In honor of what would have been Fred Zinnemann’s 116th birthday, today’s scene that I love comes from 1953’s From Here To Eternity, one of the two Zinnemann-directed films to win the Oscar for Best Picture.
In this scene, Private Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) proves that he’s still a skilled boxer. That’s not something that Prewitt wants the world to know because he’s still guilt-stricken over accidentally blinding one of his sparring partners. Captain Holmes wants Prewitt to fight on the regimental team. Prewitt would rather just play the bugle but, as he shows in this scene, he can still throw a punch if he’s forced to. It leads to a lot of drama, the majority of which is forgotten in the wake of the attack on Pearl Harbor.
(With the Oscars scheduled to be awarded on March 4th, I have decided to review at least one Oscar-nominated film a day. These films could be nominees or they could be winners. They could be from this year’s Oscars or they could be a previous year’s nominee! We’ll see how things play out. Today, I take a look at the 1949 best picture nominee, The Heiress!)
“I have been taught by the masters.”
— Catherine Sloper (Olivia De Havilland) in The Heiress (1949)
I’m not going to spoil too much of the ending of The Heiress, beyond saying that those are the words with which Catherine ends the film. Taken out of context, they may not seem like much. However, after you’ve spent two hours with Catherine, her father, and the man who claims that he’s in love with her, these are perhaps seven of the most chilling words ever uttered. When you hear them, you don’t know if you should cheer or be very, very afraid. Myself, I had both reactions but, then again, I often do.
The Heiress, which is based on a play that’s based on a novel by Henry James, takes place in 19th century New York City. Austin Sloper (Sir Ralph Richardson) is a widely admired and very successful physician. He’s also a very cold man, one who has never recovered from the death of his wife. He lives with his daughter, Catherine (Olivia de Havilland). Catherine is shy and is continually told that she’s plain and boring. She’s devoted to her father, though Austin is cruelly manipulative of her. Catherine, who has never been in a relationship, has pretty much accepted that she’s destined to be alone.
Or, at least, she has until she meets Morris Townsend (Montgomery Clift).
From the first minute that Catherine meets him, Morris seems to be perfect. He’s handsome. He’s intelligent. He’s witty. He’s charming. He’s Montgomery Clift, for God’s sake! For Catherine, it’s love at first sight and Morris says that it’s the same for him. Suddenly, Catherine’s life no longer revolves around her father. Now, she dreams of marrying Morris.
Austin isn’t happy about this. Despite showing his daughter nothing but disdain for most of her life, Austin suddenly become protective of her. He says that Morris only wants to marry her because she stands to come into a great deal of money. To prove his point, he announces that, if Catherine and Morris get married, he will disinherit Catherine and neither she nor her husband will ever get their hands on his money.
How will Morris respond to Austin’s threat? Well, you’ll have to watch the movie to find out and you really should! The Heiress is a great movie, featuring noirish direction from William Wyler and brilliant performances from by de Havilland, Richardson, and Clift. Dr. Sloper may be a monster but Richardson plays him with so much authority that it’s hard to dismiss his worries about Morris, no matter how much you may want to. Montgomery Clift, meanwhile, keeps you guessing about Morris’s intentions. And, finally, the great Olivia de Havilland deservedly won an Oscar for her performance as Catherine Sloper. Over the course of the film, Catherine goes from being a withdrawn wallflower to being a … well, I can’t tell you anymore. I don’t want to spoil the film any more than I already have. The ending will leave you shaken in the best possible way.
The Heiress was nominated for best picture but lost to All The King’s Men.
I previously posted a review of the 1967 best picture nominee Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner that was somewhat critical of Stanley Kramer as a filmmaker. In retrospect, I feel like I may have been a bit too dismissive of Stanley Kramer. When one looks over the list of every film that has ever been nominated for best picture, one comes across the name Stanley Kramer (as a producer, a director, or both) far too many times to just blindly dismiss him for the sin of being old-fashioned. While Kramer made his share of well-intentioned misfires like Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, he was also responsible for some films that remain important and watchable today. Judgment at Nuremberg is one of those films.
Judgment at Nuremberg opens in 1947, with one car being driven through the ruins of Nuremberg, Germany. Inside the car is Dan Haywood (Spencer Tracy), a judge from Maine who has been appointed chief of a military tribunal that will be passing judgment on four German judges who are accused of crimes against humanity for their legal rulings during the Nazi regime. As Haywood quickly learns, many people don’t feel that the Nazi judges should be held as accountable for their actions as men like Hitler, Goebbles, and Goering should have been. It’s up to Haywood to determine whether the accused were simply doing their job or if they had a responsibility to defy the laws that they had sworn to uphold.
Judgment at Nuremberg almost feels like two films. The first film is a courtroom drama, where the Nazi judges (the main one of which is played by Burt Lancaster) are prosecuted by the fiery Col. Tad Lawson (Richard Widmark) and defended by the idealistic Hans Rolfe (Maximilian Schell). While Lawson approaches the case and regards the defendants with righteous anger, Rolfe takes a more cerebral approach to defending the undefensible. Rolfe argues that the judges were following the laws of Germany and that if the tribunal finds them guilty than it will be finding the entire nation of Germany guilty. (In a rather clever twist, director Kramer and screenwriter Abby Mann initially make the German defense attorney a far more likable character than the American prosecutor.) During the trial, we also hear heart-wrenching testimony from two people (played by Montgomery Clift and Judy Garland) who were victimized by the Nazi regime and the judges who gave legal legitimacy to the regime’s crimes.
The second film deals with Haywood adjusting to working in Germany and trying to understand how the Nazis could have come to power in the first place. Haywood asks several Germans to tell him about life under the Nazis and every time, he is met with bland excuses. (“We were not political,” he is told more than once.) The film’s strongest scenes are the ones where Haywood simply walks alone through the ruins of Nuremberg. Spencer Tracy was a uniquely American actor and, much as he did in Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, Tracy here stood in for every American who was struggling to make sense of a changing world.
In his book Pictures At A Revolution, Mark Harris correctly points out that Stanley Kramer started out as a producer and, even after he started directing, he still approached filmmaking like a producer. While that approach led to many uninspiring films, it was also the right approach for Judgment at Nuremberg. Perhaps realizing that Judgment at Nuremberg was a long and talky movie about a disturbing subject manner, Kramer made the very producer-like decision to fill Judgment at Nuremberg with recognizable faces. While this approach has proven disastrous for many films, it works quite well in Judgment at Nuremberg.
This is one of the most perfectly cast films of all time, with all of the actors bringing both their characters and the issues that they’re confronting to vivid life. As the main defendant, Burt Lancaster brings a combination of intelligence and self-loathing to his role, playing him in such a way to reveal that even he can’t believe the evil he upheld as a judge. Meanwhile, Spencer Tracy is perfectly cast as a world-weary man who is simply trying to figure out what justice means in the post-war world. Maximilian Schell plays his role with so much passion that it’s impossible not to listen to him even when you despise the argument he’s making. Marlene Dietrich has an extended cameo where she plays the widow of Nazi general who befriends Judge Haywood but still refuses to admit that she knew anything about what Adolf Hitler was doing. Even William Shatner shows up, playing a small role as Haywood’s chief military aide and yes, he does deliver his lines in that Shatner way of his.
First released in 1962, Judgment at Nuremberg won Oscars for Best Actor (Maximilian Schell) and Best Adapted Screenplay (Abby Mann) and was nominated for 9 more: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Spencer Tracy), Best Supporting Actor (Montgomery Clift), Best Supporting Actress (Judy Garland), Best Black-and-White Art Direction, Best Black-and-White Cinematography, Best Black-and-White Costume Design, and Best Film Editing. While it’s hard to argue with the victory of West Side Story in that year’s Oscar race, Judgment at Nuremberg remains a watchable and thought-provoking film.
As part of my mission to see every film ever nominated for best picture, I watched George Stevens’ A Place In The Sun this weekend. A Place in the Sun was released in 1951. It was a front-runner for best picture but in an upset, it lost to An American In Paris. (Another best picture loser that year: A Streetcar Named Desire.)
Montgomery Clift plays George Eastman, a poor man with a religious fanatic mother and a wealthy uncle. Looking to make his fortune (i.e., to find his “place in the sun), George gets a job working in his uncle’s factory and quickly starts a romance with one of his co-workers, the shy and insecure Alice (Shelley Winters). However, even as he and Alice settle down to a life of dreary romantic bliss, George discovers that the Eastman name also allows him to mingle with (if never truly belong to) high society. He meets the rich (and shallow) Angela Vickers (played by Elizabeth Taylor) and soon, he’s also romancing her. Neither Angela or Alice is aware of the other’s existence and for a while, George has the best of both the world he desires and the world in which he actually belongs. Eventually, George decides that he wants to marry Angela and become a part of her world. However, there’s a problem. Alice is pregnant and demanding that George marry her or else. The increasingly desperate George quickly decides that there’s only one way to get Alice out of his life…
A Place in the Sun was based very loosely on Theodore Dreiser’s 1925 novel, An American Tragedy. While the movie remains (more or less) faithful to the novel’s plot, director Stevens jettisons most of Dreiser’s heavy-handed Marxism and instead concentrates on the more melodramatic elements of the story. The end result is a glorious soap opera that is occasionally a bit tacky and heavy-handed but always watchable and entertaining.
Stevens is helped by the three lead performances. As Angela, a stunningly beautiful Elizabeth Taylor manages to be both calculating and clueless, seductive and innocent. As her counterpart, Shelley Winters gives a really brave performance as Alice. The film is structured that its impossible not to feel sorry for Alice. The genius of Winters performance is that she (and director Stevens) allowed Alice to become a real, flawed human being as opposed to just a symbol of victimization. However, the film is truly dominated by Montgomery Clift. Clift is in just about every scene and his own rather fragile persona translates wonderfully in the role of George. Was Montgomery Clift ever as handsome as he was in A Place In The Sun? He gives a perfect performance as the type of guy that every girl has known, the guy that we fell in love with not because of who he was but who we thought he could be. These are the guys who always end up breaking our hearts, they’re the ones who we still can’t help but think about years later, always wondering “why?”
Unlike a lot of older films, A Place in the Sun remains remarkably watchable and relevent today. Perhaps its most famous scene involves a capsized rowboat and oh my God, that scene freaked me out so much. Admittedly, a lot of that had to do with the fact that I have this morbid fear of drowning (and, like one of the characters in this film, I can’t swim) but director Stevens also does a great job building up the scene’s suspense. He makes brilliant use of sound especially, in much the same way that Francis Ford Coppola would later use that roaring train in The Godfather. Seriously, I watched that scene with my hands literally over my eyes, just taking an occasional peek until it was all over.
One last note — there’s an actor in this film who plays a detective. You’ll see him if you play the trailer at the top of the post. His big line is “You’re under arrest.” I have no idea who this actor was but he had one of the most authentic and memorable faces that I’ve ever seen in a movie, regardless of when the movie was made. He had the type of presence that reminded me why I love character actors.
Through the Shattered Lens 