And the winner is....

..."How Green Was My Valley", which won the Oscar for Best Picture at the 1942 Academy Awards ceremony.  Directed by the legendary John Ford, it was my father's favorite, and it is a fine film.  More interesting to me, however, is the fact that it beat "Citizen Kane," which was also nominated that year, winning 4 Oscars, including Best Actor for Orson Welles, and a screenplay award shared by Welles and Herman J. Mankiewicz.

"Citizen Kane" has aged very, very well.  It is widely regarded as the finest film ever made.  In the 2007 American Film Institute poll, it ranked first, with "The Godfather" and "Casablanca" among the short list of great films in consideration for the top spot.  Some speculate that the power of William Randolph Hearst, his friends in Hollywood, and those who wanted to be his friend or feared his enmity, account for the failure of the motion picture industry to award the film that year.  However, that theory is not easily reconcilable with the multiple nominations and the 4 Oscars awarded.  It seems that such power would be more sweeping.

Perhaps the newsreel footage and sensationalism of the film hit too close to home.  Europe and the Pacific were engulfed in World War II, Pearl Harbor had been attacked, and the worst fears of a nation were being realized.  December 7, 1941, a date on which the lives of all Americans changed forever, was at the forefront that Oscar season.  My father said that he and all the other draftees in my hometown of Gillespie, Illinois, got "their letter from Mr. Roosevelt" on Christmas Eve, 1941.  I think the timing was not right that year  The simple virtues of home and family, though timeless in their appeal, prevailed at a time when everything was falling apart.  "How Green Was My Valley" exemplified them, while "Citizen Kane" depicted
their loss and the destructive forces of compensation.

Att-i-cus! Att-i-cus! Att-i-cus!

The dog in this film has a bad afternoon, but "To Kill a Mockingbird" (1962) celebrates 50 years as a significant event in cinema history this year.  Based on the novel of the same name written by Harper Lee (please see my earlier post "Philip Got it Down Cold" for some information on her good friend Truman Capote), which won a Pulitzer Prize, the film earned three Academy Awards, including Gregory Peck in the leading role and for the screenplay written by Horton Foote.  Set in depression-era Alabama, Atticus Finch, a small town lawyer, is court-appointed to defend a black man falsely accused of rape.  However, the story is largely told through the eyes of the Finch children, 9-year old Jem, and, in particular, 6-year old Jean Louise, better known as Scout.

Gone, but hopefully not forgotten, are the family gatherings at the dinner table for the evening meal and a discussion of the day's events, the visits from neighbors and guests on the front porch, and the unstructured, unscheduled, free time for children in the magical period we once knew as summer.  The pacing of this film is also rarely seen these days, as it takes some time getting to the point.  However, the early moments remind me of "The Sandlot" (1993), especially the tree house, the fence, and the new kid on the block, Dill.  Additionally, there are mythical monsters next door represented by a mean woman in a rocking chair said to keep a loaded confederate pistol on her lap, and Boo Radley, once said to be locked in the basement of the courthouse for unspeakable crimes.  Neither tale is true, and we can forgive young children for their imaginary fears.

Harder to forgive is Dill's aunt, an adult who feeds the children's fears by contributing her gossip concerning the dreaded Boo.  Yet there are worse fears afoot, and Atticus cannot protect his children from the ugliness, racism, and violence his defense of Tom Robinson generates, particularly from the miserable, drunken wretch of a father of the alleged victim.  A more poignant contrast in fatherhood cannot be found in film history, as far as I am concerned.  Tom Robinson is right when he has the guts to say he felt sorry for his young accuser.  Atticus patiently implores his children to understand but not accept the way of the racist misanthrope.  As it turns out, there is nothing to fear from Boo.  Perhaps FDR got it right about fear itself.

Cranberries

I watch all things Scorsese.  I think he is the greatest filmmaker of his generation.  "The Departed" (2006) earned him an Oscar for directing and best picture.  Set in South Boston, it tells a tale of Irish-American organized crime, the undercover cop assigned to infiltrate it, and the investigator who works for the mob from the inside of the police investigative unit. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," as the Godfather said.  The starpower in this movie is impressive, with Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon and Jack Nicholson as a leading triumvirate.  Strongly supporting are Mark Wahlberg and Martin Sheen.  However, Alec Baldwin gives an outstanding, overlooked turn. The only disappointment for me in this movie is the screen time given to Nicholson's crew, particularly Ray Winstone ("Beowulf") and David O'Hara ("Braveheart").  We all know what Scorsese can do with a crew.  ("Goodfellas" and "Casino" memorably come to mind).   Lastly, I wonder if the cranberry reference has any connection to the Irish rock band of the same name who put out a great album in the 1990's entitled "To the Faithful Departed?"

Ironic Juxtaposition

One of my all-time favorites, "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", was on AMC recently and I watched the Bolivian scene in which the Bandidos Yanquees, with Etta Place in tow, are being chased through the countryside by mounted police.  One of the few things I dislike about this film is the vocalizing that accompanies this scene.  Entitled "South American Getaway" and written by Burt Bacharach, it is too
light-hearted for the fate that awaits.  It is also annoying.  Truly disturbing, however, is the scene in "Face/Off" (1997), in which the drug lord's home is being shot to pieces.  A toddler is present (presumably the bad guy's nephew) and the best his mother can do is to give him his portable headphones and let him listen to music.  Eerily, we see the wide-eyed child witnessing death amid the shooting rampage while we hear "Over the Rainbow," which is what he is hearing from the headphones.  If ever, oh ever, he was, the toddler is not in Kansas anymore.