1930s Movie Reviews

Gone with the Wind Review

December 12, 2016 by JD Hansel

This is perhaps the most wasteful film I have ever seen in my life.

There is a tendency in film criticism to give the highest value and praise to films that show off the power of cinema – the epics that make the medium seem overpowering, thunderous, and majestic, even if the stories they tell are terrible. Gone with the Wind, as impressive as it may have been at the time, was the Oscar-bait of its time, and it feels like another one of those films that panders to those who just want a film that looks really cinematic and beautiful and has some unconventional storytelling elements. Ultimately, however, the problem is the characters. These people exist in a world that seems so distant from my conception of American history, yet it seems to be trying to offer a genuine perspective that many people had, and I get the impression that this film appealed to those subscribed to the “Lost Cause of the Confederacy” narrative, which just isn’t me. The one of the film’s main theses seems to be, “have pity on the poor slave-owners who lost the war,” and I simply don’t have the capacity to do that.

Not only are the general vibes and themes of the film off-putting for me, but the main character is simply unbearable throughout most of the film. I can deal with focusing on a character I don’t entirely like, but the problem here is that this is a four-hour romantic epic that can only hold my attention by being romantic. When the romantic lead is a rotten, spoiled brat who hardly seems human, the romance fails, and the film becomes uninteresting. I also find her values incomprehensible, because the obsession with the family’s land seems entirely stupid – it’s just dirt, and there is nothing special about it. Everything the film romanticizes is unromantic, and as impressive, powerful, and beautiful as the film is technically, visually, and musically, it can’t trick me. A Clockwork Orange is impressive because it made me care about a character I knew I was supposed to hate, but Gone with the Wind couldn’t make me like a character whom I desperately needed to like in order to make it through all four hours, which is utterly pathetic. Even if most of the complaints I’ve expressed appear to be about things that may have been done on purpose, I still feel as though my time has been wasted.

Frankly, my dear, shut up.

It Happened One Night Review

November 8, 2016 by JD Hansel

It’s an interesting sign of how times have changed to see that this was the “Best Picture” winner at the Oscars back in the mid-1930s. This film would probably be dismissed today as a fairly average romantic comedy, but it actually was sort of novel at the time. The notion of the “re-marriage comedy” as a sub-genre didn’t really exist before this film appeared, and director Frank Capra ended up solidifying elements of the romantic comedy (and arguably the screwball comedy) that would stick around to this day. The story and characters are simple, and much of the film is predictable, but between the clever writing and the great performance given by Clark Gable, it still manages to be highly entertaining. It’s easy to get tired of the old stereotype of the obnoxious, arrogant, manipulative man forcing himself into the woman’s life until she falls in love with him, but Gable makes the character likable, and even made the character so clever and funny that he became an influence on the comedy of Bugs Bunny. The pacing is nice and speedy, and the witty dialogue exchanges are often so fast that they make today’s films and TV shows seem sluggish in comparison (and at the very least they rival the clever dialogue exchanges in the Smith/Coleman years of Doctor Who). It’s not my favorite film, but it’s a smart, masterful, influential, and exemplary film.

The Crime of Monsieur Lange Review

February 29, 2016 by JD Hansel

I certainly don’t know French cinema well – at all – but the name Jean Renoir did sound familiar, most likely because he’s a very important figure in the history of cinema. Being the globally-ignorant American teenager that I am, it’s hard for me to tell just what it was about Renoir that made him so unique or important. That being said, I was pleased by the one film of his that I’ve seen, The Crime of Monsieur Lange. Sadly, however, I would have to classify this film by a new term I’ve finally invented – tederesting – a combination of tedious and interesting. This describes a work of art that has many elements that peak the viewer’s interest, make the viewer curious, or impress the viewer just enough that he/she is willing to put up with how tedious or boring many elements of it are, and I think this new word is exemplified quite well by this movie.

If I may, I’ll go ahead and spoil the big twist in the movie, largely because it’s very predictable anyway. An evil businessman is reported dead, and the people in his publishing company come together to make ends meet, and while they end up making the company even more successful than before, it looks like their happiness is going to come to an end when it turns out that the businessman is still alive. Apparently, this is supposed to present a strong socialistic message, but I just see it as a standard “greedy man = bad, selfless friends = good” kind of story. Again, I do find the twist predictable, but the way Renoir reveals the twist (multiple times, actually, each retaining its dramatic effect) is certainly masterful. The story doesn’t seem quite focused enough for my tastes, but there are still many elements of it that I like, from the moral questions it brings up, to the perfect portrayal of the villainous Batala, and to the theme of an author becoming the hero he’s written. According the reviews I’ve seen on the internet, this film has a very good pace, but I must have missed that part while I was sleeping. The story simply doesn’t have enough surprising or suspenseful twists and obstacles to fill its already measly 77-minute running time, but that somehow doesn’t keep it from being remarkably fascinating.

Alexander Nevsky Review

February 17, 2016 by JD Hansel

I haven’t reviewed many foreign films yet. I know I’ve done my fair share of British movies, but Amelie and Passion have been my only reviews of films in foreign languages (to my memory). I’m going to change this. I expect to be bouncing around the globe for my next few reviews, and a good way to start a world tour of cinema is with Eisenstein. Seeing as how this man’s work is taught in every film class, I was hoping that Alexander Nevsky, his classic 1938 epic about a war hero in the 1200s, would be a bit more … well, epic.

I’m faced with a serious problem here because this film has brought to the surface a conflict between my ideology and my views on art. It has been my strong opinion for quite some time that a work of art should not be judged by its message alone, but by how well it conveys it. For example, someone might agree with the general message or theme in God’s Not Dead, but he/she should still recognize that it’s a remarkably horrendous piece of angel dung. Similarly, one does not have to be a racist to appreciate D.W. Griffith’s contributions to the cinematic arts as seen in Birth of a Nation. In music, I can appreciate old rock songs that focus on men who don’t seem to be exceptionally respectful towards women. (I should note that I’m not referring to particularly misogynistic songs, but instead songs such as “The Wanderer” or “Lightnin’ Strikes” that take infatuation to a rather uncomfortable level of objectification. However, in all fairness, some songs from this time by female artists – The Chordettes’ “Mr. Sandman,” for example – seem to indicate that this kind of attraction went both ways at the time.) The key thing about song lyrics, however, is to be watchful of songs that are actually character studies, and often consequently period pieces, which are written and performed from the perspective of the character being analyzed and explored (not necessarily the artist’s view).

It only makes sense, then, that I would have to approach Alexander Nevsky with the same stance, focusing on the craft more than the conclusion, but alas, I am unable to appreciate anything about this film because I am so overwhelmed by its disgusting ideology. I have spent much time pondering this, and I think I have realized a few factors that have been at play in my analysis of art. The first factor is the way the film sees itself. This may seem odd, but I think that movies nearly always have a way that they “feel” about their own contents, and while 2001: A Space Odyssey has a very conceited view of itself, Dr. Strangelove clearly thinks that the events it displays are absurd, and it critiques them for such. So, Eisenstein could have made a movie that analyzed the people of the time period objectively (without sharing in their perspective or criticizing them), and he could have made it as a critique of their ways, but instead he played along with their loony nationalism and gave them the operatic choir they desired. Secondly, if a work of art has a serious flaw in its point of view, I can still appreciate it as art if it supplies enough other elements that make me respect it in a different way. “My Sweet Lord” redeems itself, and I therefore greatly appreciate it, but “Anaconda” offers no such merit, and therefore leaves us only with the words to be analyzed.

Lo and behold, there may not be as much contradiction in my views as I had feared. I do think that Eisenstein did put together a work that is quite impressive, but not to the extent that it redeems its dogmatic, propagandic nature. To its credit, it surprised me by taking a sharp turn in the way it handled the awkward (and somewhat sexist) storyline of the men who made a girl choose which of them would be her husband. As it turns out, one of the men decides that he would rather be with a different woman – the one who fought bravely and competently in the battle. This not only gives us a strong, courageous female character to enjoy, but also takes away a touch of the “shallow” feeling in the film’s romantic affairs. Still, the redeeming quality throughout is bravery, and since I am no fan of bravery, I cannot comply to Eisenstein’s persistent demand that I wallow in the imagined elegance of prideful war.

Modern Times Review

February 11, 2016 by JD Hansel

It’s really quite fitting that Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times gets the review that follows my review of Brazil. Each one is a crazy comedy that can get rather over the top, but each one is also a social commentary with something to say; namely, these films express frustration with the faulty technology that’s being thrust upon them. This is somewhat noticeable when the Tramp has to work with a conveyor belt that goes too fast, and he ends up getting carried by the conveyor belt into the giant gears that run the machinery in the factory where he works. However, when this attitude is most obvious is when the Tramp is strapped into a machine that feeds the factory workers lunch so that they don’t need to take a lunch break – which sounds just like something Gilliam would have loved to put into Brazil had the idea not been taken already – and of course, it goes berserk. This kind of a film is to be expected from a man who had been very popular in the silent era, but now had virtually no choice but to make sound films (Modern Times being his first go at them). This movie is fascinating because it shows what happens when the man who had universal appeal in silent cinema tries to make a part-talkie so he can adapt to… well, “modern times.”

Overall, I’d say Chaplin did a good job. The story isn’t all that coherent, but since this film comes from an early time in the history of feature-length narrative film, and because the movie had to be tailored to fit the Tramp’s style, I’m willing to be quite forgiving about that. As long as the comedy and the characters work, and as long as sound is used well, I think this movie did what it needed to do; I’d say these goals were all achieved. I was quite surprised by how much I enjoyed Ellen, his leading lady, who brought a lot of energy and excitement to the picture. I was very fascinated by Chaplin’s depiction of the depression, which made me feel like I was looking at an entirely different world from our own. While I don’t think the musical number towards the end is particularly enjoyable, and although I get bothered by how the film jumps around from one situation to a completely different one, I recommend this movie to anyone who likes part-talkies and loves big laughs.