Author: thehorsesheadblog

The Plot: As the sun sets on an idyllic farmland, an assortment of birds and frogs and crickets begin to inhabit the night. When a summer storm suddenly arrives, the animals take shelter in a nearby abandoned mill. What this Disney short lacks in story and character it more than makes up for with its artistry and breakthrough technology.

Why It Matters: The NFR write-up is mostly a rehash of the film’s technical achievements: the multiplane camera, plus realistic lighting design and animal movement. The film’s visuals are hailed as “dazzling” and Leigh Harline’s score is declared “compelling”.

But Does It Really?: I’m putting this in the same category as “Flowers and Trees”, a decent Disney short whose NFR worthiness is solely technical. There’s nothing wrong with “The Old Mill”, but its technological advances have been so far surpassed that they are no longer part of the film’s entertainment value. And while the realistic animal depictions are commendable, it leaves us without any memorable characters (at least the realistic animals of “Bambi” could talk). Despite my issues, “The Old Mill” is a quick, visually engaging entry in the Disney canon; not so much a cartoon you can watch and enjoy, but more like a moving painting you can view and admire. I understand and support the film’s NFR induction, but I’m not over the moon about it either.

Everybody Gets One: Not his only NFR movie, but shoutout to this film’s director Wilfred Jackson. Freshly graduated from L.A.’s Otis Art Institute in 1928, Jackson got his start at Disney as a volunteer helping custodial wash animation cels. Jackson quickly rose up the ranks, directing early Mickey Mouse and Silly Symphony shorts by 1929. “The Old Mill” was Jackson’s 51^st Disney short as a director, which he worked on concurrently with his responsibilities as one of the five sequence directors on “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”.

Seriously, Oscars?: Since the inception of Best Short Subject – Cartoons at the Oscars in 1932, Disney had a lock on the category, winning every year for the first eight years; “The Old Mill” was the sixth short in this winning streak. Academy rules at the time gave the award to the producer, not the director, which meant Walt took home his seventh career Oscar with this win, while Wilfred Jackson received zero nominations, despite directing three consecutive Oscar-winning shorts (preceded by “The Tortoise and the Hare” and “The Country Cousin”). The NFR write-up mentions that the multiplane camera also received a technical Oscar, but I couldn’t find anything to back that up.

• The music that bookends the short is the song “One Day When We Were Young”, written by Johann Strauss for his 1885 operetta “The Gypsy Baron”. We are definitely hitting the “Symphony” part of this “Silly Symphony”.
• To the best of my knowledge, the frog croaking is provided by Clarence Nash, who at that point had been with the studio a few years supplying his trademark animal noises. Despite being a voiceover in seven different NFR titles, Nash has yet to have one movie on the list where he voices his most iconic character: Donald Duck.
• Yeah, not much else I have to say about “The Old Mill”. It’s beautiful to look at, and I love the score, especially the wind sounds as the storm intensifies, but this isn’t one of my favorites. I enjoyed seeing this film again after all these years, but it’ll be a while before I watch “The Old Mill” by choice rather than by my self-imposed film blog obligation.

George Washington Carver has a fascinating life story, and this post cannot do it justice. I’ll do my best to give a condensed version for the purposes of this post, but if you only know the bullet points about this guy, you owe it to yourself to learn more.

The Plot: Noted Black surgeon Dr. C. Allen Alexander travels with his Kodak camera to the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama to record their most prominent faculty member: George Washington Carver. At one point known as “A Day in the Life of George Washington Carver”, this 12-minute film is amateur footage of Carver as he goes about his day on campus; taking meetings with students, greeting visitors, and even tending to the garden outside of his office building. That’s about it in terms of content, but come on, it’s George Washington Carver! Any footage of him is worthwhile. 

Why It Matters: The NFR calls the footage “fascinating” and praises the decision to film this in “gloriously resilient” Kodachrome. There’s also a shoutout to the National Park Service, who worked with the National Archives to preserve this and many other films in their collection (Tuskegee University was named a historic site by the NPS in 1974).

But Does It Really?: This is the rare NFR movie where the title alone justifies its significance. It’s footage of one of the most famous American scientists at one of the most prestigious Black universities; no argument here. “Carver at Tuskegee” is induction worthy, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to research both the man and the school. 

Everybody Gets One: Born into slavery in Diamond, Missouri and separated from his family when he was a week old, George Carver was raised by his owner, Moses Carver, following the abolishment of slavery in 1865. Originally planning to study art in school, Carver was encouraged to pursue botany and began studying at Iowa State Agricultural College in 1891 (their first Black student, graduate, and eventually faculty member). Shortly after earning his Master of Science degree in 1896, Carver was invited by Tuskegee Institute president Booker T. Washington to head their Agriculture department, a position he would hold for the rest of his life. Among his many accomplishments, Carver’s work with crop-rotation methods, specifically with soil-enriching crops like peanuts, led to his nationwide recognition and acclaim in the 1910s and 1920s. As time went on and Carver’s health began to decline, the Tuskegee Institute invited C. Allen Alexander of Kalamazoo, Michigan to film Carver so that the school would have at least one recording of him for posterity.

The Plot: “Rocky” Sullivan and Jerry Connolly (James Cagney and Pat O’Brien) are two childhood friends who grow up to become moral opposites; Rocky is a notorious gangster, Jerry is a priest. After serving a three-year prison stint, Rocky reunites with Father Jerry, and befriends some tough neighborhood kids (The Dead End Kids) who look up to his criminal behavior, which greatly concerns Father Jerry. When Rocky’s crooked lawyer Jim Frazier (Humphrey Bogart) reneges on a promise to give Rocky his share of the robbery that got him imprisoned, Rocky holds Jim hostage and fights his organized crime syndicate for the money. As Rocky starts making headlines, Father Jerry makes headlines of his own condemning the actions of the crime world. Oh, and Ann Sheridan is there as another childhood acquaintance of Rocky’s, because there’s always a woman in these kinds of pictures.

Why It Matters: The NFR praises the film’s ability to toe the line between gangster glorification and Code era compliance. The only major superlative goes to the “lovable” Dead End Kids.

But Does It Really?: I’ll give “Angels with Dirty Faces” a “minor classic” designation. While not as iconic as Cagney’s other gangster fare, “Angels” has its supporters and holds up reasonably well almost 90 years later. Like “The Public Enemy” before it, “Angels with Dirty Faces” is well-known enough within the gangster genre that its NFR inclusion was inevitable, if not imperative (it’s been over 20 years since a Cagney gangster pic has been added to the Registry). While I have no qualms about “Angels with Dirty Faces” making the NFR, I’m not too excited about it either.

Everybody Gets One: An aspiring actor in her native Texas, Ann Sheridan made her film debut in 1934’s “Search for Beauty” playing a small role she won as part of a beauty contest. After getting good notices at Paramount, she joined Warner Bros. and successfully oscillated between supporting roles in the A pictures and lead roles in the B pictures. In addition to “Angels”, Sheridan appeared in “Dodge City” with Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland, “The Man Who Came to Dinner” with Bette Davis, and “I Was a Male War Bride” with Cary Grant. Sheridan was also a sex symbol/pin-up girl in the late ‘30s and early ‘40s, being declared Hollywood’s “Oomph” girl in 1939, a title she detested.

Wow, That’s Dated: The $100,000 Rocky is owed for the robbery comes out to about 2.2 million dollars today. If I were owed that much money and didn’t get it, I too would resort to a life of crime.

Seriously, Oscars?: “Angels with Dirty Faces” received three Oscar nominations: Director, Story, and Actor. James Cagney’s nomination was the first of his career, and he lost to Spencer Tracy in “Boys Town” (which also beat out this movie in the Best Story category). Michael Curtiz’s Best Director nomination was noteworthy because one of his fellow nominees was…Michael Curtiz for “Four Daughters”. Curtiz lost both nominations to Frank Capra for “You Can’t Take It With You”, and shortly after this the Academy rules were changed to prevent directors from being nominated twice in the same year (this change was later reversed, allowing Steven Soderbergh to win the category in 2001 for “Traffic” over himself for “Erin Brockovich”).

• Side Note: In my “Going My Way” post, I joked about the turf wars between the Dead End Kids and the Bowery Boys. Further research has shown that the Bowery Boys were a later permutation of the Dead End Kids, with at least three overlapping members. My apologies to the 0.0000001% of you who caught that mistake. Mea culpa.
• The most interesting performance for me was Humphrey Bogart as Rocky’s lawyer. In 1938, Bogart was a rising star at Warner Bros., but was still three years away from “The Maltese Falcon”, which cemented his leading man status. Being so used to Bogart as a bonafide movie star, it’s funny seeing him here not only in a supporting role, but a supporting role where he gets pushed around by James Cagney. Jim Frazier clashes with Bogart’s later screen persona in an interesting-in-hindsight kinda way.

• As I’ve learned many times on this blog, most movie quotes are famous because they get repeated within their film. Case in point: “Whaddya hear, whaddya say?” is said at least seven times in ”Angels”. Cagney attributed the line to a pimp that lived in his neighborhood growing up and he was a bit irked when the line became a go-to for Cagney impersonators. 
• Also dated: the film’s occasional use of the word “boner”, here meaning a major mistake or error and not…well, you know.
• Father Jerry, during one of his radio addresses calling for sweeping reform in city politics: “We must wipe out those we have ignorantly elected.” There’s your “why is this still relevant” line for 2025.
• Once again, we have a movie using real ammunition for their shootout scenes because the technology for blanks had not been perfected yet. How no one got killed during these movies is a miracle, though Cagney admitted years later in his autobiography that he had a close call with a bullet during production of this movie.

• I don’t have a lot else to say about “Angels with Dirty Faces”. It’s one of the smarter gangster pictures, with Rocky cunningly evading the mob and the police in an ongoing cat and mouse game. The film’s final shootout and death row finale are memorable moments, but I don’t have any additional thoughts. It’s good, very good, but that’s all I got.

• Some sources list the 1939 film “The Angels Wash Their Faces” as a sequel to “Angels with Dirty Faces”, and while both films star Ann Sheridan and the Dead End Kids, it is definitely not a sequel. In fact, “The Angels Wash Their Faces” was filmed under the title “The Battle of the City Hall”, but had its title changed to capitalize on the success of “Angels with Dirty Faces”.

• And finally, “Angels with Dirty Faces” is not to be confused with “Angels with Filthy Souls”, the greatest movie within a movie ever made. “Keep the change, ya filthy animal.”

The Plot: During the Great Depression, Godfrey Smith (William Powell) is a “forgotten man” living in a Hooverville shanty town in a dump near Manhattan’s East River. One night, socialite Irene Bullock (Carole Lombard) offers Godfrey five dollars to be the forgotten man she needs to win a scavenger hunt held at a fancy hotel. Initially reluctant, Godfrey agrees to help Irene, and Irene thanks him by hiring him as the family butler. Godfrey adapts to the Bullock family quickly, successfully navigating the eccentric behaviors of Irene’s ditzy mother Angelia (Alice Brady), her long-suffering father Alexander (Eugene Pallette), her scheming sister Cornelia (Gail Patrick), and her mother’s – ahem – “protégé” Carlo (Mischa Auer). Despite their opposing social standings, Irene falls for Godfrey, who tries to gently rebuff her. But this is a 1930s screwball comedy, so you can figure out how this all ends for everybody.

Why It Matters: The NFR calls this “one of the most exemplary screwball comedies of the 1930s”. Lombard and Powell are praised, as is cinematographer Ted Tetzlaff. The write-up also takes a swipe at the “pitiful” 1957 remake. I love it when the NFR throws mud at other movies.

But Does It Really?: Oh sure. While not as celebrated as it once was, “My Man Godfrey” is a funny, harmless movie that holds up reasonably well nearly 90 years on. There’s a decent amount of Depression era terminology in “My Man Godfrey”, and of course the film’s handling of our unhoused population would be very different today, but if you’re willing to meet this movie where it’s at, you’ll have a lot of fun. While the screwball comedy in general is starting to become overlooked, “My Man Godfrey” is a prime example of the genre and a no-brainer for NFR inclusion.

Shout Outs: In a subtle bit of synergy, this movie makes references to “Frankenstein’s Monster” and “Ol’ Man River”, both from previous Universal pictures.

Everybody Gets One: Gregory La Cava started out as an animator working for several studios throughout the 1910s (including William Randolph Hearst’s brief foray into animation). La Cava’s move to Hollywood found him pivoting to directing live action shorts, and eventually features, notably fellow NFR entry “So’s Your Old Man” with W.C. Fields. By the 1930s, La Cava was a freelance director, and in 1936 was hired to direct “My Man Godfrey” by Universal producer Charles Rogers, who deemed La Cava “the best comedy director in Hollywood”.

Wow, That’s Dated: Most prominent among this movie’s Depression era phraseology is its term for the unhoused: the “forgotten man”, taken from a Franklin Roosevelt speech (which in turn lifted it from a William Graham Sumner lecture made 60 years earlier). FDR used the phrase to spotlight our impoverished citizens who were most affected by the Depression (and who would benefit the most from his New Deal), and the phrase quickly entered the vernacular. There’s a whole musical number about it in “Gold Diggers of 1933”!

Seriously, Oscars?: The 9^th Academy Awards were the first Oscars to include the supporting acting awards, and “My Man Godfrey” was the first film to be nominated in all four acting categories. The film also received nominations for its direction and screenplay and is still the only movie to receive these six nominations without a corresponding Best Picture nod. Unfortunately, “Godfrey” went home empty-handed, making this the only film to lose in all six of these major categories until “American Hustle” in 2013.

• Both of our leads are so great in this you would think these parts were tailored made for them: Powell as the classiest and quippiest guy in the room, Lombard as the glamourous ingenue turned clown. But of course, the most interesting fact about this movie is that William Powell and Carole Lombard were married and divorced prior to production!  Despite this, the two remained friends, and Powell insisted on Lombard for the role because he felt the Irene/Godfrey dynamic was not dissimilar to their real-life marriage.

• Because I love inflation adjustments: the five dollars Godfrey is initially offered is about $113 today, and his butler salary of $150 a month is about $3400 a month.
• Shoutout to the supporting cast. Alice Brady is delightful as the family matriarch; her husband…not so much. Yes, I know I rag on Eugene Pallette every time he comes up on this blog, but seriously, fuck that guy. Fortunately for me, this is the last film I’m covering of his that is on the NFR…for now. I will also compliment Gail Patrick as the closest thing this movie gets to an antagonist. There’s something about her that is quintessential 1930s glamour: her demeanor, her outfits, her sharp features. I also enjoyed Jean Dixon as Molly, the Bullock’s maid who always has a wry comment about the proceedings, as the maid often does in these kinds of movies.

• Carlo is clearly Angelica’s side piece, but the censors refused to let him be referred to as a gigolo, so the much vaguer term “protégé” is used. While we’re talking about Carlo; with all due respect to Mischa Auer, how did he get an Oscar nomination out of this? Carlo adds very little to the proceedings, mainly just sitting around and eating. Maybe his gorilla impression went over well with voters.
• Be on the lookout for a very young Jane Wyman as one of the socialites at the scavenger hunt. Also somewhere in the background is Bess Flowers, the “Queen of the Hollywood Extras” who appeared in hundreds of movies, at least 30 of which are in the NFR! Take that, Ward Bond!
• Line that made me laugh out loud: “It’s hard to make beds when they’re full of people.”
• At one point Godfrey admonishes Cornelia and calls her a “Park Avenue brat.” Even movies from the ‘30s know about Brat Summer (a fad that will be long forgotten by the time this post is published).
• I suspect the scene in which Godfrey shows up to work drunk is a shoutout to William Powell’s work as sophisticated alcoholic Nick Charles in the “Thin Man” film series. 
• Irene is quite aggressive in her pursuing of Godfrey (and very – as the kids used to say – extra), but it is satisfying watching her make a fool of herself, and Carole Lombard is of course a delight to watch. Every female comedian who can look elegant while doing a pratfall owes a debt of gratitude to Carole Lombard.
• That’s all I really have to say about this movie: it’s pleasant enough and sticks the landing with a cute ending. If you get a chance, watch Universal’s outtake reel for 1936, which includes bloopers from “My Man Godfrey”. It’s included as a bonus feature on the DVD and is a wonderful chance to see the likes of Carole Lombard and William Powell swearing after a blown take.

• Universal produced a remake of “My Man Godfrey” in 1957 as a vehicle for Austrian actor O. W. Fischer in his Hollywood debut. When Fischer bowed out due to “irreconcilable differences”, David Niven filled in (though Godfrey’s Austrian re-write remained intact). Co-starring June Allyson, the 1957 “Godfrey” isn’t as well remembered today, and as we’ve seen is still a punching bag for those who love the 1936 version.

• The good news: We were spared a musical stage adaptation of “My Man Godfrey” in the 1980s. The bad news: We were spared because one of the show’s composers, the legendary Alan Jay Lerner, died while he was writing the score, and the project was abandoned.
• Ah geez, I can’t end this post on such a downer. Hey here’s those outtakes I was talking about! Look at the potty mouth on Lombard!

The Plot: Pat O’Brien IS Knute Rockne, the famed football coach that led Notre Dame to five undefeated seasons and three national championships in the 1920s. Emigrating to America as a child from his native Norway, Rockne grows up in Chicago, eventually enrolling at the prestigious University of Notre Dame. While playing on their football team The Fighting Irish, Rockne successfully uses the rare forward pass play to win in an upset over Army at West Point, giving the team newfound popularity. After graduation, Rockne works as the Fighting Irish’s assistant coach, and then as their head coach, shepherding the aforementioned championships and training several promising athletes, including tragic wunderkind George Gipp aka The Gipper (Ronald Reagan). The life of an extraordinary man gets run through the Hollywood wringer and comes out a sanitized, saintly biopic.

Why It Matters: The NFR gives an overview of Knute Rockne and the film, calling it “less a factual document than a loving tribute”. And of course, the film’s connection to Ronald Regan’s later political career gets a mention (see “Legacy”).

But Does It Really?: “Knute Rockne, All American” is the kind of crowd pleasing “cradle to grave” biopic that, while noteworthy in its day, has been all but forgotten. Apart from some hardcore football fans or Notre Dame alumni, I don’t think people remember Knute Rockne, making this film’s cultural relevancy an uphill battle. The film’s by-the-numbers approach to its subject matter doesn’t help, and its uber-patriotism seems out of place in a modern viewing (think “Yankee Doodle Dandy” without the songs). Thanks to one line of dialogue, delivered by an actor whose biggest professional achievement would be 40 years later in another arena, “Knute Rockne” has maintained just enough of a pop culture footprint to warrant NFR induction (at least by 1997 standards).

Title Track: This film went by several working titles before settling on “Knute Rockne, All American”. Let the record show that despite his countless honors and memorials, Knute Rockne has never been officially named a College Football All-American, a designation bestowed on players, not coaches.

Seriously, Oscars?: No nominations for “Knute Rockne”. Warner Bros.’ big Oscar contenders in 1940 were two Bette Davis vehicles: “All This, and Heaven Too” and “The Letter”. And although Pat O’Brien never received an Oscar (or a nomination) in his 50-year showbiz career, he did receive an honorary degree from Notre Dame in 1981 alongside, you guessed it, Ronald Reagan.

• Several pivotal games in the movie are between Notre Dame and their rivals at the United States Military Academy in West Point, New York. While the West Point team is officially the Army Black Knights (aka Army Cadets), everyone in this movie just calls them Army, which makes it all sound like “Arrested Development”. “These are my awards, mother. From Army.”
• I knew Ronald Reagan was in this, but I didn’t know it was such a brief episode. He shows up as Rockne’s golden boy, gives a nice loud Chekhov’s cough in his next scene, and then it’s straight to his deathbed monologue urging Rockne to “Win just one for the Gipper”. It’s also hard to separate Reagan’s performance from his later political career: when Reagan first appeared on screen, I booed.

• Side note about “Win one for the Gipper”: Due to a dispute with the Gipp family, this scene was cut from some of the film’s TV airings and home video releases. I don’t know what exactly the dispute was over, but I guess the Gipp estate and Warner Bros. settled their differences because the uncut film has been available for the last 20 years.
• Towards the end, we get cameos from four of Rockne’s fellow college football coaches: Howard Jones, William Spaulding, Alonzo Stagg, and Glenn “Pop” Warner (no relation to the Warner Brothers). All of them are very stiff non-actors, which I’m sure was a source of entertainment and ridicule for many of their former students. Fun Fact: Alonzo Stagg spent his last years coaching football in my hometown of Stockton, California. I used to live right by the high school named after him.
• Everyone in this movie who isn’t Knute Rockne or George Gipp gets, forgive me, sidelined. Despite thanking the real Bonnie Rockne in the opening credits, her movie counterpart and the rest of the Rockne family are just set decorations. In fact, I’m convinced Rockne’s kids stay the same age throughout the movie, despite the decade-plus time jump. Also completely wasted here is Donald Crisp as Father John Cavanaugh. Come on, give him something to do; he’s Donald friggin’ Crisp! At least he’s got “How Green Was My Valley” to look forward to after this.
• Knowing nothing about Knute Rockne going in, I was blindsided by this film’s ending covering Rockne’s fatal plane crash in 1931. I thought the references to Knute’s phlebitis were set-up for a premature death, but then we spend so much screentime on him boarding a plane to California I started getting “La Bamba” flashbacks. Damn those Fokkers. Side note: While the film depicts Rockne as flying to California to defend college football at a hearing on scholastic favoritism, in reality he was flying there to serve as technical advisor for the 1931 movie “The Spirit of Notre Dame”. Perhaps Warner Bros. didn’t want to remind people that the movies played a part in Rockne’s death, or just didn’t want to give Universal the free publicity.

• I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the “Win one for the Zipper” parody speech given by Leslie Nielsen in “Airplane!”, complete with Notre Dame fight music. “I don’t know where I’ll be then…but I won’t smell too good, that’s for sure.”