The Edge of the World (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Edge of the World (1937) – M. Powell

Shot on location at Foula, one of the tiny Shetland Islands off the northwest coast of Scotland, this may be director Michael Powell’s first masterpiece. Some suggest that it is very different from the highly stylized Technicolor pictures that Powell later made with his key collaborator Emeric Pressburger (e.g., The Red Shoes, 1948; Black Narcissus, 1947) – but in truth this seems not too far distant from some of their masterpieces (such as I Know Where I’m Going, 1945, which takes place in the same general locale).  There is an almost surreal pictorial beauty here with land and seascape, flora, and fauna sharing almost equal billing with the human characters of the story (Terence Malick must have taken inspiration here).  Foula is impressive, with its steep cliffs topped by green pastures and rocky coast lashed by the sea but it is a stand-in for St. Kilda, an island in the Hebrides which was vacated by its residents after they decided that their way of life could not be sustained in the modern world.  And this is the plot that Powell pursues – he examines a community that is grappling with whether it can sustain itself as its young people choose to leave for the mainland and better jobs and less harsh conditions.  A young Niall MacGinnis (who I know best from Curse of the Demon, 1957) plays Andrew Gray who wishes to remain on the island with his father (the great Finlay Currie) and accepts a challenge from Robbie Manson (Eric Berry) who wishes to leave – the challenge is to climb the steepest cliff barehanded and the winner will decide the fate of the island.  It’s a nail-biting sequence.  Although Gray wins, his love for Manson’s sister Ruth (Belle Chrystall) drives him to leave the island (and his yet-unknown unborn son).  Soon the whole community plans to leave, but the Manson patriarch (John Laurie) stubbornly resists leaving without first gathering some rare eggs.  The plot itself is almost beside the point here because Powell’s sense of the environment, here at the nearly literal edge of the world (or at least the UK), is spectacularly mystical.  Surely, this would be a destination for reflection on beauty and on human insignificance in the grand scheme of things (some great superimposition shots suggest the same).  Powell’s focus is instead on the loss of culture and community with modernity, a subtle theme that can be traced through his work.

The Awful Truth (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Awful Truth (1937) – L. McCarey

A screwball comedy of remarriage that exudes charm and a certain sense that it was all made up on the spot, with plenty of in-jokes between cast members (Irene Dunne and Cary Grant, primarily).  Dunne and Grant are happily wed but begin to become suspicious of each other’s possible extracurricular attachments and a quick argument leads to divorce proceedings (but don’t worry because this is screwball comedy!).  They fight over custody of Mr Smith (the same dog who played Asta in the Thin Man series) who winds up with Dunne.  On the rebound, she strikes up a romance with Oklahoma oilman Ralph Bellamy, who plays the unsophisticated country boy (still living with his mama) to a tee.  Of course, Grant can’t help but poke fun at her and she comes to see how silly things are since she is clearly an urbane New Yorker fond of the nightlife.  By the time she comes around, Grant is also nearly engaged to a wealthy debutante – but it doesn’t take much for Dunne to do to ruin his prospects.  Of course, they end up back together (another “comedy of remarriage”).  Director Leo McCarey won the Best Director Oscar for this film which can’t help but bring a smile to your face (even after a bad day at work – or especially after a bad day at work!).  One of the best of its kind. 

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937) – J. Cromwell

After a tough day at work fighting the evil legions of bureaucracy, there is nothing so replenishing as an old swashbuckler.  Here, the bad guys are wicked and the good guys love well and win – everything is in black and white, your heart is won over, and there is a final feeling of elevation!  Except, well, there’s a twist in this particular film.  In fact, Ronald Colman plays an English traveller who bears a remarkable resemblance to the about-to-be-crowned King of some Eastern European monarchy (also played by Colman) who becomes honour-bound to act secretly in the King’s stead when the latter is unfortunately kidnapped by his evil half-brother (Raymond Massey, who, of course, has designs on the throne).  So, while we root for English Colman, we worry that his time as “Acting” King might soon be over and so too his love for the King’s fiancée, played by Madeleine Carroll.   But, of course, it is only right and proper for English Colman to do the upstanding thing, despite his heart’s desires, and so, there is a wrinkle in our wish for clear-cut heroics and unsullied victories.  That said, the film is still a delicious fairy tale with excellent support from C. Aubrey Smith and David Niven (on the side of good) and dashing Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. (on the side of evil).  That wrinkle likely boosts the film into something different, less predictable than other swashbucklers – and it succeeds primarily because of the charismatic lead/dual performance by Colman. Huzzah!

  

Humanity and Paper Balloons (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Humanity and Paper Balloons (1937) – S. Yamanaka

Director Sadao Yamanaka made twenty or so films in the 1930s in Japan but only three survive.  Humanity and Paper Balloons was his final film. Some say that because it offered a less than positive view of Japan in the Edo-era (all of his films are jidaigekis; i.e., period films), that he was purposefully drafted and sent to war in Manchuria by the nationalistic government in power then.  He died there in 1938 leaving only the squandered promise that he could have offered masterpieces alongside Ozu, Mizoguchi, Naruse, or Kurosawa.  Indeed, Humanity… offers a complex microcosm of a Japanese society where the poor are ghettoized, live in a world controlled by gangster and thugs, where the rich look down on those worse off, and masterless samurai (ronin) turn to suicide when they lose face.  Yet, despite the hardships faced by many here, there is still a sense of community amongst the downtrodden and even a playfulness that encourages them to spit in the eye of the bosses whenever they can.  Of course, these poor souls can never win and the samurai, who see honour as an important virtue, suffer most of all.  Yamanaka manages to bring several characters to life, vividly, while still situating them within the social context.  A good degree of subtlety in the script would reward repeat viewing. Alas, there are no further artefacts to uncover.   

Make Way for Tomorrow (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Make Way for Tomorrow (1937) – L. McCarey

An obvious influence on Ozu’s Tokyo Story (1953), Leo McCarey’s film also shows the sad plight of elderly parents who realize that they cannot rely on their adult children.  In this case, Beulah Bondi and Victor Moore have had their house foreclosed on by the bank and must move out; this is the Depression, after all, and a number of the men in the film are also out of work.  This becomes an excuse justifying the decision not to take the parents in.  Instead, the couple is split up – after 50 years of marriage – and sent to separate houses.  Bondi slowly drives son Thomas Mitchell’s family crazy with incessant talking and good-natured meddling. Moore is also in the way in daughter Cora’s house.   Eventually, the kids plan to send him to California (where another daughter lives) and to put her in a nursing home for women.  Before they part again, the parents are allowed one last day in New York City, where they revisit the locations of their honeymoon decades earlier.  Yes, it’s a real tearjerker but the moments feel authentic and McCarey gives Bondi and Moore room to react to and reflect on their situation.  The adult children (and teen granddaughter) are also treated humanely.  The end result, as in Ozu’s film, is a profound condemnation of a society that does not value its elders, even as it leaves you feeling that every individual “has their reasons”.  A humanistic classic that resonates even more as we age.

  

Young and Innocent (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Young and Innocent (1937) – A. Hitchcock

Snappy British Hitchcock film made between Sabotage and The Lady Vanishes – that is, right in the middle of a string of exceptional thrillers (that also included The 39 Steps, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and Secret Agent). One reason why this might be less well known is that the killer is finally discovered playing drums in a band…in blackface.  Setting aside this particular awfulness (if you can) does reveal a playful film with Hitch’s characteristically smart-ass use of sound, perfectly timed cuts and montages, and romantic banter between the leads (Nova Pilbeam and Derrick De Marney).  The MacGuffin is a missing belt from a trenchcoat which may or may not have been the murder weapon.  Of course, poor Tisdall (De Marney) can’t find his coat or the belt and thus is held on suspicion of murder…until he escapes…with the Chief Constable’s daughter (Pilbeam).  Rather a merry romp, all things considered with a great tracking shot near the end (only to be rivalled by Notorious’s later track from great heights into Bergman’s hand). On some days, I like the British Hitchcocks even more than the American ones.

Easy Living (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Easy Living (1937) – M. Leisen

Effortless screwball comedy scripted by Preston Sturges and directed by Mitchell Leisen that dashes madly from start (when rich banker Edward Arnold drops a fur coat off the balcony and it lands on poor Jean Arthur’s head) to finish (when, you know, steel is up again, Arthur has fallen for Ray Milland, everyone finally knows what’s what and another fur coat falls on another head).  In other words, this is ridiculousness laced with slapstick and the sublime, studded with oddball character actors from the ‘30s.  Arnold is at his gruff, confused but lovable best and Arthur is the original well-meaning airhead (Milland is impossibly young here).  You can see why Sturges soon got his own directing gigs since his script is perfect but Leisen probably made it all more lavish.  Pure escapism (although you might end up thinking about the 1% and then this Cinderella story might turn a bit sour, so don’t).

  

Pepe Le Moko (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Pepe Le Moko (1937) – J. Duvivier

After watching so many of his older flicks, it is a bit stunning to see the young Jean Gabin here, trapped in the Casbah with the police laying wait for him at every exit. But in his seedy labyrinth (which is a decidedly racist view of things -- check Battle of Algiers for an update), he remains an untouchable king. Remade as Algiers with Charles Boyer and Hedy Lamarr the following year (and which I saw first) with few deviations from the plot, although I don't quite remember the romantically doomed ending here. Some excellent expressive camerawork and sets.

  

La Grande Illusion (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

La Grande Illusion (1937) -- J. Renoir

Jean Gabin and Pierre Fresnay are shot down and placed in a German POW camp during WWI in Jean Renoir's anti-war masterpiece.  Beyond disputing the idea that war can solve anything (the "Grand Illusion"), he makes several related points along the way:  1) class differences may be wider than national differences (but the upper classes may serve no real purpose); 2) national boundaries are illusory (nature does not recognize them); 3)  Jews are just as human and noble as other people (an important point to make in 1937); 4) romance and friendships can easily exist across national, cultural, or religious divides; 5) war is a damn waste of lives, time, etc.  Why have we still not learned? Overall, the film is also an enjoyable story of camraderie with nary a shot fired -- indeed, from a contemporary perspective, this view of the experience of war is also very likely to be illusory and yet it continues.

You Only Live Once (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You Only Live Once (1937) -- F. Lang

The deck is stacked against Henry Fonda as an ex-con trying to go straight and coming up against stigma and reduced opportunities at every turn. Fortunately, he's got Sylvia Sidney to love and support him. However, things take a turn for the worse when he's accused of a bank robbery in which six innocent people died. Suddenly Fritz Lang takes us from an ordinary social problem picture (of sorts) onto death row and then into Bonnie & Clyde territory. His expressionistic skiils serve him well and there are some amazing chiaroscuro shots, foreshadowing the film noir movement to come (in style and theme).

Stage Door (1937)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Stage Door (1937) -- G. La Cava

Very cozy comedy drama about young women in a NYC boarding house hoping to make it on Broadway. Ginger Rogers is queen of the wisecracks and Katharine Hepburn is the rich girl slumming it to have a more authentic experience. The 1930s seem so different from today -- I can't even imagine that a place like the Footlights Club (boarding house) still exists. However, David Lynch does use Ann Miller (only 14 years old here) perfectly in Mulholland Dr, renting out cottages to Hollywood hopefuls, and thereby echoing the seamier side of Stage Door (where Adolphe Menjou's producer/exploiter is almost played for laughs).