California Straight Ahead! (1937, directed by Arthur Lubin)


Biff Smith (John Wayne), fired from his job as a school bus driver, becomes a partner in a trucking company.  In order to show-up the railroads that are determined to put any potential competitors out of business, Biff and his fleet race a train to the Pacific Coast, where a boat needs to be unloaded before a labor strike begins.  Making this personal for Biff is that he’s in love with Mary Porter (Louise Latimer), the sister of Biff’s late business partner.  Embittered by her brother’s death in a trucking accident, Mary is now working for the head of the railroad, James Gifford (Theodore van Eltz).  Biff not only wants to prove that his small trucking firm can compete with the big boys but also wants to show Mary that her new boss is nothing but a smooth-talking weasel.

This film is from John Wayne’s B-movie star period, before John Ford cast him in Stagecoach and made him one of the biggest stars in the world.  California Straight Ahead! features Wayne in a contemporary role, though the movie still has a western sensibility.  There’s not much difference between a wagon train and Wayne’s fleet of trucks and, as in so many westerns, the greedy railroad baron is the villain.  This is one of Wayne’s better B-movie performances.  He was clearly comfortable in front of the camera by the time he made this movie and was no longer as stiff as he was in his earlier films.  California Straight Ahead! is a crowd-pleasing film that finds Wayne standing up for small businesses and their workers.  Though this may just be a 61-minute B flick, California Straight Ahead! reveals the movie star that Wayne would soon become.

Lisa Reviews An Oscar Winner: Cimarron (dir by Wesley Ruggles)


(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 1931 best picture winner, Cimarron!)

“Be careful, Hank!  Alabaster may be a little dude but he’ll mess you up.”

“No offense … but he’s from Oklahoma.”

— King of the Hill Episode 5.13 “Ho Yeah”

Some best picture winners are better remembered than others.  Some, like The Godfather, are films that will be watched and rewatched until the end of time.  Others, like Crash, seems to be destined to be continually cited as proof that the Academy often picks the wrong movie.  And then you have other films that were apparently a big deal when they were first released but which, in the decades to follow, have fallen into obscurity.

1931’s Cimarron would appear to be a perfect example of the third type of best picture winner.

Based on a novel by Edna Ferber (who would later write another book, Giant, that would be adapted into an Oscar-nominated film), Cimarron is an epic about Oklahoma.  The film opens in 1889 with the Oklahoma land rush.  Settlers from all across America rush into Oklahoma, searching for a new beginning.  Among them is Yancey Cravat (Richard Dix) and his wife, Sabra (Irene Dunne).  Yancey is hoping to become a rancher but, upon arriving at the settlement of Osage, he discovers that the land he wanted has already been claimed by Dixie Lee (Estelle Taylor).

So, Yancey gives up on becoming a rancher.  Instead, he becomes a newspaper publisher and an occasional outlaw killer.  Soon, Yancey and Sabra are two of the most prominent citizens in Osage.  Under the guidance of Yancey, Osage goes from being a wild outpost to being a respectable community.  It’s not always easy, of course.  Criminals like The Kid (William Collier, Jr.) still prey on the weak.  As the town grows more respectable, some citizens try to force out people like Dixie Lee.  Struck by a combination of personal tragedy and wanderlust, Yancey occasionally leaves Osage but he always seems to return in time to make sure that people do the right thing.  When even his wife reveals that she’s prejudiced against Native Americans, Yancey writes a vehement editorial demanding that they be granted full American citizenship.

The film follows Sabra and Yancey all the way to the late 1920s.  Oklahoma becomes a state.  Sabra becomes a congresswoman.  Oil is discovered.  Throughout it all, Yancey remains a firm voice in support of always doing the right thing.  In fact, he’s such a firm voice that you actually start to get tired of listening to him.  Yancey may be a great man but he’s not a particularly interesting one.

By today’s standards, Cimarron is a painfully slow movie.  The opening land rush is handled well but once Yancey and Sabra settle down in Osage, the film becomes a bit of a chore to sit through.  Richard Dix is a dull lead and the old age makeup that’s put on Dix and Dunne towards the end of the movie is notably unconvincing.  Considering some of the other films that were eligible for Best Picture that year — The Front Page, The Public Enemy, Little Caesar, Frankenstein — Cimarron seems even more out-of-place as an Oscar winner.

And yet, back in 1931, it would appear the Cimarron was a really big deal.  Consider this:

Cimarron was not only well-reviewed but also a considerable box office success.

Cimarron was the first film to ever receive more than 6 Academy Award nominations.  (It received seven and won 3 — Picture, Screenplay, and Art Direction.)

Cimarron was the first film to be nominated in all of the Big Five categories (Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, and Screenplay).

Cimarron was the first film to be nominated in every category for which it was eligible.

Cimarron was the first RKO film to win Best Picture. The second and last RKO film to win would be The Best Years of Our Lives, a film that has held up considerably better than Cimarron.

Cimarron was the first Western to win Best Picture.  In fact, it would be 59 years before another western took the top award.

Though Cimarron may now be best known to those of us who watch TCM, it’s apparent that it was a pretty big deal when it was first released.  Though it seems pretty creaky by today’s standards, they loved it in 1931.

Lisa Reviews An Oscar Nominee: 42nd Street (dir by Lloyd Bacon and Busby Berkeley)


forty-second-street-1933

If you’re a regular reader of this site, it will not take you by surprise to learn that the 1933 Best Picture Nominee, 42nd Street, is one of my favorite films of all time.

I mean, how couldn’t it be?  Not only is it a pre-Code film (and we all know that pre-Code films were the best) and one the features both Ginger Rogers and Dick Powell in early roles but it’s also a film that depicts the backstage world of a stage musical with such a combination of love and snark that it will be familiar to everyone from community theater nerds to Broadway veterans.  42nd Street is a classic musical, though I have to admit that I think the majority of the songs are a bit overrated.  Even more importantly, 42nd Street is the ultimate dance film.  The film’s big production number, choreographed and filmed in the brilliant and flamboyant Busby Berkeley style, is such an iconic moment that it’s still being imitated and lovingly parodied to this day.

Every dance movie owes a debt to 42nd Street but few have come close to matching it.  Remember how much we all hated Smash?  There were a lot of reasons to hate Smash but the main reason was because it tried to be 42nd Street and it failed.  There can only be one 42nd Street.

It’s hard to estimate the number of show business clichés that currently exist as a result of 42nd Street.  Then again, it can be argued that they were clichés before they showed up in 42nd Street but 42nd Street handled them in such an expert fashion that they were transformed from being urban legends to immortal mythology.

42nd Street takes place in the backstage world, following the production of a Broadway musical through casting to rehearsals to opening night.  It’s an ensemble piece, one populated by all the usual suspects.  Julian Marsh (Warner Baxter) is the down-on-his-luck producer who desperately needs a hit.  Dorothy Brock (Bebe Daniels) is the celebrated star who is dating a rich, older man (Guy Kibbee, who made quite the career out playing rich, older men) while secretly seeing her ex, a down-on-his-luck Vaudevillian (George Brent).  From the minute that we first see Dorothy, we know that she’s eventually going to end up with a boken ankle.  It’s just a question of which chorus girl will be promoted to take her place.  Will it be “Anytime” Annie (Ginger Rogers) or will it be the naive and wholesome Peggy (Ruby Keeler)?  You already know the answer but it’s still fun to watch.

If you had any doubts that this was a pre-code film, the fact that Ginger Rogers is playing a character named “Anytime” Annie should answer them.  42nd Street is often described as being a light-hearted camp spectacle but there’s a cynicism to the film, a cynicism that could only be expressed during the pre-code era.  The dialogue is full of lines that, just a few years later, would never have gotten past the censors.

(This is the film where it’s said that Anytime Annie “only said no once and then she didn’t hear the question!”  This is also the film where Guy Kibbee cheerfully tells Annie that what he does for her will depend on what she does for him.  Just try to get away with openly acknowleding the casting couch in 1936!)

The menacing shadow of the Great Depression looms over every glossy production number.  Julian needs a hit because he lost all of his money when the Stock Market crashed and if the show is not a hit, everyone involved in the production will be out on the streets.  The chorus isn’t just dancing because it’s their job.  They’re dancing because it’s an escape from the grim reality of the Great Depression and, for the audience watching, the production numbers provided a similar escape.  42nd Street said, “Yes, life is tough.  But sometimes life is fun.  Sometimes life is sexy.  Sometimes, life is worth the trouble.”  Someday, 42nd Street promises, all the misery will be worth it.

Ultimately, 42nd Street is all about that iconic, 20-minute production number:

42nd Street was nominated for best picture but it lost to the nearly forgotten Cavalcade.