Showing posts with label Spencer Tracy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spencer Tracy. Show all posts

Monday, May 01, 2017

Hepburn and Tracy Doing What They Did Best



If you ask anyone who is familiar with the movies of Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy to name his/her favorite Hepburn–Tracy movie, my guess is that most people wouldn't name "Desk Set," the movie that premiered on this day in 1957.

But I would.

The fact that it is a romantic comedy has nothing to do with it — I have nothing either for or against romantic comedies. As I have said many times, I like a well–written story. It can be a drama, a comedy, a romance, a thriller, whatever. Explosions and car chases don't impress me. Good writing impresses me.

And "Desk Set" is loaded with good writing. The dialogue between Hepburn and Tracy sizzles.

My favorite scene, the one I always have to watch unless I stumble onto a TV showing of this movie and it's past this part, is when Tracy (an efficiency expert) gave Hepburn (an office manager) a personality test while they were having lunch (sandwiches and coffee) on the roof of their building — in November.

Tracy asked Hepburn what observations she had, if any, about this sentence: "Able was I ere I saw Elba."

"I doubt that Napoleon ever said anything like that," she replied.

Tracy pressed her. Anything else? No, she couldn't think of anything "unless you mean that it is spelled the same backwards and forwards."

A closeup of Tracy's face indicated that was precisely what he had meant. It's a palindrome.

"I know another one," Hepburn said. "'Madam, I'm Adam.'"

"I doubt that he ever said that," Tracy replied.

You know, moviegoers knew what they were getting when they went to a Hepburn–Tracy movie. This was their seventh movie, nearly twice as many as Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall made together — and everyone pretty much knew what to expect when Bogie and Bacall were teamed up in a movie.

It was a combination that worked, no matter what the subject.

And the subject in this movie happened to be computerization, which was still in its primitive stages in 1957 although it was almost prescient in its identification of the issues that would be prominent when computerization really took hold. For example, Tracy at one point told Hepburn what management has been telling employees for decades — that computers will make their work easier and they will be freed to pursue the kinds of projects for which they presently had no time.

And the subject of the computer eliminating jobs entirely was a prominent topic as well. It is no secret, 60 years later, that automation has eliminated many jobs. Computers have not made some lives better.

A lot has changed, though, which is part of the fun of watching this movie. This was made at a time when the popular image of a computer was some huge, complex machinery that filled an entire room and required multiple advanced degrees to operate.

The computer generation will no doubt find that very funny, but "Desk Set" is a glimpse — albeit a humorous one — at a world that no longer exists.

After all, the computer on which you are reading this — no matter how big or small — is more powerful than the computers that were used to send men to the moon nearly 50 years ago. And "Desk Set" predated Apollo 11 historic journey by more than a decade.

Because of all the changes since the movie was made, it is best to treat it as what it was originally intended to be — a vehicle for Hepburn and Tracy to make their big–screen magic. When the movie began, Hepburn's character was involved with Gig Young, but as the story evolved so did her feelings for Tracy — and, for that matter, his for her. The knowledge that they would end up together was probably the worst–kept secret in the whole movie.

But it still has some worthwhile points to make about office politics, points that are every bit as relevant today as they were in 1957.

I think it could be remade in 2017, updated with only a few tweaks here and there. Of course, the computer angle would have to be different, considering the hugely influential role the computer plays in 2017 compared to 1957. Who would you cast in Hepburn and Tracy's roles?

Sunday, October 09, 2016

A Libeled Lady Is Like a Woman Scorned



"You can't build a life on hate or a marriage on spite. Marriage is too important. Mine only lasted an hour, but I know."

Connie (Myrna Loy)

Since I worked for newspapers for many years, I have a residual fondness for movies about newspapers and newspaper people — as long as the stories are reasonably plausible.

And the story in "Libeled Lady," which premiered on this day in 1936, was plausible. Reasonably so, anyway.

It is important to remember that it was a screwball comedy, a genre that was at its peak in the '30s and '40s. That raised the bar for the quality of the movie. And it didn't tell a true story, which freed it to tell wildly exaggerated jokes without having to be accountable to the harsh truths of the business. Screwball comedies existed to entertain, not enlighten.

It is also important to remember how serious the issue of libel is. At the larger newspapers, entire legal departments are maintained on the premises almost entirely to deal with the subject of libel, how to avoid it, what to do when faced with legal action and so on. When I was in college, nearly all of my journalism classes had sections devoted to the subject of libel. I can't claim to know what it is like in journalism classes at four–year schools these days, but I don't think it was possible to graduate with a degree in journalism when I was in school if one did not have at least some comprehension of the subject of libel.

Screwball comedies were like the forerunners to Saturday Night Live, I suppose. They could take something serious like libel and turn it into a joke that kept feeding on itself. The story of "Libeled Lady" really was ridiculous, silly, but it was built on a deadly serious theme.

The movie was good enough that it earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture. It lost to "The Great Ziegfeld."

I believe it deserved the nomination, but what was it about the movie that merited a Best Picture nomination? Most of the time you can get an idea from the other nominations the movie received. Was it the acting? The directing? The film editing? The music? The story? What was it?

Well, you can't tell from the Oscar nominations because "Libeled Lady" received no other nominations. By modern standards, though, a Best Picture nomination for a comedy — especially a screwball comedy — is a considerable achievement by itself.

The Oscars tend to look down on comedies today even though the number of permissible Best Picture nominations has been 10 — the same as in the '30s — for several years. In the years when only five movies could be nominated for Best Picture, comedies were rarely among the nominees. These days stars tend to get pigeonholed as comedic or dramatic actors, and there is little crossover.

But in the '30s, everyone did screwball comedies — even (or perhaps that should be especially) if they also did dramatic movies. Screwball comedies were popular escapism in the Depression. They were money in the bank.

And "Libeled Lady" heavily promoted the fact that it had four bankable stars — William Powell, Myrna Loy, Spencer Tracy and Jean Harlow.

Harlow and Powell were a couple off the screen, and Harlow wanted a particular role so that she and Powell would end up together. But the studio wanted to pair Powell with Loy to capitalize on the popularity of their Thin Man movies, the second of which premiered on Christmas Day 1936, and several other movies they made together, including "The Great Ziegfeld." (It was probably a prudent decision. Powell and Loy made more than a dozen movies together.)

Even so, in the role she played, Harlow did get to play a wedding scene with Powell. Considering that Harlow died before she and Powell could marry in real life, that was probably a fitting consolation prize.

Screwball comedies often have elements of film noir, but they are frequently comparable to some of the great stage comedies of all time as well. Some people may see elements of "Lysistrata" or "The Importance of Being Earnest" when they watch a screwball comedy. I usually see elements of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" or "Much Ado About Nothing."

And, for me, "Libeled Lady" has always had a distinctly Shakespearean feeling to it.

Tracy played a newspaper editor whose newspaper had published a libelous story about an heiress (Loy), claiming that she broke up a marriage. The editor wanted to set her up so she would have to drop the lawsuit she had filed against him. He recruited a former reporter (Powell) to try to maneuver Loy into a situation where they were alone together and could be confronted by Powell's wife — and the press conveniently on hand to document it all. That would establish her track record as a home wrecker.

The problem was that Powell's character wasn't married.

No problem. Tracy volunteered his girlfriend (Harlow) to marry Powell — over her very vocal objections — and then play the aggrieved spouse.

Trouble was, Powell and Loy's characters really did fall in love. And Harlow came to conclude that she preferred being married to Powell to waiting for a newspaperman who had been stringing her along for years. When she confronted Powell and Loy, she really was aggrieved.

Powell and Loy persuaded Harlow that she was really in love with Tracy, so all was well that ended well.

To borrow a phrase.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Making an Escape to 'Boom Town'



"Now, how can a guy be breaking the law when he's trying to save the resources of this country? He didn't know that he was doin' anything that you might call conservation, but bein' one of the best oilmen there is, he's got the right hunch about oil. He knows it took billions of years to put it there, and takin' it out at the rate we're goin', there won't be any oil left in the good U.S.A."

Square John (Spencer Tracy)

Interesting thing about the movies — well, actually, this particular stream of consciousness began when I was watching a movie from 1939, which is often regarded as the greatest year in the history of the movies, and it re–emerges from time to time, usually when I am writing about one of the movies of the '30s or '40s.

As I am today.

It was 75 years ago today that "Boom Town" an adventure about some oil wildcatters (Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy), made its debut. It wasn't the best movie ever made, but it was enjoyable enough, and it featured four of the biggest names in Hollywood at the time — Gable, Tracy, Claudette Colbert and Hedy Lamarr. (Frank Morgan, who may be best remembered for his part in "The Wizard of Oz," made it five names.)

And that is where my stream of consciousness comes in.

The movies of the '30s and '40s were almost entirely about escapism. In the '30s, nearly all the movies that dealt with the economic realities of the Great Depression were presented in such a way that the protagonist(s) rose above the circumstances and found success anyway. In other words, those movies encouraged hope. There were a few — like "The Grapes of Wrath" — that told it like it was and pulled few, if any, punches. But, mostly, the movies of that day were about other times, other places, other people. They were adaptations of great works of literature, Day–to–day life in the Depression was bad enough — for awhile, about a quarter of America's adult population was out of work — and money was precious enough that people would seldom pay to sit in a theater and watch other people struggling as they did.

They couldn't afford to go anywhere, so they went to the movies for a couple of hours — to escape. My grandmother once told me that the movie stars of that time were more than movie stars. They were like friends. People had their favorite stars, and they went to see every movie they made. Then as now, studios were interested in pairings that were profitable; what could be more profitable than bringing together four popular stars?

A few modern movie stars inspire that kind of loyalty — but not many. Maybe they are overruled by the prices that are charged for movie tickets these days.

"Boom Town" reunited the stars of "It Happened One Night," the unexpected hit of 1934 — Gable and Colbert. Their partnership didn't have the same sizzle that it had six years earlier, but it must have been great for fans of Gable and Colbert to see them together again — even if it was in an inferior movie. Turned out, it was their last on–screen pairing.

If one is bound and determined to find an agenda in a movie, it probably isn't too hard with "Boom Town." Its message of unfettered capitalism does seem obvious — it may have seemed just as obvious to audiences three–quarters of a century ago — and it also extols the virtues of entrepreneurship.

The story was far from perfect, but it made up for it in sheer star power. Well, unless you were a fan of Spencer Tracy. Seemed he was always getting the short end of the stick from Gable — mostly in matters of the heart.

Both named John, Gable's character was called "Big John" and Tracy's was called "Square John." For starters, Big John stole Square John's girl (Colbert). Then, when Square John discovered that Big John had been having an affair (with Lamarr), he offered to marry the mistress in order to save Big John's marriage.

But in matters of the head, my memory is that Square John always came out on top. They both had their times of booms and busts, but my impression, by the time the movie ended, was that Tracy's character had enjoyed more economic success.

Tracy, I have heard, was fond of Gable, but "Boom Town" was the third — and last — movie they made together. It was a capsule of all the things that Tracy didn't like about working with Gable. He didn't like taking second billing to Gable in movie credits, and he didn't like being Gable's "eunuch."

"Boom Town" was nominated for two Oscars — Best Black and White Cinematography and Best Special Effects.

Tuesday, July 07, 2015

He That Troubleth His Own House ...



Matthew Harrison Brady (Fredric March): I do not think about things I do not think about.

Henry Drummond (Spencer Tracy): Do you ever think about things that you do think about?

I remember one Christmas when I was maybe 14 or 15, and my mother gave me a copy of Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edwin Lee's acclaimed stage script for the play, "Inherit the Wind," which was made into a movie that premiered on this day in 1960.

Mom frequently gave me books that she thought I would like, even if most people thought the books were beyond my years. They probably would have been right, too, if the subject had been anyone other than myself, but I was always reading things that, in most cases, would have been more appropriate for someone a few years older. Mom knew that, and she encouraged me to read things that I might not fully comprehend, that I might need to ask questions about — knowing that I would probably comprehend most, if not all, of it. And she was usually right about that.

Besides, "Inherit the Wind" was based on the famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) Scopes monkey trial that took place 90 years ago, in July 1925, and Mom knew I was always a history buff. She knew I had read about the Scopes trial before. I don't think we had studied it in school yet, though, so she knew there was a chance I might need to know a few things to fill in the gaps in my mind.

The trial — in a case that challenged a law that prohibited the teaching of Charles Darwin's theory of evolution in a state–funded school — drew three–time presidential nominee William Jennings Bryan and famed trial lawyer Clarence Darrow to Dayton, Tennessee, to serve as the legal counsel for the two sides. With oratorical firepower like that in town, the press of the day was there as well. It was the Trial of the Century — or, at least, the First Quarter of a Century.

(Did I say it was based on the trial? That's an understatement. It was practically a transcript of the trial, with the debates between Bryan and Darrow picked up virtually word for word.)

All that activity must have been unsettling for Dayton. In the most recent census, its population was slightly more than 7,000. I'm guessing it was considerably smaller in 1925.

The town's name was changed in the play — to Hillsboro, Tennessee — referred to as "Heavenly Hillsboro" by the press in the story.

The Bryan character was seen locally as the defender of traditional beliefs and values; in the movie, his character was played by Frederic March, and he received a hero's welcome when he and his wife arrived in town.

An equal and opposite reaction was given to the Darrow character, who was perceived as a threat to those beliefs and values. He was played by Spencer Tracy.

You don't have to watch much of "Inherit the Wind" to see clear parallels between the conflict portrayed in the movie and the many social conflicts that permeate our politics today.

"The movie casts the battle as a struggle between the followers of a fundamentalist preacher ... and the snowy–haired agnostic ... who believes Darwinism is as 'incontrovertible as geometry,' as indeed it seems to well over 99 percent of the world's scientists," wrote film critic Roger Ebert.

(Actually, Ebert could have been describing both sides in just about any modern debate, it seems to me.)

In fact, the play does seem to have accurately forecast 21st–century attitudes. The fundamentalists were ridiculed, as they are today, as being hopelessly out of step with modern thinking.

Thinking? The movie was about the right to think, and Gene Kelly's character believed it was in great jeopardy. "There's only one man in the whole town who thinks," he complained, "and he's in jail."

There were others in the cast, of course, including a character who served as the defendant (in the movie, that was Dick York) and Kelly as a reporter for a fictional newspaper, the Baltimore Herald, based on the very real H.L. Mencken and the newspaper that employed him, the Baltimore Sun, which provided financial support for the defense. Harry Morgan played the presiding judge, and there were some witnesses. Nearly all the witnesses testified for the prosecution. The judge ruled that testimony from the defense's academic witnesses was irrelevant, and the defense's only witness was the prosecuting attorney himself.

For the most part, the movie was a two–man show, and you couldn't have asked for two better actors to represent their generation. Tracy received an Oscar nomination for Best Actor; March didn't get a nomination but deserved one as well. (He enjoyed his share of Oscar success, though, receiving five Best Actor nominations in his career — and winning twice.)

("Inherit the Wind" received three other Oscar nominations. Nedrick Young and Harold Jacob Smith were nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay, Ernest Laszlo was nominated for Best Black and White Cinematography, and Frederic Knudtson was nominated for Best Film Editing.)

Writing a few months after a similar court trial in Dover, Pennsylvania, Ebert observed that the movie was "a film that rebukes the past when it might also have feared the future. Beliefs that seemed like ancient history to [director Stanley] Kramer have had a surprising resiliency; two recent polls show that 38 percent of American teenagers believe 'God created humans pretty much in their present form within the last 10,000 years or so,' and 54 percent of American adults doubt that man evolved from earlier species. There is hardly a politician in the land with courage enough to state that they are wrong."

Ebert wrote that in 2006. The public's conclusions may or may not have changed in that time — but my guess is that there are quite a few politicians who would be willing to challenge the validity of those conclusions today.

Some might take a page from Spencer Tracy's dialogue in the movie. "The Bible is a book," he asserted at one point. "It's a good book, but it is not the only book."

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Spencer Tracy's Finest Hour?



"I would like to say a few words about weddings. I've just been through one. Not my own. My daughter's. Someday in the far future I may be able to remember it with tender indulgence but not now. I always used to think that marriages were a simple affair. Boy meets girl. Fall in love. They get married. Have babies. Eventually the babies grow up and meet other babies. They fall in love. Get married. Have babies. And so on and on and on. Looked at that way, it's not only simple, it's downright monotonous. But I was wrong. I figured without the wedding."

Stanley Banks (Spencer Tracy)

I like Steve Martin and Diane Keaton, and I thought their remake of "Father of the Bride" in 1991 had some creative and imaginative elements that the original did not have, but, if given a choice, I would rather watch the original version, starring Spencer Tracy, Joan Bennett and Elizabeth Taylor, that made its debut on this date in 1950.

I'm not sure there is a logical reason for this preference. Martin is really a professional funny man. You'd think a professional funny man would be perfect for the male lead in a comedy. Tracy wasn't a professional funny man. He could do comedy, but he could do so many other things, too. That may be what worked in his favor. Being the butt of jokes was so out of character for him. As the father of the bride, he was playing against type.

Anyway, it worked well enough for him to earn an Oscar nomination for Best Actor. It was one of three nominations "Father of the Bride"
received. Three nominations, no wins.

In fact, it worked well enough that I am almost tempted to call it his finest acting achievement. Almost.

It wasn't surprising that he lost, though. Tracy was facing some long odds. He was competing with Jimmy Stewart and Bill Holden — and the winner was José Ferrer. Actors in comedies don't usually win Oscars, anyway. It's pretty rare for them even to be nominated.

It wasn't rare for Tracy to be nominated for Oscars. He was nominated for Best Actor nine times in his career and won twice. But, even for him, it was rare to be nominated for his roles in comedies. He could do them — pretty well, in fact — but he was quite versatile. He could shine in any genre.

And I suppose labeling this movie a comedy would be a matter of perspective. For any man who has ever been the father of the bride, many of the scenes that were played out on the silver screen must have rung painfully true. Even if they can laugh about it now, those fathers must have found the experience, at some times and at the very least, awkward.

Of course, Tracy was confronted with just about every conceivable pitfall that can plague a father of the bride. Most only have to contend with one or two; Tracy got the whole ball of wax.

"You fathers will understand," Tracy's character told the fathers of the bride in the audience, past and potential. "You have a little girl. She looks up to you. You're her oracle. You're her hero. And then the day comes when she gets her first permanent wave and goes to her first real party, and from that day on, you're in a constant state of panic."

If "Father of the Bride" was an accurate reflection of a, more or less, typical wedding in 1950, then I suppose it must have been a lucrative business for anyone who contributed anything to a typical wedding — flowers, wedding cakes, bridal gowns, bridesmaids' dresses, groomsmen's attire — and there are lots of rituals that go into a traditional wedding.

By modern standards, though, this certainly wouldn't be a middle–class wedding. Only an upper–class family could afford all the trimmings, and it may not have been that typical after all. It was mostly done at the insistence of the mother of the bride, played by Joan Bennett, who wanted the kind of wedding she and Tracy didn't have. Tracy had to foot the bill for the lavish proceedings plus he had to meet the groom's parents, have a man–to–man conversation with the groom, host the engagement party — as well as put out any other fires he encountered along the way.

And, of course, then — as now — the father of the bride was really only a supporting player in a wedding. Just like the groom. They were there to perform certain functions, but a wedding is really about the bride — and, by extension, the bride's mother.

Tracy and the audience had to be certain that it would all be worth it when the big day arrived. But when the big day actually did arrive, Tracy barely got to see his daughter and appeared to have missed his chance when things began to wind down and he realized the couple had left on their honeymoon.

But just before they were to board their train, Liz Taylor called her parents — and it really was all worth it for the father of the bride.

Now Martin and Keaton did a reasonably good job in the remake, but Tracy and Bennett gave it all a very human touch that elevated this version far above the remake.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Was 'Adam's Rib' Hepburn and Tracy's Best?



I don't know if "Adam's Rib," which premiered 65 years ago today, was the best of the Spencer Tracy–Katharine Hepburn movies.

Tracy and Hepburn made nine movies, after all.

But the American Film Institute ranked it higher than any of their other movies — #22 overall.

They played a variety of roles in their movies. In this one, they played married lawyers who had to oppose each other in court. Hepburn was defending a woman accused of shooting her husband. Tracy was the prosecuting attorney. The defendant was played by Judy Holliday in only her second credited movie. Her husband was played by Tom Ewell, who went on to star in "The Seven–Year Itch" on both stage and screen.
Amanda (Katharine Hepburn): What I said was true, there's no difference between the sexes. Men, women, the same.

Adam (Spencer Tracy): They are?

Amanda: Well, maybe there is a difference, but it's a little difference.

Adam: Well, you know as the French say...

Amanda: What do they say?

Adam: Vive la difference!

Amanda: Which means?

Adam: Which means hurrah for that little difference.

Seems Ewell's character had been itching in "Adam's Rib," too. That is why Holliday shot him. She believed he had been having an affair, and she opened fire on him when he was with his girlfriend, but she wasn't a very good shot and only managed to strike his shoulder. She was distraught, not responsible for her actions.

Well, that was Hepburn's argument.

Hepburn's defense really was ahead of its time — it was, essentially, the battered wife syndrome. Well, not so much battered as abused — as in emotional, not physical or sexual, abuse. Hepburn argued that Holliday had been forced to act as she did because of Ewell's poor treatment of her.

Tracy thought Holliday was guilty of attempted murder — then found out he had been assigned the case. Normally, that would be cause for celebration, but Tracy immediately realized it would mean a pretty unpleasant home life until the trial was over.

Therein lay the plot of "Adam's Rib." I'm sure you can guess many of the jokes. It could have been a routine comedy except for the professional approaches of Hepburn and Tracy.
Amanda: No part of marriage is the exclusive province of any one sex.

Even obvious jokes were enjoyable when they were delivered by Hepburn and Tracy, though. "Adam's Rib" may not have been an Oscar–worthy movie — unlike other movies they made together — but it delivered on entertainment. In fact, there are those who consider it a classic of the romantic comedy genre.

Saturday, February 01, 2014

Maximilian Schell Dies



Maximillian Schell died overnight at the age of 83.

I have admired his Oscar–winning work in 1961's "Judgment at Nuremberg" ever since I saw it for the first time. I've never seen it on the big screen, only on TV screens, but I don't think that matters.

It is the acting, not the cinematography, that tells the story in that movie, and Schell's performance, as brilliant as it was, was only one part of it. Other parts were co–star (and co–Best Actor nominee) Spencer Tracy and many other stars in lesser — but no less important — roles, some of whom believed in the project so deeply that they accepted no pay for their work.

Still, Schell's performance was, as I say, brilliant. I wish to take nothing away from it. I've never seen anything like it — and I consider myself to be fairly knowledgeable about movies. I've seen many admirable performances, but Schell's may have been was the best.

(Well, upon further review, I might have to put it second behind Gregory Peck in "To Kill a Mockingbird.")

Unfortunately, I think it led to the Austrian–born Schell being pigeonholed in Nazi–related roles — ironic, really, since Schell's family fled Austria after it was annexed by Nazi Germany. That may have been a mixed blessing; he received additional Oscar nominations for his work in two World War II–themed movies in the 1970s.

But he never won another statuette.

He did take steps to avoid being typecast, appearing in a variety of roles through the remainder of his career. I've seen many of them, and I always come away with a renewed respect for Schell's work.

Schell was a remarkably talented man. His family relocated to Zurich, Switzerland, where the young Schell read the classics — and wrote a play at the age of 10. His mother was an actress, and his father was a writer; as a result, Schell said he grew up in a "theater atmosphere," and his artistic talents initially gravitated more to writing, painting and music than acting.

He did a lot of writing in his college years, including part–time work for newspapers to supplement his income. Ultimately, though, he settled on a career in acting, which he launched at the age of 24.

I suspect he still felt torn, even after he had settled on a career in acting. "I don't actually have a profession," he once said. "I wander through life and through all areas of art."

I guess you could say he was something of a pioneer. When he won his Oscar, it was the first awarded to a German–speaking actor since World War II — a real breakthrough for that time in history.

Maximilian Schell certainly left his mark.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

'The Last Hurrah' of a Machine Mayor



Frank Skeffington (Spencer Tracy): One more regret at my age won't make much difference.

Spencer Tracy must have had a lot of fun making "The Last Hurrah," which premiered 55 years ago today.

He played the longtime mayor of an unidentified New England city (presumably Boston) where his character had grown up in an Irish Catholic ghetto. It was undeniably a drama, but there were some humorous moments. Tracy's character clearly wasn't above cutting some corners, and he had compromised his principles from time to time, but he knew how to be a mayor, and, apparently, he was an effective one.

His was the kind of political character who has mostly disappeared from the American scene, the creation of a machine that ran everything, and "The Last Hurrah" tells the story of how such characters started to become extinct in the second half of the 20th century. Tracy's character had embarked on his final campaign, but the rickety machine was losing its grip, and Tracy was challenged by a political neophyte backed by Protestant community leaders.

He invited his nephew, a sports writer whose employer was supporting his opponent, to observe his campaign up close and write about the transition from old–style campaigns to the more modern campaign that he expected to be waged on TV and radio.

He never mentioned the Internet. That really would have been prophetic in 1958.

The hands–on campaign style of Tracy's character was something I saw frequently as a child in rural Arkansas. The candidates/office holders in our machine were experts at putting up the appearance of normalcy, and they practiced the glad–handing, back–slapping brand of campaigning at every fish fry and all the other public gatherings — and, when they couldn't scrape up enough votes from the living, they stuffed the ballot box with votes from the dead, courtesy of local cemeteries.

Because of the efforts of my parents and people like them who worked to have voting machines used in our county, I was able to see, at a young age, our machine shatter like a cheap mirror.

Of course, none of the people who ran things in my home county had the charisma of Spencer Tracy, and maybe it took a Spencer Tracy to make the movie's apparent message plausible — that a little corruption was a good thing. At least, that was what I took away from John Ford's movie.

But, if I could have had the opportunity to discuss it with Ford, I would have asked him where one draws the line. How much corruption is too much?

I guess it was best not to dwell on things like that, though. It took away from a wonderful performance by Tracy (but, honestly, did he ever give any other kind?). As I say, he must have enjoyed making this movie and, as always, it was almost as much of a pleasure to watch him on the TV screen as it must have been to watch him on the silver screen.

I won't tell you if Tracy's character won or lost that election, but I will tell you that he announced that he would not run for governor — and suffered a heart attack that proved fatal.
Roger Sugrue (Willis Bouchey): Well, at least he made his peace with God. There's one thing we all can be sure of — if he had it to do over again, there's no doubt in the world he would do it very, very differently.

Frank Skeffington (Spencer Tracy): Like hell I would.

Well, he may have been a crook ... but he was an honest crook.

Friday, October 11, 2013

Man Against Nature



I suppose there were two names that hovered over John Sturges' project, "The Old Man and the Sea," which premiered on this day in 1958 — Ernest Hemingway, who wrote the original novella, and Spencer Tracy, a much–beloved actor, possibly the most beloved of his generation, who played the Old Man in the movie.

Little needs to be said of either, I suppose. Hemingway has been admired for decades for his writing style, so accessible to ordinary readers, in no small part because he continued to follow the style rules of the Kansas City Star, the newspaper for which he worked as a teenager — "Use short sentences. Use short first paragraphs. Use vigorous English. Be positive, not negative."

(I find that credible. I spent many years working for newspapers, all of which followed Associated Press style religiously. I haven't written for a newspaper in quite awhile, but I still write in AP style. It's a part of me now.)

Anyway, I guess that accounts, at least in part, for the popularity of the book — although I wouldn't underestimate the story and the brilliant character study of the Old Man, whose name in the book was Santiago.

And what can one say of Tracy? He was a legend nominated for Best Actor nine times — an accomplishment in that category that has been matched only by Sir Laurence Olivier.

In the movie Tracy was called Santiago by The Boy, but my memory is that most of the time he was simply called the Old Man. It's been awhile since I read the book, but in Hemingway's novel, I believe he was referred to as Santiago more often. He was still called the Old Man but not as frequently.

Well, anyway.

Both the book and the movie told the story of the Old Man's solitary battle with a marlin. The Old Man was a Cuban fisherman who had gone 84 days without landing a fish and had gained a reputation for being extremely unlucky. Because of this, the Boy had been forbidden to go fishing with the Old Man and was encouraged instead to go fishing with the more successful fishermen from the village.

(By the way, the Boy had a name in the book, too, and it may have been mentioned a time or two in the movie, but I don't remember for certain.)

The Boy continued to visit the Old Man, though. He brought him food and talked about baseball with him.

Early on the 85th day, the Old Man once again set off in pursuit of a fish, and the rest of the movie was really more of a character study than a telling of his battle with an enormous marlin. Still, the battle played an important role. After hooking the marlin, the Old Man was dragged farther into the Gulf Stream in the next two days and nights than he ever intended to go.

On the third day, the marlin was visibly tiring, and the Old Man was practically delirious. He managed to pull the fish close enough that he could stab it and end its life, but he called it "brother" even as he did so.

Ever since I first saw the movie, I have marveled at how calm the seas were. There were hardly any waves for Santiago to face. He was able to devote all his attention to his struggle with the marlin. I don't remember now if that condition was mentioned in the book — or if it was a by–product of filming on a Hollywood set.

Nevertheless, an epic struggle it was. For Santiago, it was his ultimate test as a man — and, after he won it, he pondered the price the magnificent fish would bring as he turned his boat for home. In the book, though, during his battle with the fish, the Old Man had decided that the marlin had proven himself, and no one would be worthy of eating him.

That was not a problem because sharks were drawn to the carcass by the blood in the water, and they devoured most of it even though Santiago tried valiantly to fight them off. He lost his harpoon in the process and tried to fashion a makeshift harpoon by tying his knife to an oar, but that, too, was lost.

When the sharks had been repelled, though, the Old Man spoke to what was left of the fish, even though it could not hear him (and would not have understood him if it could). He explained that he had gone out farther to sea than he had intended, and he apologized to the marlin.

Only a skeleton remained when the Old Man finally returned to shore. Exhausted, he collapsed in his bed in his modest shack and fell into a deep sleep. While he slept, a group of fishermen congregated around the boat and looked at the skeleton.

In the years since I first saw "The Old Man and the Sea," it occurred to me that it was reminiscent, at times, of two other movies.

It reminded me of "Jaws," obviously, because of the role other sharks played in the story — although they weren't the focal point of the story (and the shark footage was real — no mechanical sharks were used in the '50s).

And it reminded me of "Cast Away" — a story of a man struggling against the elements (and talking to an object that was incapable of responding).

Tracy was nominated for Best Actor, but he lost the Oscar to David Niven. The other nominees were Paul Newman, Sidney Poitier and Tony Curtis — pretty formidable lineup.

I always thought Tracy was ideal for the role. I doubt that anyone else could have been plausible in it.

Hemingway's book, a Pulitzer Prize winner in 1953, was well received, coming on the heels of what may have been his most disappointing work. It was also his last book to be published in his lifetime.

Most of the time, writers aren't particularly pleased with movie adaptations of their work, but my understanding is that Hemingway was pleased with this movie. Leland Hayward, the producer, reported that Hemingway was even complimentary of Tracy — and the two of them were known to have argued.

Sturges, however, was not as pleased with the final product. TIME reported he called it "technically the sloppiest picture I have ever made."

We should all be so sloppy.

Friday, April 09, 2010

Standing for Something


Spencer Tracy gave this memorable speech at the film's end.


Of the Nuremberg trials, many Germans were dismissive. It is simply a case of the victorious exacting their revenge on the vanquished, they said.

Perhaps there was an element of that. I have written in this blog about the dearth of films about the Nuremberg trials, and it's possible that thinking played a role.

I wrote about the absence of such films nearly a year and a half ago, and I still think it is appalling that so few attempts have been made to tell that story — the story of how the Allies brought the surviving Nazi leaders to justice after the war in Europe — when so many attempts have been made to tell the story of Hitler's life, his rise to power and his brutal application of that power.

There are some valuable things to learn from Nuremberg. Sure, there were some mistakes. There always are. If anything, the Allies probably overdid the tribunal thing, working their way down from the justified trials of the men who really were responsible for the Holocaust to the generally unjustified trials of those who really were following the orders of their superiors.

But the Allies' intentions were good. Their motivations were noble. And their verdicts were appropriate.

Am I wrong to feel that somehow we're glorifying the bad guys and de–emphasizing the accomplishments of the good guys?

Maybe I am. I wish more filmmakers would examine that period in history. Then, at least, we could have a debate about differing impressions.

But only a handful have even tried in the last 64 years — and, sad to say, some of the results have been abysmal.

The very best one — in my opinion, anyway — wasn't even a re–creation. It was a fictionalized account of the Nuremberg trials, in which the judges who enforced the anti–Semitic laws of Nazi Germany were charged with crimes against humanity.

The film was 1961's "Judgment at Nuremberg," and the story did a great job of discussing issues surrounding the war crimes trials in the years after the Nazi leaders were convicted and executed.

And you can see it at 7 p.m. (Central) tomorrow on Turner Classic Movies. Don't miss it. Record it if you must and watch it later. Or make a note to yourself to see it the next time it is on.

But, please, don't miss it.

The story worked, even though it was largely devoid of action, as courtroom movies are apt to be. And just about everything in the movie took place in the courtroom. That works if a screenplay has great dialogue, which "Judgment at Nuremberg" had. But the story might not have worked if it hadn't had Stanley Kramer directing and producing, and it certainly wouldn't have succeeded without its all–star cast.

In what was certainly one of the great performances of all time, Maximilian Schell won Best Actor for his portrayal of the shrewd defense attorney (he beat co–star Spencer Tracy, who was equally memorable as the American judge).

"It is easy," Schell's character declares, "to condemn the German people, to speak of the flaw in the German character that allowed Hitler to rise to power — and at the same time ignore the flaw that made the Russians sign pacts with him, Winston Churchill praise him, American businessmen profit by him!"

Counterbalancing Schell's impassioned defense is the judicious demeanor of Tracy.

"There are those in our country today, too, who speak of the 'protection' of the country," his character says before announcing the verdict. "Of 'survival.' The answer to that is: 'survival as what?' A country isn't a rock. And it isn't an extension of one's self. It's what it stands for, when standing for something is the most difficult. Before the people of the world, let it now be noted in our decision here that this is what we stand for: justice, truth and the value of a single human being."

There were other big names in the film as well. Some, I have been told, believed so deeply in the project that they worked for only a small portion of their usual salaries.

Judy Garland was nominated for Best Supporting Actress in what was certainly a noteworthy performance, but so was Marlene Dietrich's portrayal of the widow of a German general.

And there have been few figures in American movies who were as tragic as Montgomery Clift, who was unforgettable as the victim of politically motivated sterilization. He was nominated for Best Supporting Actor.

But, as Tracy's character says in his verdict speech, one of the defendants was a tragic figure as well — a German judge played by Burt Lancaster.

I've always felt that Lancaster's performance as the guilt–ridden judge was one of the best of his career. When he spoke of presiding over the "Feldenstein case," it was a fictional treatment of a real case, the Katzenberger Trial, in which an elderly Jewish businessman was convicted and sentenced to death for having an improper relationship with a young Aryan woman, even though no credible evidence of such a relationship was ever presented.

I guess the real greatness of the movie is that, while it was filmed in black and white, the characters were subtle shades of gray. No one was purely good. No one was purely bad. There was more than enough guilt to go around, a lesson the Allies learned a bit belatedly.

But the Nuremberg trials were necessary and important. Until more filmmakers give us re–creations of the actual Nuremberg trials, I recommend this fictional version if you want to learn more about the lengths to which the Nazis went to consolidate their power.

We must learn — and continue to learn — from that very dark chapter in human history if we wish to avoid repeating it.