The ballad of Cat Ballou.

“I think half of this belongs to a horse somewhere out in the valley.”
–Lee Marvin, upon accepting the Academy Award for Best Actor in 1965

Cat Ballou (Jane Fonda), a naive schoolteacher turned vigilante, sits in jail awaiting her execution by hanging. As a duo of singing cowboy minstrels (Nat King Cole and Stubby Kaye) wonder aloud how such a girl got into such a mess, we flash back to the beginning of Cat’s story. After graduating from a teacher’s college, Cat heads west by train to visit her father, Frankie (John Marley), in Wyoming. The train is also transporting the recently captured Clay Boone (Michael Callan), and Cat is instantly attracted to the criminal (and vice versa). Clay’s uncle, Jed (Dwayne Hickman), poses as a preacher and helps free Clay from custody. While Dwayne safely jumps from the train–after an “encouraging” push from his nephew–Clay ends up ducking into Cat’s berth to hide from the sheriff, and against her better judgment, Cat covers for him … and is rewarded with a big kiss before Clay himself manages to jump.

When Cat arrives at her father’s homestead, she’s shocked to discover that the place has gone downhill in her absence. Frankie’s Sioux ranch hand, Jackson (Tom Nardini) tells her that a new development company intent on building up Wolf City has tried to secure her father’s water rights. Cat’s homecoming is interrupted by the arrival of “Silvernose” Tim Strawn (Lee Marvin), whose literal “silver nose” disturbs Cat. Frankie orders the man off the property, and Jackson tells Cat that Silvernose is a hired killer. Though Cat is frightened, Frankie assures her that he is unafraid.

Soon after, at a square dance, Cat discovers that the sheriff intends to do nothing about the troubles the company has caused her father. Jackson suggests that since the company has a gunslinger, she needs one, too, and tells her to contact Kid Shelleen (Marvin, in a dual role), a famous gunfighter, to help defend Frankie’s property. Later, when Jed and Clay crash the dance (and it dissolves into a free-for-all), Cat invites them to come home with her as added protection.

When Kid Shelleen arrives in town, he’s severely hungover and unable to function without a snort of whiskey. Although he demonstrates a keen hand with a gun when he wants to, his drunkenness ultimately gets the best of him. Shelleen decides to stay on to earn his pay, though he reacts with dismay when he learns that his opponent is none other than Tim Strawn.

The next day, Strawn shoots Frankie (while Shelleen sleeps through the entire thing). Cat chases Strawn to town on horseback, but when she arrives soon behind him and accuses the gunman of murder, the sheriff refuses to acknowledge Strawn’s guilt, claiming that Silvernose had been in town during the shooting. The development company lays claim to Frankie’s land, and a grieving Cat resolves to find her own justice. Forming a gang with Clay, Jed, Jackson, and the incapacitated Shelleen, she devises a plan to get revenge on the development company.

Events quickly spiral out of control as Cat plots to rob the train carrying the development company’s payroll, Shelleen (who is enamored of Cat, despite her love for Clay) finally forces himself to sober up enough to go after Strawn (about whom Shelleen knows more than he lets on), and Cat confronts Sir Harry Percival (Reginald Denny), the owner of the development company who hired Strawn, resulting in Percival’s death and her conviction for murder. Can Cat’s gang come together and save her from the hangman’s noose in time?

Released in 1965, Cat Ballou is an engaging mash-up of drama, romance, Westerns, and slapstick comedy, and certain elements of the film parody Western tropes quite effectively. Though Cat Ballou doesn’t go to quite the same satirical lengths, in many ways, its comedic-Western blend can be seen as a precursor to the 1974 Mel Brooks-helmed Blazing Saddles. And its influence can still be seen in some latter-day comedies such as There’s Something About Mary (1998), directed by self-professed Cat Ballou fans the Farrelly Brothers (who recently helmed this spring’s big-screen revival of The Three Stooges); Mary borrows the paired narrators/Greek chorus device from Cat Ballou, and uses it in a similar manner as the earlier film, to move the plot along.

It may be called Cat Ballou, but there is no question that the movie ultimately belongs to Lee Marvin … and his horse. In the dual role as the wastrel Kid Shelleen and his evil brother, “Silvernose,” Marvin is sheer perfection, adding just the right touch of pathos and menace to each character as he convincingly stumbles through the film. The role in Cat Ballou marked something of a turning point in Marvin’s career, which up until then had been defined by more villainous or dramatic supporting roles. But his performance in this film revealed Marvin’s abilities as a leading man and a comedian, paving the way for such notable parts as Major John Reisman in The Dirty Dozen (1967) and the odd Western musical Paint Your Wagon (1969). [Side note: whenever I think of that last film, I always think of the episode of The Simpsons where they parody Wagon, and Homer and Bart are horrified to discover it's a musical. Homer: "Wait, wait, wait--here comes Lee Marvin. Thank God! He's always drunk and violent." Cut to Homer and Bart's horrified expressions when Marvin bursts into song.]

And let’s just talk about that horse. The movie–as per any Western–is overrun with horses. But this one is just something else. In one of the final scenes of the film, Shelleen and his horse sleep off a bender. Leaning against a brick wall, head lowered, front legs crossed, the horse looks just as inebriated as his barely-coherent rider. It’s an iconic, hilarious image, and the one that is perhaps most associated with Cat Ballou. Marvin’s Oscar acceptance speech may have poked fun at the amount of attention the horse received, but the animal was an award-winning “actor” in his own right: in 1966, Smoky the horse received the Craven Award from the American Humane Association. The award, part of the annual PATSY (Picture Animal Top Star of the Year) Awards that were given to animal stars from the 1950s through the mid-1980s, recognized animal performers who were not regular “actors” in film. Smoky joined a long line of horsey winners when he was given the prize for his role in Cat Ballou. But the horse’s performance was far from effortless. According to the IMDb entry on the film, the director, Elliot Silverstein, gave the horse trainer an hour to get Smoky to cross his legs for his big scene, and it took a lot of sugar cubes to make the horse finally willing to cooperate!

In spite of the attention-grabbing performances of Marvin and his horse, which virtually steal the movie, Cat Ballou should also be noted as the film that made Jane Fonda a full-fledged star. Though she had been acting since the early 1960s, and had scored some level of success with films such as Period of Adjustment (1962) and Sunday in New York (1963), it was not until she took on the title role in this film that Fonda was able to fully step out from beneath the shadow of her famous father, Henry, and be declared a formidable actress in her own right. Cat Ballou was the first in a series of high-profile roles for Fonda, culminating in seven Academy Award nominations in the 1970s-1980s (and two wins, for 1971′s Klute and 1978′s Coming Home).

As famed as she was as an actress, however, Fonda’s political and social activism drew much more attention during the heyday of her career. Her anti-war activities during the Vietnam War made her an infamous figure, particularly in the wake of the “Hanoi Jane” incident in which Fonda was photographed sitting on an anti-aircraft gun, an action that was seen as a slap in the face to American soldiers who had been targeted by such machinery during the conflict. In the aftermath of that photograph’s publication, still shots from the hanging scene in Cat Ballou were doctored and used to encourage anti-Fonda sentiment amid calls for charges of treason against the actress. [On another side note: my high-school U.S. history teacher LOATHED Jane Fonda with a passion. I will never forget the day she stood at her podium in front of our class and launched a thirty-minute diatribe about how much of a traitor Fonda was to this country. It was, to say the least, a surreal moment, and one that always comes to mind every time I see a Fonda film!]

It’s also worth mentioning the great supporting cast, including Dwayne Hickman (television’s Dobie Gillis), John Marley (who would have an infamous horsey encounter of his own in 1972′s The Godfather, as the movie producer who ends up with a horse’s head in his bed), character actor Reginald Denny, and last but not least, Nat King Cole and Stubby Kaye as the singers who function as the narrators of the film. Cole was in the midst of an ongoing battle with lung cancer while making Cat Ballou. It would be his final film, as he sadly died before its release.

Cat Ballou may not be your typical Western, but in my book, that’s a good thing. It’s a great “gateway” film for those (like me) who are unfamiliar with the genre or who are otherwise reluctant to embrace Westerns–the comedy makes it much more accessible–and much more enjoyable!–for us “tenderfoots.”

This post is my contribution to the Horseathon, hosted by our friend Page of My Love of Old Hollywood. Make tracks to her blog to see all of the equine-friendly entries on tap this weekend!

A case of mistaken identity.

Alfred Hitchcock’s 1957 film The Wrong Man marks such a departure in tone, storyline, and the typical “Hitch” tropes that, upon first seeing it, many viewers may question whether they are actually watching a Hitchcock movie at all.

The movie is a somewhat strange entry in Hitchcock’s repertoire. Based on a true story, it’s less of a film than a documentary-type recreation of a case of mistaken identity so extreme that an innocent man was put on trial for armed robbery.

Henry Fonda stars as Manny Balestrero, a musician at New York’s famed Stork Club. One night, he is approached by detectives who believe him to be the same man who robbed several stores in the area over the preceding months. On specious identifications from witnesses, he is accused and booked for the crimes. As his trial commences, and his attorney (Anthony Quayle) attempts to prove that this is nothing more than a case of mistaken identity, Manny’s wife, Rose (Vera Miles), begins to sink into a serious depression and is committed to a sanitarium.

The two leads are wonderfully cast in these roles. Fonda plays the hapless victim of the judicial system quite well; he portrays downtrodden defeat like no one in the business. His Manny flounders in the wake of the surprising accusations, and you feel the frustration and the impending doom that hangs about his character. And Miles, whom Hitchcock was at one point grooming to replace Grace Kelly as his go-to “ice-cool blonde” (he had designs of casting her as Madeleine in Vertigo … before she got pregnant, that is), is remarkably restrained as Rose, taking a character whose very nature could be skewed into manic histrionics and turning her into a believably distraught, broken woman.

Hitchcock filmed one of his trademark cameos, but ultimately chose not to include it in the film; instead, he introduces the film to the audience by explaining that the story they are about to witness is based on actual events, much as he does in the movie’s trailer.

Though the movie does not really gel with Hitchcock’s typical fare, it is nonetheless an intriguing entry in his filmography. True, it is not as well-known as some of his other productions, but The Wrong Man is nonetheless one of Hitch’s most chilling films, if only because the central mystery is so close to reality. In a sense, this movie is scarier than one such as Psycho for that very reason–because such a perverted twist of fate can happen to any one of us, just from being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The Wrong Man is on TCM’s schedule for October 14th (4PM EST) and November 7th (2PM EST). It is also available on DVD (Amazon and Movies Unlimited are selling it for the same price at the moment, plus it is available as part of TCM’s Greatest Classic Films Collection: Hitchcock Thrillers, which is available for a great price right now at Amazon).

This post is part of an ongoing countdown of Hitchcock’s twenty greatest films. The Wrong Man comes in at number sixteen on that list. For other entries, see here and here.

SUtS: Henry Fonda

Carrie’s choice: Twelve Angry Men (1957)

Airing at 10:00PM EST

This movie is special in its casting as well as its structure. I love this movie. I love the play–really, I love the concept. I actually saw the remake (with George C. Scott) first, mostly in passing. Then I saw this version. To be honest, I love them both.

You’ll also see this one quoted all over the place. Pauly Shore uses the film directly in his parody Jury Duty. He stands, watching a Henry Fonda monologue, and quotes it to another juror within the context of a film already parodying this story. You’ll also see aspects of this deliberation in other courtroom dramas, such as My Cousin Vinny. The very popular gimmick of the witness who needs glasses but wasn’t wearing them at the moment of the crime (or an attempt at this, such as in My Cousin Vinny) all come from this plot.

The cast in the Fonda version is fantastic. The voice of Piglet, Barney Rubble, and other VIPs join Henry Fonda in this drama. There is something very special about this particular film, and that is the way it formats itself: almost the entire film takes place in a single room. The play is written this way. No scene changes. It just goes. This adds continuity to the action, adds to the feeling of being stuck in a hot jury room.

Not only is the story more continuous, but now the drama is, too. The actors can really let the tension and drama build and increase the natural flow of deliberative conversation that a more interrupted structure allows. Add this to the all-star cast and you have the makings of a really impressive drama.

Henry Fonda is the only juror not fully convinced that the young defendant in a murder trial is guilty.  He pulls the other eleven jurors into a long deliberation to determine whether or not the young boy is truly guilty. The other side of courtroom dramas, this is the drama behind the jury room doors. If you are a big fan of the criminal justice shows (like me–I’m a bit of a junkie), you’ll love this film. Mystery crime drama in the raw at it’s most human and dramatic.

Brandie’s choice: The Big Street (1942)

Airing at 3:30AM EST

I love me some Henry Fonda. My three favorite films of his are The Lady Eve (1941), in which he is so brilliant as the hapless straight man caught in Barbara Stanwyck’s storm (don’t let anybody tell you he had the easier role in that movie); Jezebel (1938), in which he plays Bette Davis’ long-suffering, society-controlled fiance; and Carrie’s recommendation above, the courtroom drama to beat all courtroom dramas.

Fonda’s strengths on screen lay in his ability to reflect the everyman. The strong, silent type, his stalwart presence was a comforting one to audiences of the 30s and 40s. In films like 1939′s Young Mr. Lincoln and 1940′s The Grapes of Wrath, Fonda produced heartfelt, indelible performances that lifted spirits and elicited empathy from audiences.

The movie I’m recommending to you today is not one of Fonda’s better-known roles, nor is it one of his most indelible performances. It’s a quiet little drama, and he’s a quiet, steadying force in the role. But the film really belongs to his costar, Lucille Ball, in what is likely the best dramatic screen performance of her career.

As anyone with a television and a lick of sense knows, Lucille Ball was–and still is, in many ways–the queen of comedy. There have been many to follow, but few (Carol Burnett, Mary Tyler Moore) come within even a hairsbreadth of her talent. But the Lucy most of us know and remember is not the Lucy who first sought to make her name in films. Initially, Ball sought to make her name as a dramatic actress.

She met with varying success. Though it’s obvious to modern viewers where Lucy’s talents lay–almost squarely in the world of comedy–studio heads seemingly could not decide where she belonged, ultimately trying her in a wide number of roles, from musicals (DuBarry Was a Lady, in which her singing voice was dubbed), to light comedic drama (1937′s Stage Door), to screwball comedy (The Affairs of Annabel). Except in the roles in which her rubber-faced hilarity was allowed to shine through, Lucy virtually disappears on screen; she’s just another moon-eyed actress trying to feign distress or sympathy or heartbreak.

But as her career entered its second decade, and Lucy began to make a name for herself as the so-called “Queen of the Bs” (as in B-pictures), she began to develop her acting chops on her own. And under the tutelage of silent screen great Buster Keaton, Lucy’s comedic chops began to blossom. But judging by her filmography, there was obviously still some part of her that sought a credible dramatic role. She finally found it in The Big Street.

The film is based on Damon Runyon’s short story “Little Pinks.” Fonda plays the titular character of Little Pinks, a busboy who is in love with a selfish showgirl, Gloria (Ball). When Gloria is injured by her gangster boyfriend, Pinks stays by her side, helping to support her after she is crippled. Gloria’s vain inability to see beyond her own needs leads her to take advantage of Pinks’ devotion, and she demands that he help her snare a millionaire husband. The helpless Pinks agrees, taking Gloria to Miami and exhausting himself–and his goodwill toward the young woman–just to secure her happiness.

Though The Big Street marks a highlight of her career, Ball had some trouble on the set, mainly due to the fact that she and Fonda had previously dated (they’d made a film together in 1935, I Dream Too Much). The aloof Fonda was none too quick to help ease Ball’s nervousness, and to compound the trouble, her new husband, Desi Arnaz, reportedly refused to leave the set for fear that Fonda would try to cozy up to Lucy again. And beyond that, Lucy was in mourning for dear friend Carole Lombard, who had recently died and had recommended Lucy for the part. But there’s no shadow of conflict or sorrow on the screen. Fonda and Ball work well together, and in fact they would star together once more, after Lucy had arguably become the bigger star, in 1968′s Yours, Mine and Ours.

“This is 1852, dumplin’, 1852, not the Dark Ages!”

Jezebel (1938)

Airing 12:15PM EST

Aside from the superb All About Eve, my favorite Bette Davis film is Jezebel. Some critics consider this film a kind of poor man’s Gone With the Wind, as the two movies share similar themes, but Jezebel does not fade in the shadow of the better-known film. This is due, in large part, to Davis, who throws herself into this role with an abandon that marks some of her best performances and, in fact, this movie brought Davis the second of two Oscars for Best Actress, after her win for 1935′s Dangerous (which was considered by some a “consolation” Oscar to make up for Davis having not been nominated for her tour de force performance in 1934′s Of Human Bondage–though, interestingly, Davis was a write-in candidate on the ballot that year, and the Academy would later announce that she had won enough votes to place third behind winner Claudette Colbert and Norma Shearer).

Davis stars as Julie Marsden, a headstrong young woman living in New Orleans in the decade before the Civil War, engaged to a young, proper banker named Preston (Pres) Dillard (played by Henry Fonda). Pres finds Julie’s impulsive nature to be embarrassing, yet intriguing, but when she decides to wear a scarlet dress to a ball at which young women are expected to wear virginal white, Pres can no longer accept Julie’s willfulness, ending their engagement and leaving for the North. When Pres returns a year later, Julie aspires to win him back, but finds that Pres has married a Yankee, Amy. Events come to a head as Julie, in her jealousy, incites a duel, leading to the death of one of Julie’s suitors, and yellow fever takes over the city. As Pres becomes infected, Julie seeks redemption for her behavior in the midst of turmoil and tragedy.

The production of the film was mired in drama. Davis, unused to director William Wyler’s perfectionism, had difficulty in initially adjusting to his filming style, but later declared that he had helped her produce some of her best on-screen work. Their working relationship later gave way to a blazing love affair; Davis would one day label Wyler the love of her life, and she was devastated when filming–and their affair–ended. Davis also dallied with co-star Fonda, who was expecting the birth of daughter Jane Fonda at any moment; that brief affair ended with a phone call from Fonda’s wife. Also adding to the tension: Wyler and Fonda had previously both been married to actress Margaret Sullavan (best known as Klara in The Shop Around the Corner). Thankfully, none of this potentially disastrous romantic unrest is ever evident on screen.

The film includes excellent supporting turns by George Brent as Julie’s ill-fated beau, Buck, and the beautifully understated Fay Bainter as Julie’s cautious Aunt Belle. Richard Cromwell, Spring Byington, and Margaret Lindsay round out the cast. But Davis is the undisputed center of the action, and she deftly carries the movie with her fiery, heartfelt portrayal of a woman ahead of her time.

Depending on the source, it has been said that Davis was offered the role of Julie as compensation for having lost the role of Scarlett O’Hara. In truth, Davis turned down the role of Scarlett because her casting would have been part of a package deal in which Errol Flynn would play Rhett Butler. Knowing Flynn could not possibly portray the character properly, Davis rejected the offer.

Nonetheless, the character of Julie–and the film itself–share some similarities with Gone With the Wind, something bitterly pointed out by that film’s producer, David O. Selznick (conveniently forgetting that the play upon which Jezebel was based was produced before Margaret Mitchell’s novel). Both Julie and Scarlett are proud, stubborn heroines; neither is immensely likable, and both women toy with the affections of men to the point of producing conflict and death. But Julie reaches a level of growth that Scarlett never quite convincingly achieves, a depth of character that Mitchell’s creation sorely lacks.

In the end, the similarities between the films are superficial, at best, and each has its respective strengths. Jezebel does not come close to the epic grandeur that marks the latter production, but it is just as affecting a film. The story is strong; the performances, stronger still. When you watch Davis riding out of town at the end of the film, head held high as she moves toward certain death, it is just as stirring a moment as any in Gone With the Wind.

If you miss this great film, the restored and remastered DVD is available for a great price over at Movies Unlimited this month.

Oscar checklist:

Wins: Best Actress (Davis), Best Supporting Actress (Bainter)

Nominations: Best Cinematography, Best Score, Best Picture

Review: Preston Sturges (The Filmmaker Collection)

No film director in history had quite as deft a hand in crafting wild, outrageous comedy as Preston Sturges. The director also wrote and produced his own screenplays, in addition to dabbling in acting, songwriting, and playwriting, among other varied interests. A prototypical “Renaissance man,” Sturges brought a wide-ranging knowledge to his films, reflected in intelligent characterizations, sharp dialogue, and frenetic, furious comedic pacing.

The 2006 release of Preston Sturges: The Filmmaker Collection includes seven of the eight films Sturges wrote and directed within the five-year period of his greatest productivity as a filmmaker (1940-1944). The only title missing from the collection, 1944′s The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, is sorely missed, if only for its witty, somewhat saucy storyline (a young woman awakens after a party to find herself pregnant and married to a soldier whose name she has forgotten–it’s truly a wonder that this film even made it past the Hays Code!). The film’s exclusion from the collection amounts simply to a matter of ownership: the film belongs to Paramount, not this collection’s distributor, Universal. Thankfully, however, Miracle is available as a stand-alone title on DVD, and is generally inexpensive through Amazon.

Despite the missing title, the films in this collection serve as a wonderful representation of Sturges’ zany plotting and incisive social commentary, and demonstrate the thread of connectedness that links much of Sturges’ work through recurring characters and the reappearance of many of the same actors in consecutive films. In fact, Sturges was one of the first directors to build a loosely-conglomerated “stock company” of actors, including William Demarest, Max Wagner, Robert Dudley, and Frank Moran (to name only a few), most of whom would appear in almost every film Sturges directed during this time period.

Beginning with 1940′s The Great McGinty (for which he won an Academy Award for best original screenplay) and Christmas in July, and continuing through 1944′s Hail the Conquering Hero and The Great Moment, the movies presented here all have their respective charms. Allow me, however, to introduce to you the three highlights from the collection: 1941′s The Lady Eve and Sullivan’s Travels, and 1942′s The Palm Beach Story.

Though Sturges had been writing films since 1933 (beginning with The Power and the Glory), he was not given the opportunity to direct his own work until 1940, after the success of his last screenplay for Paramount, that year’s Christmas classic Remember the Night (reviewed here). Sturges first met Barbara Stanwyck while working on Night, and he immediately recognized her innate comedic talent. As Axel Madsen reports in his posthumous biography of the star, Stanwyck, the actress declared: “One day he said to me, ‘Someday I’m going to write a real screwball comedy for you.’ Remember the Night was a delightful comedy … but hardly a screwball, and I replied that nobody would ever think of writing anything like that for me … But he said, ‘You just wait.’”

True to his word, Sturges presented Stanwyck with the script for The Lady Eve one year later, and she signed on to do the film opposite leading man Henry Fonda. The film also features the inimitable character actor Charles Coburn as Stanwyck’s father, Eric Blore as Stanwyck’s “uncle,” and Demarest as Fonda’s suspicious caretaker/valet. Stanwyck plays Jean Harrington, a cardsharp who, with her father, the “Colonel,” cheats passengers on ocean cruises out of their money at the card table. When Jean meets a young snake expert and ale company heir (whom she nicknames “Hopsie”), her initial disdain quickly gives way to love. But when the naive Hopsie discovers the truth about Jean and her father, he spurns her, and she concocts an outrageous plan for revenge. Posing as the British Lady Eve Sidwich, Jean entices the confused but smitten millionaire into marriage, and delights in exacting her vengeance in a most creative way …

"See anything you like?"

Stanwyck plays Jean/Eve with a sly abandon, and her riffing monologue on Fonda’s hapless Hopsie, delivered as she gazes at him surreptitiously through her compact mirror, is one of the many highlights of the film. Fonda plays the bumbling, inexperienced young lover to perfection, and the supporting cast revels in the chaotic plot. The Lady Eve is, arguably, Sturges’ sexiest film, from the sharp, witty banter (barely disguising an unbridled sensuality) to the undeniable chemistry between its stars. It’s also likely Sturges’ best-crafted film: brilliantly directed, acted, written, and produced, and the cinematography can’t be beat–Stanwyck has never looked so luminous on film.

Eve was quickly followed in theaters by Sullivan’s Travels (actually produced in 1941 prior to Eve, but not premiering until January 1942), starring Joel McCrea as an idealistic director and Veronica Lake as his aspiring actress sidekick (who is not given a name in the script and is only referred to as “the girl” in the film). Lake was not the original choice for the role; Sturges initially wanted Stanwyck to star for him again, but she was unavailable. The role became one of Lake’s best-known (though rumor maintains that the director and cast, particularly McCrea, were less than fond of the temperamental starlet), and Travels provided Lake one of the few roles in which she could escape the “glamor girl” typecasting that hounded her career (reportedly contributing to her de-glamorization, Lake was six months pregnant during filming, which forced famed costume designer Edith Head to create a somewhat unsexy wardrobe–complete with hobo costume–that was baggy enough to conceal Lake’s condition). In addition to the two stars, Demarest and Blore also appear in this film, along with other members of the Sturges troop (Dudley and Moran among them). But the movie truly belongs to McCrea, and he gives one of his most effective film performances as John L. Sullivan, a comedy director anxious to produce a serious drama about the plight of the poor during the Great Depression (the proposed title of Sullivan’s opus, O Brother, Where Art Thou? would later be borrowed by the Coen brothers for their 2000 film of the same name starring George Clooney).

"I liked you better as a bum."

As Sullivan states, he wants his film to transcend the “silliness” of the romantic comedies and farces he had always directed: “I want this picture to be a document. I want to hold a mirror up to life. I want this to be a picture of dignity! A true canvas of the suffering of humanity!” Yet, as Sullivan travels around the country (disguised as a hobo, yet followed by a caravan of studio publicity) and experiences the life of a destitute man, he discovers that there are, perhaps, more important responsibilities for the filmmaker other than recording the “suffering of humanity.” Indeed, the movie’s initial dedication, shown as the film opens, seems to sum up Sturges’ ultimate point: “To the memory of those who made us laugh: the motley mountebanks, the clowns, the buffoons, in all times and in all nations, whose efforts have lightened our burden a little, this picture is affectionately dedicated.” Indeed, if the film shows its audience one thing, it is that there is sometimes nothing more healing, more inspirational, more valuable, than a damn good laugh.

The follow-up to Travels, 1942′s The Palm Beach Story, provides those damn good laughs in spades. Sturges takes the genre of screwball comedy to dizzying heights, and the film remains his most hilarious … and his most confusing, if one looks too directly at that crazy opening sequence (the significance of which film critics debate even to this day). The film stars McCrea as Tom Jeffers, a failing inventor, and Claudette Colbert as his wife, Gerry, who does what she can to force him to succeed despite himself. The film also features Dudley in the most well-known (and most side-splitting) of his roles for Sturges: the Wienie King (yes, you read that right), a “fairy godfather” figure who helps the couple throughout the film.

"You have no idea what a long-legged woman can do without doing anything."

When Gerry decides to leave her husband and marry a rich man who will finance Tom’s invention (which, adding to the hysteria, is an improbably-suspended airport that would float above a city), she hops a train to Palm Beach in order to obtain a quickie divorce. On the way, she meets John D. Hackensacker III (played by actor/singer Rudy Vallee), one of the richest men in the world, who falls for Gerry after hearing the story of her “brutish” soon-to-be ex. Upon reaching Palm Beach, Tom turns up and tries to convince Gerry to come back, but she introduces him to Hackensacker as her brother, at which point Hackensacker’s flighty sister, the Princess Centimillia (played by a hard-working Mary Astor), falls for Tom. And that’s only the beginning of an insane climax to an already screwy film. Pay close attention to this one; it’s a twisting ride, and you might miss something vital to the relatively intricate plot!

All in all, this is a great collection, though seriously lacking in extras. A documentary on Sturges, or some kind of retrospective or commentary, would be welcome, particularly as Sturges makes such an interesting subject. Still, the films themselves stand alone as well-written, beautifully-crafted examples of what made Sturges so effective a writer/director. The name “Sturges” is (deservedly) synonymous with “comedy,” and one need only watch the films in this collection to understand why.

Preston Sturges: The Filmmaker Collection is available on DVD at Amazon and TCM (though it’s currently almost half-off at Amazon!).

Upcoming TCM airings:

Christmas in July, December 24th, 9:45PM
The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek, December 29th, 12PM
The Lady Eve, February 14th, 4PM
Hail the Conquering Hero, February 25th, 6PM