One reason for this, I think, is because you can’t connect with his characters. They are at best irritating and are often just unpleasant, as in this movie.

The Shining (1980)

Directed by Stanley Kubrick

One of the confusions The Shining created when released was the fact there was a novel by Stephen King. People immediately thought it was a movie of the novel. It’s not. King and Stanley Kubrick could not be more opposite to one another.

While the movie uses a similar storyline as the book, and the same character names, the story is not the same. The visions are wildly different.

If King was not happy with the movie (which I’ve read he was not) it’s understandable. He probably thought he would see his book on screen.

Kubrick’s intent is to show an American family deconstructing and why it deconstructs. This is the real horror of the film, not the ghosts or the axe-wielding madman.

Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrance at the bar in the Overlook Hotel.

And, as is usually the case with Kubrick, he is clinical about it. It’s a very odd experience to see a supposed horror film, one with blood and bodies, and feel so detached from it. But Kubrick shoots and constructs The Shining almost documentary style.

For instance, in an early scene where Jack Nicholson as Jack Torrance is being interviewed for the position of caretaker of the Overlook Hotel, the scene is staged very formally.

The dialogue is largely irrelevant and the interactions a little awkward – quite like a real interview. And the camera tends to remain apart from the scene. There are few if any close-ups. Most of the shots are medium to almost wide shots intended, I think, to emphasise the distance between all the characters and their lack of real communication. It’s all very superficial.

Again, it feels like a documentary, as if you are a voyeur watching the scene through a window on a police interrogation room. You don’t get to know any of the characters here. In this scene, mind you, none but Nicholson’s is very important. But throughout the movie, you don’t ever get to really know, much less connect with any characters – a very Kubrick-like approach.

Shelley Duvall as Wendy Torrance protecting her son, Danny (Danny Lloyd).

We seldom see the three family members together (mother, father and son). And in one scene where the child, Danny (Danny Lloyd), sits on his father’s knee, although they are physically close the communication between them is all but non-existant, despite the fact they are talking.

Danny seems to lean away from his father, and the father tends to lean or look away from the son when they speak.

(Compare this to what you would likely find in a King novel – every character enunciated, every relationship paid attention to and played with. Not that the characters would have a great deal of depth, but his intent would be to provide something to distinguish each and get you involved with their stories.)

Kubrick’s dispassion and distance begins right from the film’s opening where we see the little yellow car driving through the mountains. It is utterly dwarfed by its surroundings. We see it from a god-like perspective, from afar, from a height.

Danny meets the twins who await at the end of the corridor.

The emphasis is on how diminutive it is and how impersonal the surroundings, and how imprisoning they are. This sense carries through the entire film.

There are those who complain about the aspect ratio presented on the DVD. The note on the cover reads, “This feature is presented in the full aspect ratio of the original camera negative, as Stanley Kubrick intended.” But why would he want this? Why, when you can take advantage of the breadth a widescreen ratio allows?

I think it’s because Kubrick thinks vertically rather than horizontally. His world is one of height and enclosures, and characters made small by these elements.

I think he intends this ratio because, in many of the scenes in The Shining, it is shot and framed in a way to emphasize how small the characters are and how oppressed they are within their surroundings.

When we see the child Danny riding through the halls, or when we are with the characters in the maze, or when we follow the little car on its way through the labyrinth of the mountains, the emphasis is on how within the world of those scenes the focus (the characters, the car) is dwarfed, oppressed. They are closed in by what surrounds them. How small and ineffectual the characters are is communicated not by breadth but by height, and the way the 1:33 ratio seems to compress the environment.

Jack Torrance going a bit mad.

Compression is a key element in the film. There is a sense of walls closing in, of something approaching; getting closer and closer. Again, the aspect ratio helps communicate this, the mazes as well.

But also notice how the occasional titles are compressed as well: “a month later,” then “Tuesday,” then “8AM.”

Visually, The Shining is a masterpiece. It is completely successful in terms of achieving what Kubrick is trying to do. But in the documentary on the DVD (done by Vivian Kubrick), Jack Nicholson quotes Kubrick saying something to the effect that while something may be real (a performance, say), it isn’t necessarily interesting.

For me, this is the problem with The Shining (as with most Kubrick films). It’s a fascinating, masterful piece of cinema. It’s visually arresting. But … it’s not very interesting as a drama.

I think it’s because the characters are not interesting. They never are in Kubrick films. It’s very hard to like any of them and forge any kind of emotional connection. Kubrick’s characters are chess pieces; they are moved around and say things to help him communicate his ideas on screen. But because they aren’t interesting (and more often than not, simply disagreeable), you just don’t care.

So … The Shining is a brilliant piece of filmmaking. Unfortunately, it’s a very dull story.

Mumford (1999)

Directed by Lawrence Kasdan

In 1999 writer-director Lawrence Kasdan Gave us Mumford, a quiet comedy that was erroneously called “Capraesque.” I think it has a greater relationship to the movies of John Sayles than Capra. Think of a Sayles movie done as a low key comedy (I suppose the name Sayles already suggests “low key”).

Comparisons are misleading though. It’s similarity to either Capra or Sayles is essentially the fact it is an ensemble piece. But it lacks Capra’s frenetic quality. As for the movies of John Sayles, again its ensemble and it also uses some of the same actors, but it has a bit more Hollywood gloss than his films do (but not a lot).

This is a very long-winded way of saying Mumford is a low-key ensemble comedy. What I’ve yet to say is it’s very good. But the humour is often dry and if you don’t adjust to its tone and pace you may miss out on a quiet gem.

A therapy session with Doc Mumford (Loren Dean) and Sofie Crisp (Hope Davis).

The town of Mumford has a psychologist who is also named Mumford (Loren Dean). He’s only been in town for about four months but already he has a great number of patients. He seems to have an uncanny ability to help people, primarily through his unthreatening manner. He’s easy to talk to because Doc Mumford has a knack for listening.

Doc also has a knack for seeming like a psychologist while also never quite responding like one.

With deadpan style, he questions and answers from left field, such as when one character asks what kind kind of doctor he is. He tells her he’s a psychologist and she replies something like, “So you’re not a real doctor.” He answers back, “That’s right. I’m the fake kind.”

The doctor helps the troubled Althea (Mary McDonnell).

As it turns out, almost everyone in Mumford has a secret life. There’s a pharmacist (Pruitt Taylor Vince) with detailed sexual fantasies rooted in the 1950′s pulp magazines.

There’s a housewife (Mary McDonnell), spouse of an ‘A’ personality business man (Ted Danson). She compulsively orders almost everything she sees in catalogues and magazines.

There’s a teenage girl (Zooey Deschanel) who is caught up in the world portrayed in fashion magazines. And there’s the wealthy technology savant (Jason Lee) on whom the town relies – he has trouble finding an honest companion so he tries inventing one.

They all share in common one quality: loneliness.

Then there’s the young woman who appears to suffer from chronic fatigue syndrome (Hope Davis). The doctor soon finds himself falling in love with her.

Alfre Woodard as Lily is the doctor's conscience.

The movie is warmly amusing as we’re introduced to all these characters who inhabit Mumford, the town. They all have a secret life. However, as we soon learn, the doctor has a secret life too.

In the short time he has been in Mumford, he has fashioned an idyllic life. He’s become an integral and loved part of the community. But his own secret threatens to be revealed and, with it, everything he has gained since arriving.

It probably doesn’t read as very exciting and, in some ways, it’s not. The charm of the movie isn’t in its ability to pump adrenaline — it’s not that kind of movie. It’s in the relationships of the characters and how those characters interact. It’s certainly a sentimental movie but I didn’t find it excessive in this regard. Someone more cynical might find it that way but … well, there are more than enough dark movies out there to keep them happy.

It’s also true to say nothing really happens in the film. But again, it’s not about something happening so much as it’s about characters interacting. It’s a fantasy — the town and the situation — but, as with most fantasies, it has a fable quality.

I suppose you could say the movie is about our secrets and how they get in the way of fully realizing the potential of our lives, and of how the secrets seem more large and threatening to ourselves than they do to anyone else. In other words, there really isn’t much cause to keep them secrets.

In the end, I guess the movie does have a Capra quality in that the film has a message and, like Capra, it’s a pretty simple, folk wisdom one. It also shares in common with Capra’s films an ensemble of eccentric yet lovable characters.

Done well, warm, sweet movies can achieve what they attempt — make you feel good. And Mumford does this. Kasdan is well known for his dialogue and in Mumford it’s on full display. It’s extremely well written. You get the most out of the film if, like Doc Mumford, you make an effort and listen.

• Evelyn Prentice (1934)
• Double Wedding (1937)
• Libeled Lady (1936)
• After the Thin Man (1936)
• Another Thin Man (1939)

Myrna Loy and William Powell.

Apart from simply enjoying the fun of these movies, I was struck by a couple of things. For one, Myrna Loy’s eyes. Has any female actor ever had better eyes than Myrna Loy? They’re spellbinding. I don’t know what it is about them, but something draws you to them immediately.

The other thing I noticed was William Powell and his onscreen presence. He’s the picture of elegance and I think the best comment regarding him came from Roger Ebert when he said, “William Powell is to dialogue what Fred Astaire is to dance.”

But here is the thing: Powell seems so debonair and confident. He creates an image that makes you think, “I wanna be like that guy.” He was a classic Hollywood star in every sense.

Yet if you look at him physically he is almost the antithesis of what stars have to look like today. His body is kind of dumpy. He has a hangdog face. How is it we associate him with flair and “class”?

It’s all in the confidence and how he carries himself. It’s the presentation. It’s his skill as an actor and what he makes us believe that does it (and yes, the clothes help).

I find Powell a marvel. I wanna be like that guy.

See also:

• How and why Nick and Nora work

Directed by George Stevens

This is a movie that mixes romantic-comedy and thriller, though the emphasis would be more on the former. But because The Talk of the Town mixes the two, it falters a bit. But not a lot.

It begins smartly by establishing itself with quick, mostly non-dialogue scenes. A factory burns, a man dies in the fire. Arson is the cause, and Leopold Dilg is arrested (Cary Grant with an unlikely name). It’s a rush to justice; Dilg’s guilt is a foregone conclusion.

The factory owner has the town stirred up against Dilg and everyone is calling for an execution.

Dilg, with no seeming choice, escapes prison.

Cary Grant as Leopold Dilg - nabbed by the Law.

He flees to a house where Nora (“the prettiest girl in town”) is preparing for a tenant. She hides Dilg in the attic. The tenant, the very straight-laced and famous law professor Michael Lightcap (Ronald Coleman) arrives early and Nora is in a fix – what to do with Dilg?

Up to the moment the scene shifts to the house and Nora (Jean Arthur, hair done up and shaded a light brunette here), the movie is very dramatic. While it’s quick and very well done, the shots of a brooding Cary Grant somehow don’t work.

In fact, through the whole film Grant somehow doesn’t seem quite right when playing the brooding part.

This may be less his performance than baggage brought from other roles (pre-conceptions of the Grant character), but it doesn’t seem quite right. He’s best when he finally steps out of the shadows and starts engaging both Nora and the Professor in banter.

Nora Shelley (Jean Arthur), Leopold Dilg (Cary Grant) and Professor Michael Lightcap (Ronald Colman).

The story of the film is how the three main characters work to get to the truth of things and prove Dilg’s innocence. The real story, though, is how Nora and Leopold loosen up the Professor, and the conflict Nora has with whom she loves. She loves both men – who will she end up with?

In fact, this movie is really Jean Arthur’s movie, and she is wonderful in it, even if she is playing the Jean Arthur character – pretty self-assured till she’s in a fix, then a bit scrambled.

The best performance, though, may come from Ronald Coleman. His tight-bummed Professor, and the arc he follows to loosen up, is excellent. He plays serious perfectly, while also playing innocence without any false notes.

Leopold Dilg behind bars (Cary Grant).

Overall, The Talk of the Town is a very good romantic comedy, though somewhat overlong. It works best when focused on its comedic aspects and seems to lose itself when veering off for a moment or two to be serious.

I think director George Stevens may have been trying to comment to some extent on mob justice, and the rule of law.

However, as in his movie Shane (and generally any film that has a message), all this does is bog the movie down with earnestness. It becomes an appeal to the head rather than the heart.

Films tend to operate best viscerally.

Hondo (1953)

Directed by John Farrow

You don’t get more John Wayne than 1953′s Hondo. It’s a great Wayne western and that is surprising because it had two things going against it.

First is the fact that Wayne had his onscreen persona nailed by this time and the story almost seems to have been written with him in mind. The risk the movie had to play around with was avoiding becoming parody by turning character into caricature.

The second is the period the movie was made. At this time, Hollywood was crazy for 3-D and so the movie was made that way.

Unfortunately, by the time the film came out 3-D’s day in the sun was past and interest was on the wane (no pun intended).

John Wayne as Hondo Lane.

More to the point for us now is that there is an emphasis on foreground, and some specific scenes in the film that are designed to garner ooh’s and ah’s from a 1953 audience watching 3-D.

Today, especially watching it in standard two dimensional style, they feel awkward and anachronistic. Even silly.

Yet the movie manages to avoid turning Wayne into a caricature and doesn’t really suffer from its period 3-D fascination.

In fact, as I’ve seen stated elsewhere (Grant Tracey), this is probably the best John Wayne western that wasn’t directed by either John Ford or Howard Hawks. (I think Don Siegel’s The Shootist could be a contender, however.)

IMDb summarizes things succinctly: “Army despatch rider Hondo Lane discovers a woman and her son living in the midst of warring Apaches, and he becomes their protector.”

Hondo (John Wayne) approaching the farmhouse and Angie Lowe (Geraldine Page) and her son.

John Wayne plays Hondo Lane; Geraldine Page plays Angie Lowe, the woman with a son Lane comes across.

What evolves from that meeting is essentially a romance though in a western setting and with all the trappings of a western, including Apaches at war.

The movie works because it is rooted in a Louis L’Amour story that James Edward Grant turned into an almost perfect western screenplay — certainly perfect for John Wayne when it came to his character and the dialogue.

It’s aided by an Oscar-nominated performance by Geraldine Page and an equally good, though strangely so due to the odd casting, performance of Michael Pate as Vittorio, the Apache chief.

What we end up with is a movie that has the requisite western drama and action but also rich characters that reveal themselves unhurriedly. It is in Hondo’s nature to be a man of few words though, when he does speak, what he says is rich with meaning and is one with his actions.

Hondo Lane and Angie Lowe (John Wayne and Geraldine Page).

Angie, the abandoned wife with a child, is also vague — even deceitful in what she says — because she’s unsure of who this man is and she is alone, in Apache territory, with a son to protect.

The two discover one another slowly and are attracted in part for the respect they have for one another.

The end result is almost a template for a good western — strong story, strong characters, and a story arc that when it is completed feels that way: complete.

This is just one really good western and is definitely worth seeing at least once.

Is it the definitive John Wayne movie? I don’t think so. It may, however, be an almost near-perfect example of the definitive image of John Wayne that lingers even still.

(I’ve seen Hondo spoken of as being similar to another 1953 movie, Shane. But I think the similarity is superficial at best. They are alike in that there is a farmhouse and a stranger who comes upon it. The stranger is good with a good gun; the farmers are peaceful and domestic. Where the movies go from there is very different and there is little if any similarity in what the movies’ concern themselves with.)

On the other hand, I love William Powell. Fonda was probably the better actor but I’d watch a William Powell movie simply because Powell is in it, whereas with Fonda I’d probably ask, “What’s the movie?”

Mister Roberts (1955)

Directed by John Ford and Mervyn LeRoy

A very popular fictional story from the 1950s, Mister Roberts began as a novel by Thomas Heggen. It later became a stage play written by Heggen and Joshua Logan and starring Henry Fonda as Mister Roberts in over 1,000 performances.

It’s popularity was such that it was inevitable that Hollywood would turn it into a film, which they did, the screenplay written by Joshua Logan and Frank Nugent.

The film itself starred Henry Fonda and had not one but three directors — the credited John Ford and Mervyn LeRoy, and the uncredited Joshua Logan.

I’ve never seen this as a play but the film of Mister Roberts is often referred to in a misleading way because it tends to be spoken of in terms of comedy. I wouldn’t call it a comedy or even a comedy-drama. This is a drama with quite a few light, even comic moments. But it’s definitely not something I would call a comedy.

The story

Antagonists Captain Morton (James Cagney) and Mister Roberts (Henry Fonda).

The story is about a cargo ship (The Reluctant, aka the Bucket) and its crew in the Second World War suffering from the tedium and ignominy of being away from the action and, in the eyes of many of them, particularly Mister Roberts, being unimportant.

The ship is ruled over by Captain Morton (James Cagney), a self-promoting, self-interested tyrant. He is petty and indifferent to the needs of his crew, including their morale. Life on his ship is unexciting at best and he likes it that way.

Fonda’s Mister Roberts stands in direct contrast to him (and opposition): he wants to be in the action, sees the crews’ needs and is effective and efficient in a leadership role. The crew look up to him; they are contemptuous of their captain.

However, while the Captain and Roberts are antagonists and apparent opposites, they are very similar in one way: neither really sees or understands the crew and its the crew that is at the heart of the movie.

Mister Roberts is amused by, but doesn't quite "get" Ensign Pulver (Jack Lemmon).

Both Captain Morton and Mister Roberts are focused on themselves — the Captain with personal status in mind, Roberts on his personal contribution to the war. Mister Roberts sympathizes and empathizes with the crew, but he doesn’t quite get them (highlighted by his amused puzzlement over Ensign Pulver played by Jack Lemmon).

In the end, Mister Roberts finally does come to understand and appreciate them; the Captain does not.

The movie

Why three directors? The answers vary. John Ford began the movie and was replaced by Mervyn LeRoy either due to Ford becoming ill or Ford simply being replaced (some say due to disagreements with Henry Fonda). Josh Logan is said to have been brought in to re-shoot some Ford material the producers weren’t happy with.

Perhaps that is why the movie leaves me with a sense that it is close but not quite there when it comes to how well it works.

While the movie looks like a movie it feels like a play. I think this is due to certain stage elements and staging that are ported over from the stage version, such as the ongoing, “Now hear this. Now hear this …” announcements, the small potted palm and the way many scenes are staged (like the film’s ending when the letter is read).

It does make an effort to make it more cinematic, particularly with the second unit and location shots. By second unit I’m thinking of the ocean shots of ships going by (not so much second unit as stock footage of a kind, I think). I can’t help thinking this is a John Ford element, if not John Ford footage since he had been documenting the war as a director.

William Powell in his last film as Doc and Henry Fonda reprising his role as Mister Roberts.

But once a scene engages — characters enter; dialogue begins — the stage feel enters with them. I found it a bit off-putting, but that may just be me. There is also a period sensibility portrayed in the characters and in the film overall that makes the movie feel a bit anachronistic.

As much as I love the performers here — Henry Fonda, William Powell, James Cagney, Jack Lemmon, Ward Bond and others — the movie for me is a bit underwhelming given its reputation. I like it but it’s definitely not a favourite. It is said that both Josh Logan and Henry Fonda felt the film fell short of the stage production.

However, for many this is a much-loved movie and one of the best from the 1950s.

As a final aside, this was the last film appearance of one of my favourite actors, William Powell. He plays Doc, the father figure with wise counsel in the movie.

Directed by John Ford and Mervyn LeRoy

A very popular fictional story from the 1950s, Mister Roberts began as a novel by Thomas Heggen. It later became a stage play written by Heggen and Joshua Logan and starring Henry Fonda as Mister Roberts in over 1,000 performances.

It’s popularity was such that it was inevitable that Hollywood would turn it into a film, which they did, the screenplay written by Joshua Logan and Frank Nugent.

The film itself starred Henry Fonda and had not one but three directors — the credited John Ford and Mervyn LeRoy, and the uncredited Joshua Logan.

I’ve never seen this as a play but the film of Mister Roberts is often referred to in a misleading way because it tends to be spoken of in terms of comedy. I wouldn’t call it a comedy or even a comedy-drama. This is a drama with quite a few light, even comic moments. But it’s definitely not something I would call a comedy.

The story

Antagonists Captain Morton (James Cagney) and Mister Roberts (Henry Fonda).

The story is about a cargo ship (The Reluctant, aka the Bucket) and its crew in the Second World War suffering from the tedium and ignominy of being away from the action and, in the eyes of many of them, particularly Mister Roberts, being unimportant.

The ship is ruled over by Captain Morton (James Cagney), a self-promoting, self-interested tyrant. He is petty and indifferent to the needs of his crew, including their morale. Life on his ship is unexciting at best and he likes it that way.

Fonda’s Mister Roberts stands in direct contrast to him (and opposition): he wants to be in the action, sees the crews’ needs and is effective and efficient in a leadership role. The crew look up to him; they are contemptuous of their captain.

However, while the Captain and Roberts are antagonists and apparent opposites, they are very similar in one way: neither really sees or understands the crew and its the crew that is at the heart of the movie.

Mister Roberts is amused by, but doesn't quite "get" Ensign Pulver (Jack Lemmon).

Both Captain Morton and Mister Roberts are focused on themselves — the Captain with personal status in mind, Roberts on his personal contribution to the war. Mister Roberts sympathizes and empathizes with the crew, but he doesn’t quite get them (highlighted by his amused puzzlement over Ensign Pulver played by Jack Lemmon).

In the end, Mister Roberts finally does come to understand and appreciate them; the Captain does not.

The movie

Why three directors? The answers vary. John Ford began the movie and was replaced by Mervyn LeRoy either due to Ford becoming ill or Ford simply being replaced (some say due to disagreements with Henry Fonda). Josh Logan is said to have been brought in to re-shoot some Ford material the producers weren’t happy with.

Perhaps that is why the movie leaves me with a sense that it is close but not quite there when it comes to how well it works.

While the movie looks like a movie it feels like a play. I think this is due to certain stage elements and staging that are ported over from the stage version, such as the ongoing, “Now hear this. Now hear this …” announcements, the small potted palm and the way many scenes are staged (like the film’s ending when the letter is read).

It does make an effort to make it more cinematic, particularly with the second unit and location shots. By second unit I’m thinking of the ocean shots of ships going by (not so much second unit as stock footage of a kind, I think). I can’t help thinking this is a John Ford element, if not John Ford footage since he had been documenting the war as a director.

William Powell in his last film as Doc and Henry Fonda reprising his role as Mister Roberts.

But once a scene engages — characters enter; dialogue begins — the stage feel enters with them. I found it a bit off-putting, but that may just be me. There is also a period sensibility portrayed in the characters and in the film overall that makes the movie feel a bit anachronistic.

As much as I love the performers here — Henry Fonda, William Powell, James Cagney, Jack Lemmon, Ward Bond and others — the movie for me is a bit underwhelming given its reputation. I like it but it’s definitely not a favourite. It is said that both Josh Logan and Henry Fonda felt the film fell short of the stage production.

However, for many this is a much-loved movie and one of the best from the 1950s.

As a final aside, this was the last film appearance of one of my favourite actors, William Powell. He plays Doc, the father figure with wise counsel in the movie.

When you bring that together with a mischievous writer-director like Preston Sturges, you don’t simply get one of the funniest movies ever made; you get one of the most charmingly subversive ones.

The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek (1944)

Directed by Preston Sturges

“What Preston tried to do was obey the letter of the law for the Production Code, but ignore, in its entirety, the very spirit of that law.”
– Sandy Sturges, wife of Preston Sturges –

Without a doubt, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen.

For me, it is the funniest of all Preston Sturges’s movies – and that is saying something. I wouldn’t argue it is his best, not when he later went on to make Sullivan’s Travels and The Lady Eve, but it’s the funniest.

It is also one of the most subversive movies ever made as it blithely obeys the letter of the law while simultaneously thumbing its nose at it. In this case, the “law” is Hollywood’s Production Code, aka the Hays Office, that dictated what could and should be allowed on film.

Here, Sturges’ card sharp directing bamboozles them as he broke all the rules while sticking to them.

A disappointed Norval (Eddie Bracken) won't be taking Trudy (Betty Hutton) to the movies.

It’s the comedy that allows him to do this bit of cinematic sleight-of-hand. While never overtly stating something, the subtext is pretty obvious – unless you’re laughing so hard you forget to pay attention.

Starring Betty Hutton and Eddie Bracken, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek is about Trudy Kockenlocker (Hutton), a wide-eyed girl determined to go to a dance “for our boys” who are going off to war. Her father, the suspicious and protective Constable Edmund Kockenlocker (William Demarest), nixes the idea.

But Trudy is resolved to go and, using her friend Norval Jones (Bracken), she does by pretending to go to the movies with Norval. The word “using” is exactly right because Norval is in love with an uninterested Trudy. She uses his devotion to her advantage because he’ll do just about anything for her.

Sisters Emmy and Trudy try to figure out what to do about Trudy's problem (Diana Lynn and Betty Button).

Unfortunately for Trudy, while at the dance she unwittingly gets drunk (though she denies she was drunk) and gets married, though she can’t remember the marriage or who the husband is. Whoever the someone is has likely gone overseas by now.

Trudy is also pregnant, though this isn’t stated overtly. She becomes so distraught over her situation, she even considers the idea of killing herself until her much smarter younger sister (Diana Lynn) suggests she marry Norval for the sake of propriety and appearances. But can she marry when she is already married, even if it was under an assumed name?

Keep in mind that all this plot information comes to us quickly and furiously and hilariously as we watch the movie. As we watch, we’re not really aware of how many taboo subjects (from the Hays’ perspective) that Sturges is playing with. Think of it: he has touched on a fatherless pregnancy, suicide and bigamy. Each on its own would have been verboten in 1944. All three together? Oy!

And the movie has scarcely begun!

While the comedy and his use of misdirection allow Sturges to handle subjects like these without eyebrows being raised, the innocence of his main characters (Trudy and Norval) also gives him some license. It’s impossible to think of either as a “wicked” kid trying to get away with something. They’re two young people caught up in circumstances.

Norval (Eddie Bracken - right) greeted by the Kockenlocker family (William Demarest, Diana Lynn and Betty Hutton).

The usual Sturges comic elements are here: smart, witty dialogue, pratfalls and reaction shots. But unlike a movie like The Lady Eve, for example, there is nothing sophisticated in his main characters; they’re too young and innocent for that. If there is something humourously clever in what they say, the character isn’t aware of it. (In The Lady Eve, Barbara Stanwyck’s Jean is always aware of her meaning and her double entendre’s.)

One of the primary reason’s The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek is so damned funny is Eddie Bracken and the astonishing elasticity he brings to his face and body. It is pure slapstick and it is screamingly funny. His physicality together with his timing are nothing less than brilliant. In contemporary movies, the only actor (and movie) I can think of that even comes close to something similar is Lee Evan’s performance in Mouse Hunt (1997).

Any appreciation of an art form is almost by definition subjective but nothing seems to be more subjective than comedy. What causes one person to roll on the floor laughing may elicit no more than a yawn from someone else. Yet I find it hard to imagine anyone not finding Bracken funny in this movie. Personally, this is my favourite kind of comedy: slapstick mixed with verbal wit in a farce-like presentation. In other words, screwball comedy.

Raising daughters can be a challenge.

Hutton is equally good in her role as Trudy, a young girl who is innocent on one hand yet also manipulative on the other, at least where her father and Norval are concerned.

As her father, William Demarest plays his standard cross character though here he is much more engaged in pratfalls than I’ve seen him in other movies. I can’t help thinking he had a sore rear end at the end of the making of this one.

On so many levels and in so many ways, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek leaves other comedies in the dust. I think it should be required viewing for anyone even thinking about making a comedy.

Directed by Preston Sturges

“What Preston tried to do was obey the letter of the law for the Production Code, but ignore, in its entirety, the very spirit of that law.”
– Sandy Sturges, wife of Preston Sturges –

Without a doubt, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen.

For me, it is the funniest of all Preston Sturges’s movies – and that is saying something. I wouldn’t argue it is his best, not when he later went on to make Sullivan’s Travels and The Lady Eve, but it’s the funniest.

It is also one of the most subversive movies ever made as it blithely obeys the letter of the law while simultaneously thumbing its nose at it. In this case, the “law” is Hollywood’s Production Code, aka the Hays Office, that dictated what could and should be allowed on film.

Here, Sturges’ card sharp directing bamboozles them as he broke all the rules while sticking to them.

A disappointed Norval (Eddie Bracken) won't be taking Trudy (Betty Hutton) to the movies.

It’s the comedy that allows him to do this bit of cinematic sleight-of-hand. While never overtly stating something, the subtext is pretty obvious – unless you’re laughing so hard you forget to pay attention.

Starring Betty Hutton and Eddie Bracken, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek is about Trudy Kockenlocker (Hutton), a wide-eyed girl determined to go to a dance “for our boys” who are going off to war. Her father, the suspicious and protective Constable Edmund Kockenlocker (William Demarest), nixes the idea.

But Trudy is resolved to go and, using her friend Norval Jones (Bracken), she does by pretending to go to the movies with Norval. The word “using” is exactly right because Norval is in love with an uninterested Trudy. She uses his devotion to her advantage because he’ll do just about anything for her.

Sisters Emmy and Trudy try to figure out what to do about Trudy's problem (Diana Lynn and Betty Button).

Unfortunately for Trudy, while at the dance she unwittingly gets drunk (though she denies she was drunk) and gets married, though she can’t remember the marriage or who the husband is. Whoever the someone is has likely gone overseas by now.

Trudy is also pregnant, though this isn’t stated overtly. She becomes so distraught over her situation, she even considers the idea of killing herself until her much smarter younger sister (Diana Lynn) suggests she marry Norval for the sake of propriety and appearances. But can she marry when she is already married, even if it was under an assumed name?

Keep in mind that all this plot information comes to us quickly and furiously and hilariously as we watch the movie. As we watch, we’re not really aware of how many taboo subjects (from the Hays’ perspective) that Sturges is playing with. Think of it: he has touched on a fatherless pregnancy, suicide and bigamy. Each on its own would have been verboten in 1944. All three together? Oy!

And the movie has scarcely begun!

While the comedy and his use of misdirection allow Sturges to handle subjects like these without eyebrows being raised, the innocence of his main characters (Trudy and Norval) also gives him some license. It’s impossible to think of either as a “wicked” kid trying to get away with something. They’re two young people caught up in circumstances.

Norval (Eddie Bracken - right) greeted by the Kockenlocker family (William Demarest, Diana Lynn and Betty Hutton).

The usual Sturges comic elements are here: smart, witty dialogue, pratfalls and reaction shots. But unlike a movie like The Lady Eve, for example, there is nothing sophisticated in his main characters; they’re too young and innocent for that. If there is something humourously clever in what they say, the character isn’t aware of it. (In The Lady Eve, Barbara Stanwyck’s Jean is always aware of her meaning and her double entendre’s.)

One of the primary reason’s The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek is so damned funny is Eddie Bracken and the astonishing elasticity he brings to his face and body. It is pure slapstick and it is screamingly funny. His physicality together with his timing are nothing less than brilliant. In contemporary movies, the only actor (and movie) I can think of that even comes close to something similar is Lee Evan’s performance in Mouse Hunt (1997).

Any appreciation of an art form is almost by definition subjective but nothing seems to be more subjective than comedy. What causes one person to roll on the floor laughing may elicit no more than a yawn from someone else. Yet I find it hard to imagine anyone not finding Bracken funny in this movie. Personally, this is my favourite kind of comedy: slapstick mixed with verbal wit in a farce-like presentation. In other words, screwball comedy.

Raising daughters can be a challenge.

Hutton is equally good in her role as Trudy, a young girl who is innocent on one hand yet also manipulative on the other, at least where her father and Norval are concerned.

As her father, William Demarest plays his standard cross character though here he is much more engaged in pratfalls than I’ve seen him in other movies. I can’t help thinking he had a sore rear end at the end of the making of this one.

On so many levels and in so many ways, The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek leaves other comedies in the dust. I think it should be required viewing for anyone even thinking about making a comedy.

It’s not a great, Oscar-worthy performance either but Flynn is definitely a more mature performer in more ways than simply having more years under his belt. The zip may be diminished but it has been compensated by some better acting chops.

The Master of Ballantrae (1953)

Directed by William Keighley

While not quite the swashbuckling adventure of earlier Errol Flynn movies, there is still enough to make 1953′s The Master of Ballantrae an entertaining hour and a half. But not very much so.

This has an older Errol Flynn and so, like an athlete, a step or two has been lost. Also faded is the exuberant enthusiasm of 1938′s The Adventures of Robin Hood. On the other hand, there is a maturity gained in the performance – not in the action scenes, of course, but in the dialogue and silent moments.

The Master of Ballantrae is a story by Robert Louis Stevenson done in an old style Hollywood narrative form. In other words, it not only tries to be faithful to the novel (well, to some extent), it tries to tell the story as a novel, rather than using a cinematic language.

Errol Flynn as Jamie Durie in The Master of Ballantrae.

For instance, the first half of the movie is continually interrupted by a narrator who sounds like an old school newsreel announcer. Not only is the voice out of place, but the narration itself interrupts the cinematic flow of the story.

As if trying to replicate the novel, it uses the book’s narrative voice/viewpoint to bridge scenes. But this disrupts the film and slows it down. It verbalizes rather than using images to communicate information.

It is similar to what is done in Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, though the narrator isn’t nearly as pretentious. It is, however, just as intrusive and boring.

This seems to be a problem of the period the film was made. Basing its story on the novel, it uses literary devices rather than cinematic ones. (For example, a collage of images bridging scenes might have worked better than a voice over. It at least wouldn’t disrupt the flow quite so much.)

Errol Flynn in a scene from The Master of Ballantrae.

The end result is the first half of the movie seems to stop and start over and over, something like a car with engine problems.

About halfway through, however, the narrator disappears and the film finally gets some movement and flows nicely, albeit in an old Hollywood way.

Fortunately, it is a short movie (about 90 minutes) and this works for the film since, to be honest, it ain’t no award winner.

It is however entertaining in a small way, especially with its West Indies scenes and pirate adventures (though a little corny). The ending, too, with its return to Scotland also works with its drama, romance and sword fights.

So while not a great movie, it’s worth a look as it has its moments. It also boasts some nice cinematography from Jack Cardiff, and that is always rewarding.

(Written roughly August, 2003.)