The Ox-Bow Incident (1942)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Ox-Bow Incident (1942) – W. Wellman

There seems like no time like the present to revisit this classic.  Men in a lonesome western town hear that a nearby rancher has been murdered and some cattle rustled. They decide to get together a posse and they have lynching on their minds. We observe these events somewhat dispassionately along with Henry Fonda and Harry Morgan who have just returned to town after some time away.  Soon, however the local shopkeeper (Harry Davenport) questions whether it is a good idea to take the law into their own hands and shouldn’t they just let the sheriff and local judge know?  It turns out the sheriff is out of town and the man he deputised also wants blood.  An old confederate major (Frank Conroy) takes charge. So, off they go and soon they capture Dana Andrews, Anthony Quinn and an old codger, seemingly red-handed with some cattle from the dead rancher. The prisoners claim to have bought the cattle fair and square, but no one believes them.  The major declares that they will have a vote to decide whether to lynch them or not – majority rules.  Wellman’s film is a moral challenge to populism, arguing that mob rule cannot be substituted for the rule of law. It’s impossible not to think of the travesties of the death penalty, even with that rule of law, and all the mistakes that led innocent men to the chair (or other horrible means).  Even so, an eye-for-an-eye mentality allows for no mercy, no rehabilitation. A society based on fundamental and fair moral principles knows better.

There Was a Father (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

There Was a Father (1942) – Y. Ozu

Yasujirô Ozu’s wartime portrait of a single dad’s self-sacrifice was likely exactly what the country wanted in order to spur young men to the call of duty.  His favourite actor, Chishû Ryû, plays the widower schoolteacher who sends his only son away to the best schools (thereby living alone without the comforts of family) to offer him the best opportunity for the future.  However, it is possible to question whether Ozu felt uniformly positive about such decisions.  Early in the film Horikawa (Ryû) gives up teaching because of a tragedy that happened under his watch, but this may have deprived a generation of students from a good teacher (later, he scolds his own son, who has grown up to become a teacher, when he also thinks about leaving the profession).  Moreover, as Tony Rayns points out, it is not too difficult to imagine the father’s dying words echoing the sentiments of Setsuko Hara (in Tokyo Story, 1953) about life being essentially disappointing; instead he claims to be satisfied that his son has turned out to be a good person and that he has found him a wife to support him. Of course, it is possible to be disappointed for oneself and satisfied for others at the same time and this may be what is/was required in Japan (although the disappointment must be accepted if it is even acknowledged).  So, the film has a tinge of ambivalence about it and this is reinforced by Ozu’s trademark “still life” scenes that punctuate the film’s major sequences.  Often, these are stone lanterns or the beautiful countryside locales where the early portions of the film (and later ryokan scenes) take place.  During these moments, one reflects.  Naturally, I thought of my own dad and the things he did/does for me, even after my parents divorced and even after I moved far away (as the son in the film does).  I also thought of myself as a dad and questioned whether I am doing enough for my two sons.  Ultimately, the wartime context could be completely ignored (and indeed the war is barely mentioned in the film, perhaps partly due to US censors) and the film would still be humane and transcendent as much of Ozu’s oeuvre was.  Worth seeking out.

Went the Day Well? (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Went the Day Well? (1942) – A. Cavalcanti

Adapted from a Graham Greene short story, this British film (from Ealing Studios) presents a hypothetical for the home audience.  What if the Germans successfully invaded a country village in the UK?  The plot sees German soldiers well-trained in English and British culture arrive in Bramley End disguised as British soldiers needing to billet for a few days for some “exercises”.  Of course, they are welcomed by the locals – and particularly Leslie Banks, who plays a member of the Fifth Column (working for the Nazis) but who is nevertheless the local organiser for the town’s defences.  The Germans plan to set up some equipment that can disrupt communication networks in advance of a real invasion by their armed forces.  After a few mistakes on the part of the Nazis (a chocolate bar with a German brand is discovered), the locals start to get suspicious – but it is too late and they are rounded up and held captive in the local Manor house.  What unfolds then is a story of British pluck and gumption, as the motley assortment of locals seek to escape and alert those outside the town to their plight.  Director Alberto Cavalcanti (a Brazilian who was a regular for Ealing in the Forties, including participating in spooky horror anthology Dead of Night, 1945) handles everything with verve and there is nary a dull moment.  Of course, the British community was probably beyond worrying that the Nazis would invade in 1942 (because the Battle of Britain had been won) but Hitler was not yet vanquished (nor the extent of his crimes revealed) when this film was released.  As a paranoid fantasy of the first rank, even today it can produce a shudder when you imagine “what if”.  

Now, Voyager (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Now, Voyager (1942) – I. Rapper

The title comes from a Walt Whitman poem about unfulfilled desires -- and Charlotte Vale (Bette Davis) has them.  She’s been held back (all the way into her thirties) by her domineering mother, so much so that she plays the first scenes of the movie in ugly drag (with unruly eyebrows) on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Fortunately, Charlotte’s sister-in-law brings sensible psychologist Dr Jacquith (Claude Rains) into the picture and he rightly identifies, as Carl Rogers might later deduce, that internalizing her mother’s expectations for her is the crux of the problem.  So, he proposes that she escape away on a South American cruise – where, transformed miraculously into the Bette Davis we know, she meets and falls in love with, an unfortunately married man played by Paul Henreid.  I wonder why the most emotionally stirring films are always about those impossible loves that are never to be, never fulfilled (although there are some innuendoes here about a stormy night in Rio), never ending in a life-long pairing.  Is it because these possible futures remain in the land of “what might be” keeping expectations and dreams high, even when all loves that do result in relationships must crash down to reality and become an everyday, if not humdrum, thing?  Thus the sad dreams continue, unchecked by life.  Charlotte manages to sublimate her longing for Jerry (Henreid) into a mothering instinct, taking over guardianship of his younger daughter for whom her own mother seems to hold no interest. An unusual arrangement to be sure, and probably one that would not, could not, exist today.  So, Davis takes it on the chin, as she does in so many movies, but she comes through tougher than before. With its sweeping Max Steiner score and numerous touching and portentous moments, Now, Voyager, ends up being inspiring to those who want to take control of their own lives and navigate to the points beyond where they might currently be stuck. Onward!   

 

The Bank Dick (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Bank Dick (1942) – E. Cline

I was prepared not to like this, having not seen W.C. Fields before and expecting stupidity, but...there's something about the pacing, the sheer lackadaisicality (which must have been scrupulously planned), the errant detours in plotting, that, despite some stupidity, won me over. Plus, you don't really see alcoholism played for laughs much anymore, so there's an added layer of peculiarity.

Casablanca (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Casablanca (1942) – M. Curtiz

Yes, the Bogart and Bergman classic (this time watched with Roger Ebert’s commentary track – he’s a natural and engaging narrator). For me, this film has always been about existentialism and not necessarily about true romance (as it is typically advertised). After all, Bogart comes to realize that he must take responsibility for his actions (to make choices that represent good rather than bad faith) and this means sacrificing his selfish impulses (to reclaim his relationship with Bergman and/or to remain a detached drunkard) for the sake of a higher moral principle (to stop the Nazi’s, protect freedom, etc.). So, this is a tale of Bogie’s growing existential angst when he is finally confronted with his own bad faith. True, it makes excellent use of those bittersweet emotions associated with nostalgia, regret, loss – and yes, the hazy woozy feeling of being in love – and the film would not be the same without this affective infusion (aided tremendously by the strains of “As Time Goes By”). I’d also make a case for the importance of Claude Rains and his witty cynical sarcasm – he too realizes that the time for self-indulgence is over and his reversal at the end (though strongly foreshadowed) makes the film that much more satisfying. Director Michael Curtiz keeps everything moving and the supporting cast of character actors is as good as any assembled. I don’t need to tell you this. Always worth your time.

The Glass Key (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Glass Key (1942) -- S. Heisler
Dashiell Hammett's novels seemed readymade for the screen and helped to kickstart the film noir genre. In The Glass Key, Alan Ladd is the hard boiled but loyal friend/sidekick/henchman to the corrupt but frank and direct political boss Paul Madvig (played superbly by Brian Donlevy). Madvig makes a deal with the Reform Party for the upcoming election which angers his mob connections (run by Joseph Calleia). So, trouble ensues and Madvig's sister, and the son and daughter of the Reform Party candidate get ensnared. The latter is played by Veronica Lake, making this one of the classic Ladd-Lake pairings (but unlike Bogart and Bacall, they really didn't like each other). Ladd's character Ed Beaumont is the classic Hammett figure, smart, independent, able to play both sides off each other, willing to look bad/deceitful/disloyal (and take a beating) but for the right end - of course, he ties up everything with a bow.

To Be or Not To Be (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

To Be or Not To Be (1942) -- E. Lubitsch

I wouldn't rank this as Lubitsch's greatest (Shop Around the Corner, Ninotchka, Heaven Can Wait, and Trouble in Paradise are all funnier/smoother) but this film scores extra points just for the sheer ballsiness of mixing Hitler and comedy. No one can properly define "The Lubitsch Touch" but for me that feeling you get when the plot mechanism clicks gently into place, exactly as it should (without too much telegraphing or obviousness), mixing amusement and awareness of humanity/darkness, is close. Here, Jack Benny and Carole Lombard play actors who get caught up in defending the Polish Resistance from a Nazi spy using all of their actorly arts and crafts. Pokes a finger in Hitler's eye but was judged to be inappropriate at the time.

The Palm Beach Story (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Palm Beach Story (1942) -- P. Sturges

Joel McCrea and Claudette Colbert play Tom and Gerry Jeffers who are in love but about to get a divorce (making this likely to be one of those screwball comedies of remarriage, often discussed). You see, Gerry has some feminine wiles that she'd like to use to help Tom with his business (he's an inventor), but he's too scrupulous (and jealous) to let that happen. So, she up and leaves to Palm Beach to get a divorce and marry a richer guy (with Rudy Vallee, the richest guy, as the most likely candidate). The Wienie King funds her trip and then Tom's trip to win her back. Should I mention that this was written and directed by Preston Sturges? As such, you should know that you are in for a wry and ridiculous treat. Quite possibly, there is no logical route out of the romantic dilemma created here, unless...(well, I won't tip you to a screenwriter's safely guarded tricks of the trade).

Les Visiteurs du Soir (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Les Visiteurs du Soir (1942) -- M. Carne

This Vichy-era period piece (escaping reality to the 15th century) by Carne and Prevert takes place in a dream world where envoys of the Devil can create mischief by casting romantic spells on those already devoted to others. True to any dream, the pacing is languorous but when you settle into its rhythm you might be swept along by its gentle ministrations. Here we see couples professing their love for each other -- but when the Devil himself shows up, can they defy his willful (and witty) efforts to tear them down?

The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Magnificent Ambersons (1942) -- O. Welles

Even watched on my old VHS tape, you can see Orson Welles' attention to detail and "the shot" here in the remnants of his second film (slashed from 130+ minutes to 88 while he was in Brazil working for Inter-American relations on "It's All True"). The plot remains coherent (albeit with a tacked on "happy" ending), telling the story of the Amberson family, and George Minafer Amberson in particular (played brattily by Tim Holt), and their sad decline as progress comes to the American midwest in the early 20th century. A lot of bravura stylistic flourishes here, but they don't interfere or detract from the story. Rewards close scrutiny.