The Last Emperor

The Last Emperor (releaased October 23,1987)

Director: Bernardo Bertolucci

Starring: John Lone, Joan Chen, Peter O'Toole, Ruocheng Ying, Victor Wong

Produced by:Jeremy Thomas

Written by: Mark Pelpoe, Bernardo Bertolucci

Music by: Ryuichi Sakamoto, David Byrne, Cong Su

Cinematography by: Vittorio Storaro

Distributed by: Columbia Pictures

Made in China

A huge film lost in the aftermath of economic turmoil.

The bio-pic, The Last Emperor was an award-winner I’d never seen up to this point in my life. Indeed, I’d heard so little about it in the ensuing twenty-four years since its inception that it arrived on my TV monitor the other night as something of a shock to me. As I sat through the 219 minutes of the life of Emperor Puyi I had to ask myself, how in the world could a motion picture this big slip under my radar? I vaguely recall reports at the time of a Western movie given first-time access to be filmed in Beijing’s Forbidden City, but that was about all that got through. I remember I was living in northern California at the time and worked at a mutual funds company. This in itself is innocuous enough but to realize that the picture was released on October 23, 1987, and the horrific stock market crash known as “Black Monday” occurred four days previous on the nineteenth probably had a little to do with the fact that as the economic world crashed to its knees, those of us laboring within the industry were running around like headless poultry trying to make sense out of it in the weeks after the disaster. Little thought would have been given to the quaint divertissement of watching movies. But I surely digress…

"Alizarin crimson for those happy little banners!"

I’m guessing Italian director, Bernardo Bertolucci can really tolerate the color red. He must have because that color is so prominently displayed splashed heavily upon the walls of the immense buildings within the Forbidden City. It is lacquered thick on the massive doors that hold the child-emperor, Puyi (John Lone) a veritable prisoner in his own kingdom. It seems to permeate the very film stock upon which the picture is shot. It is of course the color of good fortune to the Chinese and BB captures it beautifully in this visual masterpiece whose thousands of other colors dazzle the constant watching eye. We seem to overlook at times that movies are first and foremost a visual medium, but one can hardly forget this viewing The Last Emperor. Bertolucci’s palate of color is as loaded, vibrant and varied as they come. (Bob Ross is not the only master capable of commanding the colorful attributes of phthalo blue, alizarin crimson and cadmium yellow!)

The story relates the checkered career of the last Chinese emperor before the battling warlords fragmented the country and made it an easier prey for the burgeoning communists to conquer. Told in a series of flashbacks as Puyi sought to escape the Red Chinese roundup of what they considered to be political prisoners, color (or the absence thereof) is again used to great affect. The more recent episodes filmed in the communist prison are wholly stark in their total absence of color when played against the pomp and riotous color of the Forbidden City flashbacks.

Pu Yi is shocked no one wants to
bathe and dress him anymore.

Coddled as only a ruler of an empire still fixated in the middle ages could be, we follow Pu Yi’s charmed life behind the massive walls in the center of the Chinese Empire. The sheer scale of the visuals is at times breathtaking beyond belief and Bertolucci does the almost impossible job of keeping the story focused on the characters despite them being swallowed up in the vast backdrop of unearthly-sized buildings, immense public squares, grand stone staircases and rooftops that stretch away to the horizon.

Most of the sympathy for the child-emperor comes from the tried and true, almost fairytale-like conundrum of having him waited on hand and foot by a thousand royal eunuchs and hundreds of imperial staff, as amongst it all, little Puyi bewails his fate of never being allowed to leave the Forbidden City. He is a non-functioning monarch prisoner behind his own imperial walls. He longs to see the world on the other side of those massive red doors which are always firmly shut against his leaving. It is ironic to consider when he finally does make it out, he enjoys several years of freedom before becoming a prisoner (again) of the Communists in 1945 who accuse him of playing into the hands of the rapacious Japanese as their puppet ruler of the puppet state, Manchukuo (Manchuria).

Yes, thank you... keep those lips closed!

The familiar face of Peter O’Toole surfaces as the Scottish tutor, Reginald Johnston. He is charged with educating the young emperor in the ways of the modern world. It is surprising now that I think back on it how little O’Toole had to say in this film. There are no large blocks of dialogue that gush forth nor any montage scenes of the teacher/pupil hard at work. And yet by adroitly weaving their tale, the filmmakers get the impression put across that the connection and camaraderie of the two characters was close. I still have an American’s squeamish aversion to staring at a mouthful of rotten Irish teeth and Mr. O’Toole’s choppers can never be mistaken for a set of piano keys. However, I figured I persevered through the fantastic array of noses in All the King’s Men, so I knew I could probably handle staring at some bad teeth…

I sensed the epic feel of the first half of the picture abandoned somewhat as we settled into the flashbacks of the emperor’s later life. During the second half we are treated to the intrigues of Puyi’s Manchukuo ruling period and the problems of juggling a royal wife, a royal consort and the ever menacing Japanese as the world raced headlong into World War II. Still, despite the loss of those incredible visuals, the story moves along as the fates close in on China’s last emperor, finally culminating in his incarceration in a political prison. And as grand as the picture opens, it closes with the final scenes of Puyi, now a released and “re-educated” proletariat gardener, puttering around amongst his vines. I must say that as portrayed by John Lone, Puyi is a formidably even-tempered character. He seems as at ease around his few tomatoes as he was commanding a staff of thousands in Beijing.

And now, there only remains for me to make mention the arcane fact that The Last Emperor has got to be the only movie of all the Academy winners that has earned the little statue for a motion picture that includes a shot early in the film of royal doo-doo! I must confess I knew that would intrigue some of you…

--kak

Italians portray the Chinese in English

Lone and Chen play the last imperial rulers of China.

Wow, that was a long movie! Even so, at 2 hours and 42 minutes, The Last Emperor is still only the second longest movie we’ve watched for Oscar Boot Camp. The Greatest Show on Earth ran a little longer, but this one was much less painful to view.

And you know, I don’t really remember hearing about this movie back in 1987. I have a theory about  this, though. When the movie was released, I was thirteen and in the eighth grade. Most thirteen-year-olds I know aren’t all that concerned with political history, especially of foreign countries. Throw in that the most well-known actor in the film is Peter O’Toole, who wasn’t exactly heartthrob material at the time, and you’ll see there was nothing to draw my adolescent brain. No hunky superstars, nothing modern and glitzy, and nothing “cool.”

Set primarily in the first half of the twentieth century, this movie portrays the life of Pu Yi, the last emperor of China. I must admit I know very little of Chinese history, and this movie certainly brought me up to speed on their last 100 years or so. From the ridiculously plush splendor of the Forbidden City to the grueling harshness of a Communist prison camp, Pu Yi (played by John Lone) lives through some pretty fantastic situations.

Ack! I can't stand the cuteness!

Pu Yi ascended the throne when he was just three years old.  Like most royalty, he was treated with the greatest care. He had servants to bathe him, feed him, taste his food, dress him, and choose his wife.  No privacy was allowed him, and he was considered to be a god, human perfection on earth. That’s one of the problems with being chosen by God to rule, isn’t it? From birth the whole empire holds its breath, hoping some disaster (great or small) won't befall him, putting him into an early grave and those left behind plunged into political upheaval.

The movie made me gasp several times from the sheer vastness of the Forbidden City and all the people they employed as extras to fill it. This was before CGI, folks, and the cast must have run to the thousands. The costumes were breathtaking, the sets elaborate, and wealth extravagant.  It was a feast for the eyes, for sure, with yards of Chinese silk in bright colors.

I find it extremely interesting that this film was made by Italians, about China, and all in English. I wonder if it were made today if they would have chosen to do it in Chinese with subtitles to give it more authenticity. Since the success of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, subtitles seem to be more acceptable, lending more street cred to the picture. Not that I think this movie was inauthentic. Of course, not knowing much of Chinese history, I can’t speculate as to how close to the truth this film actually was. I know filmmakers often condense and rearrange events to make them fit their time frame better. However, it was slightly jarring to watch the inhabitants of the Forbidden City speak to each other in English. I got over it, but I think I would have preferred subtitles.

Joan Chen plays the newly wed Empress who is
impressing the Emperor with her skills.

The acting was quite good. John Lone, plays the adult Puyi, and he looks startling like the real thing. Joan Chen and Vivian Wu play his wife the Empress and his number two consort respectively. Both ladies did admirable jobs, but I thought Joan Chen did an especially good job playing the wife. From beautiful young princess to debilitated opium addict, she certainly had a range within the role.

There were only two things about this movie that I didn’t like.  The first was it felt a little flat to me. It was gorgeous, a spectacle, no doubt.  I didn’t really feel a connection to any of the characters. I think the trick of great movie-making is to find the connection between your leading man (or lady) and show the universal human within them that resonates with everyone. I suppose finding a way to relate the Emperor of China to everyman is a real challenge, but I think it can be done. I don’t feel I learned enough of the interior landscape of Puyi’s mind to make him a convincing character. And I don’t think the fault lies with the actors here… I think the script could have been better.

The second thing I had a problem with was the length. Again, a tighter script could have helped with that. Beautiful imagery can’t cover up the fact that there was too much here, and needed to be cut down. A lot of the childhood scenes I think could have been eliminated. How many times do we have to have the point pressed that this boy is an Emperor who can do what he likes and not be punished for it?

The Last Emperor was beautiful for sure. However, I didn’t feel it had the emotional oomph to make it a truly great picture. Apparently the Academy disagrees with me, since it won in every category it was nominated, including Best Director for Bertolucci, Best Editing, and Best Adapted Screenplay. It won nine Oscars in total.

I guess I must be a contrarian, or really stupid. If it’s the latter, no one tell my mother. She’d be devastated. 

~Anna

Up Next: Cimmaron (1930-31)

Rain Man

Rain Man (released December 16, 1988)

Director: Barry Levinson

Starring: Dustin Hoffman, Tom Cruise, Valeria Golino

Produced by: Mark Johnson

Written by: Barry Marrow, Ronald Bass

Music by: Hans Zimmer

Cinematography by: John Seale

Distributed by: United Artists

Faulty Memories

Last week we pulled Rain Man out of the box. Ever since then I’ve had that song in my head. You know the one: “My grandma and your grandma sittin’ by the fire…” It’s been there all week, and to be honest, I was never a big fan of it. It does take me back though, to my freshman year of high school. Huh. Maybe that’s why I don’t like the song. But that’s a story for the shrink, not for you.

You're so vain... you probably think
 this movie's about you...

Regardless of what was going on in my life during the Christmas season of 1988, the movie certainly does reflect the late 80s with flair. Like The French Connection, this movies is defined by its decade. Only this time instead of the gritty hideousness of the ugliest decade of the 20^th century, we have images of the “Me” decade. And Charlie Babbitt (played by Tom Cruise) is the epitome of that ideal.

Charlie imports fancy sports cars in Los Angeles, wears expensive suits, and has a modelesque Italian girlfriend. Watching this movie now, the character of Charlie reminds me sharply of Cruise’s performance in the movie Jerry Maguire. He played both parts so spot on I wonder if this is “his” role, much like Mel Gibson seems to gravitate towards playing characters hell-bent on revenge. Charlie Babbitt is ruthless, slimy, and overly concerned with his image. He suppresses all emotions except anger. He’s a prick.

Not exactly Thelma and Louise...

The ubiquitous monkey wrench is thrown when his father dies, leaving all the $3 million estate to his brother Raymond (played by Dustin Hoffman) , an autistic savant who doesn’t understand the concept of money. Charlie didn’t even know Ray existed. Ray had been sent to live in Walbrook, a mental institution in Charlie’s hometown of Cincinnati. When Charlie visits Ray he coerces him into the car (a 1949 Buick Roadmaster convertible – Charlie’s inheritance) and takes off. He thinks he can trade Ray for his half of the money, so he sets out for California.

Charlie’s life quickly implodes on the road. His business goes bust from the absence of his fine machinations (i.e. his gift of keeping his customers hanging on through bullshit), his fiancée leaves after she realizes his motivations for keeping Ray, and Raymond himself proves to be extremely hard to handle. A slave to his routines and rituals, Ray must watch The People’s Court every day, eat with toothpicks instead of a fork, and a whole host of other things to keep him comfortable and not pitching a screaming fit.

Susanna: "How was it?" Raymond: "Wet."

I’ve seen a lot of Dustin Hoffman’s films, and I think he’s an amazing actor. From The Graduate, to Tootsie, to Kramer vs. Kramer, he never fails to find a new and interesting role to play, and he plays them incredibly well. Hoffman won the Best Actor Oscar for his role in Rain Man, and it is easy to see why. His portrayal of Raymond Babbitt is so convincing, I forgot he was Dustin Hoffman. That, in my opinion, is the hallmark of a great actor.

My original impressions of this movie as a fourteen-year old were this was a great movie. What wasn’t to love? It had hot Tom Cruise (who had just rocketed to stardom on the con trail of Top Gun). It was funny (“K-Mart sucks” anyone?) and it even had the glitter of Las Vegas thrown in towards the end.

Los Angeles: the new city of Brotherly Love

Watching it last night left me feeling very different. Instead of funny and clever, I now find it to be sad and rather depressing. Tom Cruise’s character is no longer hot, but a rather pathetic jerk with shiny pants and too big hair. (Could someone get him a tie, please?) The movie is no less commanding, maybe more so now that I see it from an adult’s eyes. I can see now the finer subtleties that were lost on me as a newly minted teenager. Charlie’s character does shift from callous bastard to caring brother, but he still retains his self-centered attitude. Being pushed out of his comfort zone, Ray does make progress in learning to connect with people.

Rain Man is certainly not a light and happy movie. However, it does for really the first time bring to light the nature of autism. I didn’t know what autism was before this movie, did you? I’m telling you as a librarian, we buy just as many books about that as we do cancer these days. I believe this movie was instrumental in bringing autism out of the murky shadows of mental illness and defining it for the general public.

Now if I could just get that damn song out of my head.


~Anna

Not Your Typical Buddy Film

     Hollyweird be thy name...

My initial reaction to seeing Rain Man is a mixed one. While I can imagine pitching this idea to producers may have been an interesting and exciting exercise, I would have liked the end result to have been somehow… different. The film’s overwhelming positive reviews and acceptance notwithstanding, I found the story a bit too forced in some scenes. I wonder how many people think of Tom Cruise’s role as the selfish and driven Charlie Babbitt a stretch for him. I for one must admit that under the influence of his recent behavior I could not cozy up to his character, even at the end of the film where he apparently has seen the light and accepts his new-found autistic brother, Raymond (Dustin Hoffman). It’s probably not in my best interest to critique a performance with all of the actor’s personal off-screen baggage influencing me, but there it is. The make-believe Hollywood and its actors and the real-life Hollyweird and its denizens are oft times difficult to keep apart.

It's not easy being an unfeeling ass.

An example of a less than believable scene was near the beginning of the movie in Charlie’s “auto sales office”. I realize the reason for filming it was to establish Charlie Babbitt’s odious character, but the conversations on the headsets sounded a bit too forced to me. Throughout the road trip, Charlie’s rather easy acceptance of Raymond’s decidedly annoying and difficult tantrums seemed unrealistic, although perhaps he was keeping that "thought of half of his late father’s 3-million dollar inheritance in the back of his mind. Overall, I sensed Cruises’s portrayal of Charlie was lacking that last little bit of umph to make me a believer, and him a truly sympathetic character. Their final scene together at the table when the doctors leave the room was something that worked and should have been exploited more.

The cast-list at the end of the film was of interest as it contained the names of a number of doctors who were “consulted” in helping the producers create the character of Raymond Babbitt. Of course, in Dustin Hoffman’s hands, the character of the idiot savant was adorable and interesting. And as this was written as a “feel good movie” firmly in mind, how then can the portrayal be otherwise? Still, one wonders how many people could survive that same trip in the real world and come out the other side wholly sane. Or would they have succumbed to the awful temptation of murdering poor Raymond and dumping his body in a ditch somewhere between Cincinnati and Los Angeles just for a little peace and quiet.

Still waters run deep.

Their brief foray into Las Vegas contained what I thought was the best shot of the entire picture.  It included the long-held close up of Raymond’s face as he sits at the card table and becomes a study in stillness. Director Barry Levinson brilliantly chose to move in very slowly with the camera as in the background, we hear unabated, the hustle and bustle of the rest of the casino which in turn accentuates what Raymond, unbeknownst to anyone else, is doing. That Hoffman can put so much acting into a still face is amazing. His eyes glaze over and you can almost “hear” him counting those cards. It was a very subtle yet bravado piece of acting.

Overall, while I can applaud the idea behind the story and film, its final execution seemed to lack a certain finishing touch, for want of a better term. And in the back of my mind I wonder how much the fact of portraying a dysfunctional character in a sympathetic manner played into the balloting decisions of the Academy members. At times, Hollywood can be awfully touchy-feely.

--kak


Up next: The Last Emperor (1987)

An American in Paris

An American in Paris (released October 4, 1951)

Director: Vincente Minnelli

Starring: Gene Kelly, Leslie Caron, Oscar Levant, Georges Guétary, Nina Foch

Produced by: Arthur Freed

Written by: Alan Jay Lerner

Music by: George Gershwin (music), Ira Gershwin (lyrics), Saul Chaplin (uncredited)

Cinematography by: Alfred Gilks, John Alton (ballet)

Distributed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

Joie de vivre in Gay Paree

Please excuse me while I don my sou’wester and grab for my umbrella as it seems to be raining romantic musical comedies around here at the Oscar Boot Camp. An American in Paris was pulled out of the box earlier this week and so Anna and I dutifully set up the machine and sat down together to watch Gene Kelly singin’ in the clear skies of Paris.

It was a showstopper a minute...

I was pleasantly surprised to discover this film was a joyous paean to life and love played out in the French capital which by the way looked much more realistic than the ersatz streets of London in My Fair Lady. But perhaps this is attributable to the fact that MGM was not averse to putting on such cinematic extravagances while Warner Bros. was not normally in the business of budgeting elaborate, musicals.

The plot to this picture, such as it is, is certainly no elaborately twisting Hitchcockian mystery, set up to keep the viewer guessing till the very end. In fact, scriptwriter Alan Jay Lerner concocted the barest storyline upon which to hang the marvelous music of the Gershwins and the dancing prowess of Gene Kelly. The fact that it worked and moreover won the coveted Best Picture award is a testament to the talents involved. 

I can almost always tell an MGM picture from this period because of the unabashed saturation of color and the bright lighting under which it is filmed. An American in Paris is no exception. It’s a veritable feast for the eyes with an inherent brightness to it that seems to make everything you’re watching bigger than life.

Gene Kelly as the happy starving artist.

There is certainly exuberance to Jerry Mulligan’s character, played with such joie de vivre by Gene Kelly. Without a doubt he has to be the most cheerful starving artist in all of Paris. His perfect foil is his friend, Adam (Oscar Levant) an equally struggling artist who dreams of playing the concert piano. He is the wisecracking contrarian through whom Mulligan learns of the young French girl Lise, played by Leslie Caron in her film début. If there is any depth to the plot, it is to be found here with Lise falling for Jerry who in turn falls for her while concurrently being wooed by society woman, Milo Roberts (Nina Foch) who wishes to sponsor Jerry’s paintings. But Lise is engaged to Henri a cabaret singer played by Georges Guétary. Unwittingly then, Henri and Jerry are after the same girl. Ooo-la-la!

Jerry and Adam tra-la-la-ing in Adam's garret apartment.

While everything is sewn up rather quickly but unconvincingly during the last minute of the movie -- is Henri really smiling while he watches Lise leave his cab for Jerry waiting for her at the top of the steps? Whatta chump! -- the real reason the film is a hit is of course because of the music and dancing. Kelly does things with his feet and body that look so effortless and natural one almost believes he always moved that way. The amusing little vignette at the beginning where he “rearranges” his tiny garret apartment from his sleeping quarters to his living quarters is a gem. The musical/dance numbers come fast and furious in this picture, and one should pay special attention to the fluid camera work in the “Tra-la-la” sequence. And there is something very cool about lighting those stair risers during the “I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise” number, as Henri ascends them.

The final big number choreographed to Gershwin’s “An American in Paris” serves as the highlight of the picture. It is interesting to note the use of Caron’s ballet movements interspersed with Kelly’s natural dancing and how they made it work.

A worthy Best Picture winner for 1951, I still can’t for the life of me comprehend how the Academy offered a similar statuette to the next year’s winner: The Greatest Show on Earth!

--kak

Gene Kelly est très chaud

Yes, please...

Gene Kelly is hot. Never was there such a manly man to dance on the big screen. I read a brief bio on Kelly (we share the same birthday!) and he said his Mom made him and his brother take dance lessons when they were boys. They quit because the other kids called them sissies. But he said he went back to dance class at fifteen because he discovered it 

was a great way to get girls.

We watched An American in Paris last night. I’d never seen it before, nor did I even know what it was about except, well, Americans in Paris.

The story centers around Jerry Mulligan (Kelly) who stays in Paris when he gets out of the service after World War II. He decides he wants to try his hand at painting and reasons the best place in the world to do this is Paris. He lives in a tiny garret apartment next door to his buddy Adam Cook (played by composer and actor Oscar Levant), another American and concert pianist who is always preparing for a concert, but never actually performs. They are both scraping to make ends meet and living the starving artist lifestyle.

Ms. Roberts checks out the merchandise... and the paintings.

There are two central plots that intertwine in this film. One is about Jerry, his art, and the wealthy patroness that wants to keep him in her pocket. The other is about Lise (the debut for pixie-faced Leslie Caron), a shop girl who catches Jerry’s eye at a club and he pursues with great persistence. Lise is already engaged, but keeps this information from him as they fall in love. Of course, broken hearts and disaster ensues, but it’s a musical from the fifties, so you know it has a happy ending.

Gene Kelly is hot. Oops, I said that already, didn’t I? Not only that, but extremely talented and creative. He did all the choreography for this picture and it was incredible. In 1928 George Gershwin wrote a “symphonic tone poem” with the same title and is used as the music for the grand finale of the film: a seventeen minute ballet performed in a picture drawing set in the City of Light.

I loved the look of this movie. Like My Fair Lady, it was completely filmed on sound stages in Hollywood, but MGM did a much better job. They knew it was going to look like a set so they created an almost painterly feel to it. The color palette was vibrant: lots of reds and oranges mixed with dark teal, blues and soft gray. It was almost as if one had stepped into one of the paintings Jerry Mulligan was trying to sell on the street in the Montmartre. And indeed, the ballet was a vision Jerry has where we are sucked right into one of his sketches. The whole aesthetic of the film is a dreamy, fairytale quality. But a jazzy fairy tale, with lots of Gershwin hits and fabulous dance numbers.

With such elfin looks, I wouldn't be surprised
if she were hiding pointy ears.

I love watching dancers. There is something so pure out of making art with your body as the tool. And Gene Kelly is so good: athletic, graceful, and did I mention hot? He makes even the toughest moves look easy and makes me want to try dancing again… almost.

Leslie Caron was charming. Her impish looks and fluid grace make her a pleasure to watch. And then there’s the cute little accent which makes her attempts to tell off Jerry Mulligan downright adorable. She’s quite a dancer too, and she and Gene are matched very well as partners.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how much I liked Oscar Levant as Adam Cook. He kind of reminds me of John Cryer and he was the comic relief. My favorite scene was when he is sitting between Jerry and the French singer, Henri Baurel. Both are talking about the women they are in love with and Adam is practically choking on his cigarette and coffee because he realizes they are the same girl.

No room for anything but happy.

I loved this movie. There is something about it that makes me want to grand jeté down my street. Maybe it’s because of the music. Maybe it’s because Gene Kelly is always so dang happy, and joy just beams out of his face like a searchlight when he’s dancing. This would be a great movie to watch on a rainy day, or when you’re feeling sad. It's got everything you need for a boost: technicolor, jazz, snappy dancing, and a happy ending.

And Gene Kelly is hot.

~Anna

Next up: Rain Man (1988)

All the King's Men

All the King's Men (released November 8, 1949)
Director: Robert Rossen
Starring: Broderick Crawford, John Ireland, Joanne Dru, John Derek, Mercedes McCambridge
Produced by: Robert Rossen
Written by: Robert Rossen, based upon the novel by Robert Penn Warren
Music by: Louis Gruenberg
Cinematography: Burnett Guffey
Distributed by: Columbia Pictures

Really Bad Eggs

I mentioned in my post on The English Patient that I often have issues with books that have been turned into movies. For All the King’s Men, this was mostly the case. I read the book in 2007 when I was leading a Pulitzer book discussion series. This was the fourth and last in the series. Robert Penn Warren won the prize in 1947, and the film with the same name won the Academy Award for Best Picture two years later.

Usually the book/movie sequence happens like this for me: I read a book. I love it. Hollywood turns it into a movie. I see the movie and am greatly disappointed. For the most part I don’t go to movies anymore if I’ve seen and loved the book.

The difference with my situation with All the King’s Men, was that I hadn’t really loved the book in the first place. Like I mentioned, I read it about four years ago and even discussed it extensively. I was surprised when we watched it how very little I remembered of the book. It’s not my memory failing either, I think it’s just that the book was not really my cup of tea.

L to R: Crawford as Stark, Huey Long

I’m not a huge fan of politics, for one. Don’t get me wrong, I vote and take it as a great responsibility for being an American. But I groan each time a presidential election comes around because of all the hype and propaganda, and the grand speeches and the piecrust promises. The mudslinging and backstabbing are hideous to watch and make me so weary. Therefore, when you present me with a story about the corruption and greed that comes from high positions of power, well, I’m not all that interested.

Willie Stark is the central figure in this story. Coming from a poor, uneducated background, we first meet him running for local office in the small fictional town of Kanoma. The state is never mentioned, but we know it’s in the Deep South. Willie is closely based on the very real governor of Louisiana, Huey Long, who was assassinated in 1935 as he was gearing up the political machine to make a bid for President of the United States.

When we first meet Willie (played by Broderick Crawford), he was labeled an honest man with courage, who was running for Kanoma County Treasurer. From there he is asked to run for governor of the state in a hope he’d split the “hick vote.” He does, but not before he finds his voice and starts giving impassioned (and liquor-fueled) speeches about bringing the truth to the “dumb hicks,” of which he proclaims to be. He finally wins on his third bid and his own descent into corruption is fast and quick. He does do many great things for his state – he builds roads, schools, and hospitals, he brings his state out of the horse-and-buggy era and into the twentieth century. But the means by which he accomplishes these ends is just as despicable as the men he was originally fighting in Kanoma County.

Anne and Jack before Willie comes between them.

In addition to this main thrust of the narrative is the secondary story of newspaper man Jack Burden, who originally covers Willie’s early runs for office. Jack, in contrast to Willie, was raised in an affluent, country-club atmosphere complete with a dickwad stepfather and a drunk mother. He is in love with Anne Stanton, a neighbor who was the daughter of a former governor and the sister to Adam, a doctor Willie later appoints to head the free-care hospital he is building in the capital. It is this trio of characters that make up the complexity of the picture and the novel. All three are taken in by Willie to some degree, and it ends up his undoing in the end.

All right, I’ve told you about the movie. What did I think of it? In truth, I didn’t like it, but that has to do a lot with my own personal likes and dislikes. This is not a movie that I would gladly skip to the movie theater to see. The story is compelling, to be sure, but in the end, I could tell you I’ve seen it too many times in real life to want to waste my time watching a movie about it.

In all, I think the adaptation of the movie from the book was actually pretty well done. I can only imagine how hard it must be to take a book as complex as this one and translate that into a film. There were a few things lost, most importantly I think, was Willie’s gradual decline into corruption. The book portrays it as a more subtle progression. In order to keep the time short in the movie, he seems to go from honest man to fat cat swindler almost overnight. And the catalyst that gets him there? Why booze, naturally. Interesting comment by the director, Robert Rossen, who also wrote the screenplay.

There is part of me (on a strictly academic level) that wants to watch the 2006 version starring Sean Penn to see another interpretation. But it’s a very small part, and I’m sure if I lie down a while it will pass.

Poor bastard.

My final feelings come down to this: indifference. It wasn’t great, it wasn’t horrible. But I do remember getting to the end of the movie, and almost simultaneously Kosta and I asked, “Would someone shoot this guy already?”

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall;

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the King’s horses, and all the King’s men,

Could not put Humpty Dumpty together again.”

When you look at the entire nursery rhyme from which the title of this movie (and book) is taken, it illustrates the story very well. What is also interesting is that Humpty Dumpty while never described in the poem itself, is always depicted as a large egg man—fragile, weak, and easily crushed. And while Willie Stark seemed the opposite of these things, ultimately he came to the same end as the egg man of the nursery rhyme.

~Anna

“Starkness”

I have always harbored reservations about watching this film even though I had never seen it before. In my mind I was concerned with the unappealing combination of it being shot in grainy black and white, having politics as a subject matter, and exhibiting a cast that wouldn’t exactly pack them into the cinemas on a Saturday night in 1949.

Team Willie

That writer-director, Robert Rossen was going for a gritty and (excuse the pun) stark look there can be no doubt, however, after viewing it, all that grittiness tends to leave a rather abrasive memory of the film on a whole. It certainly wasn’t a pretty picture to watch, and maybe Rossen shot it that way, but in doing so, it left a distinct and unattractive impression on me. Although being filmed in the late Forties, the look and feel of the film seemed more in tune with the Dust Bowl Thirties. Rossen reportedly used local people for his crowd scenes – a lot of them shot outside Hollywood – which contributed to the hard look of the film. Even during the supposed idyllic interludes when reporter-narrator Jack Burden returns to Burden’s Landing, the place he grew up in as a child, one can hardly get excited about the weedy-lined, sluggish river over which his car is ferried. I guess that since the story took place in a southern state (Louisiana being the unnamed place) and amongst the poor farmers who ended up being the core constituency for populist leader Willie Stark (Broderick Crawford), one cannot expect to see starched shirts, smart fedoras and evening gowns.

It's hard to be humble when you have a giant head.

In keeping with the raw visual nature of the film, the characters were pretty much a despicable bunch. I don’t think I can ever recall watching a film without at least one redeeming character. This film had none. In fact there didn’t seem to be a gentle soul amongst the lot of them. Willie Stark (based on the controversial governor, Huey “The Kingfish” Long) started his political career fighting corruption in the backwater towns of the state until he ended up being the biggest proponent of it in the governor’s mansion. Along for the ride was a cast of characters who sacrificed honor and decency for the chance to climb to the top with him. I’m guessing Robert Penn Warren who wrote the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel upon which the film was loosely based was not a big fan of crooked politicos. He certainly didn’t see much to admire in their machinery. Stark surrounds himself with a collection of thoroughly scheming and devious people including Sadie Burke (Mercedes McCambridge) and the bought-off newspaper man, Jack Burden (John Ireland). Burke, who at first is brought in to masquerade as one of Stark’s political handlers, actually U-turns and ends up becoming his top campaign aide. McCambridge garnered a Supporting Academy Award for her portrayal which is an interesting fact considering the positively nasty and brutish role she had to play. Jack, who sold his soul early in the film, ends up eliciting very little empathy even though he clearly has several clashes of conscience as the story unfolds.

Mercedes McCambridge plays the flinty Sadie Burke.

 In this film, the viewer is left waiting for someone – anyone – to step forward and do something honorable. But it never occurs. Characters who we think might end up doing the right thing invariably take the low road and end up in a state of misery or worse, dead. Consider Judge Monte Stanton, a character who seems immune from Willie Stark’s rapacious and corruptible grasp. He ends up shooting himself when through Jack’s investigations; an unsavory incident from his past is uncovered. The fact that Jack had once loved and admired the Judge makes this scene that much harder to watch. It seems as if the corrosiveness of Willie Stark permeates everyone and everything in which it comes into contact. Anne and Adam Stanton, the brother and sister team who begin the movie with such promise also fall under and get crushed beneath the Stark political machine. In fact, after it is revealed that Anne sleeps with Stark, all our hopes lay with Adam, the one last redeemable character in the film who fights Stark ’til the end when unable to defeat him, he actually assassinates him and is in turn gunned down by Stark’s bodyguard, Sugar Boy. Watch, by the way, how many shots Sugar Boy pumps into Adams’ prone body. It was reported that Carl Weiss, the physician who assassinated Huey Long was summarily gunned down an instant later by Long’s cadre of bodyguards, who shot him 62 times!

In its overall look and feel, would have to admit that All the King’s Men has to be the starkest film ever to receive the Academy Award.

Clockwise from top left: misshapen snoot, nose full of nickels,
luxuriant trunk, and hatchet.

Finally, if the reader would indulge my irreverence for a moment I would be remiss if I did not mention a small detail I found rather amusing in this otherwise totally humorless film. All the King’s Men has to have been the only movie in cinema history to display as grandiose a collection of proboscises as has ever been committed to celluloid. Consider Broderick Crawford’s broken and misshapen snoot. Then we move on to John Ireland’s “nose full of nickels”. And how about actress Anne Seymour’s luxuriant trunk? Toss in character actor Walter Burke’s noteworthy conk and Mercedes McCambridge’s hatchet and you have a pretty amazing assortment of smellers. One is just thankful that Karl Mauldin and Barbara Streisand were not included in the cast…!

--kak

Up next: An American in Paris (1951)