Casablanca (1942)

 

Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) **1/2

Director Michael Curtiz’s biopic of legendary Broadway producer, writer, and star, George M. Cohan, is mildly entertaining.  James Cagney deservedly won his only Academy Award for his portrayal of Cohan, but once you get past his singing and dancing there isn’t much more to the movie. 

For one, Robert Bucker and Edmund Joseph’s script was a sanitized retelling of how Cohan worked his way up the Great White Way and became “The man who owned Broadway”.  Cohan, although in poor health at the time of production, was a consultant on Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), and, as such, wanted certain elements of his personal life either glossed over or completely omitted altogether.  Knowing this unpleasant fact takes a lot of the shine off the movie for me.  I am of the opinion that if you’re going to make a biopic it should at least be relatively accurate, since unfortunately so many people learn their “history” from films and television shows. 

While I don’t have a problem with the fact that Cagney won the Best Actor Oscar for Yankee Doodle Dandy, I can’t help but wonder if he didn’t benefit from the United States having recently entered World War II. What I mean by this, for those of you who haven’t seen this, is that while the film is obviously a musical and a biography, it is also a propaganda piece as well.  When you start your movie off with a visit to FDR’s office to receive the Congressional Medal of Honor, primarily for writing such  patriotic songs as “Over There” and “A Grand Old Flag”, it’s obvious that some flag waving is being done.

The musical numbers themselves are rather impressive, but unfortunately blackface does rear its ugly head ever so briefly.  Still, the staging and performance of the likes of Yankee Doodle Dandy (Boy) and Harrigan are so well done that I can almost overlook that Cagney wears blackface for a few minutes.  What I can’t overlook, though, is that once the singing and dancing stop the film seems to stagnate. A good musical, in my opinion, should seamlessly flow from the overall story into the musical numbers.  Unfortunately, for me, at least, Yankee Doodle Dandy doesn’t do this and seems clunky whenever the music stops.

Overall, Yankee Doodle Dandy is strong on songs and soft on storytelling. 

Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) **1/2

(This is my contribution to the James Cagney Blogathon, which is organized by R.D. Finch at The Movie Projector and runs from April 8-12.)

Few actors played the fast-talking, posturing gangster better than James Cagney.  He did it so well that he often found himself typecast in tough-guy roles, while seeing parts he coveted awarded to other actors who ‘fit’ the role better.  At heart he was a song-and-dance man, who began his career in vaudeville and never got it out of his blood.  Yet, it is primarily his work in such famous gangster films as The Public Enemy (1931), Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), and White Heat (1949), that he is most recognized.  Perhaps it is ironic that the character-type he so wanted to avoid being pigeonholed into is the one that he is most famous for, but at least he can take solace in the fact that he was Hollywood’s Golden Age version of Robert De Niro. Of Cagney’s three Academy Award nominations, two of them were for gangster parts. The first of these nominations came from a career-changing turn in Angels with Dirty Faces.

When Warner Bros first offered Cagney the role of gangster Rocky Sullivan in director Michael Curtiz’s Angels with Dirty Faces his agent was convinced Cagney wouldn’t take it.  The script called for Rocky to ‘turn yellow’ as he was being escorted to the electric chair—a character trait that no other Cagney character had ever exhibited. Fortunately the agent was wrong, and Cagney saw an opportunity to prove to critics and producers that he had a broad acting range.  For many it was shocking to see the quintessential tough-guy crying out in anguish as he was about to pay for his crimes.  While some viewers today find this overly-moralized act a bit difficult to accept, Rocky’s final ‘redemptive’ act fit Curtiz’s social responsibility style and was also a way to sidestep the Hays Code—how else could Cagney’s murderous character retain a touch of heroism in an era when cinematic criminals had to pay for their sins.

If there was a studio who knew how to make an effective gangster melodrama it was Warner Bros. Angels with Dirty Faces was one in many of a long line of films the studio produced where childhood friends found themselves on the opposite side of the law as adults (Manhattan Melodrama and Dead End spring to mind).  Growing up on the Lower East Side of New York City in the 1920s, Jerry Connolly (Pat O’Brien) and Rocky Sullivan (Cagney) were juvenile delinquents one step away from the reformatory. It was that one step that actually led one (Rocky) into a life of crime and the other (Jerry) into the priesthood.  As a result, when the two friends are reunited as adults they find themselves in conflict. In particular, Father Jerry has dedicated his life to keeping other young men  (played by the “Dead End” Kids) from ending up like Rocky. The problem is, Rocky has money, power and prestige—all the things the boys in the neighborhood admire.  What transpires is a morality tale about the ills of vice and the redemptive nature of self-sacrifice.

While there is a smattering of a romance between Rocky and a social worker (Ann Sheridan) in the movie, the story is primarily male-centered. Cagney and O’Brien played well off one another.  The two men were great friends off-screen, and it usually showed in the nine films they made together. Angels with Dirty Faces also marked the first of three films that Cagney and Humphrey Bogart worked opposite one another.  Bogart was not yet a bona fide Hollywood leading man, and he found himself playing second fiddle to Cagney.  Here his Jim Frazier comes off as a spineless desperate man—a ‘type’ that Bogart often found himself playing in the 1930s, but one that he would forever dump once he was cast as the lead in High Sierra ( 1941) and The Maltese Falcon (1941).

The film’s other male standout is often overlooked, but perhaps deserves the most praise: Frankie Burke, who plays Rocky as a kid.  If you’ve seen Angels with Dirty Faces then you know it starts out with a smart-talking swaggering kid who looks, sounds, and acts a lot like James Cagney.  It took me several minutes to finally determine that Burke, not Cagney, was on the screen. Burke had Cagney down-pat—his speech pattern, mannerisms, and body language were spot on.  His resemblance to Cagney was so uncanny that he was hired on the spot by Warner Bros. 

Overall, Angels with Dirty Faces is an engaging film. While Curtiz’s moralizing can appear a tad over the top to some, the story itself does not lack integrity—many a 1930s gangster found himself on the losing end and proved that sometimes crime didn’t pay.  The acting by the leads was good, and Burke’s small role was an impressive one. Max Steiner’s score contrasted with Sol Polito’s stark, expressionistic cinematography. The closing scenes of the movie provides for a memorable conclusion.  And, finally, this was the film that proved to the critics and Hollywood producers that Cagney could indeed act.

 

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) **

Prior to 1938 Warner Brothers Studios didn’t make big-budget films. They were known for their low-budget gangster films and weepies.  All of this changed when they gave The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) a $2 million budget and made the big leap to Technicolor.  Luckily, they made $4 million at the box office; unfortunately, I found their use of Technicolor to be an assault on good taste.

Carl Jules Weyl won an Academy Award for Best Art Direction for his castle and forest creations, and a well-designed archery contest. Who am I to argue with the Academy? Perhaps they have higher sensory perception than me, because it was especially difficult for me to enjoy Weyl’s set designs when I was optically defiled by Milo Anderson’s costume designs.  There, I said it—the costumes are beyond horrible.  I expect that someone at Warner Bros. told Anderson that they were spending a helluva lot of money on Technicolor and that he’d better make one damn colorful film.  This is the only legitimate reason I will accept as to why he chose to dress grown, virile men in bright greens, reds, and yellows.  There are many reasons the historical period this story takes place in is called the Dark Ages! 

The Robin Hood story is well known.  While King Richard the Lionheart (Ian Hunter) is off fighting the ‘infidels’ in the Crusades his debased younger brother Prince John (Claude Rains) engages in such nefarious acts as over-taxation and murder.  John favors the Normans and persecutes the Saxons (no history lesson will be provided as to why).  Along with his henchmen, the Sherriff of Nottingham (Melville Cooper) and Sir Guy of Gisbourne (Basil Rathbone), the Prince plans to usurp the throne and decimate all those who stand in his way—notably Robin Hood (Errol Flynn) and his band of merrymen, who are ensconced in Sherwood Forest.  As a result, arrows fly and swords clash, and the fate of England rests in the hands of men wearing tights and extremely bright colors.

It is the fight scenes that set this film apart. Relying on an enormous cast of extras, directors Michael Curtiz and William Keighley do an excellent job of staging their action sequences.  The story moves at a whirlwind pace, which is expertly managed by Ralph Dawson’s Academy Award winning editing.  Who doesn’t like watching Flynn shooting arrows at his enemies while riding on horseback or trying to avoid capture inside Nottingham Castle?  Of course, with any film where Flynn and Rathbone are sworn enemies there must be a swordfight—and this does not disappoint.  The most spectacular shot in the entire movie takes place when they finally cross swords along the stairways of Nottingham Castle. Interestingly enough, what makes the shot so great is that it is done in shadow (with neither men colorfully displayed for all to see)—just black shadowed images! 

Oh, and there’s a love story!  The King’s ward, Maid Marian (Olivia de Havilland), comes off haughty in the beginning, but Robin Hood in his gleaming green glory eventually turns her head (HOW couldn’t she notice him?).  Thankfully, de Havilland doesn’t look nearly as bad as her male counterparts in Technicolor. Still, there was a point when I began wondering if we’d ever see her without a veil.  Fortunately, we do eventually get to see that she has hair!  Her wardrobe, however, leaves one to wonder if tapestry was for more than walls in the 12th Century?  Her scenes are wonderfully complemented anytime Una O’Connor makes an appearance as her nurse Bess. For my money, O’Connor is one of the best things about the entire movie. 

Overall, I was not overly impressed with The Adventures of Robin Hood. It was a passable adventure story, with some nicely staged action sequences.  The story itself was not especially compelling; and, the acting could not be classified as nuanced (which is a shame because there were some pretty good performers in it).  And, the garish use of color to extol the virtues of Technicolor was jarring to every optic nerve I have.

Captain Blood (1935) ***

Before 1935 Errol Flynn was an Australian nobody in Hollywood. He’d made five very forgettable films (only one of which he “starred” in) and his career was in neutral. And, then Robert Donat turned down (rather vehemently) the role of Captain Blood. Although he may have been a stingy S.O.B., Jack Warner often could spot diamonds in the rough and he saw something in Flynn’s raw animal magnetism and gave Flynn the role that would launch an adventurous career.

Based on Rafael Sabatini’s novel of the same name, Captain Blood was directed by Michael Curtiz and was nominated for 5 Academy Awards. Errol Flynn plays a 17th Century Irish doctor who is found guilty of treason in England after treating a man wounded in the Monmouth Rebellion (this was a rebellion to overthrow King James II). Sentenced to slavery in the West Indies (specifically Port Royal, Jamaica), he is condemned to the sulfur mines after refusing to allow the colony’s military commander, Colonel Bishop (the strangely entertaining Lionel Atwill), to examine his teeth. Attracted by Blood’s open defiance of her uncle, the plucky Arabella Bishop (Olivia de Havilland) decides to rescue Blood from sure death and buys him for 10 pounds. Oh, what would a gorgeous woman want with a rebellious slave stud? Get your minds out of the gutter! Blood is openly resentful towards Arabella for interfering and the two often trade barbs with one another, but she’s still the boss (kind of). Both Arabella and Blood are fiery, strong-willed individuals, so it is great fun to watch their scenes together. In particular, de Havilland seems to have a mischievous gleam in her eye throughout the film. This was the first of eight film pairings for Flynn and de Havilland—one of the most successful in screen history.

In the begging of his servitude with the Bishops, Blood finds himself working on their plantation. When Arabella sees that Blood is getting the lash a bit too much for his unchecked attitude, she decides to set him up in a more cozy position. It just so happens that the governor of Port Royal has gout, and who better to treat him than Dr. Blood? Later, she rescues him again when she provides an alibi for him when he is making plans for an escape. This sets up one of the more comical scenes of the film: Blood apologizes and tries to explain why he’s been so rude to Arabella. Her response is pure delight, “I've had men tell me they had reasons for admiring me. And some few, it came, had reasons for loving me. But for a man to store up reasons for resenting me. How refreshing!" For some reason Blood thought this was an invitation to a kiss—oh, no you didn’t! Slap!

As Blood and his friends continue their escape plans, the island is attacked by Spanish pirates. This causes the necessary diversion for them to make their escape. Yet, when they get to their hidden boat they find it damaged and unseaworthy. Not letting this deter them, they decide to take over the weakly guarded Spanish boat. After subduing the Spanish crew, and thus, saving Port Royal, the escaped prisoners are told by Colonel Bishop (who somehow made his way to the ship) that the king might reduce their sentences for their bravery. They toss him overboard and become the Pirates of the Caribbean (take that Johnny Depp!), with Dr. Love becoming Captain Blood.

Later, in a stop in Tortuga, Blood meets French pirate Captain Levasseur (Basil Rathbone). This was the first of many screen partnership between Rathbone and Flynn. Drunk as a skunk, Blood forms a partnership with this most untrustworthy Frenchman. The partnership is rather fortuitous, because Levasseur soon captures an English ship carrying Arabella and an emissary of the king, Lord Willoughby (Henry Stephenson). Levasseur wants to sell them back for a ransom, but Blood decides to buy them for a handful of pearls. Both Arabella and Levasseur aren’t happy with this deal. She, because it’s a blow to her pride—Blood is the boss now. Levasseur, because he has plans for the haughty prisoner. Blood is forced to draw his sword on Levasseur, thus ending their already fragile partnership. In the first of many crossed saber scenes between Rathbone and Flynn ensues, and Levasseur is killed. This is a great swordsmanship scene that was timed to the incoming waves. Filmed at Laguna Beach, in this scene Rathbone had to fall at exactly the same moment that a wave was coming in and could cover him and then wash back out to sea to reveal his dead body. They did it in one take.

Good news, King James II is dead and William and Mary are now the rulers of England—praise be upon the Glorious Revolution of 1688! Lord Willoughby informs Blood that he will grant the entire crew a pardon if he returns them to Port Royal. When Arabella tells him she wants nothing to do with his pirate way of life, he decides to return his new purchases to Port Royal. This could be a problem, because due to his rather profitable ventures on the high seas, the governor of Port Royal has been replaced by Colonel Bishop, who has sworn vengeance on Blood. When the ship returns to Port Royal they find it under French attack. It would seem that instead of protecting the colony, the English fleet is out at sea trying to hunt down pirates. In a bit of irony, Blood and his crew overtake the French ship and save Port Royal yet again! As a reward, Lord Willoughby appoints Blood the new governor of the colony and Arabella gives in to her love for her heroic hunk.

The chemistry between Flynn and de Havilland is undeniable. I always appreciate how well de Havilland seems to play feisty but refined women. In addition, the role reversal between the two lovers is enjoyable to watch. Plus, she could always carry off just about any costume they put her in in her many period films.

Besides being a great adventurous love story, this film made good use of special effects, camerawork, and a fantastic Oscar nominated musical score. Director Curtiz carries the film at a past pace and makes good use of cinematographers Ernest Haller and Hal Mohr. Eric Wolfgang Korngold’s score is very memorable as well. Although it lost the Best Picture Oscar to Mutiny on the Bounty, Captain Blood stands alone as one of the greatest pirate films (pre CGI) ever.