Jerry Young (Fredric March) is an American flyer during World War I. Stationed in England with his colleagues Mike Richards (Jack Oakie) and Henry Crocker (Cary Grant), the team is eager to get to France and see some action. But when they get their orders,Young finds that the emotional and physical toll is more than he counted on. Our film this week is The Eagle and the Hawk (1933). This is not a film for the faint at heart. It's tough-minded and there is nothing uplifting about it. Every second of it is a condemnation of war and its barbarity. It's also well-paced and to the point - in a brief 73 minutes we learn all we need to know about the life of this flyer squadron in general and about Jerry Young in particular. Fredric March is excellent as a man who is much too good at his job, and who is tormented by the demons of those who he has killed or have died with him. Early in the film, he is devil-may-care - excited to begin fighting the good fight, as he sees it. But, much like the men in The Way to the Stars (1945), that eagerness doesn't last long, and in Jerry's case, gives way to horror and despair. One scene that is especially striking occurs late in the film. Jerry is on R&R, and is attending a dinner party in the home of a wealthy family. After being bombarded by congratulations on his kill record and on his bravery, he attempts to leave. However, more is in store - the wife of the family brings down her small son, a lad of about 8 who wants to know all about the war. "Don't you like to kill the enemy" "What do they look like when they fall? Are they on fire? Do they explode with a great, big bang?" the eager child inquires. The look of revulsion on March's face tells us all we need to know of the agony he is experiencing.
This is a very early effort in Cary Grant's career, and so the character we get is very different than the actor we are used to from his later films. Henry can come across as petulant at times, but Grant is able to demonstrate Crocker's resentment and anger at what he feels is a bias on Jerry's part. Crocker is NOT an attractive character - in one scene, we watch as he shoots at an enemy pilot who has parachuted from a disabled plane. At the same time, it's hard to argue with his rationale - a dead man is not going to kill either Crocker or his colleagues. In the end, we appreciate the grudging respect that Jerry and Henry have for one another; but where Henry feels that morals have no place in war, Jerry cannot disassociate from his ethical code, no matter the cost. Mr. Grant was not originally cast in the part - it was intended for Gary Cooper, who had to bow out due to conflicts (AFI catalog).
Carole Lombard had already appeared in 37 silent and sound films, including The Racketeer and No More Orchids, both starring roles. Her work here is very short - she is only in about two scene, both towards the end of the movie. Regardless, the scenes are crucial in better understanding Jerry Young. Ms. Lombard's character doesn't even have a name - she is billed as The Beautiful Lady - however you will remember her after the film ends. Importantly, these are not the start of a romance, rather, it is a woman who comprehends far too well what this soldier is going through, and who seeks a way to relieve his pain, albeit temporarily. Ms. Lombard had hoped for more to do in the film; alas it was not to be (TCM article). The next year, she would finally get the opportunity to show her comedic chops in Twentieth Century; her real breakthrough was in My Man Godfrey in 1936. Jack Oakie spent much of his career in comedies; while Mike gets the humorous lines, his part is in no way comedic. None of us were particularly fans of Mr. Oakie, but he's very good in this role. It is perhaps the kind of part he should have had more of an opportunity to perform.
Most of the reviews were positive: The New York Times, The Hollywood Reporter, and the Pre-code.com blog all expressed their regard for the film. Only Variety logged complaints. We wondered if this film might have had an impact on the pacifism that kept the U.S. out of World War II until 1942. It certainly is a film that makes demonstrates the pointlessness of war. We'll leave you with this scene, in which you'll see both Mr. March and Mr. Grant.
Vacations are over, and the Movie Night Group has reassembled for another Kay Francis movie. This time, we chose another film version of a novel: Little Men (1940), loosely based on the Louisa May Alcott book, which followed the life of Jo March Bhaer (Kay Francis) after the events of Little Women. And I do mean loosely. The novel was a somewhat episodic look at six months in the lives of the staff and students of the Plumfield School, which is run by Jo and her husband (Charles Esmond). The school has both male and female students, some of whom are relatives (Jo's sons, and sister Meg's daughter), as well as other boarding children. And that is pretty much where any similarity to the novel ends. Because this film (unlike the 1934 version which was much closer to the book) really is about the lives of Major Burdle (George Bancroft) - a medicine show salesman and con artist, his adopted son Dan (Jimmy Lydon), and Burdle's colleague - petty thief Willie the Fox (Jack Oakie). While Kay Francis' Jo is really a great effort on her part, she's about the only one in the film that is attractive. Professor Bhaer is a complete moron. The film wants us to believe he is an innocent, but he is, in fact, a complete doofus. Imagine giving your life savings to a complete stranger because you like his face! And this, when Professor Bhaer is already in debt because he is unable to approach the parents of the boarding students to collect the monies owed to him and his wife. Because of Bhaer's stupidity, his home and his school are endangered (in the book, Jo and Bhaer own Plumfield outright - it was left to Jo by Aunt March). Charles Esmond tries to make Bhaer appealing, but he doesn't have a whole lot to work with. Bhaer is beyond naive, and it is very difficult to get past his disregard for the safety of his family and students.
I suspect none of us would claim to be fans of Jack Oakie, but he is truly out-of-place in this story. His "comic relief" is not really funny, and his inclusion in the plot doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Without giving away the ending, his position as a deus-ex-machina is really silly. Our other lead, played by George Bancroft, is a con man and thief. The only appealing aspect of his character is his love for his adopted son. What Bancroft brings to the role is an obvious affection for the young man, and a desire that Dan have a better life than what Major Burdle can provide for him. We are so used to seeing Kay Francis in prestige pictures that this RKO film seems like a very low budget film. Francis, who was highly paid in the 1930s, was beginning to feel Warner Brothers disinterest in her, as the groomed younger (and lower paid) actresses like Bette Davis to replace her. This TCM article
goes into more detail about the persecution Francis faced: the studio even loaded her scripts with "r" words,
so her lisp was emphasized. Despite that, her Jo is a good, strong character. It's obvious though, that she is not the star - as you can see by the ad below, even a cow gets the same billing as Ms. Francis. We'll be back next week with a 1940s mystery film.
This week, we watched Murder at the Vanities (or, as the title card had it Earl Carroll's Murder at the Vanities).
The jacket of the dvd said it broke every rule of the code. We agree.
We had young ladies in costumes that barely covered anything (and what
WAS covered was so sheer as to appear transparent)
Vanities star
Eric Lander (played by Danish actor Carl Brisson) announces his
intention to marry his costar Ann Ware (Kitty Carlisle), much to the
annoyance of wannabe lover Rita Ross (Gertrude Michael). We soon learn
that Rita is a vindictive sneak; she has stolen papers and photos from
Eric's flat that implicate his mother in a murder. Soon afterwards, the
private detective (Gail Patrick, finally getting to play a non-bitch)
Eric has hired to recover the stolen papers is found murdered.
We
were taken by the suggestiveness of the whole piece. The previously
mentioned almost-nudity; the fact that we are being asked to sympathize
with a murderer (I won't say more than that. You will have to watch the
movie); the producer (Jack Oakie) who is obviously sleeping with one of
the cast members; the police detective (Victor McLaglan) who so clearly
is setting up a night TO sleep with another young lady. And then there
is the number in which black and white dancers all dance and sing
together to the music of the Duke Ellington orchestra. When we consider
that Shirley Temple got flack for holding Bill Robinson's hand a few
years later, we were stunned. Oh, and then there is the musical number about marijuana:
Was this a great movie? Nope, but it was funny - and worth seeing. You'll be surprised!
