NFR Project: 'The Band Wagon' (1953)

 

NFR Project: “The Band Wagon”

Dir: Vincente Minnelli

Scr: Betty Comden, Adolf Green

Pho: Harry Jackson

Ed: Albert Akst

Premiere: July 9, 1953

111 min.

Which movie musical is the better? Singin’ in the Rain or this?

It depends on whether you are a Gene Kelly fan or a Fred Astaire man. I’m an Astaire guy. Kelly was athletic, surprising, gung-ho . . . but dancer/singer/actor Astaire was magic. He would gently weave his spells of reassuring motion, always alive on camera, precise, smooth, demanding perfection from himself in the dance and delivering like a pro every time. He could convey feelings as few could merely by moving.

Known first for his on-screen collaborations with Ginger Rogers (1933-1949), he moved on to other partners, such as Judy Garland, Jane Powell, and here Cyd Charisse, the most talented female dancer of her day. (And she could act!) In all of his later film incarnations, Astaire remained committed to the bit. He made his partners look good, and successfully played the love interest far into middle age. He later made a dance partner out of a coat rack.

Listen to some of his studio recordings. His voice is thin and of limited range. Yet he understands rhythms so well that he talk/sings his way, very evocatively, through the material. He had a jazzy sensibility. He grew up in shows by Gershwin and Irving Berlin. He had a cool which, coupled with his relaxed thereness in a scene, caused him to compel your attention.

Here he is yoked to the genius of director Vincente Minnelli. Minnelli’s musicals (Meet Me in St. Louis, ‘Til the Clouds Roll By, The Pirate) were top-notch; He here gets to embody the vibrant, Technicolor-soaked Minnelli-esque take on theatrical life through the contrivance of the backstage musical story. Betty Comden and Adolf Green, the iconic writing duo that gave us On the Town (1944) and Singin’ in the Rain (1952) here concoct the classic plot of “let’s put on a show” and turns it into a wicked satire of aesthetic pretentiousness.

Astaire plays his familiar persona, a song-and-dance man named Tony Hunter. At the show’s beginning, his Broadway memorabilia is being auctioned off – and there are no takers. Tony is seemingly a has-been which is unfortunate as he is a nice guy, wise to himself and high-spirited despite his problems. His pals Lily (Nanette Fabray) and Lester (Oscar Levant) Marton have written a killer new musical for him to star in, enabling him to make a comeback.

Unfortunately they are hot on a new theatrical wunderkind, the great impresario and writer/producer/director Jeffrey Cordova (Jack Buchanan), who is currently wowing them in Oedipus Rex. They tell him about their idea. Immediately he fixates on the idea that the show should take the shape of a Faustian fable, dark and anxious in nature. Jeffrey is an immense ham, of course, and is very sure of himself. (He is supposedly based on Jose Ferrer.)

Tony’s leading lady is famous ballerina Gabrielle Gerard (Charisse). At first, the two misunderstand each other and are hostile, but as they spend time together through the chaotic, ever-changing rehearsals, they fall in love. In one magical sequence, they duet in Central Park, under a lamplight, moving together perfectly to “Dancing in the Dark." It’s as direct, classic expression of male/female interaction in the art form. (The great Michael Kidd did the choreography.)

The show bombs out of town. Everyone has a beer, and Tony leads them in deciding to put on the show – but to go back to the original freewheeling script.

Another key to the success of this movie is that all the songs were written by the great team of Arthur Schwartz and Howard Dietz. We move on to a classic montage of musical bits, unrelated yet all standouts – “New Sun in the Sky,” “I Guess I’ll Have to Change My Plan,” “Louisiana Hayride,”  “Triplets,” and the crowning, fabulously inventive “Girl Hunt Ballet.”

The show is, in a way, a rebuke to the book musical epitomized by Oklahoma! and South Pacific. The eponymous show-within-the-show finally works when it goes back to the approach of making a musical out of a bunch of unrelated bits and numbers, as was the fashion prior to the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution. Tony is a humble hoofer who succeeds by deflating the pretentious and bringing them down to his level – and to the good, old-fashioned way of doing things.

Tony is magic. His exuberant ode “Shine on Your Shoes” early in the film encapsulates everything we like about Astaire – he’s quirky, he has great reactions, he’s just in love with moving. Charisse, alone and with Astaire, shows off her incredible strength, smoothness, and precision, just as demanding as Astaire, going full out in an exemplary performance. She is both Astaire's and Kelly's ideal dance partner.

Buchanan is fine as the ham Cordova; Fabray and Levant are talented second bananas. Every little detail is perfect. Minnelli crowds the film with motion and color, speeding the satire along merrily as he stops everything periodically to give the cast a chance ato entertain us. It’s unfailingly cheerful and still so, so very good.

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

NFR Project: 'All My Babies: A Midwife's Own Story' (1953)

NFR Project: “All My Babies: A Midwife’s Own Story”

Dir: George C. Stoney

Scr: George C. Stoney

Premiere: 1953

An extraordinary film. Read Joshua Glick’s excellent article on it here. He gives us a keen biography of writer/director George C. Stoney as well as a thorough analysis of the film.

Educational films were a category unto themselves. Shorn of the production values of commercial films, they were practical in nature, seeking to delineate procedures legibly and to transmit information effectively. This Stoney does; but he also shows us a time and place unimaginable now, a place of primitive conditions and wound up in the profound distrust of white officials.

What’s so special about this film is the empowerment it gives to its subjects. George Stoney worked with his central figure, veteran midwife Mary Francis Hill Coley, on the creation of the movie. She collaborated on the sequences to be filmed, if not the method with which they are recorded. In a time when Black people were treated on film at best condescendingly, this deep respect for the people it profiles makes All My Babies a landmark of compassionate cinema.

The story follows Coley as she goes about doing the duties of midwifery. (At the time of filming, Coley had performed more than 1,400 deliveries.) The emphasis on coming under a doctor’s care when pregnant is strong but friendly. White people are not to be feared – at least the ones who want to be helpful. Coley is profiled as she goes about her business; she even narrates the film. The film covers two pregnancies, a textbook case in one instance and a difficult and emotionally fraught delivery as well.

The film is not shy about showing us the process of birth. Let the squeamish be warned. In spite of its graphic nature, there is something wholesome about it. This basic human mechanism, long bound up in myth and conjecture, is revealed as a natural process that requires the assistance of an experienced obstetric figure.

In this case, the traditional midwife is addressed directly by the film. Sanitation is emphasized. Preparation and procedure are outlined, and we get a bit of a profile of the prospective couples as well. (Some of these parts are performances.) There is the accompaniment of a gospel choir as well, singing passages written by Louis Applebaum. The result is an effective examination of the process and conditions of medical treatment in the rural South at the dawn of the Civil Rights era.

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

NFR Project: 'Pickup on South Street' (1953)

 

NFR Project: “Pickup on South Street”

Dir: Samuel Fuller

Scr: Samuel Fuller

Pho: Joseph MacDonald

Ed: Nick DeMaggio

Premiere: May 27, 1953

80 min.

Sam Fuller was a guerilla filmmaker. He was always on the outside, on the margins, creating what were at the time deemed “B” movies. He worked in genre films – war, noir, Westerns.

But there was something about his work. Compared to the efforts of most Hollywood directors, his were lean and mean, with a sensibility born on the streets. He chronicled the existence of outsiders, villains, freaks, and losers. It wasn’t until 30 years after his most fertile period that he began to be recognized as a director with a distinct vision, and lauded as a brave filmmaker.

Fuller began work at age 12, serving as a newspaper copyboy. He graduated to the role of crime reporter at 17. He then began to crank out pulp novels, and finally screenplays. In World War II, he served as an infantryman and saw combat in most of the non-Pacific battlegrounds – Africa, Sicily, France, and Czechoslovakia. He witnessed the liberation of a concentration camp.

He came home and resumed writing. Finally, in 1949 he got to direct one of his scripts, I Shot Jesse James, in exchange for getting no money for it. Thus began his rise in Hollywood.

Pickup on South Street is representative Fuller. In it, a professional crook gets involved in stymieing a Communist conspiracy to steal state secrets. It is not unusual that Fuller’s protagonists are streetwise, shady individuals. It is unusual that Fuller lets them triumph over the far better organized and legitimate forces arrayed against them.

Skip McCoy (Richard Widmark, in his accustomed antihero mode) is a pickpocket working the subways of New York. He pilfers from the purse of Candy (Jean Peters), the moll of Communist agent Joey (Richard Kiley). It turns out he has stolen some valuable microfilm containing formulae the Russians want.

Federal agents and the local police are tracking him, however. A police informer, Moe (the great Thelma Ritter), fingers Skip. (This is one of Ritter's six Oscar-nominated Supporting Actress performances -- she never did win!) They demand the film; Skip denies having it. Now Candy comes to him to try to get the film back. They begin to fall for each other, but Skip ultimately spurns her, demanding $25,000 for the film.

The Commies are after him too. Joey tracks down Moe, and tries to get Skip’s address out of her. She refuses, and is shot dead. Skip recovers her body from the boat taking it to a potters’ field, and gives her what she always wanted – a decent burial. Candy comes to Skip again, clonks him over the head, and takes the film to the cops. They in turn ask her to give the film to Joey, so they can trail him and capture the man to whom he is supposed to give the film. Candy hands over the film, but Joey finds it is incomplete (Skip held back one frame). Joey beats Candy and shoots her. Skip visits her in the hospital, and determines to get Joey and his fellow conspirators.

Skip tracks Joey into the subway where the handoff is supposed to take place. He busts up the transfer, knocks out the Communist kingpin, and pursues Joey onto the tracks, beating him unmercifully. The spy ring is broken up, and Skip and Candy go off together.

Being a self-taught filmmaker, Fuller ignores most of the “rules” of Hollywood filmmaking. He captures his players in sweaty close-ups. His camera moves along with the characters, drawing the audience in with kinetic action sequences.

Politically, Fuller voices a cynical philosophy through the persona of Skip. He doesn’t care about political ideology or patriotism – but he does care about the fellow inhabitants of his shadowy world, and is spurred to action when they are harmed. It’s the human connection Fuller cares about. Personal loyalty trumps ideology. Sure, the bad guys are defeated, but there is no sense of triumph over it, only relief that Skip and Candy can now get on with their lives together. At film’s end, we don’t even know if Skip will give up his criminal ways. In Fuller’s world, only the toughest survive.

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