Showing posts with label Thomas Mitchell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas Mitchell. Show all posts

Sunday, 30 June 2024

This Above All (1942)

 "A man ,must have integrity..."

This is another British war film, reasonably obscure despite starring Joan Fontaine, and a fascinating snapshot of the age.

It is, I suppose, a wartime romance on the surface. And the performances and characterisation are excellent. Yet at its core it's far more philosophical- about the ethics of war, of duty, of what's being fought for- in a way which could only have emerged in the middle of the Second World War.

Prue is a young, aristocratic lady who scandalises her rich family by joining the WAAF... as a private, despite her upbringing, wanting to do her part, frustrated by the stuffy life of privilege she sees around her by those who see the War as an inconvenient intrusion on their comforts. Clive, meanwhile, is a brave soldier, Dunkirk hero, mentioned in dispatches... yet AWOL and on the brink of desertion not from cowardice but disillusion with the privileged nonentoities whom he percieves to be in charge.

The narrative plays out as the well-done melodrama that it is, with a happy ending after many twists and turns. Yet what lingers most about this film, aside from the very contemporary attitude towards pre-marital sex, is that yes, the message is one of patriotism, of duty, of honour. But it is also a film, pointing forwards to the 1945 election, that Britain has come together for the war and so must never again go back to the old ways of privilege, poverty and a nation divided.

This film is no more than quite good, I suppose. But it's a fascinating snapshot of the age.

Saturday, 9 December 2023

It's a Wonderful Life (1946)

 "Why don't you kiss her instead of talking her to death?"

Yes, I know. I should have seen this film long before the run-in to my forty-seventh Christmas. At least I've seen it now. It's awesome, obviously.

What's striking on a first viewing is how very late in the film we get the bit where aspiring angel Clarence shows George how awful his community would be without him. We get nearly two hours of George, a nice guy- well, by 1946 standards- having his dreams of travel and architectural glory slowly crushed as he stays in the same town, putting others before himself and living a modest, humble life. Some of the scenes are quite distressing, not least his and Mary's honeymoon being ruined by the Wall Street Crash.

What's also striking is that the film disapproves of capitalism red in tooth and claw and insists that community matters far more than money, an important point for any age. Bedford Falls is a nice place: Pottersville is an obvious inspiration for Biff's changed 1985 of Back to the Future Part II.

Jimmy Stewart is, of course, the perfect leading man, the cast is superb with Lionel Barrymore, especially, engaging in some truly splendid chewing of the scenery, and the entire thing looks perfect. I'll even forgive the film, as someonewho knows, for its rather amusing total failure of realism in depicting George's deafness. As anti-Dickensian riffs on A Christmas Carol go, this is pretty much cinematic perfection.

Friday, 5 October 2018

High Noon (1952)

"I've got to.That's the whole thing."

It's been far too long since I did a classic western so, well, here's one. And let's not beat about the bush; it's a superb piece of cinema about one man who chooses to stand and fight even though no one else will. It's been said (interestingly given the story behind it) that this is an allegory for McCarthyism but it stands as a monument to non-conformity of all kinds- as well as those perennial Western values and doing the right thing no matter what the potential cost.

Gary Cooper looks old as Will Kane but, oddly enough, this works; Will is retiring as marshal on the day of his wedding to his young bride (and weddings in the old West seem crap; in the morning, no music, no booze...!) until he hears that a killer he once put away is returning to terrorise the town- and kill him. So Will turns around and the clock starts ticking- literally: we constantly see clocks and the film runs down in near real time until the arrival of the baddie by train at noon. And Gary Cooper looks ever more old, tired, hopeless and sweat-ridden as the minutes go by and the hope drains away. As he admits to a shockingly young Lloyd Bridges, he's scared. But he does the right thing.

And he does so alone; his new wife has seemingly abandoned him and, unexpectedly, the film consists not of action- in fact, until the last few minutes, there isn't much of this, but of slow, desperate debate as Will spends most of the film trying to get someone, anyone, to stand by him as he's stood by them. And no one does- except his wife, at the last minute, after she's had a good talking to. It's a fascinating point both of the moral cowardice of the majority and the nobility of doing the right thing even, indeed especially, if no one else does.

All this is superbly shot with plenty of tension and restrained terror. This film is justly revered and makes me want to see more acclaimed westerns.