195. It’s a Wonderful Life

Posted: July 27, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

The 1001 Book Why: Karen Krizanovich says, “Capra’s first postwar film revels unashamedly in the goodness of ordinary folks as well as the value of humble dreams, even if they don’t come true.” She also notes that it is actually more a “delightfully shrewd screwball comedy packed with fast, incisive observations on love, sex, and society.” If that first bit and the trailer above are scaring you away, please read the 1001 Take below!

How to Watch: Preferably in a theater with a full house, but this version on DVD is the one for home viewing. BEWARE COLORIZATION!! Both Capra and James Stewart rightly had kittens when the ghastly process claimed this movie as one its early victims. You can also watch full versions on YouTube provided you don’t mind subtitles in Spanish or Russian.

The Haiku:
My son, age 15,
Said, “It’s like the most bad-ass
Twilight Zone ever.”

The Cinema 1001 Take: If you avoid this one like a mall Santa due to the endless repeats at Christmas, you can hardly be blamed. That hokey beginning, featuring a fetus-like blob in a black starry sky that is presumably the voice of the Almighty, doesn’t help matters much. Neither does the focus on the bumbling angel Clarence (Henry Travers) and the uber-corny concept of earning wings. Press beyond your biases, I beg you.

The best thing about James Stewart working with Frank Capra is that Capra knew how to tap into Stewart’s dramatic capability. In both Wonderful Life and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Stewart breaks big. He’s unafraid to show his fallibility, his despair, and his sorrow as he watches his dreams not just die, but be utterly crushed. I cannot find the source (I thought it was David Thomson, but it isn’t in any of my books), but someone observed that George Bailey’s agreement to give up everything he cares about to marry Donna Reed is one of the most furious proposals in history. It’s that raging against the machine wherein Life‘s true greatness lies.

Capra’s balance is surprisingly delicate, which is why the worst possible way to watch his movies is on TV with commercial interruption. Life starts with an average childhood of the time, complete with physical abuse, leading, naturally, to a young man who desperately wants to flee his crappy small-town existence. That restlessness and unexpressed mourning for what might have been never leaves Stewart’s dark eyes; neither does Donna Reed (unexpectedly sexy and good if your primary recollection of her is from that perky TV show) ever look complacent; there’s an uneasiness in her portrayal. Her character is fully aware that her husband lives a life of compromise and regret.

Due in large part to the way that his movies have been chopped to fit the small screen and make way for plenty of commercials, history has turned Capra’s legacy into one of You Betcha Americana. He’s so much more realistic than that. His optimism fully acknowledges the darkness and ambiguity of human nature, but it also celebrates the average man and woman not for being just good folks but for making difficult, brave choices. The sweet moments in Wonderful Life stem from people drawing on their basic goodness to overcome bad ideas and decisions; it’s grassroots-level power, common decency, and horse sense, not an angel, that save George Bailey and his family.

I saw the movie on December 23, the day my father died, with my son, who really did make the comment above. This fully wired video-game obsessed kid was completely caught up in the movie, and still mentions it months later. Forever, the movie will unite my son, the last of five grandsons and sole namesake, with my dad. It is a wonderful life, even when it sucks sometimes. And movies make it better.

122. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

Posted: May 4, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , | 1 Comment

It’s shocking to find out that this exemplar of patriotic corn was attacked by the Washington press and politicians as being anti-American and pro-Communist. Then again, Mr. Smith‘s politicians are a bunch of lying, thieving psychopaths, and although the fictional press comes around, the actual one knew what side its bread was buttered on and joined in to condemn the movie as being downright Bolshevik in its message. The close-ups of reverent faces upturned toward Abraham Lincoln’s stone countenance, or Jimmy Stewart reading the US Constitution in a broken whisper weren’t enough to get the movie off of Washington’s shit list, reason enough to give it high marks.

Intended for Gary Cooper as a follow-up to Mr. Deeds Goes to Town, and featuring his snappy co-star Jean Arthur in a pretty much carbon copy reprise, Mr. Smith went into production when Cooper was unavailable. If Capra thought Coop was right for the wide-eyed idealistic protagonist, he must have outright swooned when he was able to cast Stewart. Certainly, Stewart’s a better actor; not blessed with Cooper’s rugged looks and classic jawline, he had to be. The aw-shucks drawl is deceptive, making him sound like more of a hayseed than he ever really plays. With Stewart, it’s all about his intense, intelligent eyes. The photo above, the climax of the movie, chronicles him moving from rock bottom to redemption in the space of a minute – and he takes us right with him.

Assisting Stewart is a great cast, with Arthur delightfully abrasive as usual, and Claude Rains, Beulah Bondi, and the wonderful Harry Kerry in top form. Capra, never afraid of an extra large helping of Mom’s Apple Pie, pumps up the volume on the sentiment, and features plenty of cute and scrappy young kids to populate Mr. Smith’s dream project, a haven where boys can go each summer to experience nature and build character. 21st century cynicism means this concept now raises eyebrows and produces at least some snickers, but, like Pat O’Brien in Angels with Dirty Faces, Stewart’s honesty and utter guilelessness makes it work.

Capra, at least in this century, tends to come across as a fairly dewy-eyed optimist; no matter how stormy the clouds, they’ll always part in the end. The movie’s a love letter to the Constitution, with which no one present at the famed filibuster save Stewart seems to have the least ounce of familiarity. The formula, in which a Washington outsider comes in and smoothes things over with pure common sense, continues to crop up in the political fantasy movies that are generally adored today. Why, this country ain’t broke at all; we just have to slap those fat cats on Capitol Hill awake!, viz to wit: Dave, The Contender, The American President, and even my beloved Bulworth. Notably, Mr. Smith ends with people being galvanized into some sort of action. None of those others can say the same.

The clouds do indeed part for Mr. Smith – but when the sun shines down, it’s still the Depression.

98. Mr. Deeds Goes to Town

Posted: August 7, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Frank Capra loved jumping over divides – of culture in The Bitter Tea of General Yen, but of class even more. It Happened One Night shows a rich girl better off for slumming with a newspaperman. Mr Deeds shows up city slickers for the jerks they are, while he, a simple, tuba-playing yokel, naturally proves to be smarter and more decent than anyone in all of New York City.

Gary Cooper’s a natural for the title role. His big-boned lanky body and rugged jawline project good old American backbone, but his deep set, intense eyes shine with vulnerability; he seems so innocent, he’d be easy to hurt. That’s exactly what Jean Arthur does, in a great performance where she alternates tough, Hildy Johnson-esque bravura with a damsel-in-distress act that convinces Mr. Deeds she’s on the level. Arthur’s always wonderful, and Capra gives her a great part and plenty of screen time here. She and Cooper have a nice chemistry, and this doesn’t have the impassive, borderline wooden quality of a lot of his performances.

Fresh off It Happened One Night and the delightful The Whole Town’s Talking, which features Arthur and a rare and fine comic Edward G. Robinson, screenwriter Robert Riskin is in excellent form. As in Night, he draws out the suspense toward the end a little too long, but unlike Night, Deeds ends with a highly satisfactory comeuppance scene. It’s long for the period (close to 2 hours), but it’s well-written and directed; it never drags.

Probably this movie, and Capra himself, are most significant for reinforcing the American myth of the folksy, wise, plain-spoken hero, an archetype that continues to fuel presidential marketing plans to this day. A “closet reactionary and a dogged Roosevelt hater” (according to Barry Gewen in this review), Capra could have directed and scripted Ronald Reagan’s entire political story, turning a blind eye on the more bloodthirsty chapters. Here, the outsider shakes things up and sprinkles some salt of the earth on everyone to their great benefit. And while Deeds isn’t making an overt political statement, its plot has been co-opted ad infinitum for those purposes; Dave is a notable example onscreen, and dozens of office hopefuls have cribbed it on their bio sheets. Why, if only Real Americans could run things, what a very grand place this country would be.

Oh dear, here I go again, getting all cranky when really, you just want to enjoy the damn movie. Mr. Deeds IS enjoyable, if predictable and slight for all its imitators. It’s Capra, Cooper, Arthur, and Riskin in top form, an impressive gathering of talent. The real truth is in the technique, which makes the movie much more of a must than the story.

86. It Happened One Night

Posted: April 16, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , | Leave a comment


I have to be dragged into Frank Capra movies, and then about a third of the way in, something wins me over. In this one, it’s a truly lovely scene on a bus, where different men takes turns singing the verses of “The Daring Young Men on the Flying Trapeze.” They are the focus of attention, and we get a break from Clark Gable, who vaguely bugs me, and Claudette Colbert, who does a fine job playing a real nit.

The singing scene, though, brings into focus something Capra can pull off that almost no one else can: He rejoices in the Average American, managing to find a scrappy, uncontrived innocence manifest as pleasure in small things. Everyone in the scene looks to be having an unforced and capital time. It’s a delight to watch.

After that, everything seems pretty darn perfect. Night is Robert Riskin’s breakthrough script; he’d go on to write The Whole Town’s Talking a year later, one of Edward G. Robinson’s few shots at carrying a comedy, which he does superbly. His screenplays move like Gilbert and Sullivan patter songs, and Gable and Colbert, who are onscreen most of the movie, dance through the back and forth banter light on their feet, jabbing but not maiming. I can’t really say they have great chemistry; she, in particular, isn’t very sexy, but she’s cute. The attraction’s believable, the situations don’t strain too hard. It’s a lark.

Capra is the magician who makes it look easy. The comedy is something of a distraction from his greatness as a director; this is, after all, the guy responsible for the unfunny but terrific The Bitter Tea of General Yen. The first night spent in a hotel is superbly evocative as shadows and rain soften the abrasive edges of both stars. He captures their essences: Gable a brawny puppy, boisterous and impulsive, Colbert feline and flirty, basking like a pampered cat when things are going well, skittish and cranky when they’re not. Gable’s character is also one of the great early evocations of what would become a beloved Hollywood archetype: the newspaperman as a glib, lightning-quick romantic who hides his mushy heart under a slick façade. (My theory is that the writer as hero was one of the few consolations for screenwriters, the Rodney Dangerfields of the American movie business.)

The ending of the movie features strange choices; for the last 20 minutes or so, it’s almost unpleasantly suspenseful as the inevitable misunderstandings build to the climax. A late encounter between the stars is rife with enmity. It’s similar to Shakespearean comedy: Everything gets resolved a little too quickly, though at least not neatly. But given the enormous illogic of the whole thing, it’s probably just as well that it moves too fast to really try to make any sense of it.

It’s the highlight of Colbert’s career; she’d only have a couple more great movies. Gable of course just got bigger and bigger. Given the movie’s success on every level, it’s surprising that they didn’t work together again, nor would either work with Capra. Night stands as one of those rare moments when absolutely everything clicked into beautiful place.

79. The Bitter Tea of General Yen

Posted: December 27, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment


Enter the great populist, Frank Capra. It’s tempting to dismiss him as an “aw shucks” guy based on the habit of boiling the great and surprisingly dark It’s a Wonderful Life down to its final frame, but Capra’s genius is in his recognizing the complex reactions of ordinary people in extraordinary situations. General Yen is a perfect example. In it, Barbara Stanwyck is all straitlaced, self-righteous propriety as she’s abducted from a missionary gig to rescue children in order to hole up in the General’s sexy palace until she can be safely returned. Appalled at the barbarity and just plain exoticism of her new surroundings, she acts like pretty much every good Christian white woman of the period would be expected to act.

The movie turns a corner sharply in a dream sequence worthy of Murnau, in which she dreams of the General first as a scary Fu Manchu but then as her rescuer; it stops short of an “interracial” (actor Nils Lofgren wore what was referred to as “yellowface” at the time) kiss, but just barely. Through subsequent interactions, Stanwyck’s character manages to push her religion down the General’s throat, see it fail, and finally acknowledge that she’s fallen in love, at which time the General drinks the literal bitter tea. But throughout the movie, the tea is served up to symbolically force the missionary to confront her own prejudices, which are increasingly tough for her to swallow.

The script is taut and fluid, and throughout Capra’s lighting is beautiful and plays a vital part in adding to the mystery and romance of the story. Lofgren is terrific, sexy and dignified without ever playing to stereotype, and Stanwyck’s performance is true, with gradations of confusion, zeal, disgust wavering in the face of sensuality that she’s equally afraid to enjoy and finding hard to resist.

The movie was banned on charges of “miscegenation,” and only manages to exist because it squeaked in before the Hayes code. You can watch it in chunks on YouTube. It’s beautiful and compelling, and a great way to recognize the complexity of Capra.

Buy it on VHS, which is unfortunately all that’s available, though you can watch it on YouTube if you don’t mind it in pieces.