Henry Fonda's Pursuit of Happiness

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"All right! Who did it? Who did it? You are going to stand sweating at those battle stations until someone confesses! It's an insult to the honor of this ship! The symbol of our cargo record has been destroyed, and I'm going to find out who did it if it takes all night!"

James Cagney

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After a lifetime of watching movies, I have reached a conclusion that may seem obvious, but it is truly amazing how few people really consider it before embarking on a moviemaking project. If they did, untold millions — perhaps billions — of budget dollars could be spared.

The best movies are the ones that honestly examine human conditions and traits (both good and bad) that are fairly common. John Ford's "Mister Roberts," which premiered 60 years ago today, was such a movie.

It was a clever twist on the end–of–the–war theme that has been done dozens of times, but there was much more to it than that. The Mister Roberts of the title was Henry Fonda, reprising his Tony Award–winning stage role as an officer on board a cargo ship in the Pacific at the end of World War II. The cargo ship was far from the action — so far, in fact, that it could just barely be regarded as being involved in the war at all — and Fonda's character craved action. So he was forever writing letters asking to be transferred, which were passed along as required by Navy regulations.

His problem was the captain of the cargo ship (James Cagney) consistently refused to endorse Fonda's transfer requests. Without the captain's endorsements, the requests weren't considered — and Fonda's character felt trapped, helplessly watching as the war seemed to be ending in front of his very eyes.

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Cagney's character took a heavy–handed approach to his job, and Fonda's character served as a buffer between the captain and the crew, always letting the men bend the rules. He had two friends with whom he shared quarters and frustrations — the ship's doctor (William Powell in his last movie role) and Ensign Frank Pulver (Jack Lemmon) who spent most of his time trying to avoid both the captain and work of any kind.

Although Mister Roberts was worried that he would never get into the war before it ended, he was unselfish in his relationships with the men he commanded. It was an unselfishness that went beyond merely bending the rules. Mister Roberts went behind the captain's back and requested liberty for the long–deprived crew, which was granted, but then the captain refused to permit the crew to go on liberty when they reached the port. Fonda confronted Cagney, who told him he would permit the liberty if Roberts stopped writing letters asking for a transfer, enforced the captain's rules and pledged never to reveal what they had discussed. Roberts agreed to the conditions — he didn't like them, but he agreed to them — and the liberty was permitted.

But the crew had been without liberty for a long time, and several crew members got a little boisterous, which led to their arrests by the military police — and the captain being chided by the port admiral. That didn't go down easily for the captain.

At the same time, the crew was baffled by Mister Roberts' inexplicable rigidity about discipline, and Cagney made them even more suspicious by implying that Roberts was selling them out for a promotion. They were even more confused by his refusal to take advantage of a new Navy policy that could make it possible for him to get a transfer without the captain's endorsement.

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Roberts' sense of urgency was heightened when news of Germany's surrender in Europe reached the Pacific. At first, he was despondent, realizing that the war was rapidly coming to an end — when he was inspired to throw a prized palm tree — a reward for the ship's cargo record — overboard.

And it was when the captain confronted Roberts — and their entire conversation was broadcast over an open microphone — that the crew understood what had happened.

A few weeks later, Roberts received an unexpected transfer. The crew had competed in a secret competition for the opportunity to forge the captain's signature. Before he left, the crew presented Mister Roberts with a homemade medal, the Order of the Palm.

Lemmon was appointed to replace Roberts as cargo officer, and he and the doctor received letters at the same time. The doctor's letter was from Mister Roberts, who wrote with enthusiasm about his joy to be aboard a destroyer. Then Lemmon's character read his letter, which was from an ex–classmate, who informed him that Roberts had been killed in a kamikaze attack shortly after mailing the letter to the doctor.

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It was an indication of how well written the script was that it could turn on a dime from comedy to pathos — and then back again as Lemmon's character fully assumed Fonda's role, tossing the replacement palm tree overboard (in spite of a new chain that was supposed to keep it securely in place) and then storming into the captain's quarters, demanding answers about movie nights on board ship.

If I didn't know better, I would have sworn Billy Wilder did at least some of the writing. But he had no connection to the original novel — or the successful play that was based on it or the movie adaptation that premiered 60 years ago today. Of course, it was also a credit to the considerable skills of the cast — especially Fonda, who was so good at being the good guy that, when he played a really bad guy in 1968's "Once Upon a Time in the West," many viewers who saw the movie were shocked.

"Mister Roberts" received Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor (Lemmon, who won) and Best Sound Recording.

A Good, Not Great, Gangster Movie

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"I don't love life much, but I don't hate it enough to stick my head in front of a screw's bullet."

Frank (James Cagney)

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Although they did other things in their movie careers — and did them well — James Cagney and George Raft are remembered mostly for their gangster movies.

I'm not talking about film noir movies, those upscale crime movies that were more melodrama than anything else and usually featured a private investigator (but might feature almost any kind of character) as the main figure in the story.

Gangster movies were in a genre of their own — a subgenre, really, of the general crime film genre. Typically, they dealt with organized crime, and they were frequently set in prisons.

And many were like "Each Dawn I Die," which premiered 75 years ago tomorrow. They were about innocent men who had been wrongfully imprisoned. That was a very familiar theme.

Anyway, given the reputations Cagney and Raft enjoyed, it was surprising to me when I discovered that "Each Dawn I Die" was the only movie they made together.

Well, not quite. Seven years earlier, Raft made a brief, uncredited appearance in one of Cagney's movies. Raft was also in another Cagney movie, this one about boxing, around the same time, but his appearance in that one also was very short.

So, in reality, "Each Dawn I Die" was the only movie ever made that featured both Cagney and Raft in what amounted to co–leading roles.

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Cagney played a reporter trying to expose a corrupt district attorney who was running for governor. He got framed for vehicular manslaughter and was sent to prison.

In prison, Cagney met Raft, a gangster doing a life sentence. They worked together, and Raft became indebted to Cagney after Cagney saved his life.

At first, Cagney's character tried to keep his distance from the other inmates, but, thanks to the use of nearly every gangster movie cliche imaginable, he got worn down to the point where he was just another sour prisoner.

That was due, in no small part, to the refusal of his plea to the parole board, which was led by the man who was responsible for Cagney's conviction — and he had been appointed by the man Cagney had tried to expose — now the governor of the state.

It seemed all the cards were stacked against Cagney so he enlisted Raft's help in getting his name cleared.

OK, it was a routine gangster story. It certainly wasn't original. But, while we may recognize it today for what it was, at the time it was a big hit — and Warner Bros. offered Raft a long–term contract.

For folks who didn't mind a cliche–ridden, shoot–'em–up gangster movie, especially one with Cagney, it was an entertaining experience.

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Director William Keighley deserved a lot of the credit. He was a studio team player, capable of doing good work no matter the topic, and he produced a good, if not great, gangster movie in "Each Dawn I Die."

James Cagney, Cold Warrior

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"On Sunday, August 13th, 1961, the eyes of America were on the nation's capital, where Roger Maris was hitting home runs #44 and 45 against the Senators. On that same day, without any warning, the East German Communists sealed off the border between East and West Berlin. I only mention this to show the kind of people we're dealing with — REAL SHIFTY."

James Cagney
One Two Three (1961)

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I suppose New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther was right.

Crowther — who did have something of a reputation for writing mean reviews at times — wrote that James Cagney was "a good 50 percent" of the movie "One Two Three," which premiered 50 years ago today.

"With all due respect for all the others, all of whom are very good," Crowther wrote, "the burden is carried by Mr. Cagney ... Mr. Cagney makes you mistrust him — but he sure makes you laugh with him. And that's about the nature of the picture. It is one with which you can laugh — with its own impudence toward foreign crises — while laughing at its rowdy spinning jokes."

Other critics of the time used words like "fast–paced" and "frenetic" to describe a film that, more than anything else that was being made in those years, exemplified the best of the old screwball comedies of the 1930s — with a generous helping of international political intrigue.

In fact, writer/director Billy Wilder even acknowledged that he lifted portions of the plot from the classic 1939 screwball comedy "Ninotchka," which clearly had a political subtext. (Wilder had been its co–writer.)

But "One Two Three" was no rehashed remake. It was very much a film of its time, set in Berlin during the Cold War. Wilder and his cast and crew were in Berlin filming the movie when construction began on the Berlin Wall in August 1961, forcing them to relocate to Munich — and inspiring Wilder to write a brand–new introduction, which was narrated by Cagney.

In that monologue, Cagney decried the Communists as "real shifty."

That seemed an apt description, coming from Cagney's character, a Coca–Cola executive in postwar Berlin, where he had been assigned after an unfortunate episode in the Middle East. Viewers learned about that only through dialogue, but Cagney's character clearly carried some baggage on it.

Nevertheless, he seemed to be adjusting. While finagling to be assigned to London, he was busily learning German from his secretary/mistress (Liselotte Pulver), and he worked out a lucrative deal for Coke with the Soviet Union — then he got a call from his boss back in Atlanta.

The boss' daughter (Pamela Tiffin) was coming to Berlin, and Cagney's boss wanted her to stay with him. Cagney agreed — only to discover that Miss Scarlett Hazeltine was no Georgia peach — more like a Southern firecracker.

She was a hot–blooded teenager who wound up marrying an East German communist (Horst Buchholz). That was enough of a headache for Cagney — but then the heiress and her spouse decided they were going to move to Moscow at precisely the time when her parents were coming to Berlin to retrieve her.

Fearing a repeat of the Middle East experience, Cagney arranged to frame Buchholz as a closet capitalist, leading to his expulsion from East Germany. After that, he could clean the young man up and make him presentable for his in–laws.

But Cagney's character learned that, while you may take the young man from the communist state, you can't as easily take the communist state from the young man — so he engaged in some brainwashing of his own, dressing Buccholz like an affluent capitalist and giving him a crash course in the ways of the breed.

Like Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle in "Pygmalion," Cagney succeeded in transforming his Cockney flower girl into a lady.

And, in the end, it appeared that Cagney's character had earned his promotion from Berlin.

In Billy Wilder's hands, it was an uproarious story.

And James Cagney was the perfect choice to pitch it.