The Horse's Head

#604) The Jazz Singer (1927)

OR “I Never Sang For My Father”

Directed by Alan Crosland

Written by Alfred A. Cohn and Jack Jarmuth. Based on the play by Samson Raphaelson, as well as his short story “The Day of Atonement”.

Class of 1996

The Plot: Jakie Rabinowitz (Bobby Gordon) grows up performing ragtime at a local beer garden, much to the disgrace of his father Cantor Rabinowitz (Warner Oland). After a falling out, Jakie leaves home, breaking the heart of his mother Sara (Eugenie Besserer). 10 years later, an adult Jakie (Al Jolson) is a jazz singer in California performing under the name “Jack Robin”. With the help of dancer Mary Dale (May McAvoy), Jakie finally gets his big break in show business, performing in a Broadway revue. Upon his return to New York, he reunites with his mother but continues to be a disgrace to his father, who wanted him to carry on the family’s tradition of being a cantor. But all of this family drama takes a back seat to the revolution of synchronized sound!

Why It Matters: The NFR focuses solely on the film’s “landmark technological achievement” as “the first feature film to include sequences with synchronized spoken dialogue”.

But Does It Really?: I only knew two things about “The Jazz Singer” before watching it: It was a game-changer for sound films, and it has a blackface number. The former item solidifies this film’s place in the NFR, while the latter helps you understand why no one talks about this movie at length anymore. For the first three-quarters of the movie, I enjoyed Jolson’s performance and the film’s unapologetic melodrama, but then you get to the goddamn blackface, and a modern viewing is instantly derailed. The Jazz Singer” will always have a place in the annals of film history, but for obvious reasons, it’s remembered more as an antiquated relic than as a piece of entertainment.

Everybody Gets One: The son of a rabbi, Asa Yoelson started his showbiz career singing with his brother Hirsch as “Al & Harry”. By the 1900s, the renamed Al Jolson was a hit on the vaudeville circuit, his career jump-started by his blackface numbers. By the 1910s, Jolson had reached Broadway and was dubbed “The World’s Greatest Entertainer”. His 1916 musical “Robinson Crusoe Jr.” inspired writer Samson Raphaelson to write the story “The Day of Atonement”, about a young jazz singer with parallels to Jolson. The story was eventually adapted to the play “The Jazz Singer”, and the film rights were purchased by Warner Bros. with George Jessel set to reprise his stage performance as Jakie. Once the decision was made to record “The Jazz Singer” with sound, Jessel asked for more money, and the role was handed off to Jolson instead.

Wow, That’s Dated: We all know what I’m gonna talk about here. Keep reading.

Seriously, Oscars?: “The Jazz Singer” was a runaway hit, becoming a contender at the first Academy Awards ceremony in 1929. The film lost its sole nomination (Adapted Screenplay) to “7^th Heaven“, but Warner Bros. received one of the first special Oscars for producing “The Jazz Singer”, “the pioneer outstanding talking picture, which has revolutionized the industry.”

Other notes

• Before we go any further, a quick history of sound on film, and where “The Jazz Singer” fits into this. The idea of synchronizing sound with film was as old as the medium itself (see “The Dickson Experimental Sound Film“), but the soundtrack was always played on a separate device from the film, leading to synch issues. The two major methods created and refined in the ensuing decades were “sound-on-disc”, in which a special phonograph player would automatically sync to the film projector, and “sound-on-film”, in which the image of the sound-wave was reproduced on the actual celluloid. Even with the advancements made by the early ’20s, the major studios failed to see the appeal of sound film other than as a gimmick. Sam Warner of Warner Bros. was able to convince his young studio to experiment with sound in their films after purchasing Vitagraph Studios, creators of Vitaphone, the most efficient of the sound-on-disc systems. After a series of experimental shorts, Warner’s first sound feature was the 1926 swashbuckler “Don Juan”, essentially a silent film with an added-on soundtrack of score and effects. “The Jazz Singer” took things one step further: although most of the film is still presented as a silent film (intertitles and all), the audio for Jolson’s songs was recorded live on set. “The Jazz Singer” was the first feature with synchronized dialogue (albeit only in two unplanned scenes) and – more importantly – was the first sound film to be a hit at the box office. Sound-on-film would eventually surpass sound-on-disc as the winning format, and “The Jazz Singer” had its Vitaphone soundtrack transferred onto the film itself in the 1930s.

• On the surface, it’s hilarious that a 41-year-old man named Al was the biggest thing in jazz, but watching him in this movie, I get it. By the repressed standards of the early 20^th century, Jolson is a rock star; his energetic movement and unconventional singing voice easily captivating his audience. Add to that the amplification of seeing (and hearing) him on a big screen, and it’s pretty easy to understand how “The Jazz Singer” became so popular. Plus, he’s not too shabby an actor, never overplaying the character’s more dramatic moments.
• Of course, we must also acknowledge the problems of a White man popularizing a music genre created for and by Black artists. It’s a big quagmire, and I leave the more nuanced discussions for someone more cultured than myself. Suffice it to say that I blame this movie for “La La Land”.
• Although only Jolson’s songs were to be recorded, Jolson ad-libbed some lines in-between his first two numbers. Sam Warner opted to keep these lines in the final cut, inadvertently making film history, with Jolson’s remark “Wait a minute, wait a minute, you ain’t heard nothin’ yet!” becoming the first line of synchronized dialogue in feature film history.

• This is easily the most Jewish movie to come out of Hollywood in its time, and the last one we’ll get for another 40 plus years. I appreciate the infusion of Yiddish words like “shiksa”, as well as the running gag about everyone getting Jakie’s father a prayer shawl for his birthday. Plus there’s an appearance by Yossele Rosenblatt, widely considered one of the greatest cantors of his day, singing Kaddish.

• Jolson continues the improvisation during his “Blue Skies” number, in which he sweet talks his loving mother. It starts as cute and then goes on long enough to be weird. Norman Bates wasn’t as close with his mother.

• There’s plenty of classic music and popular songs interspersed throughout the score, but why are they playing Tchaikovsky’s “Romeo and Juliet” overture during the scene where Jackie fights with his dad? Related note: Is this movie where “I have no son!” comes from?
• Everything goes smoothly in this film for the first hour or so, but then we get to the blackface number. Actually, the trouble starts before the blackface number. We get an extended dramatic scene in Jakie’s dressing room which takes place while he’s applying the blackface makeup to himself, and it drags on forever. Similar to the “White people stole jazz” discussion, there is a lot more to unpack here than I cover in a movie blog. As a White male I know that I am not directly responsible for the actions of a movie made 60 years before I was born, but I can still use “The Jazz Singer” as a reminder that we can always do better.
• We get a brief reprieve from the blackface for a dramatic scene at his parents’ house where Jakie must choose between his career and his family. I was genuinely tense waiting for Jakie to make his decision, so this movie must be doing something right.

• [Spoilers] In the play, Jakie chooses his family, and sings Kol Nidre at the Yom Kippur service in place of his dying father. In the film, he makes the same choice, but then we get a tacked-on ending where he performs another blackface number (“My Mammy”) at the Winter Garden with his mother in the front row. So…there were no consequences for his decision whatsoever? Takes the wind out of this movie’s sail if you ask me.

Legacy

• “The Jazz Singer” was an instant box-office sensation and, while it didn’t kill silent movies overnight, it did signal that “talkies” were here to stay. Hollywood immediately took notice, reshooting silent films with sound, and adding soundtracks to finished films. Think of “The Jazz Singer” as the first nail in the coffin for the silent era, with the remaining nails following closely behind.
• Jolson made a series of musicals for Warner Bros. in the ’20s and ’30s, including “The Singing Fool” and “Say It with Songs”, but these revue-style films quickly lost their audience in favor of bigger, grander Depression-era escapism. Jolson remained a popular figure on the stage, on radio, and at USO tours abroad before his death in 1950.

• “The Jazz Singer” has been remade three times: a 1952 film with Danny Thomas, a 1959 TV movie with Jerry Lewis, and a 1980 film with Neil Diamond and Laurence Olivier. The latter was so awful even Olivier got bad reviews!

• As for references, “The Jazz Singer” still gets mentioned primarily for its place in Hollywood history. Look no further than “Singin’ in the Rain“.
• One of the more direct parodies comes, as it often does, from classic era “Simpsons”. Jackie Mason voiced Krusty the Clown’s estranged rabbi father, who disapproves of his son’s career in show business. 

• As for the film’s technological achievements, well..we still have sound in movies, so that’s pretty good.

Further Viewing: The plot of “The Jazz Singer” is tweaked for the 1936 Merrie Melodies cartoon “I Love to Singa”, with a swinging Owl Jolson and his disapproving father. I recall it being on Cartoon Network a lot when I was a kid.

Listen To This: Al Jolson makes the National Recording Registry with his 1920 rendition of “Swanee”, a song that remained synonymous with Jolson for his entire career. The NRR website offers this recording, as well as an essay by Cary O’Dell.

#603) The Conversation (1974)

OR “Don’t Bug Me!” 

Directed and Written by Francis Ford Coppola

Class of 1995

The Plot: Harry Caul (Gene Hackman) is a surveillance expert based in San Francisco. He is highly regarded as one of the best in the business and, somewhat ironically, is intensely private about his own life; rarely opening up about himself or volunteering personal information. Harry’s next assignment is to record a conversation between a couple (Frederic Forrest & Cindy Williams) walking through Union Square. Harry successfully pulls off the recording through three separate microphones, but while fine-tuning the results, suspects that the couple may be in danger. What starts as an uncharacteristic bit of curiosity leads to full-blown paranoia and a delve into Harry’s troubled past.

Why It Matters: The NFR calls it “one of the artistic high points of the decade and of Coppola’s career”. An essay by film critic Peter Keough tries a little too hard to qualify “The Conversation” as a B-Picture.

But Does It Really?: This is definitely in the “minor classic” category of NFR films. “The Conversation” isn’t Coppola’s definitive movie on this list, but those willing to seek it out will not be disappointed. The film is a taught thriller told from the perspective of what is seemingly the most inconsequential character, digging deep into what makes this kind of person tick, and the result is an exhilarating movie experience. With great performances, incredible sound design, and a tension that quietly builds throughout the movie, “The Conversation” is an underrated film that – while only referenced today in conjunction with Coppola’s other ’70s filmography – is more than deserving of its NFR designation.

Wow, That’s Dated: Of course, there’s the analog technology Harry is using, but the most dated aspect is the idea of being “off the grid” as a normal part of life. Not to turn all Andy Rooney on you, but with cell phones and computers these days everyone’s under some kind of surveillance. Imagine what this movie would be like with the advancements surveillance technology has made in the last 50 years.

Seriously, Oscars?: After winning the Palme d’Or at Cannes (one of the few NFR movies to do so), “The Conversation” received three nominations at the 1975 Oscars, but went home empty-handed. Coppola lost Original Screenplay to Robert Towne for “Chinatown” and Best Picture to…himself for “The Godfather Part II” (Coppola was the second director to helm two Best Picture nominees in the same year). Most egregiously, Walter Murch’s Sound Design lost to the team behind “Earthquake” and its gimmicky Sensurround system. Of the unnominated, the biggest outcry was reserved for Gene Hackman’s omission from the Best Actor category.

Other notes

• Coppola wrote the screenplay for “The Conversation” in the late ’60s, inspired by (though some critics would say blatantly ripping off) Michelangelo Antonioni’s groundbreaking film “Blowup“, about a photographer who may have documented a murder in one of his photos. As an independent producer, Coppola was unable to get the film financed, but once “The Godfather” became a blockbuster hit, Coppola convinced Paramount to finance and distribute “The Conversation” as his next project. The film was produced in late 1972 by Coppola’s The Directors Company, shot on location in San Francisco and at Coppola’s American Zoetrope Studio (also in San Francisco). 
• Shoutout to Walter Murch who, in addition to his impressively intricate sound design, also supervised the film’s picture editing (with Richard Chew) when Coppola became busy with the production of “Godfather II”.
• The legendary Haskell Wexler was originally tapped as the film’s cinematographer, but was fired after creative differences with Coppola and replaced by Bill Butler. All that survives of Wexler’s work is the opening sequence, which would have been too costly and complicated to reshoot. Wexler would go on to be the cinematographer for “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest“…where he was fired after creative differences with Miloš Forman and replaced by Bill Butler.
• Speaking of that opening sequence, [chef’s kiss]. The first 10 minutes are a complex visual cacophony, with every element helping set up the jigsaw puzzle Harry spends the rest of the movie putting together. Plus, you can never go wrong with the grittiness of ’70s San Francisco. Added bonus: The background Christmas decorations qualify this film for my “Die Hard Not-Christmas List” (although Union Square is lacking its annual ice skating rink).

• Hackman is, of course, crushing it with his performance. A lesser actor would make Harry a total cipher, but with Hackman you always get the danger element lurking under this character’s seemingly boring surface. I’d even argue this is Hackman’s best film performance, his restraint impressing me more than his usual explosive energy.

• One of my notes reads “Okay, but something’s gonna happen, right?” Like many a ’70s movie, “The Conversation” takes its time getting started, and patience is truly a virtue.
• This movie boasts several “before they were famous” stars in supporting roles. For starters, the couple being spied on are future TV star Cindy Williams and future Oscar nominee Frederic Forrest. Teri Garr shows up for one scene as Harry’s…girlfriend? It’s funny to think that both Garr and Hackman are a few months away from their 180-degree comic turns in “Young Frankenstein“. And of course, The Director’s assistant is played by a young Harrison Ford; the rare performance in his career devoid of his leading man sensibilities. We don’t even get a finger point!

• I’m enjoying David Shire’s minimalist score, a single piano to symbolize Harry’s growing isolation. As is often the case with Coppola, it’s hard to cry nepotism when the results are this good (Shire was Coppola’s brother-in-law at the time).
• This is the fifth and final NFR movie I’ve covered to feature John Cazale. His work here as Harry’s easygoing colleague Stan adds another dimension to his screen performances and is a reminder to be grateful that his work has been so well preserved.
• I’m a fan of any movie that explores Catholic guilt, in this case the guilt that Harry’s religious upbringing still preys upon him. 
• The convention subplot detours the movie a bit, allegedly the only remaining subplot in the final film (the original cut was over 4 hours!). Allen Garfield delivers a nice, naturalistic performance as Harry’s former co-worker, and we come closest to seeing Harry at his most vulnerable. Now will someone please explain to me what a “Princess Telephone” is?

• That’s an uncredited Robert Duvall as “The Director”. Duvall’s post-“Godfather” star status helps solidify the sense that Hackman is a minor character in someone else’s movie. 

• The Director’s office building is located at One Embarcadero Center, which I walk past on my way to work every morning. The exterior looks remarkably similar today; I recognized it before the camera pulled back to reveal the address.
• I went into “The Conversation” unaware of any of the film’s plot points, so the ending was a pleasant surprise to me. I don’t want to spoil any of it for a first-time viewer, so I’ll just leave you with these very vague notes: 1) This is the second most intense movie scene to take place in a hotel bathroom, and 2) Hackman is definitely not getting his security deposit back.

Legacy

• While not successful at the box office, “The Conversation” was well-received in its day by critics, and the one-two punch of this and “Godfather II” helped solidify Coppola’s standing as one of his generation’s best directors. Coppola’s next project: an adaptation of “Heart of Darkness”, which I’m sure went smoothly for everyone.

• Both Francis Ford Coppola and Gene Hackman have reflected in recent years that “The Conversation” is one of their favorite movies from their respective careers.
• After production wrapped on “The Conversation”, news broke of the Watergate scandal, and Coppola was surprised to learn that much of the technology he had used for the surveillance within the film was also used by Nixon’s team to spy on his enemies. “The Conversation” was released a few months before Nixon’s resignation as President, and many (then and now) have described the film as a reflection of Watergate-era paranoia, which Coppola repeatedly states is pure coincidence.
• Coppola has attempted at two different times to adapt “The Conversation” to a weekly television series. A pilot shot in the mid ’90s for NBC starred Kyle MacLachlan but was never picked up to series. Another attempt in the mid-2000s, written by Christopher McQuarrie and updated to the present day, never made it past development at ABC.
• Tony Scott’s 1998 political thriller “Enemy of the State” has been cited as a spiritual successor to “The Conversation”, particularly the casting of Gene Hackman as a former NSA agent. Photos of Hackman in “The Conversation” were used as the younger version of his “Enemy of the State” character.

#602) Tabu: A Story of the South Seas (1931)

OR “How are Things in Bora Bora?”

Directed by F.W. Murnau

Written by Murnau and Robert J. Flaherty

Class of 1994

The Plot: The South Pacific island of Bora Bora is met with the arrival of Hitu (actor unknown), an emissary from another island with a message from their Chief. With the death of their sacred virgin, the title has now been placed on young native Reri (Anne Chevalier), who is officially declared “tabu”: she cannot be touched or desired by any man under penalty of death. This news does not sit well with Reri or with her beau Matahi (actor unknown), and the two flee the island, taking refuge in a colonized city in French Polynesia. Reri and Matahi are happy in their new life, but Hitu and the curse of Tabu loom over the couple. Will these two keep their newfound happiness, or become the next victims of Tabu?

Why It Matters: The NFR praises the film’s “lush” cinematography and quotes the New York Times review that described “Tabu” as a “picture poem”.

But Does It Really?: “Tabu” is on the list because of its impressive cinematography and for being F. W. Murnau’s last film. That’s it. Unsurprising for a Murnau film, “Tabu” is beautifully shot, and it’s impressive to watch a story told almost exclusively through the visuals, but the film suffers from the kind of exoticizing of other cultures prominent throughout most films of this era, which makes for a difficult modern viewing. Still, “Tabu” is a unique movie thanks to the melding of Murnau’s expressionism and Robert Flaherty’s docudrama technique, and holds up well enough today to warrant a pass for its NFR designation.

Everybody Gets One: Raised in Tahiti by a Polynesian mother and French father, Anne Chevalier was discovered by F.W. Murnau at age 16 and cast as Reri. Chevalier traveled to the United States and Europe to promote the film and even performed her dance routines in nightclubs and cabarets (plus a stint in the Ziegfeld Follies). Anne Chevalier was the only “Tabu” cast member to appear in other movies, starring in two more (“Black Pearl” and “The Hurricane”) before returning to Tahiti for the rest of her life. And for the record, Anne is of no relation to Maurice Chevalier.

Wow, That’s Dated: The opening credits state that while the film is cast with “native-born South Sea Islanders”, there are a few “half-castes”, a derogatory term for people of mixed European and Indian heritage.

Title Track: Tabu is the Polynesian concept denoting something as sacred and prohibited (it’s the word that the English “taboo” is derived from). While spelled “Tabu” at the time of the film’s release, the Tongan language now spells it “Tapu”.

Seriously, Oscars?: While not very successful upon its initial release, “Tabu” was nominated for – and won – a single Oscar for Floyd Crosby’s cinematography. “Tabu” was the last silent film to win Best Cinematography, and at age 31 Crosby is still the category’s youngest recipient. 

Other notes

• F.W. Murnau and Robert Flaherty were introduced through Flaherty’s brother David and hit it off immediately. The two agreed to collaborate on a film set in Tahiti; Murnau had always wanted to make a film there, and Flaherty had previous experience filming in the South Seas. The original film was titled “Turia”, but when financing fell through (possibly due to the 1929 stock market crash), Murnau funded the film himself and rewrote the entire script to avoid a potential legal dispute with the original production company.
• “Tabu” was filmed in Tahiti over eight months. Production went south immediately as Murnau and Flaherty’s relationship started to sour. Flaherty did not like Murnau’s new script, and the little he contributed to the rewrite was deemed unusable by Murnau. Unsatisfied with Flaherty’s footage of the opening sequence, Murnau hired Floyd Crosby to serve as cinematographer, with Flaherty returning to America to develop the arriving film stock. Flaherty’s initial co-director credit was removed, and his ultimate contributions to the final film are debatable. Flaherty’s involvement was further diminished when after production, broke and desperate for money, he sold his share of the film back to Murnau for $25,000.
• It’s 1931 and we’re thousands of miles away from the nearest Hollywood studio, so you know what that means: Pre-Code nudity! The opening bathing scene is tasteful and shows great restraint. I wonder if any of these women ever suspected this footage would be readily available for viewing over 90 years later.
• Shoutout to Floyd Crosby; the cinematography is genuinely impressive. The shots aboard the outriggers are the best: the rowers and their boat are stable in the foreground while the ocean bounces wildly in the background. Fun Fact: Crosby was the only professional cameraman on the shoot, the rest of the cameras were helmed by native Bora-Borans. 
• The ship from Papeete is named “Moana”. This is, of course, the Tahitian word for “ocean”, but now I have the songs from that Disney movie stuck in my head. Damn you Lin-Manuel Miranda and your worthy succession of Alan Menken!
• The inherent issues with women being treated as property aside, my big question regarding Reri’s new Tabu status: What happened to the last virgin? They gloss over that little detail quickly.
• Matahi and the other natives participate in a ritualistic dance celebrating Reri, and boy I hope it’s culturally accurate. Things take a turn when Matahi dances a little too close to Reri. I didn’t realize this movie was the original “Dirty Dancing”. Nobody puts Reri in a corner.
• Anne Chevalier has the “head down in sadness” look down pat. Every time she walks I keep waiting for them to play “Christmas Time Is Here“.
• Oh come on, the message says that Reri was “stolen”? She’s a person, not property. Somehow the term “kidnapped” is less demoralizing in this scenario.
• As one of the last truly silent films (soundtrack aside), “Tabu” features no intertitle dialogue, with the only expository text coming from letters and journal entries within the film. It’s commendable, but that being said the filmmakers increasingly rely on this technique as the film goes along.
• You gotta love any movie where a plot point involves a shark. Obviously, it’s a model shark (you can more or less sense the hand holding it up in some shots), but it works for a movie on a shoestring budget. And like “Jaws” some 40 years later, Murnau knows to only show the shark sparingly for maximum effect.
• Between this and “La Perla“, the NFR really wants to warn me about the dangers of pearl diving. 
• Is it just me, or does the score keep almost turning into “Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing“?
• Ah yes, there’s your Murnau expressionism at work. The camera gets in close to Matahi’s face as he struggles to sleep, with the image of the man he owes money to superimposed over him. This composition should feel out of place, but given this movie’s somewhat heightened reality, it works.

• Wow, what a downer ending. I guess the moral is “keep it in your pants”?

Legacy

• Upon his return to Hollywood, F.W. Murnau sold the distribution rights of “Tabu” to Paramount, who added a score by Hugo Riesenfeld to the otherwise silent film. Murnau was in talks with Paramount to make several films in Tahiti, the next one planned was an adaptation of Herman Melville’s novel “Typee”. Sadly, one week before the premiere of “Tabu”, F.W. Murnau was in a car accident and died the following day from sustained head injuries. He was 42, and “Tabu” was his final film.

• After the lackluster box office performance of “Tabu”, the film’s distribution rights reverted to Murnau’s mother Ottilie Plumpe. In the 1940s, she sold the film to screenwriters/directors Rowland and Samuel Brown, who re-released it in 1948 (albeit with Code-mandated cuts). Murnau’s nieces eventually bought the film back in the 1960s, and in the ’70s Floyd Crosby funded a restoration of the original uncut film by UCLA.
• Floyd Crosby would go on to serve as cinematographer for such NFR entries as “The River” and “High Noon“. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet on the blog, but Floyd Crosby is the father of singer David Crosby. Do with that piece of trivia what you will.
• “Tabu” is one of many films of the era that romanticized the South Pacific for American (re: White) moviegoers. Among the other films, Best Picture winner “Mutiny on the Bounty” and Anne Chevalier’s final film “The Hurricane”.

Further Viewing: “Tabu” is typically remembered today in conjunction with the rest of Murnau’s filmography. Easily the most iconic of his earlier, NFR ineligible films is 1922’s “Nosferatu”. Check that out and, if there’s time, take a peek at 2000’s “Shadow of the Vampire” with John Malkovich as Murnau!

#601) Shane (1953)

OR “Sorrowful Ladd”

Directed by George Stevens

Written by A.B. Guthrie Jr. and Jack Sher. Based on the novel by Jack Schaefer.

Class of 1993

The Plot: In the Wyoming Territory of the 1880s, a mysterious gunfighter known only as Shane (Alan Ladd) arrives at the homestead of ranchers Joe & Marian Starrett (Van Heflin & Jean Arthur). Shane takes work as their farmhand, easily impressing the Starrett’s eight-year-old son Joey (Brandon deWilde) with his gunmanship. Soon Shane learns of an ongoing turf war between settlers like the Starretts and the cattle rustler Rufus Ryker (Emile Meyer), who hires gunfighters to scare settlers off their land. When Ryker hires the notorious Jack Wilson (Jack Palance), Shane agrees to help the Starretts win this fight, even if it means using his moralistic present to justify his criminal past. It’s a meditative take on a west that was becoming a little less wild, in a movie that meditates on the evolving status of the western film genre.

Why It Matters: The NFR praises the film’s impressive scale, cinematography, and performances by Ladd and Palance. It also points out that “Shane” features “some of the longest dissolves in American cinema”. What an odd thing to find noteworthy about one of the most famous films ever made. It’s like if a film made the NFR for having the longest credits or the best on-set catering.

But Does It Really?:  I think this is another case of a film’s reputation (and preordained “classic” status) overhyping my viewing experience. Don’t get me wrong, “Shane” is a step up from most of the westerns on this list, and like the NFR write-up I appreciated the performances and cinematography, but overall “Shane” never fires on all cylinders like its reputation would suggest. “Shane” is by no means undeserving of its NFR status, but like our hero’s inability to stay put in an ever-changing landscape, I wouldn’t be surprised if “Shane” moves on from its status as an untouchable film classic.

Everybody Gets One: A.B. Guthrie Jr. was a novelist, having won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1950 for his book “The Way West”. While Howard Hawks was producing the film adaptation of Guthrie’s “The Big Sky”, he recommended Guthrie to George Stevens to adapt “Shane” for the screen, even though Guthrie had never written a screenplay before. “Shane” is one of only two movies for which Guthrie is credited as a screenwriter (the other is 1955’s “The Kentuckian”). Co-writer Jack Sher was also new to moviemaking when he helped pen “Shane”. His subsequent writing career included 14 more movies, and three episodes of “Bewitched”!

Wow, That’s Dated: As with many a movie from this era, there are plenty of day-for-night shots that always look weird. If the sky ever turns that shade of blue in real life, we’re doomed.

Seriously, Oscars?: One of the biggest hits of 1953 (and one of the most successful westerns of the decade), “Shane” received six Oscar nominations, including Best Picture and Best Director. “Shane” lost five of its six nods to “From Here to Eternity“, but still managed a win for Loyal Griggs’ color cinematography (thank god “Eternity” was in black & white).

Other notes

• The novel of “Shane” was published in 1949, and Paramount purchased the film rights immediately. It’s unclear when George Stevens became involved, but apparently his son George Jr. read “Shane” while in college and suggested to his father that it would make a good film. “Shane” was filmed on location in Jackson Hole, Wyoming in the summer and fall of 1951, though the film would not be released until the spring of 1953 due to George Stevens’ extensive editing process. 
• I’m about thirty seconds into this movie and I already love the cinematography. One of the last films shot in the original Technicolor process, “Shane” has the lush, vibrant colors we associate with classic movies: the natural beauty of the Wyoming mountain range (including Grand Teton) juxtaposed with the drab earth tones of the land and the cabins. In addition, there are plenty of lovely visual compositions during the dialogue scenes that help tell the story and develop character.

• This was my introduction to Alan Ladd, who doesn’t have a lot of classics on his resume (his only other NFR appearance is a brief turn as a reporter in “Citizen Kane“). He’s stoic, I give him that, but maybe his Shane is a little too passive? I guess I don’t have any other Ladd performances to base this one off of. There’s also a Robert Mitchum quality about Ladd’s voice, so that’s not helping.

• After being genuinely delighted by her work in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington”, I was a bit let down by Jean Arthur in “Shane”. She’s a little too old for the part (Ms. Arthur was 50 during production), and it doesn’t help that Marian is sidelined for most of the movie, given no plot responsibility whatsoever, other than to say “Joey, stop it” every few minutes. There’s also a lot of glancing going on between Marian and Shane. Was there a “forbidden romance” subplot cut from the novel?
• Also showing up in this is Ben Johnson, still 18 years away from his Oscar-winning turn in “The Last Picture Show“. I didn’t realize he was so young.

• Yes, there is a moment with the familiar-sounding exchange “You speaking to me?”  “I don’t see nobody else standing there.” Whether or not “Taxi Driver” is referencing this directly is anyone’s guess.
• Wow, that is one hell of a punch. Ben flew across the room like a cartoon character. I guess Shane remembered to eat his spinach that day.
• “Shane” is not without its faults, but you can’t entirely hate a movie with a good ol’ fashioned barroom brawl. 

• Hey, that’s Elisha Cook Jr. from “Maltese Falcon“! I recognized him immediately this time!
• What did George Stevens see in Brandon deWilde? Apparently the eight-year-old deWilde was cast based on his breakout performance in the play “The Member of the Wedding” with Julie Harris and Ethel Waters. Maybe he was dynamite on stage, but in this film he seems like any other run-of-the-mill child actor. And an Oscar nomination to boot? Were there only five eligible performances that year? Hopefully he’s better in “Hud”.
• Ah, Jack Palance. I’m used to seeing Jack in his later, “I crap bigger than you” days, so it’s refreshing seeing him as the young heavy he used to play all the time. With his slow gait and impossibly angular features, Palance makes a memorable screen villain. I’ll also argue that in another universe, Jack would have made a great Joker (and not just Carl Grissom).

• While we’re on the subject, Jack pronounced his last name PAL-ance, not pa-LANCE. It was an anglicization of his Ukrainian last name Palahniuk, and Jack hated when people emphasized the second syllable.
• “A gun is as good or as bad as the man using it.” I mean, he’s not wrong, but it’s so much more complicated than that. 

• I appreciate that in a film about land claimers, they at least acknowledge the Indigenous people that lived on the land first. Granted, it’s only one line and we don’t actually see any Indigenous people on screen (nor do they mention the specific tribes), but still, it’s better than having them run around like John Ford savages.
• The only funny exchange in the movie: Fred Lewis (watching his cabin burn): “I built it with my own hands.” Mrs. Lewis: “Not the girls’ room.” Fred: “I was gettin’ ’round to it!” George Stevens could never truly escape his beginnings in film comedy.
• The finale is…fine. I wasn’t necessarily engaged with “Shane” at this point, but ultimately I was curious to see how they wrapped things up. The final shootout has some good tension (aided by the sound design that helps condone the minimal violence we see), and of course, if you know one line from this movie, it’s Joey’s saddened cry: “Shane! Shane! Come back!”

• Man, I really wanted to like this movie, and I still can’t exactly figure out why I didn’t. I’ve never been a big western fan to begin with, so maybe it’s just genre bias? Ah well, maybe next time.

Legacy

• “Shane” was the end of an era for most of its creatives. George Stevens made a handful of movies (including 1956’s “Giant“) before retiring. Jean Arthur would also retire from the movies shortly thereafter, and “Shane” was her last film. Sadly, within 18 years of this film’s release, we lost Alan Ladd, Van Heflin, and Brandon de Wilde in three separate tragic occurrences.

• A TV adaptation of “Shane” starring David Carradine came and went in the fall of 1966. Hmmm….a TV show where David Carradine plays a man with a mysterious past, traveling the Old West and fighting for justice. It could work…

• While there have been no direct remakes of “Shane”, Clint Eastwood’s 1985 film “Pale Rider” borrows several elements from the film, as does 2017’s “Logan”.

• There are still occasional references made to “Shane” in pop culture (almost always the final lines), but hands-down the most random is Cliff Robertson as Shame, the Conniving Cowboy of Crime, on the ’60s “Batman” TV series. Hey, that’s two Batman references in one post!

• Perhaps the film’s longest legacy: among the many who saw “Shane” when it was first released was a young Billy Crystal (with his babysitter Billie Holiday – but that’s another story). Almost 40 years later, when it came time to cast the trail boss Curly in “City Slickers”, Crystal’s first and only choice was Jack Palance, based on his performance in “Shane”. Palance took the part and won an Oscar (as well as my vote for Best Oscar Speech).

#600) Footlight Parade (1933)

OR “A Number of Issues”

Directed by Lloyd Bacon. Musical numbers by Busby Berkeley.

Written by Manuel Seff and James Seymour. Songs by Harry Warren & Al Dubin and Sammy Fain & Irving Kahal.

Class of 1992

The Plot: With the advent of talking pictures, Broadway musical director Chester Kent (James Cagney) fears his career is over. After being persuaded to see one of these “talkies”, he witnesses a prologue, a dance number performed live on stage before the movie, and decides to pivot his career to directing these mini-musicals. With support from his devoted, wise-cracking secretary Nan (Joan Blondell), Chester assembles his dancers into “units” for various prologues to be performed across the country. Among his dancers is juvenile lead Scotty Blair (Dick Powell) who may be falling for secretary turned dancer Bea Thorn (Ruby Keeler). When Chester learns that his prologues might get a deal with a major theater chain, he has to stage three lavish prologues, performed at three different theaters on the same night! There’s a lot of plot before you get to the exciting Busby Berkeley numbers these films are known for.

Why It Matters: The NFR calls it “one of the best of the Warner Brothers showbiz musicals”, praising Cagney’s “dynamite” performance and Busby Berkeley’s numbers. A loving essay by early film expert Randy Skretvedt calls the film “pure enjoyable escapism” compared to the darker tones of fellow NFR entries “42nd Street” and “Gold Diggers of 1933“.

But Does It Really?: “Footlight Parade” is the third of the ’30s Busby Berkeley backstage musicals on this list, and I’m tempted to rank it as third best. Collectively, these three represent a genre synonymous with Depression-era escapism, but individually none of them hold up as an undisputed classic. “Footlight” in particular suffers from too much backstage/not enough musical, and is bogged down by some very dated concepts. I get why “Footlight Parade” is on the list, but perhaps the NFR should have just selected the “That’s Entertainment!” film series, preserving the Busby Berkeley numbers from these three films and trimming the fat.

Wow, That’s Dated: Oh man, we have a lot to cover this time. First of all, prologues, but I’ll get to those a little later. There are the usual Depression-era sensibilities and obscure references (Lydia Pinkham, anyone?), but mainly we have to acknowledge the massive racial insensitivity throughout, particularly the copious Yellowface in the “Shanghai Lil” finale. Oh, and in one rehearsal scene, there’s a guy sitting in the background wearing Blackface AND THEY NEVER ACKNOWLEDGE HIM!

Seriously, Oscars?: No Oscar nominations for “Footlight Parade”, the only one of Warner Bros.’ three backstage musicals of the year to not be recognized by the Academy.

Other notes

• A quick word about prologues. Turns out they were real, and more or less how they are depicted here: specialty acts and dance numbers that preceded your feature presentation, typically themed around the movie. The brother-sister team of Fanchon & Marco Wolff were the top prologue producers of the day, and their studio in Hollywood served as the basis for Kent’s studio in this film. While prologues were popular in their ’30s heyday, they were slowly phased out over the decade in favor of cheaper B-pictures and shorts. New York’s Radio City Music Hall was the last of the classic movie houses to feature prologues, ending the tradition in 1979 when it stopped showing movies altogether.
• 1933 was the year of the backstage musical. “42nd Street” was released in March and was an instant hit. “Gold Diggers of 1933” was already in production, but more numbers were added following the success of “42nd Street”, and the film hit theaters in May. “Footlight Parade” was filmed in the summer of ’33 and released that October, which explains why “Footlight” has more in common with “42nd Street” than “Gold Diggers” does.
• James Cagney got his start in show business as a hoofer before pivoting to acting. Even in his early film roles he was already pigeonholed as a gangster (“The Public Enemy” came out in 1931), and Cagney lobbied for the role of Chester Kent to avoid typecasting. Cagney’s performance is one of the things keeping this movie afloat; he plays his role with such conviction it really does hold together some of the more disjointed parts of the film.

• I’m appreciating all the scene wipes this movie has. “Footlight Parade” may rival the entire “Star Wars” franchise for sheer quantity of wipes.
• This movie gets my standard note of confusion: “What is happening?” Part of that is everyone’s talking at breakneck speed, and part of that is the long-forgotten world of prologues, which a modern audience may have difficulty understanding (I sure did, and I actually study this stuff!).
• Among the plethora of Warner Bros. character actors in the film is Hugh Herbert as a censor (a not-so-subtle dig at the burgeoning Production Code). Side note: Herbert is one of many ’30s actors caricatured in the Disney cartoon “Mother Goose Goes Hollywood” (his joviality lends itself well to Old King Cole). Also making an appearance is Frank McHugh as the exasperated choreographer. If he keeps stressing out and chomping on those cigars he’s gonna pull a Joe Gideon.
• Yes, Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler play the same juvenile romantic leads they played in “42nd Street”, but this was long before you could watch these movies on a loop in your own home, so reprising these character types in film after film was the next best thing.
• “Footlight Parade” was one of the last major movies to be released before the Production Code went into full force in 1934. Joan Blondell in particular gets the bulk of the risqué dialogue, most of it directed at her on-screen rival Vivian Rich. Highlights include Nan introducing her as “Miss Bi- uh, Rich”, and her later remark that “As long as they’ve got sidewalks, you’ve got a job.” Whoa.

• I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: tap dancing in heels is one of the most impressive things I’ll ever witness. Get it, Ruby Keeler!
• It takes 41 minutes before we finally get our first big production number: “Sitting on a Backyard Fence”, performed by the entire ensemble dressed as cats. It’s…very unsettling, not unlike another attempt to put dancing cats on the big screen.

• Once again, these backstage movies have way too much plot for something that should just be an escapist spectacle. I only have enough bandwidth to follow one of these plot lines, I don’t need eight of them vying for my limited attention.
• This movie gives us three different finale musical numbers: It’s like an all-dancing version of “Clue”! Finale #1, “Honeymoon Hotel”, is easily the weakest. It’s the only one not directed by Busby Berkeley (He was called back to his home studio of MGM), and with all due respect to dance director Larry Ceballos, it’s pretty obvious this one is missing Berkeley’s genius. In addition to its static staging, it relies on old tropes like adulterous couples registering as “Mr. & Mrs. Smith”, and the ever-watchful hotel detectives. Bonus weirdness: there’s eight-year-old Billy Barty running around, with a joke implying that he slept with one of the adult brides. What is happening?

• “By a Waterfall” (Finale #2) is the best one. There are plenty of aquatic configurations as Busby’s overhead camera captures beautiful women in stunning formations. Sure, none of this would actually fit onto a stage, but who cares, it looks great. “By a Waterfall” is definitely the reason this movie is on the NFR, it’s just a shame you have to sit through the rest of this movie to get to it.

• And then we arrive at “Shanghai Lil” (Finale #3). Yes, it’s the number where we finally see Cagney strut his stuff (more than holding his own against Ruby Keeler), but this is also the number that features Ruby Keeler in Yellowface, spouting broken English and exhibiting other harmful Asian stereotypes. Again, it’s a technically impressive number (complete with patriotic card stunt), but the racial insensitivity is too much to stomach. One of my notes simply read “Oh no oh no oh no”. 

Legacy

• Like its predecessors, “Footlight Parade” was a hit upon release, and Warner Bros. kept cranking out backstage musicals for the rest of the ’30s. Busby Berkeley continued directing and choreographing for the movies for the next two decades (though his early work with MGM and Warner Bros. was his creative peak). 

• As reiterated in the Skretvedt essay, “Footlight Parade” showed off Cagney’s dance moves for the first time on the screen, paving the way for his Oscar-winning turn in “Yankee Doodle Dandy“. Similarly, Esther Williams owes her career to Berkeley’s swimming number here. 

• Footage from “Footlight Parade” shows up in another NFR entry from 1933: William Wellman’s vastly underrated “Wild Boys of the Road“.
• But of course, if you’re a theme park nerd like me, you know what this film’s main legacy is. The opening sequence of Disney MGM Studios’ “The Great Movie Ride” was a recreation of this movie’s “By the Waterfall” sequence, complete with rotating platforms of (animatronic) women and active water jets! Maintenance, however, was always a problem as the platforms would constantly break down and the water jets would occasionally flood the track. For most of this ride’s 28-year existence, the big opening number sat motionless behind a scrim.

Wow, 600 movies, which means I am almost 75% of the way through this list! My sincerest gratitude to all of you who keep checking in and supporting my never-ending film festival. Stay tuned for more posts.

Happy viewing,

Tony