The Horse's Head

This is the revised and expanded version of my original “Gertie the Dinosaur” post, which you can read here.

The Plot: While visiting the American Museum of Natural History, cartoonist Winsor McCay bets his colleague George McManus that he can bring a dinosaur back to life using 10,000 drawings. McManus takes the bet, and a few months later McCay presents his finished film to their friends over dinner. Through the magic of animation, Gertie the dinosaur appears to peek her head out of a cave, perform a few tricks, and do a little dance. That’s about it plot-wise, but it turns out Gertie and her antics are some of the most influential film animation of all time.

Why It Matters: The NFR gives a rundown of McCay’s “greatly advanced techniques of movement in animation”. An essay by film expert and NFR author Daniel Eagan is an overview of McCay’s career.

But Does It Really?: While easily eclipsed by the more evolved cartoon mice and bunnies we’d get in the ensuing decades, none of modern animation would be possible without Gertie the Dinosaur and Winsor McCay. Even with its crude animation, Gertie’s personality comes through, making for an endearing viewing experience over a century later. A definite yes for “Gertie the Dinosaur”; the benchmark of American animation.

Shout Outs: McCay references his comics “Dream of a Rarebit Fiend” and “Little Nemo“, which had both already become short films at this point.

Wow, That’s Dated: Our knowledge of dinosaurs has evolved quite a bit in the last century-plus, but “Gertie” captured our initial fascination with these creatures following the discovery of dinosaur bones in 1905. Also, there’s something about the term “dinosaurus” that tickles me just right. 

Title Track: McCay’s leading dinosaur was originally named Jessie, but the story goes that one day he overheard someone talking to their colleague Bertie, and McCay liked the name, changing it to the feminine sounding Gertie.

• Winsor McCay and “Gertie” were an influence on what is considered the first generation of film animators. Among those influenced was Walt Disney, who many years later invited McCay’s son Robert to re-enact his father’s “Gertie” routine on an episode of the “Disneyland” anthology series. While walking around the studio lot with Robert, Walt allegedly told him “Bob, all this should be your father’s.”

• Another Gertie-Disney connection: Gertie has an ice cream shop named in her honor at Disney’s Hollywood Studios in Florida.

• An interesting development since the last time we covered “Gertie”: In 2018, animation historians David L. Nathan and Donald Crafton reconstructed the vaudeville version of “Gertie”, recreating the live performance at that year’s Annecy Film Festival in France. I also found this adorable reenactment from the 2014 Annie Awards with Bill Farmer, aka the voice of Goofy.

• But of course, Gertie’s biggest influence is on practically every animated animal with a personality we’ve seen since then, to say nothing of her influence on how dinosaurs are portrayed in film. Clever girl, Gertie. Clever girl.

The Plot: Jerry and Lucy Warriner (Cary Grant and Irene Dunne) are a sophisticated, urbane married couple with increasing paranoia about the other’s infidelities. Having enough, the two file for divorce, only fighting for custody of their dog, Mr. Smith (Skippy). A 90-day interlocutory period is enforced before the divorce is finalized, and the Warriners begin seeing other people. Lucy starts a courtship with Midwest oilman Dan Leeson (Ralph Bellamy), while Jerry finds himself in a whirlwind romance with heiress Barbara Vance (Molly Lamont). But of course Lucy and Jerry can’t help but interfere in each other’s business, with plenty of antics and mishaps until these two realize the awful truth.

Why It Matters: The NFR calls it “one of the funniest of the screwball comedies”, and gives a quick overview of its plot and production history.

But Does It Really?: Oh sure. “The Awful Truth” isn’t the definitive screwball comedy, but it’s certainly up there. The film holds up surprisingly well for an 86 year old movie, still packing in plenty of laugh-out-loud moments thanks in part to the undeniable chemistry of its two leads (and their dog). While most of this film’s contemporaries are becoming historic artifacts, “The Awful Truth” remains an entertaining rom-com and a prime example of Classic Hollywood filmmaking.

Wow, That’s Dated: The big one is the interlocutory period for the Warriner’s divorce. While some states still require a “cooling-off” period, most states have done away with interlocutory periods as they rarely helped with a couple’s reconciliation and wasted everyone’s time. That being said, my research found this recent article about how hard/dangerous it is for women to get divorced in America. Perhaps we haven’t progressed as much as we would like to think we have.

Seriously, Oscars?: One of Columbia’s biggest hits of the year, “The Awful Truth” received six Oscar nominations, including Best Picture. The film lost most of its noms to “The Life of Emile Zola“, but took home one trophy: Best Director for Leo McCarey (who allegedly told the crowd that he won for the wrong movie). Irene Dunne’s Best Actress nomination was the third of her eventual five losses in the category, and Ralph Bellamy’s Best Supporting Actor nomination was the only one of his career (Bellamy would eventually receive an honorary Oscar 49 years later).

Today’s oversimplified history lesson: The Attica prison riots. As always, I’m just here to watch the movie, but I encourage all of you to delve deeper into this pivotal moment in American history.

The Plot: By 1971, the Attica Correctional Facility in Attica, New York was overcrowded and subjecting its prisoners to an inhumane and racially discriminatory environment. Following the death of George Jackson, a prominent Black Panther member serving in San Quentin, the Attica inmates gave a list of demands for better living conditions to State Commissioner of Corrections Russell Oswald and New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller. When these demands – pertaining primarily to improved rehabilitation and education for inmates – were not met or even acknowledged, over 1200 inmates revolted and took control of half of the facility, holding 42 officers and employees hostage. From September 9^th through 12^th, 1971, negotiations between the inmates and Commissioner Oswald progressed, but ultimately reached a stalemate when authorities would not grant the inmates amnesty over the riot. On the morning of September 13^th, armed local and state police took control of the facility, opening fire and killing 39 people: 29 inmates and 10 hostages. The story behind these events, as well as the aftermath, are chronicled by journalist/filmmaker Cinda Williams utilizing footage taken during the riots, as well as new interviews with the inmates who were there.

Why It Matters: The NFR write-up is mostly an abbreviated account of the Attica revolt, but Firestone’s “outstanding investigation of the tragedy” is praised.

But Does It Really?: “Attica” is part of a subset of NFR movies that, while not eye witness accounts of historic events, are a succinct encapsulation and reflection (“Point of Order” and “Freedom Riders” are of this ilk). If you’re like me and only know the barebones summary of what happened at Attica, this film is an eye-opener. Firestone chronicles this story while the wounds are still fresh, treating her subjects with respect and making the whole event seem vividly alive. An appreciative pass for “Attica”; not a landmark in documentary filmmaking, but an effective reportage of a current (and ultimately historic) event.

Everybody Gets One: A lifelong advocate, Cinda Firestone began her career as a journalist for independent paper Liberation News Service. Firestone became interested in film while interviewing director Emile de Antonio (of the aforementioned “Point of Order”) and learning he was looking for an assistant. Shortly after seeing news coverage of the Attica riots, Firestone decided to interview the subjects and make a 15-minute documentary about it. Once she learned of color news footage shot during the takeover, Firestone’s film quickly evolved into a feature-length documentary. And yes, that’s Firestone of tires fame. Her grandfather Harvey Firestone founded the company some 75 years before “Attica” was released, and this film allegedly cost Cinda her inheritance.

Seriously, Oscars?: As best I can tell,  “Attica” did not play an Oscar-qualifying run, but 1974’s Best Documentary winner was another NFR entry about a controversial political event: “Hearts and Minds“.

Further Activism: There is so much more information out there about the Attica uprising, and plenty of ways to support its survivors and their families. I recommend checking out the Attica Brothers Foundation, which not only gives financial aid to survivors, but also archives documents and interviews pertaining to the riots.

The Plot: In a Midwestern town around the turn of the century, the Ambersons are the wealthiest family with the most expensive mansion. In her youth, Isabel Amberson (Dolores Costello) was courted by Eugene Morgan (Joseph Cotten), but she rejected his advances and married Wilbur Minafer (Don Dillaway). Stuck in a loveless marriage, Isabel chose to spoil their son George (Tim Holt!), who grew up to be an arrogant mama’s boy. 20 years later, Eugene returns to town with his daughter Lucy (Anne Baxter), who George takes a liking to, unaware of their parents’ past. Eugene is now a successful automobile manufacturer, and George becomes increasingly agitated by Eugene’s attempts to rekindle things with Isabel. It’s a multi-generational family drama with meditations of how future technology corrupts past innocence, brought to nuanced life by the director of “Citizen Kane“, and completely botched by RKO’s subsequent tampering.

Why It Matters: The NFR write-up calls the film Welles’ “most personal and most impressive”, hailing the “stylish mastery” of the creative team and states that the ensemble includes “some of the best acting…to be found in American movies.”

But Does It Really?: Something had to follow “Citizen Kane”, which I guess makes “The Magnificent Ambersons” the greatest sophomore slump in movie history. Like “Kane”, “Ambersons” is a technically impressive movie that film students and historians love analyzing shot by shot. Unfortunately for Welles, you can only have one breakthrough, and “Ambersons” has enough shared DNA with “Kane” to make comparison unavoidable. Ultimately, I didn’t care for the film: too dense and complex for a first viewing, and not engaging enough to warrant a second. Each individual scene is well-crafted (and beautifully shot), but strung together they don’t make a cohesive movie. Obviously, the studio’s extensive retooling doesn’t help matters at all, which makes “Ambersons” infamously flawed; the ultimate “What If?” of American film. “Ambersons” earns its NFR standing on its reputation, but this one is reserved solely for film buffs enticed into exploring Welles’ filmography.

Shout Outs: An homage that made me laugh out loud; one of the film’s major events is announced on the front page of the Indianapolis Daily Inquirer, the fictional newspaper from “Citizen Kane”. There’s even a column by Jed Leland, Joseph Cotten’s “Kane” counterpart; no doubt a write-up on “dramatic crimiticism”.

Everybody Gets One: Dolores Costello was the best-known of the film’s stars at the time of release, with a film career that spanned over 30 years. Costello was primarily a silent film actor (dubbed “the Goddess of the Silent Screen”), and made the transition to sound film. “Ambersons” was one of her last movies before she retired from show business to focus on her family. Fun Fact: Dolores was married to John Barrymore, and is the grandmother of Drew Barrymore.

Seriously, Oscars?: Despite its troubled production and mixed reception, “Magnificent Ambersons” received four Oscar nominations. The film lost Picture, Supporting Actress, and Cinematography to that year’s juggernaut “Mrs. Miniver” (not to be confused with this movie’s Minifers), and lost Art Direction to another wartime drama: “This Above All”.

• As expected, Welles excels at economic storytelling, especially in these opening scenes, packing in a lot of character detail and world building in a few choice compositions. Perhaps he packs a little too much in; I don’t know if all this upfront exposition makes the film too top-heavy, or if a 1942 audience was just more literate than me and could follow all of this.
• There’s a lot of great dialogue in this movie, but my favorite is George explaining to Lucy his Uncle Jack’s political status: “The family always likes to have someone in Congress.”
• I was ready to once again tip my hat to “Kane” cinematographer Gregg Toland and his masterful work filming “Ambersons”, but it turns out he wasn’t this movie’s cinematographer! Toland was unavailable, so Welles selected Stanley Cortez, known for his efficient, economic style, on loan from Universal (while utilizing many of Toland’s assistant camera team). Welles allegedly found Cortez so difficult to communicate with he demoted Cortez to second-unit photographer, letting his assistant Harry Wild preside over the remainder of the shoot.
• Tim Holt is obviously the Orson Welles stand-in as George, a spoiled rich kid not-unlike Charles Foster Kane. He’s very good in this, with significantly more screen time than his other NFR entries, but he lacks the charisma and star power Welles used in “Kane” to successfully engage an audience with his unappealing character. Welles had played George in a “Campbell Playhouse” radio adaptation a few years earlier, and as good as Tim Holt is, you do wish that Welles had taken on the part himself. Coincidentally, Orson’s real first name was George; Orson was his middle name.

• Why does George pronounce it “autoMObile”? It’s weird, especially considering that everyone else in the movie says “AUTomobile”. And if he hates cars now, wait until he sees “Two-Lane Blacktop“. 

• So much of the attention in this film goes to the technical side that I don’t have a lot to say about this cast. Joseph Cotten and Dolores Costello are both good, but also just kinda there. And while Lucy is your standard ingénue part, it’s nice seeing Anne Baxter play something other than Eve Harrington. And she’s a lot better here than she is in “The Ten Commandments“, that’s for sure.
• So Orson loves big sprawling mansions and innocent scenes of playing in the snow. Got it. Perhaps Welles’ own Rosebud isn’t too far off from Kane’s.

• Longtime readers know I love me a one-take scene, and this movie has plenty of them. “Ambersons” uses a similar technique used later in “The Heiress“: plant the camera and let the characters move around. It prevents scenes from becoming stagnant while retaining the energy of a single take.
• Everybody loves Agnes Moorehead as George’s Aunt Fanny, and her character is certainly the most sympathetic of the bunch. Personally, I found her performance too theatrical, but then again most of Ms. Moorehead’s best performances were. Fanny’s famous water heater breakdown scene is especially scenery-chewing, but I’m willing to admit that I wasn’t too invested in the movie by the time that scene came along. Ah well, Moorehead did quite alright without hearing my dramatic crimiticisms. 

• I went into this viewing knowing of the film’s troubles, most notably the alternate “happy” ending. You can almost pinpoint the exact moment where Welles’ film ends and the studio sanctioned ending begins. It’s not a total 180 from the rest of the movie, but you can sense that things are different. Everyone becomes a little too conveniently optimistic as the film segues into an upbeat conclusion. Somewhat ironically, this new ending is closer to the novel’s ending than Welles’ adaptation.
• The end credits are unique in that in lieu of on-screen titles they are all narrated by Orson Welles with visuals matching each craft (a camera for cinematography, etc.) This is very similar to how Welles would narrate the credits at the end of his radio programs. Conspicuously absent is any credit for a film score: Bernard Herrmann requested his credit be removed after most of his score was trimmed by the studio. Also, I noticed the “all persons fictitious” disclaimer at the very end. This had been around in movies for a while at this point, but I suspect its prominent inclusion here is a conscious effort by RKO to avoid another Hearst-esque headache.

• The only good thing to come out of the “Ambersons” re-shoots is that it was the first directorial work for Robert Wise, who would shortly thereafter pivot to directing, with such classics as “West Side Story” and “The Sound of Music” in his future. Welles felt betrayed by Wise filming the re-shoots, and the two did not speak to each other for 40 years, only reconciling shortly before Welles’ death.

• As Orson Welles started to get a reappraisal from the film world in the 1950s, so did “Magnificent Ambersons”, with some scholars even declaring it better than “Citizen Kane”. Although he always resented what RKO did to “Ambersons”, Welles eventually came around to accepting the final film, even tearing up when watching it on TV. In the early 1960s, Welles attempted to film an epilogue with the surviving cast, but the project fell through.
• The deleted portions of “Magnificent Ambersons” have been declared the “holy grail” of lost film footage. All signs point to the scrapped footage being destroyed by RKO to free up space in their vaults, but rumors of a surviving rough cut in Brazil still persist. There have been multiple efforts over the decades to find the missing footage, and even a few attempts at recreating the lost footage using the film’s continuity script, but so far nothing has come up. I’m surprised there hasn’t been a #ReleaseTheWellesCut campaign, though I guess first there needs to be a #FindTheWellesCut campaign.
• The closest we’ve ever gotten to the original cut of this film is a 2002 TV movie using Orson Welles’ original screenplay. Directed by “Like Water for Chocolate” helmer Alfonso Arau, this “Ambersons” still manage to deviate from both of its source materials and was quickly forgotten.

• And finally: the only reference to “Magnificent Ambersons” in pop culture that I can think of off-hand is an episode of “Mystery Science Theater 3000” where Tom Servo convinces himself he’s watching “Ambersons” to get through the bad movie they’re riffing on. “I don’t even like ‘The Magnificent Ambersons’!” You and me both, Servo.

Further Viewing: This is not the first time “The Magnificent Ambersons” was adapted for film. 1925’s “Pampered Youth” was an earlier stab at a film version, and like Welles’ later incarnation, most of this film’s footage is lost. I’m beginning to think this book is cursed or something.

The Plot: Scott Nixon is an insurance salesman and amateur filmmaker hailing from Augusta, Georgia chronicling a specific element of his travels across America. Filmed over the course of 20 years, “The Augustas” is Nixon’s recording of over 30 towns across the country – all of them named Augusta. With quick peeks at various small towns and a wry sense of humor throughout, “The Augustas” goes beyond its gimmicky premise to become a window into an all-but-forgotten slice of American life.

Why It Matters: The NFR gives a rundown of Scott Nixon and the film, calling Nixon an “amateur auteur” that brings these cities “together under the umbrella of Americana.”

But Does It Really?: Man, the NFR loves their amatuer filmmakers. I enjoyed “The Augustas” as a fun, breezy travelogue; a vacation to both place and time. But what I found especially fascinating in my research were historians trying to find a deeper meaning to all of this; the subconscious connective threads Nixon is trying to show us by highlighting these Augustas. Here’s my hot take: Maybe the man just liked the name Augusta and was amused by how many other towns shared the name. I’m all for preserving someone’s art, but don’t overthink it, especially when it’s a hobby. I can give “The Augustas” a pass for NFR inclusion as a creative twist on the standard home movie, as well as recognition of someone spending their free time documenting a niche that makes them happy: something I can definitely relate to.

Everybody Gets One: As always, my thanks to the Center for Home Movies, especially an essay Heidi Rae Cooley which rounds up the little information that’s out there about Scott Nixon. As previously mentioned, Nixon was a traveling insurance salesman from Augusta, Georgia, and a member of the Amateur Cinema League (like fellow NFR artists Mary Marvin Breckinridge and Miriam Bennett). According to his son Cobbs Nixon, Scott was so fond of the name Augusta he wanted to name his daughter Augusta Georgia Nixon, but was talked out of it. Side note: Scott Nixon was of no relation to Richard Nixon, nor did he ever suspiciously delete any of his recordings to avoid criminal charges.

Title Track: During my viewing I began to wonder if all of these Augustas are named after the same person, but it turns out Augusta was a much more common name 300 years ago. Augusta, Georgia was named for Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha, the Princess of Wales who married Prince Frederick in 1736, the same year her Georigan namesake was established. Many of the other stateside Augustas are named after family members of their founders, typically their wife or daughter. Interestingly enough, Augusta, Illinois was named after Augusta, Georgia because co-founder Joel Catlin had a memorable trip there! Now we’re getting meta.