NFR Project: 'Cabin in the Sky' (1943)

 

NFR Project: “Cabin in the Sky”

Dir: Vincente Minnelli

Scr: Marc Connelly, Lynn Root, Joseph Schrank

Pho: Sidney Wagner

Ed: Harold F. Kress

Premiere: April 9, 1943

98 min.

It is hard to believe that the NAACP signed off on this one. But they did. In fact, they congratulated the filmmakers on their project, stating it “avoided cliches and racial stereotypes.” Yet there is something condescending about this effort. It offers a simplified and hokey vision of the African-American experience.

True, it avoids the worst insults to Blacks that American cinema has imposed – no one acts like an idiot, everyone speaks normal English instead of slavish patois. But the film still treats them as simple-minded folk perpetually poised between the flames of Hell and the Kingdom of Heaven. It is this kind of neglect of reality that makes movies by and for Black people of the era, rare as they were, often fairy tales of damnation and salvation. It fits a very Caucasian-centric vision of Black life that can’t help but come off as tone deaf. It is well-intentioned but fundamentally inept. It wants to be Porgy and Bess (1935), but it isn’t.

The film is an adaptation of a 1940 Broadway production, with music by Vernon Duke, book by Lynn Root, and lyrics by John Tatouche. Ethel Waters killed as the heroine, Petunia; she debuted the hit song “Taking a Chance on Love” there. The powers that be decided to make a film of it, and they brought Waters in to reprise her stage role. (They threw in a few new songs by Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg as well, including the great "Happiness is a Thing Called Joe".)

She is surrounded by some great performers – Eddie “Rochester” Anderson, Rex Ingram, Oscar Polk, Bill Bailey, Butterfly McQueen. Hell, there is Louis Armstrong, gleefully playing a little devil! And in the Paradise club, there reigns Duke Ellington and his orchestra. There are also some Black actors who purveyed Black stereotypes on film – Mantan Moreland, Willie Best. (Bill Bailey performs the first “moonwalk” on film as well.)

It’s the story of Little Joe (Anderson) and his wife Petunia (Waters). Little Joe is trying to reform, but he is lured into shooting dice and is seriously wounded by gambler Domino (“Bubbles” John W. Sublett). Lucifer Jr. (Ingram) fights the angelic General (Kenneth Spencer) for Joe’s soul. Joe gets six months to change his ways.

The Devil makes Joe win the lottery, after which he lives high on the hog and starts running around with the devilish Georgia Brown (a very young Lena Horne). Petunia shows up to a fancy nightclub to confront him, then she and Joe are shot down by Domino as a storm she prayed for destroys the club. Joe, redeemed by a repentant, dead Georgia Brown, is allowed into Heaven with Petunia.

After which, Little Joe wakes up – it was all a dream! He vows to mend his ways. Petunia is happy at last.

This was the first directorial effort of Vincente Minelli (Busby Berkeley stepped and directed the musical number “Shine”) – and some of Minelli’s trademarks are already here: the swooping dolly shots, the loving close-ups, the willingness to play with trick photography. It is admirably made, notwithstanding its fundamentally racist message. It proves that Hollywood could sell any kind of ideology that was fed it.

Waters is great as Petunia; Anderson is funny – and proves he can sing! Everyone does a stellar job with the material they were given. Nonetheless, this film was banned in many Southern states, which rejected the idea of a movie with Black performers in the lead roles. Today, Cabin in the Sky represents a tiny step forward and a big step sideways in the saga of Black culture in America.

The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: The Gang’s All Here.

NFR Project: 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' (1942)

 

NFR Project: “Yankee Doodle Dandy”

Dir: Michael Curtiz

Scr: Robert Buckner, Edmund Joseph

Pho: James Wong Howe

Ed: George Amy

Premiere: May 29, 1942

126 min.

Fun fact: does this film exist because someone called Jimmy Cagney a Communist?

Evidently, yes. According to Patrick McGillican in his Cagney: The Actor as Auteur, in 1940 Cagney and 15 others were named as Communists by the supposed American Communist chief John R. Leech. Cagney was cleared, but a publicity corrective was needed. His brother, producer William, reportedly said, “We're going to have to make the goddamndest patriotic picture that's ever been made. I think it's the Cohan story”. (Cagney was hostile to George M. Cohan – the grandly successful Broadway actor, playwright, composer, lyricist, producer [1878-1942] -- who had famously sided with management during the pivotal Actors’ Equity strike of 1919.)

The resulting film is perhaps Hollywood’s most patriotic film, but it is largely fantasy. Even at the time of its release, critics called it out for its numerous factual inaccuracies. Cohan himself was dying at the time of its making, and it is said that this was a film of his life as he had wanted it to be. It is the rosy, high-stepping story of an indomitable entertainer who loved his country. (Having Michael Curtiz direct and James Wong Howe as cinematographer increases by considerable odds the success of your film project.)

Cohan did start off as a boy performer with his family; here his egotism loses the family jobs until he learns his lesson and gets a spanking. (Warning: there is a brief scene of the Four Cohans in blackface. Racism was still casual in Movieland.) Nonetheless, he grows up into Cagney and, in that incarnation, he is compulsively watchable. Cagney’s natural go-get-it spirit and easy familiarity with the camera make him a magnetizing Cohan.

Cohan is blackballed for his arrogant behavior. He struggles, plugging his songs. He falls in love with and marries Mary (an amalgam of Cohan’s two wives). He makes a pitch for his musical, 1904’s Little Johnny Jones, containing the smash hit “Yankee Doodle Dandy”. Finally a success, his shows proliferate on Broadway.

A producer in the film summarizes his appeal to audiences of the day: “He's the most original thing on Broadway. You know why? Because he's the whole darn country, squeezed into one pair of pants. His writing, his songs, why even his walk and his talk. They all touch something way down here in people. Don't ask me why it is, but it happens every time the curtain goes up. It's pure magic. . ."

“I know his formula," responds a haughty singer. “A fresh young sprout gets rich between 8:30 and 11:00 p.m.”

“Yes,” says the producer. “George M. Cohan has invented the success story, and every American loves it because it happens to be his own private dream. He's found the mainspring in the antique clock. Ambition, pride, patriotism. That's why they call him the Yankee Doodle Boy.”

“Critics said musicals and cheap comedies were all I could write," says Cagney in voiceover. “I'd wave a flag, they said. Nothing else.” He writes “Mary” and “You’re a Grand Old Flag” and “Over There.”

And oh what musical numbers are conceived and carried off here! The camera captures the thrill in these performances, led by Cagney’s impeccable half-singing, half-chanting vocals and expert dancing in the stiff-legged style of Cohan himself. (Cagney won Best Actor for this uncharacteristic role, and proved himself an old song-and-dance man at heart.) Eventually, the camera moves into the action and the stage dissolves and we get epic stretches of tuneful patriotic fervor. The choruses of military men, brass bands, and general flag-waving is very stirring – just what America wanted to see at the beginning of its involvement in a world war the outcome of which was not yet certain. America is portrayed are the epitome of mankind’s hopes – as indeed, at the time it was, aspirationally.

He retires, he returns to the stage in an F.D.R. impression in the musical I’d Rather Be Right (1937).

The framing story of this narrative is that Cohan is summoned to the White House by Roosevelt himself. Cohan thinks he’s in trouble for making fun of the President, and he nervously narrates this smoothly-flowing stream of reminiscence of his life. In the end, F.D.R. awards him a Gold Medal from the American people “because of his ability to instill in the hearts of the growing citizenry a loyal and patriotic spirit for their country and what it stands for in the eyes of the world.” 

Cagney says, "I wouldn't worry about this country, if I were you. We got this thing licked. Where else in the world can a plain guy like me come in and talk things over with the head man?"

Roosevelt replies, "That's about as good a definition of America that I ever heard."

Cagney gratefully accepts the medal and descends the majestic staircase of the White House. As he walks down, he gently segues into a cheerful little tap routine. Supposedly, Cagney threw this bit in off the cuff; it is a perfect evocation of the character. Cagney deserved his Oscar.

The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: Cabin in the Sky.

NFR Project: 'Woman of the Year' (1942)

 

NFR Project: “Woman of the Year”

Dir: George Stevens

Scr: Ring Lardner, Jr., Michael Kanin

Pho: Joseph Ruttenberg

Ed: Frank Sullivan

Premiere: Feb. 19, 1942

114 min.

Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn were both respected actors when they collaborated for the first time on this film. The chemistry they generated was amazing, and it enlivened the next eight films they made together. Their real-life romance comes to life on screen in Woman of the Year.

The idea for the movie came from writer Garson Kanin, who passed off writing responsibilities to his brother Michael when he joined the armed services during World War II. The premise is based on the reputation of the formidable journalist of the day Dorothy Thompson, who seemed to go everywhere, cover everything, and make informed pronouncements about it to the nation. What would it be like to have a relationship with her?

Tracy was solid, imperturbable, wry, confident. Hepburn was quick, lively, witty, intelligent. On and off the screen, they fell in love. This was complicated largely by Tracy’s marriage, which he refused to leave. They were as together as they could be until Tracy’s death in 1967.

Here, Sam Craig (Tracy) is a sports columnist for the fictional newspaper the New York Chronicle. He gets into a spat with the paper’s political affairs correspondent Tess Harding (Hepburn). They clash, then discover a mutual fascination for each other. Hurriedly, they wed – and Sam discovers that he is just a footnote in Tess’s busy career. He puts up with it for as long as he can, but after an escalating number of castrating events, he declares he is ready to give up on the marriage.

Tess, seeing her father wed her aunt in a beautiful and touching ceremony, determines to make things right with Sam. She returns home and tries to make him breakfast, a task she is not up to. Sam observes her, and goes to her, claiming that he does not want to either be ignored or waited on. He wants a marriage of equals, and Tess agrees.

It is quite obvious from the way Tracy and Hepburn regard each other that they are falling in love on screen. Each of them is witty and engaging, and their comic timing together is perfect. This is a naturalistic film, and both actors play the comedy with a great sense of minimalism and detail. George Stevens was a fine director; here, he leans on two-shots and close-ups, letting the leads take up the screen with their memorable, expressive faces. The script is filled with taut gags (“You read Chinese? Fluently!”)

Tracy’s Sam is grumpy but human. When Tracy is told he must wait outside Hepburn’s office, his features flash into outright anger for a moment, and then relax into a more charitable arrangement in a disarming facial expression. Hepburn bats her lashes and leans in to her conversations with Tracy, fascinated and fascinating at the same time.

The film’s ending was changed after previews. Instead of the breakfast scene in the finished ending, the original conclusion had Tess interfering in Sam’s prizefighting coverage. It seems that Hepburn’s character had to be punished for her presumptuousness, and the breakfast scene takes her down a peg.

The film was wildly successful, and prompted the numerous co-starrings the two engaged in through the next two decades. This is subtle comedy for the emotionally mature.

The NFR is one writer’s attempt to review all the films listed in the National Film Registry in chronological order. Next time: Yankee Doodle Dandy.