Men of the Thirties: 1939

And the Nominees Were:

Robert Donat - Goodbye, Mr. Chips
Clark Gable - Gone With the Wind
Laurence Olivier - Wuthering Heights
Mickey Rooney - Babes in Arms
James Stewart - Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

And the Winner Was:

Robert Donat - Goodbye, Mr. Chips

Gone With the Wind was the film of the year but I'd wager that Gable probably finished third and that the real tussle was between Donat and the nearly-as-saintly Stewart. Gable had won before and Donat was the only other guy previously nominated so probably a pretty standard victory.

My Ratings (in order of preference):-

**** James Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

By the time Hitchcock's Rope and Ford's Liberty Valance rolled around James Stewart had the composed-logician-turns-dishevelled-activist act down to a tee, but it's none so effective than in Washington. Up against absurd establishmentarianism Stewart presents the ethics of Capra's film about corruption and coporate back-patting with a winningly gritty sense of underdog, palpably shaken by the rigid state of American politics and the apparent helplessness of its broken morality. It's similar to Cooper's turn as Longfellow Deeds, but while Deeds grappled with issues, Stewart's Jefferson Smith knows the issues and is distinctly unfamiliar with the protocol. A stranglehold of a performance, his eventual hair-tearing antics correlate with the assumed stance of the audience but don't undermine them. We're registering with Smith but he isn't such an assured vessel for the film's politics, and his over-eager desire to foist himself upon Washington and make an impression make his initial tentative steps into Senate life feel distinctly infantile.

**** Clark Gable in Gone With the Wind

Rhett Butler is both an elitist and a masogynist; even though his reputation is far from lofty and his success rate with women seems fairly enviable. Clark Gable proved that he was the perfect person to play the cocksure, non-committal Rhett, who believes he's above and beyond the hick mentality simply because he can get away with not doing an awful lot. Gable has to act opposite one of the best performances there's ever been, but don't be fooled. In a handful of scenes (particularly towards the end) the onus is upon him to turn the film's guilty indulgement of Scarlett O'Hara inside out, and give the film the kind of responsibility as an issue-driven melodrama that it very rarely feels the need to display. His drunken, rough seduction of Scarlett is a particular highlight; this man doesn't know how to be in a relationship or display vulnerability, and he sure as hell doesn't get any help from his other half.

** Robert Donat in Goodbye, Mr. Chips

I thought I was going to get away with ending this project without deeming a performance "hammy", and it's especially amusing that the term is not being used to describe one of the host of head-scatching performances by Paul Muni. Instead, the dishonour is bestowed upon Robert Donat, who plays the paternal schoolmaster Mr. Chips from his twenties to old-age and eventual death. Perhaps it's not so much Donat's fault as the off-putting facial hair he must navigate to get a word out? Nevertheless, the film gives him nothing to do but intersperse bits of tired wisdom to teenagers and occasionally well up with emotion at a moment of remeniscence. Points for effort but overall the turn came across as gimmicky and pedestrian.

* Laurence Olivier in Wuthering Heights

Even though I haven't read Bronte's "Wuthering Heights" it's plain to see that Wyler didn't do a great job with it. The film cuts from event to event with very little time for thought, and so one gets the impression that this version is stolidly faithful. Olivier's Heathcliff is by all accounts a brute, but you learn more about him through Merle Oberon's deft performance as Kathy than anything Sir Lawrence does. He lingers in the background of scenes like a neanderthal troll, and his Hunchback routine consists merely of staring at Kathy as if he'd just been deposited on this planet by an alien race. He fails to demonstrate either his feelings for the woman or the motivations of his character's questionable approach to marriage. Is Heathcliff underwritten here or just not done justice?

Unseen Nominees:-

Mickey Rooney in Babes in Arms

The Snubbed:-

**** Cary Grant in Only Angels Have Wings

As the boss of an air force outlet Grant's Geoff Carter reacts to the early death of a colleague quickly, there's no time for grief during war. It soon becomes apparent, however, that Carter has a similar approach to romance, and as Bonnie (Jean Arthur) does everything she can to make him say that he needs her he resists committing to anything but the job in hand. Only Angels Have Wings is of course a comedy (and a good one at that) but it's often sad, and Grant embodies the film's dynamism, screwball, and homage all at once, rousing people at their lowest and then skulking into resignation himself. A tour-de-force that doesn't come across as one, and a telling example of sociological impact of war.

*** John Wayne in Stagecoach

I have to admit to not much liking John Wayne -- his disarming brashness became a recycled part of his shtick well into the 1970's. At this very early point of his career he perhaps wasn't aware of what he needed to do to get by (the bare minimum for most of his films) and so he gives his character's plucky, reckless protector act a hint of desperation and backstory. If Wayne grew up in Western movies he wasn't quite a loner in 1939, and in Stagecoach his hostility is broader and deeper than a shrug and a trot.

Men of the Thirties: 1938

The Nominees Were:

Charles Boyer in Algiers
James Cagney in Angels With Dirty Faces
Robert Donat in The Citadel
Leslie Howard in Pygmalion
Spencer Tracy in Boys Town

And the Winner Was:

Spencer Tracy in Boys Town

(Spoiler Alert!)
I find this the most baffling decision of the decade. James Cagney's NYFCC-winning performance is far more interesting than any of his competitors, and he does everything asked of a Hollywood leading man i.e. have tough, masculine presence, a soft(ish) interior, and die a hero. The only missing link was the lack of a Best Picture nomination for Angels with Dirty Faces, which has its faults but is far more competent than some of the nominees (I'm looking at you, Capra and Taurog). I imagine this is the kind of decision that saw Katharine Hepburn win in 1967 and '81 and could have seen Jack Nicholson's touching but hardly worthy Warren Schmidt tie Kate's four-win record seven years ago. Cagney and Donat may have been close but both end up cigarless.

My Ratings (in order of preference):-

**** James Cagney in Angels with Dirty Faces

Akin to a bout of German expressionism James Cagney's Caligari eyes are fierce, and the strutting, plucky way that Cagney conducts himself indicates a man who means business. Angels with Dirty Faces is a deceptively light title for what becomes a rather heavy film, but it's an apt way to depict Rocky Sullivan and his band of criminal kids. Charming, cocky tearaways in a similar sense to Fagin's pickpockets in Oliver! Cagney plays his role as a semi-willing mentor (willing in the sense that it elevates his own prestige) with extravagant, streetwise fervour, beying everyone in sight to challenge his gangland superiority. Rocky doesn't have that much actual power, but you wouldn't know it.

*** Leslie Howard in Pygmalion

It's nigh-on impossible to match the overt chauvinism of Rex Harrison in pretty much everything, and Howard as Professor Henry Higgins comes across as a much less relevant part of the film. He knows that Eliza Dolittle is the showpiece of the production and gives way to her in a similar vein as he did Bette Davis in Of Human Bondage. He bounces off her well and their mini-battles are as uproariously funny here as they are in the Best Picture-winning musical adaptation.

*** Robert Donat in The Citadel

I feel sorry for Donat, who proves -- as he did in '35 -- that he is such a likeable and charming screen presence. The Citadel has promise but ends up marooning him when the ideas dissipate, and in the final act of this film Donat is utterly helpless and ineffective. Prior to that he illustrates his character's ethical dilemna readily, somewhat disguising the insipid attempts to generate drama. He carefully develops the changing perspective of Dr. Andrew towards his profession and I had actually grown attached to the character by the time the wheels started falling off.

*** Charles Boyer in Algiers

I like Algiers much more than any of the films nominated in this category, but certainly not for its acting. The tone of the film lunges violently but Boyer stays pretty much the same, and the role requires similar things of him as the previous year's Conquest. A gangster in a much different sense to Cagney he's an elusive, no-nonsense figurehead that crumbles into a songster at the sight of Hedy Lamarr (who can blame him, huh?). But Boyer captures the tragedy of a man trapped in a district, top dog in a prison, bound by limitations, much more successfully than he ever captured Napoleon's ambition.

* Spencer Tracy in Boys Town

Tracy sidles around as a mentor figure who, unlike Cagney's Rocky, has no flaws to speak of. Father Flanagan is at the head of Boys Town's admirable but lightweight advertisement for juvenile reform, and has to sort out the restlessness of Mickey Rooney et al. He does this through the occasional lecture, which Tracy can dole out in his sleep, and he is thoroughly incapable of contributing any grit or bite to the character. A bitter disappointment.

The Snubbed

***** Cary Grant in Bringing Up Baby (& Holiday)

Not one but two classic star turns they spurned. Grant's best comes when he reacts to the ever-increasing mania going on all around him, (i.e. in Arsenic and Old Lace, possibly the finest comedic performance there's ever been). In BUB his behaviour and rationality fades in sync with this ever-maddening environment, his character eventually reduced from skepticism to acceptance in what is a rousing reversal. After all, would a man really fall in love with a girl who ransacked his wedding, lumbered him with a leopard, and single-handedly dismantled his relationship?

*** Henry Fonda in Jezebel

Another man Bette Davis swallows and spits out, but this time she doesn't have the guy quite where she wants him. Henry Fonda wouldn't say boo to a goose in many of his films and his cowardice reaches a height when he reacts to Davis's famous brazen red-dress humiliation with the trepidation of a square society Duke. Fonda is totally right for the part -- cute, investable, self-important -- but when the going gets tough the tough get going (thank you, Billy Ocean) and even though you could maybe fall in love with this guy his predictability is ultimately sad. Davis is stellar and the film ain't so much about him, but he does everything you'd ask of the character.

** Errol Flynn in The Adventures of Robin Hood

This is silly fun: Flynn is such a poser, and uses his bravado to craft Robin Hood into a dastardly commodity. The film is really all a technicolour confection, strewn with velvet and laden with pretty faces. Flynn is the prettiest though, and his snarls, smirks, and come-to-bed eyes are the intoxicating essence of a hero. It works perfectly for the film, but it's limited, and that's all he has to offer.

Men of the Thirties: 1935

The Nominees Were:

Clark Gable - Mutiny on the Bounty
Charles Laughton - Mutiny on the Bounty
Victor McLaglen - The Informer
Paul Muni - Black Fury
Franchot Tone - Mutiny on the Bounty

And the Winner Was:

Victor McLaglen - The Informer

The Mutiny on the Bounty guys fairly obviously split votes here, since none of them really stand out as the obvious pick. Paul Muni's write-in nomination for Black Fury meant that he had a lot of fans but was battling against a massive resurgence for John Ford's film. The Informer was a financial failure but virtually everybody with any influence in LA was raving about it. Victor McLaglen's win is partly a product of this and surely because his role is much more of a one-man show than the others.

My Ratings (in order of preference):-

**** Franchot Tone in Mutiny on the Bounty

While caught at the centre of a struggle between a tyrannical Captain and his increasingly concerned first mate, Tone's eager midshipman features a lot less than he ought to and is often left in the shade in favour of the more obvious 'characters' of the piece. Nevertheless, his presence is a valuable one, and as the most grounded character within a very fervently political environment, the honest, loyal remonstrations against mutiny feel integral to the film's ideas about what 'serving' your country really means. Tone charts the arc of his surefire, adaptable Byam in moving from a position of anti-idealism to a much more sceptical outlook on institutional hierarchy, and learns his lesson the hard way.

*** Charles Laughton in Mutiny on the Bounty

Laughton's silliness reached its peak with royalty in 1933 and, while Captain Bligh aboard the Bounty would never purport to be anything other than a stern nobleman, his monstrous actions are a flimsy way of setting up the ethical dilemnas that plague the film's second half. Parts of Laughton's Bligh are successful: he's predictable, emotionally-disposable, only harmful through position, and kind of reminded me of Captain Manwairing in Dad's Army (i.e. laughably hypocritical). Is this enough? Mutiny is let down a tad by its own narrow-minded views about villainry and Laughton does nothing to suggest that Bligh is battling with ethics himself, or indeed considering anything outside of his power-trip duty. In the end he plays up to Lloyd's emphasis on accessibility, the easier option but possibly also a wise one.

*** Victor McLaglen in The Informer

The protestations of innocence by Victor McLaglen's guilty Gypo are far too easily-read for a higher rating here, and honestly the film is less about his character than an examination of culture and community politics. The gentle giant is not quite on the level of Michael Clarke Duncan in The Green Mile, whose character required him to be meek and little else. McLaglen has to process the guilt of Gypo and does so with the kind of bumbling brashness that makes The Informer seem all the more harsher and imposing. Detrimentally, this makes him stick out like a sore thumb and takes away some of the ambiguity that might have richened the production had a patient, introspective Actor took this role on.

** Clark Gable in Mutiny on the Bounty

There's not much wisdom to be seen in Clark Gable, and the plucky humanitarianism of Fletcher Christian strikes up a much different, wholesome Clark to the one that we're accustomed to. It's difficult to believe that Christian's sudden and rather drastic overhaul of the Bounty was borne out of pure empathy, and one considers that the first mate may be impatient in aspiration, deluded even. Gable doesn't really allude to any unknown motivation, and his fatal flaw is toning down his renowned dastardly charisma in favour of a more dull, reluctant 'hero'. Certainly acceptable as an unwilling moral crusader yet strangely vapid when interacting with Laughton, his best work emerging in the quiet moments with Tone.

Nominees Unseen:

Paul Muni - Black Fury

The Snubbed

**** Robert Donat in The 39 Steps

It's incredibly impressive that guys are still using the techniques of Donat as Richard Hannay, one of the original innocents on the run. The 39 Steps is one of Hitchcock's most watchable films and like The Lady Vanishes seems anti-try hard, easy to follow and digest, charming in the most ballsy, unexpected ways. Its caper style often put me off a little but Donat is inspired in these moments, bang-on tonally, effortlessly funny, the perfect 'wrong man'. And yet as a hero he is thoroughly dynamic, sexy in spontanaeity, and one of Hitch's most appealing screen protagonists he alternates from being a 'man's man' and a 'ladies man' with such ease that it's hardly surprising he was a big box-office draw in this period.

The Men of June

Since I frequently go on about Actresses on this blog, and truthfully tend to lean towards them when choosing my "high priority" rentals, I've been trying to redeem my neglect of the men of cinema. I made a conscious decision a few weeks ago to catch up on the Leading Actor nominees of the 1930's, which range from tyrannical monarchs to alcoholic lawyers to double-persona scientists.

This testerone-heavy experiment has therefore led me to proclaim June as the "Men of the Thirties" month on this blog, in which I'll throw some stats out and analyse the nominated performances that I did manage to catch. As per usual, the eventual winners of the prize are often bewildering but I'll save the bitching until later on.