Part 86: 1933
MOVIES:
Grand Hotel (winner)
Shanghai Express
The Champ (hidden gem)
Bad Girl
Five Star Final
The Smiling Lieutenant
Arrowsmith
One Hour With You
Grand Hotel
Director: Edmund Goulding
Starring: Greta Garbo, John Barrymore, Joan Crawford, Wallace Beery, Lewis Stone, Jean Hersholt, Robert McWade, Purnell Pratt, Ferdinand Gottschalk, Fafaela Ottiano, Morgan Wallace, Tully Marshall, Frank Conroy, Murray Kinnell, Edwin Maxwell, Allen Jenkins
Oscar Wins: Best Picture
Other Nominations: No other nominations.
Don’t put more than two stars in a movie. It was the conventional wisdom of movie studios in the 1930s. Two stars, often one beautiful man and one beautiful woman, was all most pictures could afford to stay on budget.
But when the script for Grand Hotel came across the desk of Irving Thalberg, MGM’s Head of Production, he decided it was time to buck that trend. Instead, he gathered some of the biggest stars that MGM had in its stable, along with some of its best behind-the-scenes talent, and set them loose on what would become one of the most influential films of the 1930s.
Grand Hotel takes place during the Great Depression at a fictional hotel in Berlin, Germany. Each of its five main stars comes to the hotel for different, yet interconnected matters. Otto Kringelein (Lionel Barrymore) is an older man who has spent most of his life slaving away in a textile factory. Upon discovering that his death from an illness appears to be eminent, he cashes in his funds on a grand suite at the hotel, planning to spend the rest of his days in the lap of luxury. But Otto is nothing if not neurotic and he’s obsessed with getting the most out of life, even though it’s obvious he has no idea how.
This leads him to Baron Felix von Gaigern (Lionel’s real-life brother, John Barrymore), a smooth player who knows how to talk to the ladies. The Baron is generous and kind but is also one of those charming wolves you hate to love. Down on his luck with gambling debt, the Baron spends his time at the hotel stealing valuables from wealthy guests.
One of the Baron’s victims is an overemotional ballerina named Grusinskaya (Greta Garbo), plagued by panic attacks that have affected her performance. The venues she plays in Berlin aren’t selling out either, which is only complicating her worries. After she accidentally catches the Baron in her room attempting a robbery, he brightens her mood and the two fall in love.
Also at the hotel is Otto’s former boss, Preysing (Wallace Beery), who is there to make a business deal. He hires a woman named Flaemmchen (Joan Crawford) as his personal stenographer for the meeting. Flaemmchen, or Flem as she likes to be called, runs into the Baron in the hallway and the two form an instant connection.
The film dances between all these characters in an effort to explain what circumstances in their lives brought everyone here to this place at this time. The movie has momentum in the first half, which introduces us to most of these people and gives us a peek at their personalities. But the second half drags terribly after we get the unnecessary Baron/Grusinskaya/Flem love triangle. The film makes us fall in love with the Baron and Flem from the start (Barrymore and Crawford also had great chemistry), then ruins it all by introducing this Baron/Grusinskaya storyline that does nothing but make the Baron look like a shitter person.
The climax of the film is the death of one of the main characters. It happens so quickly, so unceremoniously, that if you blink, you might miss it. While it wasn’t strange for a main character to die at the end of a film in 1932 (it happened in at least one other nominated film this year), it typically occurred in a dramatic fashion, complete with some prophetic last words. In Grand Hotel, death is portrayed with a degree of maturity not often seen in classic cinema. It happens and everyone just moves on with their lives. People come, people go. It’s the nature of the hotel…and the nature of life.
As of today, Grand Hotel is the only Best Picture winner to have been nominated for no other Oscars…not a single one. At the time, the category of “Best Picture” was actually called “Outstanding Production”…and Grand Hotel is certainly nothing short of that. It’s not about anything but the fact that MGM wanted to show off the full range of its resources…its best stars, its best crew, its best Art Deco sets (which, actually, were pretty cool). It packed its top talent into what would become the first ever all-star picture, unknowingly creating a genre of film that would remain relevant way into the 21st century.
Grand Hotel is by no means a perfect movie – honestly, it isn’t even an entertaining one. Some parts zip along at a quick pace, others seem to drag on forever. While the film is filled with great talent, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re just watching a series of moments of these people just acting at one another. It’s big and luxurious, but empty and safe. Overall, it just goes to show how much audiences loved the stars of Hollywood which, at the end of the day, might be the only thing that matters in a production like this one.
Shanghai Express
Director: Josef von Sternberg
Starring: Marlene Dietrich, Clive Brook, Anna May Wong, Warner Oland, Lawrence Grant, Eugene Pallette, Gustav von Seyffertitz, Louise Closser Hale, Emile Chautard
Oscar Wins: Best Cinematography
Other Nominations: Best Director, Best Picture
From Agatha Christie to Alfred Hitchcock, trains have always provided an exciting backdrop for a good thriller. In 1930s Hollywood, trains offered a claustrophobic setting where passengers are nothing but prisoners – knowing they can’t go very far when danger is afoot.
These train thrillers often had thin plots, as most of them relied on interesting characters to tell an engaging story. In Shanghai Express, an eclectic group of people board a train, taking them on a 3-day trip from Peking to Shanghai. There’s a French colonel who speaks only, well, French (Emile Chautard); a quiet, grumpy drug-dealing German who is fussy about the air he breathes (Gustav von Seyffertitz); an American gambler named Sam Salt (Eugene Pallette) who can’t help but lay odds on every complication that arises; an older woman named Mrs. Haggerty (Louise Closser Hale) who owns a high-end boarding house; and an American missionary (Lawrence Grant) who grumbles at the heathens who surround him.
Also along for the ride is Captain Donald “Doc” Harvey (Clive Brook), a mysterious Chinese woman named Hui Fei (Anna May Wong), a socially awkward Eurasian named Chang (Warner Oland), and a beautiful German woman named Madeline (Marlene Dietrich) – now known as “Shanghai Lily” – a notorious “coaster” (prostitute) who once was in love with Doc Harvey. In this crazy group of characters, these four form the main story.
The train ride to Shanghai takes these passengers through some of China’s most tumultuous places. The Chinese government has been pretty useless in these unsettling times, and the passengers hardly flicker at the sight of men being killed. As Chang notes near the beginning of the movie, “You’re in China now, sir, where time and life have no value.”
Chang, in fact, is General Chang – the leader of a rebel faction hoping to take over the government. He arranges to have his followers stop the train en route, taking several of these characters hostage and abusing them quite violently. He tortures one with a branding iron, rapes Hui Fei for his own amusement, forces himself on Madeline and captures Doc Harvey as payment for the release of one of his own men.
Though Madeline and Harvey haven’t seen each other in years, their love has never faltered. When she learns of Harvey’s capture, Madeline offers herself to Chang in exchange for Harvey’s freedom. But Chang better watch his back – because other characters – namely Hui Fei – are on a mission for revenge.
For a pre-code film that features sex, travel, romance, and intrigue, Shanghai Express has very little action. It clocks in at about 80 minutes, but feels so much longer, with one scene slowly drifting into another, blurred with smoke and fog. It’s literally drenched in atmosphere…which makes sense – as its strongest aspect by far its Oscar-winning cinematography. The movie’s look has gained a reputation for its lush and stunning photography, especially in the way Marlene Dietrich was shot. Though she wasn't a fabulous actress, Dietrich is still considered an icon of classic Hollywood – and it’s no doubt the photography on this film that contributed to that status.
Shanghai Express is one of those highly regarded films of the pre-code era; however, I couldn’t help but feel that it’s slightly overrated. In fact, the story it was based on would have made a WAY better movie: In 1923, the “Blue Express” train from Shanghai to Beijing was captured by bandits. They looted the train, rounded up all 300 passengers, and dragged them on a 10-day march to their hideout. They released the women and children after a couple days, but kept the men for nearly a month, demanding pardons, military commissions and cash ransoms. The Chinese government finally complied but kept tabs on all the bandits for the next six months. Then, once the fuss had died down, they were all executed. Now THERE’S your thriller!
Even though Shanghai Express didn’t have nearly as much drama, or thrills, or interest, it was still a visual feast – with stunning cinematography, photography and costume design (Dietrich shows off like 12 outfits over the course of one train ride). And while the story was lacking, it gave birth to one of Hollywood’s most beloved icons – and, perhaps, that’s enough.
The Champ
Director: King Vidor
Starring: Wallace Beery, Jackie Cooper, Irene Rich, Roscoe Ates, Edward Brophy, Hale Hamilton, Jesse Scott, Marcia Mae Jones
Oscar Wins: Best Actor (Wallace Beery), Best Writing (Original Story)
Other Nominations: Best Director, Best Picture
From the very beginning of film, American cinema has made one thing abundantly clear – men gotta be tough. There’s no room for emotions in the world of the manly men! It makes you a soft little sissy! Men can’t cry! They can’t feel! That’s women stuff!
Yet, some of the most emotional films to come out of Hollywood are stereotypical “manly” movies: The Wrestler, Field of Dreams, Rocky, The Pride of the Yankees, The Shawshank Redemption, Midnight Cowboy, Good Will Hunting and Moonlight are just SOME examples. And if you (or your dad) liked any of these, you really have one movie to thank: The Champ.
Hidden under the guise of a ‘down-on-his-luck boxer’ movie lies one of the most vibrant and authentic father/son relationships ever put on film. Starring two power houses of 1930’s Hollywood, The Champ tells an emotional, impactful, relatable story that’s sure to break down even the toughest in the crowd.
Andy Purcell (Wallace Beery) is a washed-up former boxing champion, trying to get back the former glory he once knew that earned him his nickname, The Champ. Unfortunately, frequent trips to the bottle keep hindering any chance he has of a comeback – not to mention the fact he’s lost most of his money gambling.
His biggest fan is his son, Dink (Jackie Cooper), a scrappy youngster who wears many hats (son, friend, coach, parent) in order to keep his dad on track. The two have a lean life, but they’re happy.
When a lucky hand finds Andy with a fistful of dollars, he decides to buy Dink a racehorse that they lovingly name Champ, Jr. While prepping for a race, Dink meets another horse owner named Linda Carleton (Irene Rich), a wealthy woman who takes an instant liking to this young spitfire.
While strolling the grounds, Linda’s husband Tony (Hale Hamilton) happens to see that Dink is in the company of Andy and puts two and two together: Dink is the son Linda left when she divorced her first husband – Andy Purcell. When news gets back to Linda that Dink is her long-lost son, she’s desperate to reconnect with him. Tony offers to pay Andy to let them spend the day with Dink…an offer penniless Andy cannot refuse.
These events, as well as a few others, lead Andy to believe that he may not be providing Dink with the best environment. But he’s not down for the count yet. After all, no champ goes down without a fight…
One of the most intriguing aspects of The Champ is how it reverses traditional gender roles. Like A Thousand Clowns or Kramer vs. Kramer, this is a film about a man and a child, two guys on their own trying to make ends meet. While normally it would be the mother left to raise the child when the husband ran off and remarried, The Champ gives us a story where the mother relinquished custody to Andy, married rich, and didn’t look back.
The role of Linda is an odd one, though. It’s hard to get behind a mother who would so easily abandon her child, not think about him for at least 8 or 9 years, then suddenly decide it’s in her right to completely uproot him from the only life he’s ever known. It’s even more confusing because there’s never a moment when she’s vindictive or unkind or conniving in any way, she truly thinks she’s doing what’s best for her son. The evil was always the bottle and the Champ’s own inability to get himself straight. Still, it’s hard not to feel that the film wants us to hate Linda just a little bit…
If the Best Supporting Actor Oscar existed at this time, there’s no doubt it would have gone to Jackie Cooper, a truly gifted child actor who stole every scene he was in, including from Beery. When Cooper cried, you cried. When he laughed, you laughed. As Dink, Cooper’s connection to the story he told, the part he played, the man he fought for, were the perfect one-two-three combo. His comedic timing was better than some of the adult actors in today’s crop of stars and his ability to show true, authentic emotion reigns supreme even among classic Hollywood icons.
The true glory of The Champ is that there’s nothing dated about it. America still loves boxing and gambling. We still have raging addiction and poverty issues. But what makes The Champ stand out above others is its focus on the deep relationship between a father and his son. Films like this aren’t afraid to point out the brokenness of men, or their value to society. This is not a story that praises Andy’s masculinity…in fact, it’s ultra-critical of the ‘Tough Guy’ persona that often leads heroes like the Champ into debilitating, heartbreaking situations.
Bad Girl
Director: Frank Borzage
Starring: Sally Eilers, James Dunn, Minna Gombell
Oscar Wins: Best Writing (Adaptation), Best Director
Other Nominations: Best Picture
Bad Girl begins, cheekily enough, with a wedding procession. Dressed in a beautiful gown, Dorothy “Dot” (Sally Eilers) and her friend, Edna (Minna Gombell) complain that they’re sick of guys constantly making passes at them. Oh, the life of the young and beautiful…
However, it’s soon revealed that Dot is not getting married but is modeling her department store’s new bridal collection (one of the greatest reveal moments I’ve seen in a while!). Plenty of the men in the audience seem to like the dress enough to want to get her out of it.
Later, on a boat heading towards Coney Island, Dot and Edna run into Eddie (James Dunn), a practical, unromantic sort who dreams of opening his own radio shop. Weirder yet, he doesn’t want to get into Dot’s bloomers. The girls decide to make a bet that Dot can get him to hit on her, causing her to lob the full force of her charms at the man. But he remains uninterested. When she fesses up to the bet, he calls her out on the narcissism in her assumption that every man she meets wants to sleep with her. It’s peak 1930s banter at its best…and Dot becomes obsessed with winning this guy over. We all want what we can’t have, right?!
The two spend the rest of the evening together, then another, and another. Eventually Eddie, in spite of himself, finds himself falling for Dot. Then, on one rainy evening, Dot ends up spending the night cuddling with him in his cramped apartment. They wake up in each other’s arms at 4:00 am with the lights off…THE SCANDAL!
All this spooning only leads to trouble…and soon Eddie and Dot are married. Not long after that, Dot learns she’s pregnant. All too quickly, Eddie and Dot are thrown into adulthood, wondering if they have what it takes to not only stay married, but raise a child together.
A lot of Bad Girl hinges on Eddie and Dot doing everything in their power to make the other happy. Each becomes so determined to prove to the other that they are willing to sacrifice anything for the other’s happiness that they both end up miserable. For example, Dot offers to go back to work to make money for their growing family, and Eddie takes that to mean she doesn’t feel pampered enough…so he buys her a nice, swanky apartment and she then feels awful that he spent so much money on her when they have a kid on the way.
This tit-for-tat keeps spiraling until they eventually stop speaking to each other. And, as Dot’s due date comes closer and closer, they both realize the ultimate sacrifice – the one thing that would really make the other happy: an abortion. Granted, the 1930s cinematic rules wouldn’t allow them to actually say it, but it’s written on all their faces.
The beauty of this movie is that these tricky emotional webs Eddie and Dot find themselves in are not only well done, they’re extremely relatable. There are no cheap plot points to crank up the drama or stupid misunderstandings that cause one of them to organize some grand romantic gesture – it’s a movie about two real humans with real-human problems. The universal themes of not having enough money for the lifestyle you want, raising a family on a budget, the fears of what a baby will bring into a marriage and how a baby will forever change your life were all issues that many people saw themselves facing at the time of this film’s release – and Bad Girl was a hit with viewers. Even today, this film is still relatable, entertaining and touching in all the same ways.
Perhaps the strangest thing about this movie is the title, which at first feels very misleading. Dot is actually quite a good girl and is not inclined to just lounge around in sexy lingerie as the movie poster suggests. But the title is less of a reference to Dot’s actions and more of a nod to her character. It actually comes from an argument Dot has with her brother on the night she arrives home after “cuddling” with Eddie until 4 am. He calls her a “bad girl” for engaging in such behavior, and it’s clear from his inflection that he could have said a lot worse if the movie gods allowed such language. And if Dot actually got pregnant that night (as the movie tries to imply without really saying that), her “bad girl” actions are what drive her entire life forward. Her brother meant it as an insult, but it was what she had to hear to actually make something of herself. Today, we could say Dot was in her “bad bitch era” or “giving main character energy” or whatever the kids are saying to describe someone who’s taking their lives into their own hands.
Bad Girl is also ripe with classic 1930s banter. Quick and clever writing make this movie a joy to watch – well, at least the first half before things get serious. Still, I had a great time and would recommend it to anyone who loves a realistic love story where you can’t help but root for both people involved.
Five Star Final
Director: Mervyn LeRoy
Starring: Edward G. Robinson, Marian Marsh, H.B. Warner, Anthony Bushell, George E. Stone, Frances Starr, Ona Munson, Boris Karloff, Aline MacMahon, Oscar Apfel, Purnell Pratt, Robert Elliott, William H. Strauss
Oscar Wins: No wins.
Other Nominations: Best Picture
Every newspaper, from the prestigious ones to the trashy ones, has one goal: to make money. How they go about doing it isn’t that much different, either. In whatever way they can, they elevate public discourse in order to increase readership. It worked then, it works now, and it will probably continue to work well into the future, so long as people keep buying magazines that promise to show you how you can lose 20 pounds in 20 minutes or click on articles about whoever Taylor Swift is dating right now.
The tabloid depicted in Five Star Final thinks a lot of itself, but it still relies on cheap human-interest stories to increase subscriptions. Its editor, Joseph W. Randall (Edward G. Robinson) – because Randolph William Hurst was too on-the-nose – has been trying clean up the paper’s content but is met with resistance from leadership. They want to increase subscriptions and people don’t want to read classy, clean stories.
When we first see him, Randall in a speakeasy washing his hands. Both are symptoms of the same problem: he hates his job. The speakeasy dulls whatever the soap can’t wash away. Throughout the film, Randall is almost always washing his hands, trying to remove the dirty feeling of the job he’s forced to do.
The head of circulation at the New York Evening Gazette is onto Randall, saying he’s “…too swell for the chewing gum trade.” (I love that!) The business side wants sensationalism and he’s giving them League of Nations cables. With circulation and sales continuing to decrease, management turns to the editorial department. “Randall needs a good jacking up!”
So, they bring up an idea for a hot serial: 20 years ago, Nancy Voorhees (Francess Starr) murdered a man after he fathered a child with her and refused to marry her. The woman was let free by a sympathetic jury and has virtually disappeared. Where is she now?
This brings us to the most interesting character in the entire film…a staple of 1930s journalistic cinema…the one who knows more than everyone else, who knows the in’s and out’s of Randall’s life, and who maybe even loves him a little: the secretary.
Miss Taylor (Aline MacMahon) is good at her job, but better at delivering quippy lines that the paper would be smart to use. When a Chicago flapper named Kitty Carmody (Ona Munson) comes in looking for a job, she pours herself into a chair, bragging about how the publisher of the paper wants to hire her. “…he knows that I’ve had a lot of experience in Chicago,” Kitty says. What KIND of experience she means may go over our heads, but not Miss Taylor’s. “Yeah, you look it,” she retorts.
But the best banter (and the best pre-code lines I’ve heard in a while) happens with a young gofer named Arthur Goldberg (Harold Waldridge), who Miss Taylor loves like a son. Upon seeing Kitty come into the office, Arthur can’t help but comment on it:
Arthur: “Sufferin’ Moses, but Mr. Randall’s got a lot of women.”
Miss Taylor: “Arthur Goldberg, ain’t you got no religion?”
Arthur: “Gee, the way you say that, I ought to change my name.”
Miss Taylor: “Don’t you do it, kid. New York’s too full of Christians as it is.”
Makes you wonder how many other great lines were killed by the Hays Code…
Anyway – back to the murder case…
Before washing his hands AGAIN, Randall decides to assign the story to newbie Kitty Carmody and reporter T. Vernon Isopod (Boris Karloff). Though he’s the man with the plan, it’s still Miss Taylor who has the final word about the whole thing:
It doesn’t take long for Kitty and Isopod to find out that Nancy Voorhes now goes by Nancy Townsend. She has married a man named Michael (H.B. Warner) and is currently a very upstanding member of society. Michael knows about Nancy’s past, but her daughter Jenny (Marian Marsh) does not. Jenny also thinks Michael is her biological father, not knowing her mom was impregnated by another man. And as luck would have it, at least for Kitty and Isopod, Jenny is mere days away from a big wedding to Philip Weeks (Anthony Bushell), the son of a very influential family in town.
Once the pieces start to fall into place, Five Star Final loses a bit of momentum. The paper runs with the story, circulation jumps, but Nancy’s life is shattered. She tries to stop the story so she has time to tell her daughter before news hits the streets, but no one will take her calls. Finally, Miss Taylor forces the call on Randall, who tells her the story is already a go. Then comes the melodrama…
I’ll avoid spoilers here but, needless to say, the scandal the paper was so obsessed about threatens to engulf the entire operation because the paper comes off so badly in the end. In the final shot, the headlines that caused all the trouble are seen being washed away into a storm drain. Yesterday’s news.
The Smiling Lieutenant
Director: Ernst Lubitsch
Starring: Maurice Chevalier, Claudette Colbert, Miriam Hopkins, Charles Ruggles, George Barbier, Hugh O'Connell
Oscar Wins: No wins.
Other Nominations: Best Picture
Watching a Maurice Chevalier musical is like watching a Pepe Le Pew cartoon…cheeky, witty, and unbearably French. He must have had it in his contract that he had to stare into the camera in every movie, mugging the audience with eyebrow raises as he sang about sex without actually coming out and saying it. In the three musicals he did with Ernst Lubitsch (The Love Parade and One Hour with You being the other two), Chevalier didn’t stray much from his lothario image – often playing an insatiable ladies’ man who’s got a witty innuendo and undeniable charm that’s downright irresistible to women in general.
Though Chevalier may not pass for eye candy in today’s crop of male stars, you can’t deny the guy was a born showman who, for better or worse, epitomized a very certain romantic archetype. Enjoying his movies is hard if you expect a lot out of a rom-com – but if you lower your expectations and let yourself wallow all the pre-code sex jokes, you’re bound to have at least a laugh or two before the whole thing is over.
As is the case in most Lubitsch musicals, the plot of The Smiling Lieutenant is ridiculous. Niki (Chevalier) is a lieutenant in the Austrian army. Niki’s army is a standing army, insomuch as there’s no war so he just stands around winking, singing and crooning suggestive ‘ooh-la-lah’s’.
When he’s not standing or singing or winking, Niki prefers to be on his back, offering himself to ‘hungry’ women of all shapes and sizes…that is, until he meets Franzi (Claudette Colbert), the conductor of a female orchestra called “The Viennese Swallows.” (rim shot!)
The two are instantly smitten with each other. After a passionate kiss, Franzi suggests they meet the following evening for dinner, but Niki objects: “Oh, don’t make me wait 24 hours,” he says. “I’m so hungry!” (wink, wink). They kiss goodnight, then we cut to the next day, where the two are sitting down to breakfast and Franzi has the same dress she had on the night before. OOOOH BOY! Gotta love these pre-code movies!
Meanwhile, Princess Anna (Miriam Hopkins) of Flaustenthurm arrives to town with her father. She’s young and innocent, claiming all the knowledge she has is from the Royal Encyclopedia…a special edition that has all the interesting things left out. Her path intersects – quite literally – with those of Niki and Franzi during their royal procession into town. Standing on the opposite side of the street as Niki, Franzi blows a kiss at her lover, mouthing, “I’m crazy about you.” In turn, he smiles broadly, wiggles his eyebrows and gives her a wink. I just so happens that Anna passes by at that very moment and thinks Niki is laughing and smiling at her. Like I said, ridiculous.
Anna summons Niki to the palace to reprimand him – but it doesn’t take long before she falls under his spell, which sets up the action for the remainder of the film. Now in a bit of a catch-22 situation, Niki is torn between being with Anna so he doesn’t disgrace his country and staying with the wild and passionate Franzi. What’s a guy to do?!
The second half of The Smiling Lieutenant offers a little more fun – particularly when Anna realizes that Niki is stepping out on her with Franzi and the two women go from enemies to friends over the course of one song. Franzi agrees to give up Niki and shows Anna how to “jazz up her lingerie” in a fun, whimsy song about keeping things fresh and exciting in the bedroom. Anna then does some crazy dancing before tossing her old cloister bell underwear into the fire. Welcome to 1931, girl.
Filled with more innuendos than you can stab with Niki’s oversized sword, The Smiling Lieutenant is – like most rom-coms – stupid, but fun. While the music isn’t that memorable and the acting is over-the-top obnoxious, it still has enough to keep you satisfied and smiling. 😉
Arrowsmith
Director: John Ford
Starring: Ronald Colman, Helen Hayes, Richard Bennett, A.E. Anson, Clarence Brooks, Alec B. Frances, Claude King, Bert Roach, Myrna Loy, Russell Hopton, David Landau, Lumsden Hare
Oscar Wins: No wins.
Other Nominations: Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction, Best Writing (Adaptation), Best Picture
Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans…or so the song goes. In the early years of his medical education, Dr. Martin Arrowsmith (Ronald Colman) wanted to be a researcher. More specifically, he wanted to be the man to cure cancer. Unfortunately, life intervened.
Arrowsmith is unlike many other John Ford films, yet it begins in a familiar way. “This is the story of a man who dedicated his life to science and his heart to the love of one woman,” it tells us. There is a good deal of irony in that title card, for Arrowsmith is about a man who struggles, and fails, on both fronts – in his dedication to science and in his role as a husband.
Martin Arrowsmith is a rising medical student, eager to develop medicines and cures for some of the world’s most terrible diseases. He’s dedicated and focused to his craft, until he meets a nurse named Leora (Helen Hayes)…and all his blood goes from his brain to, well, his other head. He turns down a job to be a research assistant and marries Leora instead, following her to a small rural town where he opens his own private practice.
Arrowsmith makes a fine doctor, but there’s no denying he’s out of his element. In his research, he develops a vaccine for a disease affecting cows, which reawakens his love for scientific research. His commitment to his work is ongoing, which inevitably prevents him from being present when Leora has a miscarriage. Devastated that she can no longer conceive, Leora agrees to shed the small-town life and move back to New York so Arrowsmith can work on his research.
Again, Arrowsmith struggles to make much movement until he stumbles on a formula that kills bacteria. When he learns of an outbreak of the Bubonic Plague in the West Indies, he concludes that this could be the perfect testing ground for his serum.
So, it’s off to the Caribbean we go – where Arrowsmith distributes serum to half of the sick population, with the rest treated as a control group. Meanwhile, Leora, who has sneakily tagged along on this journey, ironically contracts the plague and dies.
Meanwhile, a group of marooned Americans takes an interest in this vaccine…with one woman in particular (Myrna Loy) taking a romantic interest in the doctor. It seems all of Arrowsmith’s reserves of morality and scientific thought are going to be tested.
If all of that sounds like a lot of plot, it is. I even skimmed the details of a lot of this. It’s clear Arrowsmith tried to do as much justice to the book as it could, but it packed so much into its tiny runtime that we’re just left with a messy, fast-moving story that doesn’t really do as much justice as it thinks.
The more interesting story involves Arrowsmith’s understanding of love and desire and how it relates not only to the women he woos, but to his passion for science.
The courtship of Leora is – to borrow a medical word – antiseptic. Yes they believe in each other and are good companions, but there’s no passion – no desire. Their wedding, which takes place at a courthouse, is the very definition of a blah romance.
These feelings are contrasted not only by Arrowsmith’s love and devotion to his job, but to the other American woman he meets in the jungle. Her longing stares and healthy glow (compared to Leora’s diseased body) have the doctor questioning his morals and his commitment to his wife. If this movie just focused on that, it would have been a way better experience.
Though Arrowsmith is a messy film, it’s one that perhaps benefits from the mess. It’s overambitious and clumsy, much like life is for most of us. It shows a man with very real dreams and ambitions, and then shows how life almost always gets in the way of that. It also raises very racy and interesting questions about the power of medicine, what it means to believe in God, and how those in the medical field are sometimes asked to sacrifice what they believe for what appears to be morally right.
One Hour with You
Director: George Cukor, Ernst Lubitsch
Starring: Maurice Chevalier, Jeanette MacDonald, Genevieve Tobin, Charles Ruggles, Roland Young, Josephine Dunn, Richard Carle, Barbara Leonard, George Barbier, Donald Novis
Oscar Wins: No wins.
Other Nominations: Best Picture
Ah, Spring in Paris! The birds are chirping, the flowers are blooming, and all the young hooligans are crowding the parks, making out instead of spending money in town! THE NERVE!
Among the canoodling couples are Andre Bertier (Mauriece Chevalier) and Colette (Jeanette McDonald), a married couple who can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Rich, attractive and endlessly delighted in their perfect match with each other – it’s enough to make you vomit, right?
After an angry policeman shoos them back to the privacy of their stylish boudoir, Andre turns to the camera and directly addresses the audience for the first of several times in the course of One Hour With You. This trademark move – one Chevalier used a LOT – works better here than it did in any of his other projects I’ve seen so far. For one, it makes his character, who is weak-kneed when it comes to women, a tad more sympathetic. Hearing him come right out and admit to us that he’s a downright scoundrel means we don’t have to call out his hypocrisy ourselves (it’s a similar tactic that Michael Caine used in Alfie). It’s here he also reveals to us that he and Colette are actually married and one of the best parts about their union is that no one can judge them for all the time they spend together in bed. You know. Doin’ stuff.
But trouble soon comes knocking in the form of Colette’s best friend, Mitzi (Genevieve Tobin) – a sex-crazed kitty cat who is almost constantly on the prowl – despite the fact that she is also married. She and Andre have never met and her arrival to town excites Colette as she can finally introduce her husband to her best friend.
One day while hailing a cab, Andre winds up in the back seat with another passenger – one beautiful blonde fox who woos him with all her eye-rolling, innuendo-laced seductive verbal spouts. He’s a good boy for the most part…but his interest is certainly peaked…
He arrives home to find that the woman in the cab is none other than his wife’s best friend, Mitzi. Who woulda thought?! As Andre and Mitzi try (and I use that word VERY loosely) not to cheat on their respective spouses, Colette has her hands full with Adolph (Charles Ruggles), Andre’s best friend who sees an opportunity to swoop in. Adolph’s passion for Colette is never really explained but it’s clear he’s smitten…and his eager attempts to sweep Colette off her feet are sure to entertain anyone who’s had the misfortune of finding themselves pursuing someone way beyond their reach.
Because the film is so playful, One Hour With You rarely runs into the darkness of what infidelity can do to a happy couple. Instead, Andre and Colette come to the realization that a marriage isn’t just built on lovemaking. Trust must be a factor in the equation, as well as equality.
And, of course, we’re all human. We’re all prone to making mistakes. But we all do ourselves the biggest favor by being able to forgive and remembering what drew us together in the first place. Equally, if not more important, is the ability to keep a sense of humor when it comes to managing the affairs of the heart. Sure, the swift and painless resolution at the end of One Hour With You is a little too sappy sweet to be believable, but this movie isn’t offering a real-life scenario. This is a film that understands exactly what it is and offers an easy-to-understand lesson on top of it: find someone who makes you laugh. Don’t take it all so seriously. And, for the love of God, make out with your wife in the park!
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