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. 

Immobilized by fear

It does not seem that nearly 14 years have gone by since Saving Private Ryan (1998) established itself as one of the greatest films of all time, but do the math.  Ten years prior, Young Guns (1988) popularized wild west outlaw "Billy the Kid's" life and myth for a new audience.  There is a scene in each film that memorably depicts individuals who, experiencing fear, initially neither fight nor flee.  In Saving Private Ryan, Private Upham remains frozen in a stairwell, backed against the wall, not by a foe but by his own fear, while his fellow soldier is engaged in a life or death, hand to hand, combat with a German soldier.  Upham could come to his aid, and he knows he should, but he is too terrified to move.  Curiously, the German soldier, after killing Upham's friend, meets Upham on the stairs while exiting the bombed out building, but he does nothing.  During the shootout at the McSween House in Young Guns, Billy Bonney berates fellow gang member Charley Bowdre for cowardice.  The bullets, glass, plaster, and wood splinters flying from the outer barrage have frozen Charley with fear.  At the instigation of Billy, and pushed to the limits of his fear, Charley channels it into the will to fight, earning Billy's praise.  In both instances, different results arise from a shared inability to function upon confronting fear.  How would Charley act if Billy was not watching and goading?  Would he remain with his back to the wall like Upham?

The Chumlee of Animal Planet

Why, I don't know, but we were watching an episode of "Finding Bigfoot" on Animal Planet when one of the gung-ho seekers reminded me of Chumlee from "Pawn Stars" on The History Channel.  My poor, unsuspecting wife tried not to choke after that quip.  Yet, the Bigfoot quest took me back to my childhood, at the Canna Theater, in Gillespie, Illinois, where my love of movies originated.  Sometimes the movie was merely the vehicle for the real entertainment off-screen.  Thankfully, the statute of limitations on Lemonhead throwing has passed.  One of those movies that I remember was "The Legend of Boggy Creek," a low-budget, reality-type film about reported sightings of a Bigfoot-esque beast in the Arkansas wilderness.  I don't remember my impressions of the film, but I probably thought it was cool.  The biggest scare I ever had in a movie was also in that theater during the scene in "Jaws" when the severed head pops out of the hole in the boat.  Try not to flinch at first pass on that one.  Another scary moment at the Canna Theater was in Burnt Offerings (1976), when Oliver Reed goes to the attic to say farewell to Mrs. Allardyce.  When the old woman in the black dress seated in front of the attic window turned out to be his wife, well, that got me.  Still does, though it is hard to find.  Burnt Offerings was directed by Dan Curtis of "Dark Shadows" fame.  I hear Johnny Depp is cast as Barnabas Collins in a Dark Shadows movie that should be good.  If they ever find Bigfoot, some royalties are due.

A Rivalry for the Ages

Not only did Doris Kearns Goodwin earn the Pulitzer Prize for "Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln" (2005), she secured the interest of Steven Spielberg to make a movie based on her work years before it was finished.  Due later this year, Daniel Day-Lewis is cast as the prairie lawyer.  The book is a fascinating multiple biography not only of Lincoln during his presidency, but of his Secretary of State, William Seward, his Treasury Secretary, Salmon Chase, and his Attorney General, Edwin Bates, all of whom actively sought the Republican Party nomination for President against Lincoln in 1860.  Additionally, considerable treatment is given to Lincoln's Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, who, at the outset, was condescendingly dismissive of Lincoln as utterly unfit for the office.  Lincoln emerges supremely confident in his judgment and ability, so much so that partisan fears weighed little in his appointments. He will risk the rivalries for a higher purpose, ultimately succeeding with the same.  Perhaps my favorite parts of the book are quotations from Tolstoy.  In 1908, the novelist was a guest of a tribal chief in the wilds of Russia.  The chief asked Tolstoy to recount the deeds of the great figures of history.  Tolstoy obliged, describing feats of Alexander, Caesar, Frederick the Great and Napoleon.  At the close, the chief stated that Tolstoy had not told of the greatest leader of them all, Lincoln.  Fitting tribute indeed, having been enhanced by Goodwin's scholarship 100 years later.