Tag Archives: Classics

#80: Miracle on 34th Street (1947)

04 Tuesday Nov 2014

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At Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade,
Their Santa impostor is drunk,
And Miss Doris Walker must see that he’s played,
Although she thinks Santa is bunk.
 
When kindly Kris Kringle is begged to fill in,
He does such a wonderful job,
He’s made the store Santa, the best there has been,
And garners a juvenile mob.
 
He has the consumers’ best interest at heart,
An idea so radically new
That Macy’s and Gimbel’s incredibly start
A goodwill campaign overdue.
 
Miss Walker’s young daughter named Susan is told
By Mother to be realistic,
But Kris is so Santa-ish, jolly and old,
That she cannot stay pessimistic.
 
Yet Kris makes an enemy with enough clout
To claim an annoyed accusation,
Which puts Kris’s sanity quickly in doubt
Right after a brief altercation.
 
When Doris’s lawyer friend Fred defends Kris,
A court battle breaks out and quick,
And Fred Gailey’s planning to somehow prove this:
That Kris is the famous Saint Nick.
 
Though Doris is frustrated by Fred’s endeavor,
Both Susan and she still concede.
Their trust leads to proof, unexpected and clever,
By which Kris is upheld and freed.
 
His gifts warm the hearts of his numerous friends
After he is released Christmas Eve.
Fred, Doris, and Susan see all he intends
And really can’t help but believe.
____________________
 

One of the quintessential Christmas movies, Miracle on 34th Street is as pure and sentimental as holiday entertainment can get without becoming saccharine. Edmund Gwenn won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his portrayal of arguably the best on-screen Santa Claus, genial and honest, accommodating but willing to confront vice in the name of virtue. When younger, I was always told that the Santa at the end of Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was the real Santa (as opposed to all his impersonating helpers out there in the malls and department stores and street corners), and this film cemented that belief.

Maureen O’Hara is both likable and frustratingly pragmatic as divorced mother Doris, whose growing relationship with the idealistic lawyer Fred Gailey (John Payne) is a cogent endorsement of the “lovely intangibles” that make life enjoyable. A young Natalie Wood gives a precocious performance as doubting Susan, who doesn’t know what to believe as the adults pull her in different intellectual directions.

Though there are some instances of Golden-Age-of-Hollywood overacting, its Oscar-winning screenplay succeeds at balancing humor, schmaltz, and intelligence. The courtroom scenes are particularly well-formulated, with an implausible claim being “proven” in a surprisingly persuasive way. Though we never see Kris Kringle in full Santa mode, delivering toys and such, he embodies and disseminates the goodwill, generosity, and “faith” of the secular side of Christmas. No remake can compare with the magic of the 1947 original (non-colorized, please).

Interestingly, despite its reputation as a holiday classic, the film was not advertised as a Christmas movie. Its trailers simply featured actors bestowing vague praise on some inspiring story called Miracle on 34th Street, and it was actually released in the United States in May. Even with its spring release, the film was recognized as a Christmas delight, one of those enduring bits of Americana that can be watched year after year.

Best line: (Fred) “Look, Doris, someday you’re going to find out that your way of facing this realistic world just doesn’t work. And when you do, don’t overlook those lovely intangibles. You’ll discover they’re the only things that are worthwhile.”
 
VC’s best line: (Mr. Shellhammer, on the phone with Doris) “Yes. Just a moment.  Mrs. Shellhammer wants to talk to you.  I made the martinis triple strength, and she feels wonderful!  Here, my pet.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer, on the couch and snockered, holding the phone upside down) “Thank you. Hello?  Hello?”
(Mr. Shellhammer, switching phone around but still upside down) “No, no, no, no. No, dear.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer, laughing) “Thank you, darling. [Loudly]  Hello?”
(Mr. Shellhammer, turning phone right-side up) “No, no, no, dear. There.”
(Mrs. Shellhammer) “Oh, darling. How silly of me. [Very loudly] Helloooo? [Laughs] Why, we’d love to have Santa Claus come and stay with us. Mm-hmm. I think it would be simp-ly charming!”
 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

239 Followers and Counting

 

#81: Gone with the Wind (1939)

03 Monday Nov 2014

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Young Scarlett O’Hara is pining away
For the weak Ashley Wilkes, every night, every day,
But treats him as if he committed a felony
When he intends to wed his cousin Melanie.
 
As Civil War nears, she is suddenly met
By dashing Rhett Butler, who makes her upset.
He claims that the South cannot win any war,
But men still depart to go fight by the score.
 
An inconsequential first marriage ends fast,
And soon in Atlanta the wives are aghast
When Scarlett’s out dancing with who else but Rhett,
Who’s now a blockade runner nursing regret.
 
As Scarlett and Melanie worry and fret
For Ashley, they care for each suffering vet.
Atlanta is falling one hot afternoon
When Melanie goes into labor too soon.
 
The baby delivered, they call on Rhett’s aid;
He brings them a wagon as Yankees invade.
Through fiery buildings, they flee from the city,
And Rhett leaves them there with a kiss and his pity.
 
Through war-ravaged fields, Scarlett makes it to Tara,
Where fever has overcome Mrs. O’Hara.
Her home now in shambles, Miss Scarlett declares
She’ll never be hungry, regardless of cares.
 
The long Reconstruction is hard on them all;
Her father’s soon claimed by an unbalanced fall.
As taxes pile up, she appeals to ol’ Rhett,
Who’s broke and in prison but not desperate yet.
 
She marries for money, is widowed again,
And keeps Ashley close as her favorite of men.
When Rhett then proposes, she swiftly agrees
And soon has a daughter they’re eager to please.
 
A rumor and distance make Rhett envious,
And he has his way with a passionate fuss.
But tragedy strikes (in fact, three in a row),
And Scarlett and Rhett are too mired in woe.
 
When Scarlett at last has the courage to state
She never loved Ashley, it’s simply too late.
Rhett bitterly leaves her, not giving a “damn,”
But she swears to win back her disgruntled man.
___________________
 

When I first compiled my list, I originally placed Gone with the Wind at #5 because I admire it as a milestone in cinema, the film that mostly topped its great 1939 competition. However, my VC pointed out that I’m rarely eager to watch it nor am I quite as enthralled by the epic romance as she is. Thus, I decided to drop it out of the top ten but still give it the praise it deserves.

Gone with the Wind is one of America’s most enduring icons. Who hasn’t heard deathless lines like “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again,” or “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ babies,” or “After all, tomorrow is another day”? Who hasn’t seen at least one parody of some element of this film? (Carol Burnett’s “Went with the Wind” skit is a favorite.) Between Margaret Mitchell’s classic (and interminable) novel and Sidney Howard’s Oscar-winning screenplay adaptation, the script is full of juicy quotes, yet even these are overshadowed by the perfectly cast leads and the scope of its best scenes.

While at times she indulges in unconvincing histrionics, Vivien Leigh is Scarlett O’Hara, just as the debonair Clark Gable is Rhett Butler. (Margaret Mitchell had him in mind.) Their amorous banter and volatile relationship are hallmarks of cinema romance, and Gable’s suave persona has left many a woman swooning in her seat, not least of all my VC. They also share one of the most passionate kisses ever filmed (after they leave Atlanta), which few movies can hope to top. Other characters are well-cast, though a tad one-dimensional. Olivia de Havilland (one of the only stars still alive) as Melanie is an ingratiating Mary Sue who is nonetheless kind and sympathetic, and while Leslie Howard is equally good as Ashley, his weak character is such a contrast from the allure of Rhett Butler that one cannot help but want to slap Scarlett silly for her misplaced infatuation. The black characters have drawn criticism for their adherence to racial stereotypes, but Hattie McDaniel’s role as Mammy won her the first Academy Award for an African-American (beating out de Havilland for Best Supporting Actress).

The film is at its best when its epic scope plays out, particularly during the War itself. Two scenes especially stand out: the long shot that pulls out to reveal a huge field strewn with Confederate soldiers, and the thrilling escape from burning Atlanta, with the characters’ silhouettes fleeing before a collapsing building (which had to be shot in one take). The film has spurts of cinema at its best, mainly in the first half, but its taxing length cannot keep up the spectacle. Perhaps due to its troubled production, many parts are simply boring and not completely necessary, a fault the films of my final top ten do not share.

Despite its bloated duration, Gone with the Wind is an epic romance set in a time long past, of billowing gowns and urbane gentlemen, a period clearly romanticized but no less legendary. It has ranked high among AFI’s greatest film lists, and, though I cannot quite include it in my personal top ten, it still deserves a place of honor among the all-time classics. May Hollywood never attempt a remake. (Please!)

Best line: (Scarlett, as Rhett is leaving at the end) “Rhett. If you go, where shall I go; what shall I do?”   (Rhett) “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

 
Rank: 54 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

239 Followers and Counting

#88: The Ten Commandments (1956)

27 Monday Oct 2014

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The land of Egypt built its wonders high
Upon the backs of Hebrew slaves of old,
Who prayed that God salvation would supply,
And so He did, His people to uphold.
A baby borne upon the Nile’s waves
To rescue him from edicts merciless
Proceeded from the desperate blood of slaves
But found a home in Pharaoh’s house to bless.
Though Moses prospered as a faithful prince,
He learned the truth, and crime forced banishment.
At last, with burning bush, God did convince
His chosen one to turn and represent.
Though Moses wielded power from the Lord,
His “brother” Rameses would not free his race.
The death of every firstborn by God’s sword
Allowed the Hebrews freedom from this place.
Through sundered sea and senseless sin, God led
His people with commandments all have read.
_________________
 

A TV favorite around Easter/Passover, Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments is undoubtedly dated but still retains the sense of grandeur that made it such an epic experience in 1956. While not his best role, Charlton Heston is a formidable Moses, exuding heroic dignity in every scene, even when he’s supposedly at the end of his rope. The eloquent voiceover narration and the jaw-dropping production values add to the overall grandiosity of the film.

Its biggest “flaw,” so to speak, is the overacting, with characters frequently looking off into the distance while spouting poetic dialogue about love, faith, or beauty. While this is at times unintentionally hammy, the melodramatic parlance has an archaic quality that is still somehow credible in the film’s antiquated setting. The story itself is well-formed, instituting simple yet complex character relationships among all the pomp and pageantry. The interplay among Moses, Rameses, and Nefretiri has a Shakespearean element that grounds the film in real, if exaggerated, emotion.

Anne Baxter as Nefretiri is the worst offender as far as magnified theatrics go, though her smug confidence about the power of her beauty adds to the interpersonal tension of the second act, even if Moses dismisses it. Likewise, Yul Brynner is stiffly arrogant at first, sharing with Baxter one of cinema’s truly awkward kisses, yet he grows into the role of Rameses until his lofty refusal to “let the people go” establishes him as a great Pharaoh in “de Nile.” (Get it?) The rest of the cast is large and adequate, with Edward G. Robinson as the standout naysayer Dathan, who’s the kind of guy everyone wants to punch now and then.

While The Ten Commandments is not completely accurate in the Biblical sense, it takes the source material seriously, applying it to an overall message of freedom and faith. It even transforms some Hollywood additions into clever speculations, such as a scorned lover causing the “hardening” of Pharaoh’s heart and his reversal after releasing the Hebrews. Above all, the film achieves scenes of visual vastness, from the labors of the slaves to their emancipation and immense leave-taking. The cast of thousands is stunning, and scenes like the parting of the Red Sea still hold an impressive power that can bring some, like my VC, to tears of awe. They don’t make ‘em like this anymore, not this long nor this extravagant, but The Ten Commandments stands as DeMille’s most successful accomplishment.

P.S. I don’t hold out much hope for Ridley Scott’s upcoming redux version Exodus: Gods and Kings, but we’ll see.

Best Biblical line: (Joshua) “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

Best original line: (Moses) “There can be no freedom without the Law.”

 
Rank: 53 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

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#100: My Fair Lady (1964)

14 Tuesday Oct 2014

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(Best sung to “On the Street Where You Live”)
 
Covent Garden’s full of the unwashed crowd,
Peasants selling wares with accents none should speak aloud.
One rude gentleman knows each origin
And shows off his obscure expertise.
 
One poor flower girl whom he ridicules
Thinks he’ll help her speak all proper-like with English rules.
He is boorish, yet when he’s posed a bet,
He can’t wait for her Cockney to cease.
 
Though Eliza starts to become upset,
She is quickly washed and focused on her alphabet.
Speaking night and day, she is told to say
Sentences of the plain rain in Spain.
 
Henry Higgins and everyone nearby
Grow more weary every time she mutilates an “I.”
She sends Higgins spite till she gets it right,
And she tries in the gentry’s domain.
 
Though tact comes and goes, Higgins thinks that she
Now is ready for a ball with aristocracy.
There his girl excels, casting countless spells
On the nobles who speak so genteel.
 
When it all is done, Higgins’ ego soars,
With no credit for Eliza, whom he just ignores.
She deserts him there in unsure despair,
And the snob doesn’t know how to feel.
 
When he finds her next, she proclaims that she
Doesn’t need him and his arrogant contumely.
When the haughty sir then starts missing her,
She returns by unspoken appeal.
_______________
 

My Fair Lady is one of only ten musicals to win the Best Picture Academy Award, beating out Mary Poppins that same year. Based on George Bernard Shaw’s play Pygmalion, this musical version retains much of his clever dialogue and social commentary and adds a number of classic songs. Alan Jay Lerner’s lyrics are a poet’s delight, making excellent use of internal and feminine rhyme. My favorites would have to be Rex Harrison’s sung/spoken diatribes “Why Can’t the English Learn to Speak?,” “An Ordinary Man,” and “Why Can’t a Woman Be More Like a Man?,” as well as Freddy’s lovestruck serenade “On the Street Where You Live.” Eliza’s dreamy arias “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly” and “I Could Have Danced All Night” are among the film’s most recognizable tunes, but my VC and I find them rather bland compared with her empowered melodies, like “Show Me” and “Without You.” Most of the songs fill a purpose or convey an idea, but those sung by Eliza’s alcoholic father seem like filler, particularly “Get Him to the Church on Time,” even if they’re the most fun ditties.

The film also swept other Oscar categories, such as Director (for George Cukor), Cinematography, Score, and its most well-deserved Best Actor. Rex Harrison is so perfect for Henry Higgins, it’s impossible to imagine anyone else in the role. Audrey Hepburn gives an outstanding performance as well, handling both her Cockney and refined accents skillfully with the proper amount of slight overlap in some later emotional scenes. Why she was not even nominated for Best Actress is one of 1964’s great mysteries, though it still might have gone to Poppins’ Julie Andrews, who originated the role of Eliza on Broadway. True, Eliza’s overreactions early on are appropriately irritating, and her singing voice was dubbed in most instances by renowned dubber Marni Nixon, but Hepburn deserved recognition for what became one of her most enduring roles. The film’s weak point is its final scene, and as much as I dislike the Communist Shaw, I agree with him that the story (which was revised against his wishes) should not end with Eliza returning to her unappreciative “creator.” It ends on an ambiguous note with no indication that Higgins will actually change his behavior toward her, regardless of his obvious self-stifled affection.

My mom ofttimes relates how, in the early ‘80s, she attended an actual Broadway show of My Fair Lady with none other than Rex Harrison himself, perhaps twenty feet away from her seat (it gets closer every time she tells it). There was a different Eliza, but a few other familiar players from the film cast were present. She has called it an awe-inspiring high point in her entertainment life. Perhaps her love for the material transferred to me, for My Fair Lady is among my favorite musicals and a worthy beginning to my top 100 countdown.

Best line: (Higgins, explaining the bet to Eliza) “Eliza, you are to stay here for the next six months learning to speak beautifully, like a lady in a florist’s shop. If you work hard and do as you’re told, you shall sleep in a proper bedroom, have lots to eat, and money to buy chocolates and go for rides in taxis. But if you are naughty and idle, you shall sleep in the back kitchen amongst the black beetles and be wolloped by Mrs. Pearce with a broomstick. At the end of six months, you will be taken to Buckingham Palace, in a carriage, beautifully dressed. If the king finds out you are not a lady, you will be taken to the Tower of London, where your head will be cut off as a warning to other presumptuous flower girls! But if you are not found out, you shall have a present… of, ah… seven and six to start life with as a lady in a shop. If you refuse this offer, you will be the most ungrateful, wicked girl, and the angels will weep for you!”

 
Rank: 53 out of 60
 

© 2014 S. G. Liput

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#110: To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

01 Wednesday Oct 2014

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When Scout was only six years old,
The Great Depression on the rise,
Her brother Jem and she were told
The mad Boo Radley lived next door.
Their father Atticus so wise
Forbade it, but they’d still explore.
 
A lawyer, Atticus was sent
To represent a colored man
Accused of rape but innocent.
Bob Ewell, father of the victim,
Hated them and soon began
To stalk the man who’d contradict him.
 
Scout and Jem and their friend Dill
Stuck up for Atticus one night.
Despite the backlash, Finch would still
Defend despised Tom Robinson.
In court, he put up quite the fight
But could not convince everyone.
 
Although he could not save poor Tom,
Finch nonetheless gained much respect,
But Ewell still could not stay calm
And tried assaulting Scout and Jem.
Then someone turned up to protect,
Dispatching Ewell and saving them.
 
Their rescuer turned out to be
The “maniac” they knew as Boo,
And for his gracious gallantry,
Both Sheriff Tate and Finch concurred
That they would hide Radley from view,
To spare him, like a mockingbird.
_________________
 

Among all the sci-fi blockbusters and upbeat comedies on my list, To Kill a Mockingbird is a thoughtful step back into the past, to a time when schoolyard arguments and slamming screen doors were a child’s main worries.  As readers can probably gather from my list choices thus far, I’m not much for old black-and-white movies, usually because they are overacted, boring, or both.  Yet certain films exude classic-ness and create stories and characters that truly deserve all the accolades they received.  Based on Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill a Mockingbird is such a film.

Gregory Peck won his lone Oscar for his captivating turn as Atticus Finch, whose gentle guidance for his children and dauntless stand for justice earned him the number one slot on AFI’s best Heroes list.  It’s a quietly persuasive performance, and his stirring soliloquy at the end of the trial is an effective discourse urging the jury to buck expectations as he did, not for the sake of rebellion or sanctimony but for what is clearly right.  My VC considers Peck the film’s greatest strength, whereas his children are its weakness.  Mary Badham and Philip Alford (“the boy” in Shenandoah) as Scout and Jem are cute and believable as a pair of inquisitive youngsters, but as admirable a father as Atticus is, he hasn’t imparted to them the importance of obedience.  He tells them not to bother the Radleys, not to stay with him at the prison, not to fight at school, not to attend the trial, all rules they flout. Call it realistic juvenility, but their constant sneaking around in the first half wears on one’s patience. That being said, the children’s scenes include both warmhearted nostalgia and surprising tension that mostly make up for their mild misbehavior. Other actors are in fine form, including James K. Anderson as the menacing Bob Ewell, an Oscar-worthy Brock Peters as the defamed Tom Robinson, and a silent Robert Duvall in his first film role as Arthur “Boo” Radley.

One point on which I want to expand is the similarity and superiority of To Kill a Mockingbird’s denouement with that of Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight.  (Spoiler alert)  In the second film of Nolan’s Batman trilogy, DA Harvey Dent went mad as Two-Face, murdered multiple victims, and was finally brought down.  Yet Batman and Police Commissioner Gordon believed that his prior image of resolute justice was more important than the truth, and they lied, turning Dent into a martyr and Batman into a criminal.  This strange decision of what they thought was right irked me, but the similar decision about Boo Radley made clear to me the reason why.  Whereas Dent slaughtered people who supposedly deserved it (according to the flip of a coin) in cold blood, Boo killed one man who had proved himself a liar and a likely child beater and who was in the act of attacking two innocents. The decision to cover-up Boo’s crime was likewise made by the hero and the head of police, who did so not because the town couldn’t handle it but to protect a sincere guard from the wrath of good-ol’-boys who surely would not understand.  The choice made by Batman and Gordon seemed arbitrary, covering up unjustifiable actions of a dead man for the sake of a sterling reputation that had been undermined.  They didn’t know what would happen if the truth had simply been broadcast; it certainly would have been better coming from them than from a demagogue like Bane in The Dark Knight Rises.  On the other hand, Atticus’ decision is more defensible because he knew from immediate experience how townspeople would react to the murder of one of their own, and he agreed to the deception to save the life and peace of a man who had rescued his children. I cannot see myself agreeing to Batman’s dishonesty; Atticus Finch’s I can.

To Kill a Mockingbird is undeniably classic, and I personally consider it a better film and more deserving of the Best Picture Academy Award than that year’s Lawrence of Arabia, despite the latter’s epic portrayal of a real-life character, which is typical Oscar fodder.  My VC summed up the film’s message as the clichéd “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” or a recluse by rumors, or an accused Negro by societal convention.  Though its titular comparison doesn’t precisely fit Boo’s situation, Mockingbird’s sentimental depiction of down-to-earth fatherhood and judicial defense of what’s right continue to make it a must-see drama.

Best line: (Reverend Sykes to Scout, after witnessing Finch’s fruitless but laudable efforts in court) “Miss Jean Louise.  Miss Jean Louise, stand up.  Your father’s passin’.”

 
Artistry: 10
Characters/Actors: 10
Entertainment: 7
Visual Effects: N/A
Originality: 9
Watchability: 6
Other (admirable depiction of fatherhood and what’s right): +9
 
TOTAL: 51 out of 60
 

Next: #109 – The Iron Man Trilogy

© 2014 S. G. Liput

213 Followers and Counting

 

The Music Man (1962)

08 Monday Sep 2014

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(Best sung to “Seventy-six Trombones”)
 
Traveling salesmen’s livings are hard enough
Without the bad name con men imply,
Such as a boy’s band shill named Professor Harold Hill,
Who gives River City, Iowa, a try.
 
Most of the townsfolk fall for his big charade,
But a couple of holdouts hold on to doubt,
Such as the rumored shrew named Miss Marian Paroo,
The librarian that Harold must check out.
 
Hill begins to woo Miss Marion and all the town,
Finagling, inveigling, every chance he gets.
Instruments and uniforms turn every frown
Upside down, banishing all regrets.
 
Though she tries to fight his magnetism all the way,
Still he tries family ties to convince the lass.
Generating hopeful trends and turning enemies to friends,
He signs up young boys to join his class.
 
When he at last has romanced Miss Marion,
Harold sees he’s been romanced as well.
As he has second thoughts, a rival foe connects the dots
And reveals that Hill has naught to sell.
 
Conquered by love, Hill’s caught by an angry mob,
And he must face the music he’s made.
As the kids poorly play, parental pleasure saves the day,
And they all proceed in a parade!
_________________
 

The Music Man is one of the great musicals of the stage and screen, and it happens to be one of my dad’s favorite movies. Seriously, he gets oddly gleeful at random little details, such as the smitten sighs of Marion and her mother. While that’s a little overboard, The Music Man is indeed a fine example of a faithful musical film adaptation.

Very few actors completely own their roles (Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady, Yul Brynner in The King and I), but Robert Preston originated the role of Professor Harold Hill and brings such incomparable charisma that no one can touch him. (Sorry, Matthew Broderick, your remake just can’t compare.) Likewise, Shirley Jones is impeccable as the gradually converted Marian the librarian, as are all the actors, including Paul Ford as the tongue-tied Mayor Shinn, Hermione Gingold as his priggish wife, Buddy Hackett as Hill’s accomplice Marcellus, Pert Kelton as Marion’s extremely Irish mother, the play’s Buffalo Bills as a barbershop quartet Hill forms, and little Andy–Griffith-aged Ronny Howard as Marion’s young lisping brother. Many characters possess a distinct song or background theme that punctuates their scenes; no wonder the film won the Oscar for best adapted score. (Side note: Shirley Jones was pregnant for much of the film shoot, which is skillfully hidden throughout the film. When she and Preston shared their kiss at the foot bridge, he actually felt the unborn Patrick Cassidy kick. Ironically, that same Patrick Cassidy will soon play Professor Harold Hill in a seven-state tour alongside his mother, now playing Marion’s mother.)

A few songs are less-than-memorable, such as “The Sadder but Wiser Girl” and “Being in Love,” but for the most part the film is practically one inspired hit after another. The songs by former John Philip Sousa bandmember Meredith Willson rely less on rhyme and more on rhythm, best demonstrated in the opening salesman song “Rock Island,” which perfectly matches the cadence of a locomotive. The soundtrack is replete with subsequent classics, from “Iowa Stubborn” to “Gary, Indiana” to “The Wells Fargo Wagon” to Buddy Hackett’s nonsensically titled showstopper “Shipoopi.” The best have got to be Preston’s slickly articulate “Ya Got Trouble,” his captivating dance number “Marian the Librarian,” and of course the Sousa-esque “Seventy-six Trombones.” The astounding, Tony-winning choreography by Onna White (Oliver!, Mame, 1776) is matched by some dynamic camerawork that follows the dancers in wide circles (along with some novel overhead shots) and captures the extended cavorting that must have taken much work to accomplish so seamlessly.

While slow in a few parts, The Music Man is a joy to watch, a testament to how mesmerizing swindlers can be and how satisfying it is when someone places enough belief and love in them to make them want to mend their ways. It may not be as high on my list as my dad would like, but I certainly see why it makes him so giddy—for the most part.

Best line: (Harold Hill, after Marion tries putting off his advances) “Oh, my dear little librarian, you pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you’ve collected nothing but a lot of empty yesterdays. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to make today worth remembering.”

 
Artistry: 9
Characters/Actors: 9
Entertainment: 9
Visual Effects: 6
Originality: 8
Watchability: 9
 
TOTAL: 50 out of 60
 

Next: #125 – Men in Black trilogy

© 2014 S. G. Liput

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Shenandoah (1965)

21 Wednesday May 2014

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The Civil War is raging; there’s gunfire in the air,
But farmer Charlie Anderson insists he doesn’t care.
His six sons and one daughter and one daughter-in-law too
May disagree to some extent but never follow through.
 
They love the stubborn patriarch, who goes to service late,
And he loves all his family, but troubles soon await.
He’s urged to join the fighting for Virginia’s stately pride,
But since this war is not his own, he stays off either side.
 
When Sam, a soldier, courts his only daughter nervously,
He talks with him and lets them wed, which fills the pair with glee.
As soon as they are married, Sam is called away to fight,
Which leaves his wife despondent, still arrayed in bridal white.
 
When Charlie’s youngest son is on a coon hunt with a friend,
They come upon Confederates, who meet a bloody end,
And since the Boy is wearing a gray cap that he had found,
The Union takes him prisoner but leaves his pal unbound.
 
The black friend runs to tell his pa, and Charlie is upset.
He takes five of his children on a trip they won’t forget.
They leave behind son James, his wife, and Martha, their new baby,
To watch the farm till they return with Charlie’s youngest—maybe.
 
The closest Union leader doubts that Charlie will succeed.
There are far too many prisoners to find one Boy in need.
The Andersons decide to stop a loaded prison train.
They locate Sam, but not the Boy, and further search in vain.
 
Meanwhile, Charlie’s Boy joins with Confederates who flee.
They hide a bit but soon are caught in battle suddenly.
A friend assists the wounded Boy and helps him to escape.
Back on the farm, though, James is killed and his wife suffers rape.
 
Still hunting for the youngest boy, the searchers hear a gun.
A sleepy soldier takes a shot and kills the eldest son.
Though Charlie is heartbroken and does not claim to forgive,
He sees the soldier is a boy and lets the young man live.
 
Returning home, they learn the news, but Martha’s fine and fed.
Affected by the war at last, poor Charlie mourns his dead.
He nonetheless still goes to church, where one loss is restored.
He reunites with his dear Boy, and all sing to the Lord.
 
___________________
 

Having lived in the Shenandoah Valley, I typically enjoy films set in this gorgeous region of the Appalachians, and Shenandoah doesn’t disappoint. Jimmy Stewart gives a memorable performance as Charlie Anderson, a much more angry and bitter role for him than usual. Instead of the idealism of Jefferson Smith or George Bailey, Anderson evokes vicious protectiveness, dogged determination, and stubborn values. (That last one is common to his other roles, though.) He’s definitely the star, and his masterful acting, combined with the excellent script, raises the film above most war films of the 1960s.

While most of the sons aren’t really given a personality, the three with larger roles certainly earn audience sympathy as terrible things happen to them, particularly the Boy, played by Phillip Alford (Jem from To Kill a Mockingbird). The film is also notable for introducing Rosemary Forsyth and Katharine Ross (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid), who both play strong female characters. Additionally, it features Dabbs Greer (Reverend Alden) and Kevin Hagen (Doc Baker) from Little House on the Prairie, the latter of whom has a much darker role than his more familiar TV persona.

The battle scenes are well-executed and largely bloodless, though one character receives a surprising (but not gory) shot to the head. Laudably, the film unfairly demonizes neither the Confederates nor the Union, showing good and bad on both sides. Instead, it serves as a critique on war and how it affects everyone negatively, even those who want no part of it, anticipating future backlash against the Vietnam War.

Jimmy Stewart makes the film, and the intense emotions sparked by his losses, coupled with his kindly and insightful wisdom about the ways of women, make his character well-rounded and admirable. The film might have been a complete downer, but the final scene ends it on a touching high note (literally).

Best line: (Charlie, to his dead wife Martha) “I don’t even know what to say to you any more, Martha. There’s not much I can tell you about this war. It’s like all wars, I guess. The undertakers are winning. And the politicians who talk about the glory of it. And the old men who talk about the need of it. And the soldiers, well, they just wanna go home.”

 
Artistry: 6
Characters/Actors: 8
Entertainment: 7
Visual Effects: 5
Originality: 6
Watchability: 6
 
TOTAL: 38 out of 60
 

Next: #232 – Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

© 2014 S. G. Liput

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