Oscarstravaganza: Come and Get It

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Winner: Best Supporting Actor, 1936
Director: Howard Hawks, William Wyler
Starring: Edward Arnold, Frances Farmer, Walter Brennan

Come and Get It is a film best known today for featuring the very first performance to win the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. Certainly, that's what motivated to me to seek it out rather than the description I read of the plot, which made the story sound really old fashioned. To my surprise, however, Come and Get It quickly develops into a complex and interesting story. I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised, given that it comes from two of the best directors of all time: Howard Hawks and William Wyler (in case you're wondering, Hawks was fired because he couldn't get along with producer Samuel Golwyn and Wyler was brought in to complete the film).

Based on the novel by Edna Ferber, whose epic sagas about American families also provided the basis for adaptations of Cimarron and Giant, Come and Get It centers on Barney Glasgow (Edward Arnold), who begins the story as a lumberjack and eventually ascends to the level of tycoon. His ambitions have driven him to enter into an engagement with Emma Louise Hewitt (Mary Nash), his boss' daughter and, he hopes, his ticket to being made a partner in the business. Things become complicated when he meets and falls in love with Lotta Morgan (Frances Farmer), but he ultimately stays the course and abandons her, leaving his friend Swan (Walter Brennan) to break the news to her.

Many years later, rich and successful, stuck in a congenial but ultimately unhappy marriage, and having two grown children, Barney pays a visit to Swan. Following Barney's departure, Swan and Lotta had married, had a daughter, and lived happily until her death. When Barney meets their daughter, also named Lotta and also played by Farmer, he's shocked. He sees in her a chance at the happiness he had earlier rejected and, under the guise of helping out his old pal Swan, makes arrangements to move the family, give them jobs at his company and finance Lotta's education. What's most interesting about this situation is that Lotta is no babe in the woods. Though she naively fails to see Barney's obvious lust for her, she does state to her cousin that she intends to use Barney's kindness for what she can get out of it - namely, away from the small lumber community in the middle of nowhere. Her intentions are obviously self-serving and unknowingly cruel, given what we know about how Barney feels for her, but she never seems malicious. Like Barney, she's just trying to get ahead in life by any means available to her and, really, her manipulation of Barney (who is all too eager to be manipulated) isn't objectively any different from Barney marrying Emma Louise to secure a promotion.

Problems arise in two forms. First, Barney's obvious infatuation with Lotta gets the town talking, and second Barney's son Richard (Joel McCrea) becomes infatuated with Lotta himself. The feeling, ultimately, is mutual which prompts Barney to overplay his hand by outright asking Lotta to let him set her up as his mistress. She's shocked by his request and when he realizes how, exactly, she sees him, the look on his face is absolutely chilling. It can't be said enough how superb the acting is in this film from all corners. The characters are allowed to attain a great deal of complexity, making for a story in which there's no real "villain," just people who are, to varying degrees, victims of circumstance.

Aside from the family drama, which could almost be described as a Greek tragedy except for the fact that everyone is still alive at the end, there's also a strong environmentalist subplot. Before Lotta the younger even enters the scene, Barney and Richard are already at odds over the logging practices employed by Barney's generation which have devastated forests. This aspect of the story is given only a little bit of the narrative's time relative to the romantic plot, but it still provides a nice texture to the film and the characters.

Come and Get It far and away exceeded my expectations. It starts a little bit slow but once the story picks up a bit of steam it really takes off and becomes quite engaging. Additionally, the acting, particularly by Farmer, is outstanding, making it easy to forgive any weaknesses in the plot.

Unsung Performances: Joel McCrea (Sullivan's Travels)

Poor Joel McCrea. A solid, dependable actor who never relied on affect and was so seamlessly good that you never caught him "acting." He's the kind of actor who was taken for granted for decades, until finally towards the end of his life he started getting awards in honor of his career achievements, though the AMPAS still missed out on him. In 1941 he played perhaps his best part as movie director John Sullivan in a film which is itself one of the great comedies ever made and also went unrecognized by awarding bodies at the time.

What McCrea does in Sullivan's Travels is deceptively simple. John Sullivan is essentially a nice guy who tries to do good, playing out a riches to rags to riches story - nothing to that, right? On closer analysis, however, the role is actually pretty tricky. Sullivan is a golden boy, a director whose films are hits with seemingly little effort. He produces frivolous little entertainments, but what he wants to do is make a film about the human condition, about suffering and poverty - things about which he knows nothing. He'll learn about those things by dressing like a drifter and walking the mean streets, learning first hand what life is like for people at the bottom of the social pyramid. The idea of a person of privilege telling the world what life is like for the common people rings faintly of pretension, as Sullivan's butler points out, saying, "I have never been sympathetic to the caricaturing of the poor and needy... The poor know all about poverty and only the morbid rich would find the topic glamorous." Sullivan has a romantic idea of noble poverty, but McCrea doesn't allow him to seem like a fool or even a profiteer. His interest in the poor is genuine, even if his methods are somewhat suspect.

The film underscores how ludicrous Sullivan's mission is - his ratty clothes come straight out of the studio's costume department and a crew in a motorhome follows him on his journey of discovery - but McCrea's easy charm and sincerity keeps Sullivan from being the butt of the joke. Sullivan is the story's straight man and McCrea graciously allows everyone around him - the movie executives, his servants (Eric Blore and Robert Greig in top form), and Veronica Lake as his love interest - to get most of the best lines, which he dutifully sets them up for. McCrea underplays, mildly bemused through most of the film, letting us know that he recognizes the joke just as well as the rest of us do. His everyman quality comes in handy here, allowing us to easily identify with him.

Eventually circumstances give Sullivan the opportunity to experience real hardship - though by this time he has amnesia and can't appreciate the experience he's gaining for the sake of his art. McCrea moves easily from comedy into drama without allowing Sullivan to become too heavy and then shifts the character back into comedy without ever missing a beat. The lesson he learns - the "there's a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that's all some people have?" - is hard earned and deeply felt on his part. His films may be frivolous but they're also important, serving to bring some happiness into lives that might otherwise be devoid of it. The realization couldn't happen to a nicer guy, but as they say nice guys finish last. An adage that Joel McCrea proves all too well.

100 Days, 100 Movies: Sullivan's Travels (1941)

Director: Preston Sturges
Starring: Joel McCrea, Veronica Lake

Sullivan’s Travels is Preston Sturges’ defence of comedy as an art form, and a figurative thumbing of the nose at the notion that comedies are somehow inherently inferior to dramas – a ridiculous idea given that some of the best and smartest films ever made have been comedies (and no shortage of those were directed by Sturges). Taking place in Hollywood and centering on a director (the titular Sullivan), the film satirizes the business of making movies and the conventions of romantic comedies (particularly of the opposites attract/love on the run variety popularized by It Happened One Night) while coming to the conclusion that, while the genre might not offer much prestige, the world ultimately needs a good dose of comedy.

Sullivan is played by Joel McCrea, who is quite possibly the most underrated actor ever to come out of Hollywood. He brings so much to this role, infusing Sullivan with lightness and warmth and ensuring that he isn’t simply a clown, a pawn at life’s mercy. Sullivan is a popular director of comedies who wants to break into “serious” pictures. “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,” he tells the studio executives, who eventually relent when he agrees to put “a little sex in it.” These initial scenes are razor sharp as Sullivan and the studio people dissect what makes a film work, what makes it speak to the populace, and come up with a plan for Sullivan to connect to this “common man” he wants to capture on film. Sullivan will go out on the road and experience life as a hobo – complete with studio costuming to make him look the part, and a studio crew following him at a short distance in an RV.

Sullivan’s “journey,” however, proves to be less than enlightening and plays out as a reversal of Homer’s Odyssey. In the classical story, the hero is continually waylaid as he tries to get home. Here, Sullivan is continually trying to get away from home, but through various mishaps keeps finding himself right back where he started. Along the way, however, he picks up a girl (credited simply as The Girl – because all pictures need a girl – and played by Veronica Lake), an aspiring actress who disguises herself as a boy and accompanies him on his trip where, eventually, he does see some of the life he wants to capture on film.

That Sullivan and The Girl fall in love is a matter of course, but how Sullivan comes to his great realization about the importance of comedies is something of a surprise. After experiencing life as a hobo, Sullivan decides to anonymously give money to some of the people whose paths he’s crossed, a decision which results in him being knocked out, losing his memory, being mistaken for something he’s not and taken to jail, where he works on a chain gang. Now he’s experiencing real hardship of the kind he couldn’t have imagined. At the end of an arduous day, the gang is treated to a movie, a Mickey Mouse cartoon. Sullivan watches the other men as they watch the movie and laugh, and he laughs, too, finally coming to appreciate this form he’s been so intent on rejecting. When he finally regains his identity and gets out of jail, he tells his bosses that he no longer wants to make a film about suffering. “There’s a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that that’s all some people have? It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan.”

I’ve already mentioned my admiration for McCrea, but the supporting cast should not go unmentioned. Robert Greig and Eric Blore are on hand as Sullivan’s butler and valet, both turning in wonderfully funny appearances. Greig especially makes an impression as Sullivan’s drole and understated butler, who attempts to talk him out of his expedition by pointing out that “the poor know all about poverty and only the morbid rich would find the topic glamorous” – a truth that echoes in Sullivan’s own discovery that people in despair don’t want to experience more despair, but rather want something to counterbalance it and lighten the emotional load. As for Veronica Lake, prior to seeing this film I’d always been more aware of her as an image rather than as an actress, but she’s quite winning here. There isn’t a whole lot to the part (after all, she is just “the girl”), but what’s there, she delivers and she has a nice, easy chemistry with McCrea.

The screenplay and direction by Sturges are so self-assured, so perfectly measured, that it makes it look easy, which of course it isn’t. A good comedy is hard to find and even harder to make, and sometimes even having all the right elements doesn’t make a film add up. Consider, for example, the more recent O, Brother Where Art Thou?, which owes much to this film (the “document” Sullivan wants to make is, in fact, titled O, Brother Where Art Thou?). It is directed by Joel and Ethan Coen and stars George Clooney and Holly Hunter – Oscar winners all, and first rate performers in their respective fields. Together they created a film that is entertaining, but ultimately fails to work. It’s a film that should work, but somehow just falls short. Sullivan’s Travels, on the other hand, has that magic something that just makes everything gel. Watch it once and you’ll find yourself coming back to it time and again.

100 Days, 100 Movies: Ride The High Country (1961)

Director: Sam Peckinpah
Starring: Joel McCrea, Randolph Scott

Ride The High Country, like many Westerns to come out during the 1960s, is about the transition of the West from “wild” to “civilized,” and the men who get lost along the way. Steve (Joel McCrea) and Gil (Randolph Scott) are two former lawmen who know that they’re past their prime but want one last adventure before it’s too late. There is a kind of desperation that surrounds them – this is their last chance and it has to matter. They bring along a young upstart named Heck (Ron Starr), who thinks he’s going to show them a thing or two, and Elsa (Mariette Hartley), a rancher’s daughter who is running away to get married.

Age plays a big role in this film. Steve and Gil are aware that they aren’t the men they used to be, that their bodies aren’t up to life on the trail and that this will be their last hurrah. They talk a lot about the old days and the new aches and pains in their bodies, about the things they just can't do anymore. Steve wants to make the most of this job and go out knowing that he was as good as when he came in, but Gil has other plans. He and Heck are plotting to steal the gold that they’ve been hired to transport, and maybe kill Steve if he gets in the way. Gil feels guilty about betraying his friend, but sees this as the only way for him to gain financial security for the days when he can’t ride out anymore. Steve, when he foils the heist, isn’t having any of that and can’t be talked into sharing the loot or letting Gil and Heck go free. Pretty soon he’s transporting the gold, two prisoners and a runaway bride through the dangerous territory while being pursued by an angry husband and his brothers.

True to its genre, it ends with a shoot-out. Steve, Gil and Heck, now reconciled and back on the same side, are running out of bullets and getting ready to face off against the Hammond brothers. The remaining Hammonds are holed up inside Elsa’s farmhouse and agree to come out and face the other men for a proper showdown, but one wants instead to wait for them to stand from their cover and ambush them. His brother shakes his head. “Ain’t you got no sense of family honour?” he asks. It isn’t just the unspoiled nature of the West that Peckinpah is lamenting, but also the change in the character of the men who live there. It’s no longer the place for brave, honest men (idealized though that image may be), but instead it’s for the cowards and the cheaters and the conmen. In the end, the Hammonds are killed, but so is Steve. Gil promises Steve that he’ll see their job through, and Steve takes a last look at the mountains in the distance before dying and taking the West with him. Steve is the ideal man for Peckinpah’s ideal West and neither can survive without the other. It’s the Gils and the Hecks of the world, men who are basically good but can talk themselves into being bad, that will see the West through its transition.

Though the film is ostensibly about “manly” men, simpler times and supposedly nobler values, it is also, strangely, almost feminist in its treatment of women (or, rather, the woman). Elsa is shown to be a smart and capable woman, and the film rejects the idea that her father should be allowed to dictate her love life (he’s your basic cardboard cut-out religious fanatic and there’s some suggestion that his feelings for his daughter aren’t completely… fatherly), and the idea that a wife is the property of her husband and relinquishes her rights once she’s married. The only reason I say “almost” is because Elsa is continually putting herself in situations with potential for danger (usually of a sexual nature) and leaving it up to one or other of the men to come along and rescue her.

Ride The High Country is many things at once. It’s an action movie, a buddy film, a drama, and a comedy. But above all, it is a eulogy for an idealized way of life, for the image of the Old West and the men who helped to shape it.