Showing posts with label Charles Laughton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charles Laughton. Show all posts

Sunday, November 08, 2015

The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves



Fletcher Christian (Clark Gable): But the prisoner is dead, sir!

Capt. William Bligh (Charles Laughton): Never mind. Continue with the punishment!

Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that the reason why movies in the '30s and '40s were so good is because so many were based on classic stories.

Sometimes the recent original stories on which movies are based are pretty good, but, in my experience, most are not. If reliably quality storytelling is what you want, you can't go wrong with the classics — the stories by Shakespeare or Mark Twain or Robert Louis Stevenson or Charles Dickens. It isn't a foolproof system, of course. It is possible to mess those stories up, but you really have to work at it.

Director Frank Lloyd's "Mutiny on the Bounty" was such a story although it was not really a classic. There have always been questions about the accuracy of the story, but that is not the fault of the movie. It is the inevitable fault of a novel about certain facts, not a report about the facts themselves. Consequently, the fault lies with Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall, who published the novel in 1932.

While the novel may not have been written in another century, the movie on which it was based took home Best Picture, beating several movies that were based on stories that were at least a century older than "Mutiny on the Bounty" — "David Copperfield," "Les Misérables," "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

But the movie won no other Oscars, even though it was nominated for several, and that is an extremely rare occurrence for a Best Picture. One would think, even in those early days of filmmaking, that the Best Picture of the year would also stand out in some other way — for its acting or its editing or its music, something. And, in fact, that was the last time — to date — that the Best Picture took home no other awards.

The movie's three stars — Charles Laughton, Clark Gable and Franchot Tone — were all nominated for Best Actor and lost to Victor McLaglen for "The Informer." I've never seen "The Informer" so I don't know if McLaglen's performance really was better, but my guess is that Laughton, Gable and Tone wound up canceling each other out.

That's only speculation, of course, and a rather obvious conclusion, I think. It's much harder to figure out the reasons for the other Oscar losses.

Modern conventional wisdom holds that the Best Picture and Best Director Oscars usually go to the same movie, but John Ford ("The Informer"), not Lloyd, won Best Director. "Mutiny on the Bounty" lost Best Adapted Screenplay, again to "The Informer." It lost Best Score to guess who? Right. "The Informer."

(Maybe I ought to see "The Informer.")

It also lost Best Film Editing — this time to "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

As I say, there were questions about the accuracy of the story, but it was a novel, not a work of nonfiction. Poetic license was taken, much of it, apparently, at the expense of Capt. Bligh, who was portrayed as a callous fiend, calling for the continued flogging of a prisoner who was already dead. Certainly, Capt. Bligh is an effective villain. The American Film Institute named the character the 19th–best movie villain of all time. AFI didn't say which film portrayal — Laughton's or Trevor Howard's 27 years later — was the best, and I haven't seen the movie that was showing at theaters in 1962, but it would be hard to beat Laughton's performance. It's good material, a juicy role, but it's not entirely true.

There were other things like that in the movie. Apparently much of Bligh's treatment of his men in the movie and book simply doesn't find support in the historical record.

So, while Laughton's performance was great as always, it wasn't necessarily true to life.

There was an HMS Bounty, and there was a mutiny aboard the Bounty in the late 18th century.

But anyone who is researching the event for a term paper or something should look elsewhere for the facts.

Monday, December 29, 2014

Why Didn't 'Hunchback' Receive More Oscar Recognition in '39?



"I'm about as shapeless as the man in the moon."

Quasimodo (Charles Laughton)

Several film versions have been made based on Victor Hugo's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," but few would deny that the version that premiered 75 years ago today was the best — even if it took considerable liberties with the source material.

How could it not be great? It starred Charles Laughton, a two–time Oscar nominee and one–time winner, and pretty newcomer Maureen O'Hara, appearing in only her fourth movie. The story was based on one of Hugo's best–known works.

And RKO Pictures constructed on its movie ranch a huge (and expensive) re–creation of medieval Paris and Notre Dame Cathedral — specifically for the making of "The Hunchback of Notre Dame."

Yet, even at a time when the Academy Awards allowed as many as 10 movies to be nominated for Best Picture, "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" wasn't one of that year's nominees.

How could such a thing be possible?

Nor was Laughton nominated for Best Actor — and, in addition to giving an Oscar–worthy performance, he had to wear a ton of makeup at a time when Los Angeles was experiencing one of the most severe heat waves in its history (daytime highs were often close to 110°).

I think he could have been nominated instead of Mickey Rooney, who was nominated for "Babes in Arms." But that's just my opinion.

How could such things have happened?

Be forewarned, ye who have read Hugo's book. There were differences between the book and the movie, apparently dreamed up to suggest similarities between 15th–century France and 20th–century Europe. Consequently, the bad guy in the story, Jehan (played by Cedric Hardwicke), was not the lustful religious charlatan of the novel. In the book, his name was Claude, and he was an archdeacon; his brother was named Jehan.

The names were reversed in the movie — why, I do not know. The characters weren't really changed. The bad one was still powerful; he just wasn't a powerful religious figure.

In the context of the times in which the movie was made, Jehan was a tyrant, a stand–in for Hitler, destroying printing presses for fear they would encourage the people to think for themselves.

I guess that was an easy conclusion for the screenwriters to reach. After all, the villain of the piece, whatever his name, was a persecutor of gypsies — among others.

And O'Hara's character, a gypsy dancing girl, aroused passions in Jehan, passions he could not control.

Laughton played Quasimodo, the hunchback who rang the bells (and had been deafened by them). He could speak, but he didn't often want to.

Except when he was with Esmeralda (O'Hara).

Esmeralda was sweet and kind — and, to be blunt, a bit naive. In Hugo's book, she was about 16. O'Hara was 19 when the movie premiered. Pretty close as these things go in Hollywood.

When Quasimodo was pilloried for abducting Esmeralda, it was Esmeralda who brought him water. I guess she was influenced by the fact that, although Quasimodo was physically repulsive and regardless of his shortcomings, she could see that he represented man's noblest virtues in this passion play. In a rather obvious juxtaposition, Jehan was nefarious and sexually inhibited.

If you have read the book but haven't seen the movie, I should also warn you that many of the secondary stories were discarded, presumably to focus attention on the relationship between the dancing girl and the hunchback.

Still, the movie captured the flavor of the story well enough. Too bad the same couldn't be said of its showing at the Oscars.

"The Hunchback of Notre Dame" received only two Oscar nominations — and won neither.

Wednesday, June 06, 2012

Partisan Politics is Nothing New



When I was small, my mother told me, she read Allen Drury's Pulitzer Prize–winning novel about Washington politics, "Advise and Consent."

She became so engrossed in it, she admitted to me, that she sometimes left me unattended in my crib while she eagerly devoured the last pages of a given chapter.

As I have observed here before, I read that book and the others in the series at Mom's urging when I got older. Who knows? That dog–eared copy of "Advise and Consent" that my mother gave me might very well have been the one she read when I was little.

We had many conversations about that book, conversations that really lit a fire under me to see the movie that was inspired by that book. It starred Henry Fonda, Charles Laughton (in his final film), Walter Pidgeon and a host of other familiar folks — and it made its debut at the theaters 50 years ago today.

I've always been something of a political junkie, so I guess it should come as no surprise that "Advise and Consent" is, without question, one of my favorite books, and when I saw the film version it became one of my favorite movies.

Of course, there are some differences between the movie and the book. Mom pointed that out to me when I was little — probably to encourage me to read — and I have always liked to compare movies to the books on which they were based. My observation has been that, nearly always, the book is better.

Yes, I know that Drury's book was better — but, in all honesty, it's hard to beat any movie that has Fonda, Laughton and Pidgeon (not to mention Burgess Meredith and Peter Lawford).

As well as Betty White and George Grizzard, who clashed on the floor of the Senate.

Plus, the folks who adapted Drury's novel for the big screen may well have been responsible for one of my favorite lines. I don't recall reading it in the novel (it has been several years since I read it), but it was worthy of some of the lines written for the West Wing — in my opinion, the best political TV series ever made.

Fonda, who played a progressive nominee for secretary of State with an academic background, was asked during his confirmation hearing if he was what was generally known as an egghead. This was his response:
"I'm not only an egghead, I'm a premeditated egghead. I set out to become an egghead and at this moment I'm in full flower of eggheadedness. I hope to spread pollen wherever I go."

Unfortunately, modern politicians don't tend to speak that way.

But, after you have seen "Advise and Consent," I think you'll agree that politics itself hasn't changed much since Drury's day.