#235. La Bête Humaine (1938)

 

 

A.K.A. The Human Beast and Judas Was a Woman

 

It's funny: for a movie that literally includes "Human" in the title, La Bête Humaine seems to be equally fascinated by train mechanics. But that's certainly not a complaint; trains are among my favourite movie settings/objects, and they'd be even more common if I had my way. So Jean Renoir definitely got off on the right foot with me by making the entire opening a near-wordless train sequence.

 

After that, we largely settle into a proto-noir (or Re-noir, if you will) story of plotting and guilt, the kind where every major character is a horrible person and where most of them end up even worse than they started. Some elements are a bit underdeveloped for my liking (like Lantier's homicidal outbursts, or Roubaud's descent into jealousy), but the tone makes up for that, with atmosphere so bleak and foreboding that it feels almost profound for 1938.

 

Otherwise, I think the strongest element here is the central relationship between Lantier and Séverine, precisely because the two have such little chemistry. It adds to Lantier's sense of isolation, it raises the question of whether Séverine was actually into him or simply using him (which is kept open-ended by Simone Simon's wonderfully vague performance), and it amplifies the shades of pessimism and fatalism throughout.

 

Grade: A-

 

#218. Tarzan the Ape Man (1932)

 

 

Here's something I didn't expect to say: I think I prefer the opening half hour of this movie, before we actually meet Tarzan. Those early expedition scenes have a real sense of adventure and danger to them (in a way that really anticipates King Kong), and I feel like the energy starts to flag a bit once the title character shows up.

 

Not overly so, though. While the second act is often little more than a series of unrelated nature vignettes, it's all still gripping and exotic enough that I'm mostly fine with the change. Helps that there's a new animal in just about every scene (which goes a lot further with me than I'd like to admit), and that Tarzan and Jane have such compellingly primal chemistry with one another.

 

Of course, most of the other character/story elements are lacking at best (we never really delve into Tarzan's backstory, and the interpersonal conflicts are generally quite tepid), but I guess that stuff doesn't really matter. At least, not compared to the exotic scenery, the clever technical effects, and the spectacular stunts - like seeing Johnny Weissmuller wrestle a fucking lion.

 

Grade: B+

 

#204. Cleopatra (1934)

 

 

This is another one of those romantic dramas from the '30s that I find works best when it's at its most comedic. Maybe that speaks to the fact that I simply prefer a lighter tone when it comes to older films, but I think it's also because the kinkier, campier qualities are such a perfect match for Cecil B. DeMille's grand spectacle and opulent sets/costumes.

 

It's also a pretty great fit for Claudette Colbert, whose playful assertiveness keeps everything more affable and charming than the script probably deserves. And even if she doesn't have a ton of chemistry with either of the male leads (though that's mainly because both men are going for stoicism, which is so overwrought that it undercuts the possibility of any real sizzle), her strongest moments are typically the ones where she effortlessly toys with them.

 

As for the drama, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't all a little tonally rigid and structurally abridged for my liking (which results in such uneven pacing that it makes the movie somehow feel both slightly too long and far too short), but the scale is doing enough heavy lifting that you can still generally grasp the intended weight. It's just that these conflicts kinda pale in comparison to, say, a pre-Code sex scene that comes complete with swelling music, opaque curtains, and dancing performers.

 

Grade: B+

 

#180. The Public Enemy (1931)

 

 

A.K.A. Enemies of the Public, which is such a pointless rearrangement that it kinda reminds me of Sphinx from Mystery Men. "If you want to be The Public Enemy, you must first become Enemies of the Public."

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

It's sometimes hard to judge such an influential film on its own merits (especially when said film basically set the template for an entire genre), but The Public Enemy is so fast and modest and electric that it still totally works as a straightforward piece of nefarious entertainment - hand-wringing intertitles notwithstanding.

 

And while the story is your typical "rise and fall" gangster arc, the simple and seminal presentation, combined with the energy and creativity on display, elevates it to almost mythic status. William A. Wellman is constantly using the camera to punctuate the mood and intensity of a given scene (which is extra impressive when you consider that most of the action takes place off-screen), and James Cagney is so commanding and dangerous and transcendent that he not only dominates the movie, but foreshadows actors like Brando and Nicholson with his grinning, charismatic menace. Just an all-timer of a performance.

 

Between the acting (and not just Cagney; this whole ensemble's pretty solid), the nimble pacing, and the creeping tone, this has to be one of the more accessible movies of the '30s. You may want to consider watching it with subtitles, though. Thanks to both the heavy accents and the mediocre audio quality, it's sometimes near-impossible to understand what these characters are saying.

 

Grade: A

#166. Destry Rides Again (1939)

 

 

Well, now I know where Blazing Saddles got most of its inspiration from.

 

This movie's a total delight. It's quick, it's fun, and it's actually pretty ahead of its time, I would say. Like, keep in mind: Stagecoach, the John Ford classic that arguably laid the groundwork for many westerns to come, was released in 1939. And here's Destry Rides Again, made the exact same year, joyously upending conventions that weren't even fully-formed yet.

 

Granted, we're not in outright spoof territory, but the movie does use comedy to keep things fresh and subversive. The male lead is a perceived coward who relies on intellect and humility instead of guns (he's honestly got a bit of a Columbo vibe), and the female lead is a short-tempered go-getter who engages in bar brawls and mob heroics. These changes add a lot of charm and flavour, while also establishing social politics that arguably hold up better than most dramatic westerns. 

 

But I think what I like most is that the central conflict is actually played relatively straight, meaning we still get to experience the classic genre tropes (heroes, villains, palpable tension, violent showdowns) in a way that feels both believable and satisfying. There's just a great balance of genres here, which I guess is to be expected when the actors are this charismatic and the energy is this consistently high.

 

Grade: A

 

#145. Mad Love (1935)

 

 

A.K.A. The Hands of Orlac 

 

I knew I was in for a uniquely deranged time when the opening credits abruptly ended with a clenched fist punching through a window.

 

Mad Love is a bold and perverse little movie, at least by Old Hollywood standards. It's kinda slight overall (coming in at a sparse sixty-eight minutes), and it doesn't quite give itself the time necessary to fully develop every one of its competing plot threads, but it sure is an effective genre piece. The subject matter is fun and pulpy, Peter Lorre really outdoes himself on the creepiness front (especially when you combine those enormous eyes with the eggiest of bald heads), and there are a good seven or eight supporting parts adding to the flavour, including Charlie Chan's son, a reporter straight out of Batman '89, and a somewhat role-reversed Colin Clive.

 

What really sets this one apart, though, is the strong visual style. Karl Freund brings everything to life through his unique combination of German Expressionist and Universal Horror sensibilities, and Gregg Toland proves that he always knew how to capture dark shadows and creative angles (if you've ever found yourself looking for a link between Metropolis, Dracula, and Citizen Kane, here it is). Everyone's playing at the same heightened level here, and it results in a zany-yet-macabre thrill ride.

 

Grade: A-

 

#134. Anna Karenina (1935)

 

 

I've never read Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, nor have I previously watched any other adaptations of this story, nor did I know anything about it. This was a viewing without any basis of comparison. But if I'm judging the material based solely on what I saw here, let's just say that I'm not in a hurry to buy the book.

 

Yeah, sorry, but this one didn't really do it for me. Greta Garbo is a decent choice for the lead, and the sets and costumes are appropriately opulent, but the characters and their relationships didn't interest me in the slightest. This movie's simply too stodgy and pared-down for a romance on this level. And it doesn't help that the dialogue has zero character, or that most scenes feel like they're only here so we can get from A to B.

 

We do start and end pretty strong, though, which helps. The opening banquet is a decent standout (the best visual of the movie is that tracking shot down the lengthy dining table), as is the drinking scene (honestly, given the cast, the short runtime, and the studio restrictions, I'm wondering if the movie would've worked better as a comedy). And the ending is somewhat effective. But that eighty-minute chunk in between is mostly a passionless slog.

 

Grade: C+

 

#103. I'm No Angel (1933)

 

 

Even before watching this, my first Mae West movie, I was certainly familiar with her screen persona: the attitude, the sexuality, the confidence, the blonde hair, the insane eyebrows. I wasn't totally sure whether these characteristics could remain charming for an entire feature, but this fear mostly subsided by the time I recognized her astonishing aura and obvious knack for wit. Like all the other gents in this woman's life, she quickly won me over.

 

As for the movie around her, it's definitely on the messy and uneven side (the first quarter's a crime story, the second quarter's a brief circus show, the third quarter's a romantic comedy, and the fourth quarter's a courtroom procedural), but I suppose that unrestrained pulpiness fits right in with her appeal. And even when some elements feel slightly underdeveloped (the romance is the most obvious example; Cary Grant doesn't appear until we're past the halfway point), it's all pretty entertaining, and the sharp dialogue and personable performances ensure that substance is never a concern.

 

My main takeaway, though, is just how daring this material is. When I hear those sexual innuendos and double entendres, I imagine how close they must've come to giving that Hays asshole a coronary, and it brings a smile to my face.

 

Grade: B+

 

#95. Dead End (1937)

 

 

William Wyler had a script, a single set, and a dream.

 

Dead End might not be an especially complex movie, with its shallow plot and heavy moralizing, but it sure does a great job of recreating a New York City slum through some dark, cramped construction. This set is so well-realized that I don't even really mind the fact that the whole story takes place here, especially because it makes for some vivid class conflict. With the poor living conditions contrasted against those penthouse condos, it really drives home the central themes, and emphasizes the zero sum possibilities of living in such an environment.

 

But while the setting's generally stationary, the story's actually pretty versatile. If anything, a few of these individuals actually get a little lost in the shuffle (Francey's a good example), which occasionally strains the focus, but it also allows for some snappier pacing and character-heavy interactions - the best coming from Bogart, who shows a ton of promise with a soon-to-be-trademark cool performance, and those Dead End Kids, whose antics aren't as obnoxious than they probably should be. 

 

By and large, this movie is certainly of its time, but the colourful characters, relaxed vibe, interesting plot developments, and, again, that fantastic set make for some easy and enjoyable viewing. 

 

Grade: A-

 

#66. Charlie Chan at the Circus (1936)

 

 

Despite my being a mystery lover, I'd never seen a Charlie Chan movie before now. And, considering how many of them seem to exist, I thought it was time I rectified that oversight. 

 

I started with this entry because I generally like circus settings (and definitely not because it was the first one I could find [though my circus comment stands]), and it certainly lives up to the title. This movie's got contortionists, acrobats, cobras, two tiny dancers (both of whom are incredibly endearing), and an angry, murderous gorilla. It's a lot of fun, thanks especially to some lighthearted golden age comedy and a likeable performance from Keye Luke as Chan's "number one son".

 

Honestly, it's just a shame that the mystery isn't stronger. Seeing as this movie's only 72 minutes, and the bulk of that time is spent with the detectives, we don't get much of an opportunity to meet any of the suspects. It makes their motives feel underbaked and secondary, which results in a murder mystery that's somehow at its least interesting when it's trying to uncover the killer.

 

Grade: B+

 

#53. The Champ (1931)

 

 

I kinda like it when older movies are a little on the sentimental side. Those heavy-yet-basic emotions just seem to fit right in with a more primitive style of filmmaking. And I think that's why I was able to appreciate The Champ: it's a simple family drama about the relationship between a father and his son, but it's that simplicity that allows the story to pack such an emotional punch.

 

Of course, being that the movie's almost a hundred years old, you're bound to notice a few cliches in the conflict. The father's past his prime, he's now a drinker and a gambler (though, as this was from the pre-Code era, the movie's refreshingly direct about both), and he's at risk of losing custody of his boy. It's not the most original story ever written, and there's some outdated hokiness at times, but the heart is undeniable. You can feel the love between these two characters, and it makes both the journey and its conclusion incredibly moving.

 

What elevates everything to true tearjerker status, though, is Jackie Cooper. This adorable little guy gives one of the most heartbreaking performances I've ever seen from a child actor.

 

Grade: A-

 

#43. Pygmalion (1938)

 

 

Wait a minute - in order to get a woman to fall in love with me, all I need to do is psychologically terrorize her for months on end? Why didn't anybody tell me sooner?

 

Pygmalion has long been eclipsed in popularity by the enormously successful My Fair Lady, but I think it's worth watching in its own right. What this movie lacks in music and visual splendour, it more than makes up for in colourful dialogue, cute comedy, and the occasional lavish set. And while I find both protagonists to be kind of obnoxious, Leslie Howard and Wendy Hiller are a charismatic pair, and the two manage to develop a charming back-and-forth with one another.

 

It's just a shame that we don't get to see more of it, frankly. May main issue with this movie is that the teaching portion (i.e. the portion with the most potential for comedy and character development) is almost entirely glossed over, which means that we don't get to see much of a connection form. And that's really too bad, because the drama's otherwise compelling, complex, and surprisingly sweet. Something about that '30s presentation makes this rude romance so much easier to swallow. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#14. Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

 

 

You can call the Frank Capra formula corny all you want. You can tell me that his penchant for gooey sentimentality and easily-consumed messages is both shallow and manipulative, and that his stories in no way reflect the harshness of reality. I don't care. As someone who craves a little heavy-handed optimism once in a while, it almost always works on me. And Mr. Deeds Goes to Town is no exception.

 

I'm not sure that I'd rank this one among the true Capra elite (which, to my taste, is Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and It's a Wonderful Life), partly because I'm not completely sold on Gary Cooper in this kind of role and partly because the emotional core isn't quite as strong (though that's a ridiculously high bar), but it's nevertheless a timeless and wonderful romantic comedy, bolstered by its sincerity, its playful attitude, and an extremely likeable performance from Jean Arthur.

 

Plus, I dunno, I guess I'm just a sucker for Capra's belief that one person really can make a difference. That's a message that'll always resonate, even if none of our real-life billionaires seem to agree.

 

Grade: A