hyperbolic at times. When he asks, “Your heart is undaunted, isn’t it, Damien?”, you want to remind Wilson that Father Damien has been long dead and buried and probably cannot answer such an excessive question. I did learn from this film that one of the effects of leprosy is that the body feels no pain due to a loss of nerve sensation; that’s actually how Father Damien learns of his infection, being unable to feel the heat from the water in which he is soaking his feet. Thousands died from the horrible disease, but this film does take it pretty easy on its viewers by never showing the faces of any of the lepers, just their backs or their silhouettes. The implication is that it’s perhaps just too hideous a disease to witness closely in person. That is, unless (as Wilson puts it) you have a “great brave young heart” like Father Damien. I suppose by the end of the story of his life and all of the sacrifices that he made, the hyperbole might be earned – just a bit.

That Mothers Might Live details the realization by a 19^th-Century Hungarian physician, Dr. Ignaz Philipp Semmelweis, of the need by medical professionals to wash their hands before treating patients. It begins with his concern that so many women were dying in hospitals after giving birth. Dr. Semmelweis (played by Sheppard Strudwick) even writes a book, The Prevention of Childhood Fever (the film’s shorter version of the actual title, Etiology, Concept, and Prophylaxis of Childbed Fever), detailing the need for antiseptic measures to limit the spread of germs and prevent puerperal fever, but he is, of course, initially ostracized by the medical community. We all know now that his ideas later caught on and are considered standard medical procedure, but it took decades for his ideas to slowly catch on throughout Europe. This short is a nice, illuminating tribute to a somewhat forgotten medical pioneer, and it reaches quite an emotional climax with Emmelweis’s increasing mental instability and his death in an asylum. However, the filmmakers made a rather strange choice: Strudwick and the other actors do not speak on camera. Voiceover narration by John Nesbitt (most famous nowadays for his narration of the MGM series The Passing Parade) provides the dialogue, all in a rather melodramatic, even hyperbolic, at times, tone. Why weren’t the actors allowed to speak their lines? Was it cheaper just to have a narrator say everything? It’s quite distracting to watch as the actors recited dialogue only to hear Nesbitt’s voice instead. This choice doesn’t detract too much from the overall strength of the storyline, but it is odd nonetheless. (By the way, The Great Heart makes the same choice for voiceover narration rather than the actors speaking their lines. It must have been a thing in the 1930s.)

I’ve had no luck finding information on Timber Toppers, the third nominee for Best One-Reel Short Subject. All that’s available online is that it runs 10 minutes, was directed by Tom Cumminsky, and was released by 20^th Century Fox. It’s not available for streaming, not even on “those websites” that specialize in films that are not available elsewhere. Presumably, it’s about the timber industry since “timber topping” is a term associated with the production of lumber, but that’s hardly enough to judge the quality of a short film. Oddly enough, no one even states whether or not it’s a lost film. Since that’s the case, I have not choice but to add it to my list of movies I’m likely never to see in order to complete this project.

Oscar Winner: That Mothers Might Live

My Choice: Since I’ve only seen two of the three and both of those were melodramatic and over-the-top, I’d pick That Mothers Might Live as a toss-up. They both deal with individuals who made a difference in the treatment and care of others, but Dr. Emmelweis might have had a somewhat larger and profound impact. Both That Mothers Might Live and The Great Heart tread some of the same territory, though, and use some of the same storytelling methods.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)

 

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is a darker, far scarier sequel to Raiders of the Lost Ark. Much of the humor of the original Indiana Jones film has been somewhat abandoned for the sake of some very intense stuff, including several onscreen deaths. This time around, Jones (played reliably by Harrison Ford again) has to retrieve a sacred stone and all of the children that were taken from an Indian village by members of a strange cult that has overtaken the palace of a very young and way too impressionable Maharaja. Among the potential joys of being captured by this cult are perhaps having your heart removed from your body while still alive and maybe also being sacrificed to an intense pool of lava, both of which are shown directly on screen. The intensity of some of these images eventually led to the creation of a new motion picture rating, PG-13, because the Motion Picture Association of America deemed them inappropriate (but after the movie’s release, naturally, and only after the uproar from some parents) for younger audience members. Ford, the main draw here, is his usual sardonic, smart, tough, swaggering self, but he’s never safe for long, which is good for a role like this. He’s ably supported this time by Ke Huy Quan as Short Round. Quan gives such a great performance that it's difficult to believe that he was only about 12 years old at the time of filming and that this was his first acting role. I’d call it one of the best child performances in movie history, but really it’s great regardless of the actor’s age. On the other hand, though, is the performance of Kate Capshaw as Willie, a nightclub singer that Jones rescues in the film’s Shanghai opening. Frankly, her character is so annoying throughout the movie that it’s tough to see why Indy is attracted to her at all. She does a lot of yelling and screaming, and the volume is just too high most of the time. The danger quotient in this sequel was certainly ramped up, but the adventures seem to be less… adventuresome? There are two scenes that do stand out, however, one involving a rope bridge – those things are never safe in movies, are they? The other involves a race through underground mines in tiny carts; it’s like a roller coaster ride you’d never want to try yourself. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom doesn’t quite rise to the heights achieved by Raiders of the Lost Ark, but then again, how could it top a classic?

Oscar Win: Best Visual Effects

Other Oscar Nomination: Best Original Score

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Raiders of the Lost Ark is two hours of genuine, glorious fun at the movies. Conceived by filmmakers and friends George Lucas and Steven Spielberg as an homage to those old serial films where the heroes were in danger after about twenty minutes so that there would be a cliffhanger to bring everyone back to the theaters next week, Raiders presents almost non-stop action, putting its hero, Indiana Jones (the great Harrison Ford in a role that would come to define him) in harm’s way almost every couple of minutes. Any movie that travels from Peru to the United States to Nepal to Egypt to Greece with this much flair and style is worthy of awards recognition. It’s as globe-trotting a movie as any James Bond film.

Ford’s portrayal of the now iconic archaeologist/adventurer is in the manner of a somewhat typical American hero, a product of his time. He consistently worries, it seems, more about himself than others, and he’s accustomed to taking things from others that he wants. There’s a glint in his eye when he sees something shiny, some beautiful artifact from the past that could be “saved” from whatever allegedly primitive tribe possesses it at the time. Ford brings the right mix of charm and bravado to the role. His Indiana Jones is sexy, even stylish, a bit too hot-headed for his own good, and yet (almost) always worthy of being cheered on.

The opening sequence of the film is justifiably famous. Jones is retrieving a golden idol – aren’t all such idols golden? – from Peru, but he has to face a series of obstacles to escape from the location where it has been sequestered. By the time he’s escaped multiple boobytraps and outrun a giant boulder, you know what kind of movie you’re in for. This sequence doesn’t really have much to do with the main plot, of course, but it does establish a style for the film overall. And it sets off what turns out to be a very action-packed sequence of events. Before film’s end, we’ll have witnessed a chase involving lots of large baskets, boats trying to outpace each other, a hazardous race involving a series of Nazi vehicles, even a sequence aboard a submarine.

Set in 1936, Raiders of the Lost Ark depicts attempts by the Americans and the Nazis to locate the Ark of the Covenant, which supposedly contains the Ten Commandments. It also reportedly contains great power for whomever possesses it, but you should know a maguffin when you see one. Yes, the Ark in the movie is truly golden and beautiful, quite a spectacular piece of design work, but it’s not really the object itself that makes us watch the film. We as viewers may be momentarily intrigued by this golden box, but the thrill of watching the film is from the chase, the search, not truly the finding. That the ark itself doesn’t really turn out to be quite what the Nazis thought it would be is even more delightful although watching it work its powers on them provides some pretty grisly moments.

Ford is solid and reliable here, a perfect fit from this type of leading man role, and he’s truly the star here. The film also features some memorable supporting performances, chief among them Karen Allen as Indy’s former flame, Marion. She’s tough, feisty, a match for almost anyone. She’s the daughter of Jones’ mentor, and when Jones arrives at her bar in Tibet, her trouble begins, but she demonstrates that’s she more than up to the task of an adventure herself. John Rhys-Davies plays Sallah, a reliable friend of Indiana Jones, and his presence in the film brings some nice comic moments. (The film actually has lots of very funny moments, but they’re almost all throwaways in service of the main adventure plot.) Paul Freeman plays the oily French archaeologist who’s in league with the Nazis. Even the great Alfred Molina shows up in the opening sequence in Peru. Alas, he doesn’t make it past the prologue, but you can see why he has had such a career in films just from his few moments of screen time.

I don’t want to give the impression that the only reason to see Raiders of the Lost Ark is its action sequences, but they are such an outstanding aspect of the film. I’m sure that’s what sold so many tickets. But the film is truly top-notch in all categories: cinematography, editing, art direction, costume design, visual effects, the stunt work (especially the stunt work), and on and on. Even the romantic original music by the legendary John Williams gifts us with an instantly recognizable motif for Indiana Jones in only seven memorable notes. Notice how many nominations it received in the technical categories, and how many wins it achieved in them too. The film takes us to such beautiful and exciting locations, and we are immersed in the world of the film even though it keeps shifting locales.

That being said, naturally, it’s the sense of adventure and excitement that bears repeated viewings. I’ve already mentioned Indy running from a boulder in the opening sequence, but the film has a lot of memorable moments, such as when he shoots a guy with a large saber just to save time in his quest to find the missing Marion. We find out about his fear of snakes in quite possibly the worst imaginable way. There’s a crazy sequence involving a fistfight with a big Nazi on top of and underneath and around an airplane that’s buzzing around waiting for takeoff. Even the film’s final shot does a wonderful job of showing us the depths of American bureaucracy in an amusing way. I also like some of the small moments, such as when a young woman in Dr. Jones’ archaeology class flirts with him by writing suggestive messages on her eyelids (and then a young male student leaves him an apple – a little provocative). Great movies tend to be filled with moments like these that can be discussed and dissected and, really, just warmly remembered.

By the way, as happened with the Star Wars films, the makers (or the distributors?) of Raiders of the Lost Ark have fallen prey to renaming the film now that several successful sequels have been released. However, a fan of the movie is never going to call it Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark just because the other movies in the series use his name first (Indiana Jones and the… whatever it is). To those who saw the film in its original release, it’s still going to be Raiders of the Lost Ark, just as it should be.

Oscar Wins: Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Sound, Best Film Editing, Best Visual Effects, and Special Achievement Award in Sound Effects Editing

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Cinematography, and Best Original Score

The Oscar (1966)

 

The Oscar features one of the most ruthless and arrogant and nasty leading characters ever put on film (and this was in the same year as Alfie!). Some claim that this intensely bad movie is camp, but honestly the main character is so despicable, it’s hard to enjoy the rest of the movie or find any humor in the awful situations in which the characters find themselves. Stephen Boyd plays Frankie Fane, an actor who is one of the five nominees for Best Actor. Boyd, as I have mentioned elsewhere in talking about Fantastic Voyage (also released in 1966) was certainly a handsome fellow, but in this film, he’s a hothead, prone to violence, rude to women, always ready with his fists and a sharp tongue. It's supposed to be a sort of rags-to-riches tale about how Fane makes his way from essentially nothing to being a star. It would be easier to sympathize with Frankie’s rise to fame, though, if the character wasn’t such an ass to everyone he meets (and discards) along the way. The singer Tony Bennett plays Frankie’s best friend Hymie Kelly; they used to work in seedy joints with a stripper played by Jill St. John. Bennett provides the voiceover for the film, but he was reportedly so displeased with his performance that he never acted again, returning to the career at which he was one of the best, singing. The cast is full of former Oscar winners and nominees in small parts. Broderick Crawford plays a small town sheriff, Ed Begley is the owner of one of the strip joints the three worked together, Ernest Borgnine plays a private detective Frankie inexplicably hires to help him get the sympathy vote from Academy members. Edith Head, who was Oscar-nominated for her costume design for the film, also makes a cameo appearance; it’s tough to believe there were no other films with costume design more worthy than this stinker. The film eventually becomes a who’s-who of Hollywood stars. It becomes a guess game of “who is that?” Milton Berle does a fine job in a dramatic role as Frankie’s agent, Joseph Cotton is the head of a movie studio who’s initially reluctant to hire Fane, and Elke Sommer plays his love interest, a designer named Kay Bergdahl who he cheats on almost immediately after they finally marry.  Even Hedda Hopper, sans one of her famed hats but with piles of hair instead, shows up just in time to watch Frank be rude to his “date,” Jean Hale’s Cheryl Barker, an actress chosen by the studio to make Frankie get some publicity. Of course, Frankie is mean to every single person in the film, including his friend Hymie and his wife Kay, the last two people who seem to care about him. His acting career fades quickly because no one wants to work with him. When Fane reaches what he considers his lowest point, working to get a part in a TV western, he’s nominated for the title award and thinks he’s about to see a career rebound. It’s all rather silly stuff, particularly since the role for which Fane is nominated is basically just his awful self. By the time Cotton’s studio chief makes an impassioned speech about how important the Academy Awards “really” are, you’re rooting for any of the other Best Actor nominees to win (and for this film to be over). It’s quite a list of talented nominees, really, including Burt Lancaster, Richard Burton, and Frank Sinatra. It’s up to Merle Oberon, of all people, to announce Sinatra as the eventual winner, and then everyone else in the movie, all of whom strangely seem to be in the audience for the awards ceremony, takes great joy in Frankie’s defeat. If his character weren’t so unlikeable, the audience might wonder what happened to him after his loss, but at this point, the less we see of Frankie Fane, the better. How something as silly as The Oscar, with its cast of former stars and B-list performers and its reliance on the language of beatniks, got any awards attention is a mystery to me.

Oscar Nominations: Best Color Art Direction-Set Decoration and Best Color Costume Design

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)

 

The Man Who Knew Too Much is one of my favorite films by Alfred Hitchcock. I know that it’s considered a “minor” masterpiece of his, but the story, the performances, the effective use of music—all of them and other elements combine to make such an entertaining film. I find it tough to resist. Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day play Ben and Jo McKenna, who are in Morocco for a vacation with their son Hank (Christopher Olsen) when the young boy is kidnapped. A stranger named Louis Bernard (Daniel Gelin) gets killed in the streets of Marrakesh and leaves Stewart’s Ben with a whispered clue before he dies. Soon it becomes apparent that the McKennas are caught up in some bizarre international intrigue based upon a misunderstanding of who they are, something that ultimately involves an ambitious ambassador who wants to move up in the hierarchy of his home country. Really, though, those details hardly matter. In a Hitchcock films, it’s not really about the plot; it’s about the suspense that can be created. What strikes me about most Hitchcock films is how he often lets the audience know much more than the characters do. It helps to increase the tension and make us far more anxious when we can figure things out faster than the characters can. We figure out who the villains are and what they’re up to while Ben and Jo are trying to figure out, for example, who or what Ambrose Chappell or Ambrose Chapel is and what he/it has to do with Hank’s disappearance. I also love how Hitchcock can focus in on a particular moment or image, such as when Stewart is thumbing a phone book while someone else is on the phone. He needs to find his son and he needs to get information to his wife, but he can’t let the other characters in the scene know too much. Stewart was one of Hitchcock’s favorite actors, and he’s pretty tightly wound here. You can always sense that he could lash out at someone in an instant. Day, always such a welcome presence on the screen, introduces a song in the film that would become her signature recording, “Whatever Will Be (Que Sera, Sera),” first as a song that she sings to Hank in order to get him to go to bed. Later it takes on even more psychological impact when it serves as the means to find Hank after his kidnapping. It’s clever of Hitchcock to use Day’s talent as a singer to make a plot point even more poignant. Music plays another integral role in the film’s plot when Jo and Ben have to try to stop an attempted assassination at the Royal Albert Hall. An orchestra is performing “Storm Cloud” by Bernard Hermann, Hitchcock’s favorite composer, and the crash of the cymbals at a key moment during the performance is supposed to be a cue for the would-be assassin. The sequence just goes on and on, and we are in our own form as terror as we watch Jo, helpless to stop what’s coming, listen and anticipate the fatal note. It’s quite a sequence in both its use of music and in the superb editing for which Hitchcock’s films are known. The Man Who Knew Too Much also has its fair share of those little touches of Hitchcockian humor. For example, one of the conspirators in the kidnapping asks, “Don’t you know that Americans dislike having their children stolen?” Well, of course, they do. It’s also hilarious that Stewart at one point has to climb out of a bell tower in order to escape being trapped. By the time we watch the camera move up a flight of stairs to where Hank is being held prisoner, you know you’re still in the hands of a master filmmaker. He saves one of his best moments for last. When Ben and Jo return with Hank after what must have been many hours away from the friends they’ve left in their apartment, all Ben says is “Sorry we were gone so long, but we had to pick up Hank.” Of course, they did; that’s the whole point of the movie, after all, isn’t it?

Oscar Win: Best Song (“Whatever Will Be [Que Sera Sera]”)

Air Force (1943)

 

Air Force is a solid piece of World War II era propaganda made by Hollywood. It’s filmmaking designed to make the audience support our wartime efforts and to revile, in this case, the Japanese enemy. The battle sequences are staged very effectively, and they often demonstrate the kind of American might that was having success at destroying Japanese warships. Much of the film follows the crew of the “Mary-Ann,” a B-17 bomber plane that arrives in Hawaii just after the attack on Pearl Harbor, then travels to Wake Island just after it has been attacked, and journeys to the Philippines just after another attack – perhaps you can detect a trend here. They always seem to be flying into a dangerous situation despite being warned against landing or flying out of an area to head to another dangerous location. It’s a lot of takeoffs and landings for one film to depict. Most of the characters are “types” more than realistic portrayals of actual people. Whether you want to call them archetypes or stereotypes is up to you. When you have characters called “Irish” and “Tex” and “Minnesota,” you know that you’re probably not going to have the depth of characterization that more actor-driven movies might have. The opening credits don’t even mention the names of the characters; John Ridgely plays The Pilot, Gig Young plays The Co-Pilot, Arthur Kennedy is The Bombardier, etc. We do get some bits of information about most of the men in the “Mary-Ann.” For example, the gunner failed his pilot training but is actually quite a good pilot. There’s a fresh recruit that you just know isn’t destined to last for too long. There’s an old-timer whose son is carrying on the family tradition of military service. Because we only get brief insights into the backgrounds of these men, it is tough to really speak much about the performances, but John Garfield as the gunner Joe Winocki stands out (just as you would expect an actor of Garfield’s talent to do) as does Harry Carey as Robbie White, the experienced crew chief. The film features only a few minor female characters because this is truly a film about men in wartime and what they have to endure in battle and afterwards. (For some comic relief, there is a dog named Tripoli, who barks whenever someone says the word/name “Moto.” It’s rather cringe-inducing after a while, though, a “joke” that truly doesn’t stay fresh for long.) The film spends quite a bit of time in the cockpit with the men gently teasing each other, such as when the pilot and co-pilot rib their passenger, a fighter pilot who prefers to fly the smaller planes, over which kind of pilots are the best. The plane itself endures a lot. It keeps getting shot at and damaged, and more (longer) repairs are needed each time it lands. Air Force also isn’t afraid to depict one of the typical outcomes of war: death. An extended battle sequence late in the film is particularly brutal in that respect, particularly in its depiction of the defeated Japanese. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the cinematography; it’s first-rate and really shows a mastery of the use of light to illuminate faces in those flights at night.

Oscar Win: Best Film Editing

Other Oscar Nominations: Best Original Screenplay, Best Black-and-White Cinematography, and Best Special Effects

Far from Heaven (2002)

 

Far from Heaven is quite simply a gorgeous film. The production design, the costume design, the cinematography – those beautiful fall colors! – are all just first rate. The score by Elmer Bernstein is so evocative of the movies from the 1950s that director Todd Haynes pays homage to. Far from Heaven is really a sort of reworking of the Douglas Sirk classic All that Heaven Allows (1955), but instead of focusing on two people from different classes who fall in love with each other, the newer film focuses on the growing affection between two people of different races. It also presents a sympathetic depiction of a gay man coming to terms with his sexuality during a period when that was as taboo a subject as interracial relationships. Cathy Whitaker (the astoundingly good Julianne Moore) lives a comfortable if restrained middle class existence. When she surprises her husband Frank (Dennis Quaid giving a career-best performance) at his office after work hours, she finds him kissing another man. Their relationship, unsurprisingly, begins to crumble after this revelation. He seeks psychiatric help, as did many gay men of the time, but refuses to share with her how his treatment is going. He begins drinking more, he becomes outraged easily, and he even slaps her over his inability to… uh… perform. Quaid is a standout in this film. The scene where he reveals that he’s fallen in love with someone else, another man, is a marvel to watch. Moore deservedly received attention for her performance, which is note perfect, but Quaid should have been nominated as well. Cathy develops a friendship with her black gardener, played with such gentleness by Dennis Haysbert. His Raymond Deacon is the only person around whom Cathy seems to feel comfortable. They bond over modern art and even go to have a meal at a local restaurant, but their friendship starts to garner them a lot of attention. The neighbors, played by such great actors as Celia Weston, begin gossiping, and he realizes that they cannot keep seeing each other. In a wonderful small touch, Haysbert sometimes even dresses like Rock Hudson, the male lead of All That Heaven Allows. Haynes and his crew pay such close attention to almost every detail. The rest of the cast is uniformly excellent. Viola Davis, early in her career here, gets one good scene, but it’s enough to see why she’s such an acclaimed actor. Patricia Clarkson is a delight as Cathy’s best friend Elinor; she seems to be very modern and understanding and accepting until Cathy reveals her possible feelings for Raymond and then Elinor is shockingly judgmental. The final sequence of the film is just heartbreaking in so many ways, but you know that it’s also truly realistic.

Oscar Nominations: Best Actress in a Leading Role (Julianne Moore), Best Original Screenplay, Best Cinematography, and Best Original Score